#so the water would come out yellow (and the cleaning ladies had more work to do). oh and how cani forget my friend SNEAKING HIS BF

[minglana]

the japanese kids (that only speak japanese) (and they dont have a translator or anything for them) are running around the dorms... if i go to the dorm worker shes gonna say 'oh but theyre just kids🥺and theyre so adorable🥺' and wont find a way to tell them to stop running......

[rorywritesjunk]

Let's be one another's present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R-ish for now. Warning: Swearing, soft Buggy, sort of terrible communication but in a soft way, both of them are just a bit dumb. Kissing. A/N: This story is opposite of my Kid Buggy series and I love that for myself.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e

Chapter 6

The makeup didn’t work underwater. 

Once you were submerged it didn’t take long before it started running down your face and getting into the water. You immediately resurfaced, coughing and wiping at your face as it burned your eyes. Buggy’s hand was there in a moment with a towel, helping dry your face as he watched from below.

“So, no on the makeup right now?” He asked. You took the towel from him and wiped your face before throwing it back at him.

“Fuck no!” You shot back. “It burns my damn eyes, you asshole!”

“Oh it can’t be that bad!” 

You glared at him as you climbed out of the tank. Cabaji greeted you with a hot cup of tea while Buggy handed you a dry towel. It was that bad. Your eyes hurt because the makeup clearly wasn’t waterproof. At least Buggy had the sense to help you back to the room as you squinted through the discomfort, occasionally holding your tea with one hand while rubbing at your eyes with the other.

“Stop, you’ll make it worse.” He sighed as he had you sit down at the vanity in his room. You kept your eyes shut, resisting the urge to keep rubbing them. Buggy grabbed a clean washcloth and took hold of your head as he wiped at the makeup running down your face. You inhaled sharply at the touch, not realizing he was that close to you. It was just a little… something having your eyes closed while he touched you, but you couldn’t put your finger on what that feeling was.

He took his time cleaning your face of the ruined makeup, eventually getting a cream to help with the last of it. Buggy didn’t say anything as he worked, being mindful of how he put his hands on your face, how gentle he was. He didn’t want to startle you, knowing you were already a little on edge from how the makeup caused you discomfort. He wasn’t going to give up just yet. He would find something that would work. 

“All done.”

You opened your eyes, letting them readjust to the light as you looked up at your captain. He actually wasn’t done, wiping the washcloth over your lips to get the last remnants of the yellow lipstick he had applied. You almost wanted to mention how he should hold off in case he kissed you again, marking you with the red color from his own lips, but you kept quiet, instead leaning into his touch as you had done before.

“You good?” He asked as he moved the washcloth away from your mouth, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip to make sure the last of the color is gone. You wanted to nod but he still had a gentle hold on you, and before you could stop you were pressing your lips to his thumb again, like you had done before, and you saw the way his eyes widened slightly, heard the hitch in his breath as he pressed his thumb down against your lip gently. You repeated the action once again before he pulled his hand away. 

“We’ll try again in a few weeks.” He said quietly as he looked away from you. “I want your eyes to feel better.”

~

And a few weeks passed pretty quickly. 

Buggy had put the cot away during that time, citing that the unpredictable weather meant a storm could happen at any point, so you had permission to sleep in his bed. And he wasn’t wrong, a few more storms came, but nothing that would have caused you too much discomfort. You didn’t mind sleeping in an actual bed, it was way more comfortable than the cot. You just tried to make sure not to invade his space too much, which was hard because he always managed to invade yours. You fell asleep with him on one side of the bed only to wake up with his arms around you and his hair in your face. It wasn’t a bad way to wake up.

After dinner one night, Cabaji came to your shared bedroom and left a bag with Buggy. You were cautious when the pirate's eyes lit as he took the bag from him. He shut the door and looked at you with a grin. 

“Waterproof makeup delivery.” He chuckled as he dumped the contents on the bed, pawing through it to see what the other pirate picked out. “Oh, bright colors, perfect.”

“Y’know, if we cleaned the tank you could see me.” You pointed out as Buggy gestured for you to sit down. You did so without hesitation, knowing there was no point in fighting him on this. He was insistent on doing your makeup, to find the right look for you when you performed. “You wouldn’t have to do all this. I hate wasting your time.”

He looked up from pawing around the pile of makeup, frowning at you. “It’s not a waste of my time.”

Oh. You were a little taken aback. Did he actually enjoy this? Granted, besides sleeping, it was the only time you two were alone without risk of the crew interrupting you and you… liked it when it was just the two of you. He was a different person when he wasn’t shouting at everyone to be perfect. You liked having Buggy to yourself, and if you had to sit through multiple makeover sessions, then so be it.

He was touching your face before you even realized it, eyeliner pencil in his hand that claimed to be water and smudge proof. You closed your eyes when he told you to, sighing softly as he held your face still. At this point you knew what to do but you liked feeling his hands on you, the gentle touches that kept you still while he added some flair to your face. And sometimes you acted just a bit obnoxious, pulling away slightly so he could tighten his hold on you to keep you from moving.

“After all this time I still have to tell you what to do.” He mused as he finished with the eyeliner and grabbed the mascara next, tearing the package open first before reading what it was actually waterproof (he just assumed). “Tsk tsk, Cupcake. What am I going to do with you?”

“Just don’t stop touching me.” You murmured.

You both paused. Your eyes shot open and you stared up at him; he was looking down at you curiously, mascara wand out and ready for your eyelashes. You couldn’t believe what you just said to him. Did he even hear you? He must have, because he got that look in his eye, the one where he was about to remind you who was in charge. You swallowed heavily and tried to sink into your chair.

“Well, well, something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Buggy teased as he set the makeup down. “Hm? You like me touching you, do you?”

“I, um, well-” You didn’t know what to say. You did like it. You liked this kind of intimacy you shared with him, being close while he touched you like this, expecting nothing in return but your patience (which waned from time to time). 

“What about when I kissed you?” He asked as he held you still, his face now close to yours. You swallowed heavily and nodded, your hands moving to the front of his shirt to grip tightly. Buggy looked down at you for a moment, eyes searching for any hint of teasing on your end, before he smiled and pressed his lips gently to yours. 

You expected him to pull back, to point and laugh and tease you about this, but he held onto the kiss for a moment longer than you expected. His eyes were closed while you kept yours open, unsure now if this was the right thing to do. He was your Captain, who you shared a bed with, who held you in his arms while you both slept, and sometimes you’d wake up to him whispering in your ear, about keeping you safe now and you will never need to leave him. 

He was your Captain and he was kissing you. On the lips. 

Buggy broke the kiss after what felt like an eternity. 

“You good?” 

You could only nod, now speechless because what did this mean now? Did he like you? You were pretty sure you liked him, given the rough introduction you initially had with him, and the fact he pissed you off from time to time, you found yourself actually liking him.

“I need you to tell me.” He told you as he touched your cheek gently. “Words, Cupcake.”

And the way he spoke to you like that, gentle yet commanding, you hated that you loved it. 

“I'm… I'm good, Captain.” You replied shakily as you leaned towards his hand. “Really.”

He stroked your cheek before pulling his hand back. You reached out for it, not wanting him to stop, but he held up the mascara once more. Oh, right, he wanted to finish what he started. He held you still once more, the bristles of the mascara wand carefully coating your eyelashes as he focused on the task at hand. You were both quiet and you wondered what he was thinking. 

Just because you liked him didn't mean he felt the same way. He could just be toying with you, pitying you even because you were this broken toy he picked up, slapping some tape and glue on it to fix it. It could do the job for a while but eventually you'd break again.

“Glad to hear it.” He murmured as he put the mascara away. “May kiss you again once I'm done here.”

Your heart jumped into your throat and you leaned back in the chair as you watched him look over different lipsticks. He tossed aside any that were in shades of blue or purple, not wanting to see that on you when you were under water. Brighter colors were better, the yellows, greens, oranges. Red would be too similar to his but he wouldn't say no to pink. Maybe pink and yellow, smudged together on your lips would work and copy the effect with eyeshadow as well.

“Captain, can I ask something?” You managed to say without your voice shaking too much. He hummed in response as he looked over different shades of pink lipstick. “Do… you like me? In the… romantic way?”

He paused what he was doing and looked at you. Oh, you felt dumb asking that. Why did you ask that? Kissing you was one thing, but asking if he liked you was a whole other Pandora's box that you just threw the lid off of with that question. You couldn't read his expression as he uncapped the lipstick and marked it on the top of his hand, making sure the shade was right.

“I did say you were cute when we first met.” He finally said with a shrug. “And still think you are.” Buggy took hold of you again, his grasp just a bit firmer than before as he began applying the pink lipstick. “And if someone else asked, I suppose I would say I liked you to keep them away from you, Cupcake.” 

“But, do you?” You asked when he set the pink color down and grabbed the yellow. “Like me in that way?”

Buggy sighed as he uncapped the yellow color, marking it against his hand before smudging the two colors together to see if they blended well. “Do I need to spell it out for ya?”

“... Probably.” You admitted. He rolled his eyes and sighed again.

“Yes, I like you in a romantic way.” He told you, sounding just a touch frustrated before he held the lipstick up to you. “There, I said it. I figured between cuddling you and getting you towels would have made it obvious but I guess I was wrong.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Oh. As loud as Buggy was and how much he could talk, he really wasn't going to tell you how he felt in a straightforward way. It was gestures, touches, little things but not necessarily words. 

“Sorry, uh, I guess I wasn't… aware.” You replied. “I guess when you kissed me the first time it should have been a sign, but I was a bit too… surprised.”

“Mhm, surprised, guarded, on edge.” He counted off as he held up the yellow lipstick for you to see. “I probably should have said something after that but… didn't cross my mind.”

You shrugged as he started applying the lipstick, looking up into his eyes as he worked. If he kissed you that first time, then it was only fair that you got to kiss him this time. You waited until he was done with the lipstick, because next he was smudging the colors together on your lips and around your mouth, and when you saw opportunity, you took it, grabbing the front of his shirt and jerking him down to you as you crushed your newly painted lips against his.

And to your delight, he let you, resting his hands on the back of his chair for support while you held him down to you.

Once you broke the kiss, you decided next time the two of you kissed you'd both be standing up. The chair was making it just a bit uncomfortable.

[samitsays]

He would've wanted it

Enter Logan, a well-built young man who is bleeding through his shirt.

Logan:  Is anybody in there?

The door opens to reveal a rather fragile old woman. Undone hair and the looks of a maniac.

Old Lady: What do you want, young man?

Logan: I need shelter for the night. If you would be so kind…

Old Lady: Cut the crap, come on in.

Logan helped himself to a glass of water for the woman seemed rather distracted.

Logan: What ’cha knitting over there? A sweater?

Old Lady: I will be knitting your shroud right about now if you don’t shut that trap of yours.

Logan: WOAH! Easy, old lady. What’s the matter with you?

The lady didn’t speak and continued knitting.

Logan then began to clean the wound on his belly which had only gotten worse with time.

------------------------------------------------------------

Logan: Huh! What? Who’s there?

Old Lady: Wake up, Sinatra! We ought to pluck some flowers. You can sing in your sleep some other time.”

Logan: Have you completely lost your fucking mind, lady? Flowers? In this winter?

Old Lady: He would’ve wanted them. Come on, now.

Logan decided it was best not to speak and followed the lady’s steps. After about a mile of walking through the forest, the lady stopped in front of a majestic tree.

Logan: So… where are the flowers again?

Old Lady: Right there.

The lady pointed to the highest branch of the tree.

Logan: That’s a fucking mockingbird, you old hag!

Old Lady: Go up there and get me that flower, will Ya?

Logan: Wait, let me get this straight. You want an injured man to climb a fucking 60 feet tall tree and pluck you a flower that doesn’t exist?

Old Lady: Let me tell you something, punk. You are not going to find a house except mine, of course; In the 10-mile radius from here and you’ve got a wound which will take at least a week to heal. So, I want you to think, and I want you to think hard. Do you want to get me that flower, or do you not?

Logan stared at her face as he thought.

Logan: Alright. Let’s work out an arrangement. I get you the flower from this tree and I get to stay at your cottage till the winter ends.

Old Lady: Get me the damn flower and then we’ll talk.

At this point Logan was convinced that the woman was insane. The wind was harsh. He was not going to survive like this. The wound had started to bleed again. He gazed at his hands which were now shaking, his feet trembling.

Old Lady: Well, go on. Climb the fucking tree.

Logan looked her dead in the eye and then started his ascent but all he could think of was how he was supposed to give the woman a flower, when there were none on the tree.

Logan: Fuck it.

With utmost precision and silence he took a dagger out of his boot, he continued; determined to kill the mockingbird and give it to the old woman.

------------------------------------------------------------

Logan handed the old lady the dead mockingbird. His wounds had gotten worse.

Old Lady: Well done, ya’ fucking punk! Let’s go!”

Logan: Can we make this quick?

As they entered the cottage the old woman couldn’t contain herself. She ran to her room pulled open a drawer, took out an empty jar and gently placed the mockingbird inside of it.

Logan was watching all this while he tended to his wound and his face turned pale.

Old Lady: Well, I’m off. Got to go get me some firewood. He would’ve wanted it.

Logan: Huh? Yeah- ye- yes.

Logan heard the door close behind him and ran to the old lady’s bedroom. He pulled open the drawer only to find 5 more jars with dead mockingbirds inside of them.

Under it, he found an envelope which read -

“Dear, Grace.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Grace,

I wouldn’t make it home this summer. They’re holding us back here. It seems like this war is never going to end.

My buddy Luke, we lost him to the yellow men. He died a nasty death. It keeps getting hard out here. I wish to see you soon and have that lovely dinner you promised me with the Chicken pot pie and the flowers.

Love, Charlie.

------------------------------------------------------------

The woman shouted as she walked in with a dead Racoon in her hand.

Grace:  AY! Look what I found!

Logan stood right there, crying quietly with a gun in his hand.

Grace froze.

Grace:  What do you think you’re doing, young man?

Logan: SHUT THE FUCK UP! CHARLIE WOULD’VE WANTED THIS! OKAY? HE WOULD’VE WANTED IT.

Grace: Huh, so now YOU know what my dead husband would’ve wanted?

Logan: DON’T YOU SEE IT? YOU’RE FUCKING LOSING IT, LADY!

Grace:  Well, then shoot me.

Logan: I’M GOING TO.

His hands were trembling.

There was rage in his eyes.

Grace: Oh yeah? You ain’t got the balls for it.

Logan: I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!”

Grace: DO IT. Put me out of my misery.

The gun was now in direct contact with the lady’s forehead. She was fearless.

------------------------------------------------------------

The curtain rolls as we see Grace, dead on the floor.

We move to kitchen to see Logan enjoying his dinner with the flowers of the dead Mockingjays and the Racoon chicken pot pie.

------------------------------------------------------------

THE END.

[petrikaira]

The Maid

Barman's Keep, pg 4 (previous)

Rating: G general audiences

TW: Implied financial issues

She swallowed. If the Prince was something inhuman, there were a few more questions she needed answered, weren’t there?

“Lady Pandev, may I ask you what the job entails? What are the hours, and what does the work day look like?” Retha asked. She felt it was just good to ask those questions, anyways, to begin.

“Since it is a maid job, I am afraid the hours do go long into the day- we get up usually around 4 am, have to start the fires for the lords and ladies of the house and sometimes run bath water,” Zillah Pandev said. “And from there, we get a chance at a small breakfast before we help the cooks serve the lords and ladies. Then, we clean the castle until we get a small lunch, and resume after. It’s large enough that the various cleaning duties- laundry, dusting, mopping, whatever it happens to be at the time- tend to go until 8 or 9 at night. Then, we have dinner, maybe have a bath of our own if it’s our day, and go to bed to start it all over again. It can be grueling for those not wanting this sort of lifestyle.”

That sounded close to what Retha already had to put up with. The chicken farm’s hours perhaps didn’t go so late, since the sun set earlier and the chickens themselves would often go to bed, but once the sun fell she did have to help lock up the chicken coop. It didn’t seem that bad.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me about it?” Retha asked, voice low as she leaned forward, studying Zillah’s face.

The woman’s lips curled as she thought about it, a strand of graying hair gentle against her cheek. Retha was surprised to see that the worry lines across the woman’s forehead were as equal to the smile lines around her mouth. Someone who had worried as often as she had smiled- that seemed right, for the head maid. It didn’t alarm her.

“Well,” Zillah said thoughtfully. “Queen Aikaterine and her new Prince don’t always see eye to eye, so sometimes tensions run high.”

Retha settled back, feeling a sense of relief coming from deep in her chest. Zillah had waited so long to say anything, but it had felt like someone trying to figure out exactly what needed saying instead of things being hid. And she was no stranger to married couples not being on the same page- it wasn’t as if her parents were always on the same page. 

“All of that seems fine to me,” Retha admitted. “What about the pay? How much?”

“A copper every hour,” Zillah said.

Retha’s eyes widened. A copper every hour! As it was with her parents, she was lucky to get a copper once a week. In her mind she began figuring that out, counting how much that was- 4 am- 9pm, that was what? Eighteen hours? Eighteen coppers a day! She felt her heart soaring. Eighteen coppers a day! She couldn’t let them know how excited that made her.

Beside her, she could her Braam choke back on a bite of toast, clearly having put those numbers together himself. “That-” He said. Slowly. “That would be a fair wage for any maid in your castle, I’d say.”

“I would agree,” Retha said, forcing her voice to remain calm as she laced her fingers together in her lap. 

“We need time to discuss this,” Braam said. Steering the conversation. Retha was grateful for it, since she felt a little overwhelmed suddenly, herself. “How long is the offer on the flyer open for? There seems to be no date.”

“We’ll be in town for the next week, waiting to hear from any people interested,” Prince Yuki said. “Can you clean?”

Retha blinked. Looking up at him. “Yes, I’m the eldest daughter, I clean the house with Mama. Sweep the floors, scrub the windows, wipe the walls, dishes- you name it, I can do it.”

“She even does our laundry,” Braam said, flexing his arm. “See how soft my yellows are? Reth does that.”

Retha was glad her brother was actually sticking up for her. She was also surprised he remembered that she had been the one to clean his outer sleeves this time.

“Oh, that color is brightly lasting,” Zillah said, leaning forward. “I would be glad to take someone with those skills under my wing.”

Retha felt her heart welling with a bit of pride at that. She did work hard at it, even if she didn’t particularly like doing laundry. She could do it for a copper an hour, though. “Thank you.”

The Prince nodded once. “Then, we would be glad to wait for your decision, if Zillah is impressed.”

Retha took a bite of the toast to stop herself from squealing. She was right. Her excitement was as loud as ocean waves. She knew that so long as her family let her, she was accepting the position.

[amerrierworld]

Little Songbird (pt 2)

Part 1: x

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you… sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,870

Warnings: The Smut Chapter~

Over the next few days, Lady Dimitrescu barely caught a glance of you. Either you were overworking yourself, or avoiding her. The thought made her bristle with annoyance, mostly aimed at herself. Had she scared you off?

Down below in the servants’ quarters, you tried your best not to pay attention to the rush of heat that went through your body every time you remembered Lady Dimitrescu’s lingering gaze on you. 

You hadn’t seen her, or frankly you had tried avoiding her. You kept to your duties, overworking yourself, distracting yourself, wondering if what you felt was unholy. Wondering if she felt the same.

“Lady Dimitrescu has asked you to clean her personal study,” the head housemaid said one day in the kitchens. You paled a little, nearly dropping the plate you were drying off.

“..Oh?”

“You’re to go there after dinner tonight.” She was absent-mindedly polishing some of the silverware at the counter, not noticing how you had reacted. “The Lady will run you through what’s needed.”

“She.. she’ll be there?” 

“Yes, of course," she replied, “she’d never let any of us in by ourselves. I would know.”

She definitely would. It was only her that would ever be allowed in Lady Dimitrescu’s study to clean. But she didn’t seem to mind it was you who was on that duty tonight... you dreaded the massive list of things you would probably have to do. Was this a punishment?

“Clean yourself up before you go.” She eyed your dirtied apron and ashy skirt. “No use if you're just going to mess up what you’ll be cleaning.”

And so, with fresh clothes and your face scrubbed clean of grease, you made your way up through the castle levels to get to the study. On the way, you heard faint buzzing down the hall. 

You turned to see dark robes disappearing around the corner, and suddenly the dimly-lit hallway was a lot more ominous and foreboding than before. Hurrying down the direction you needed to go, you tried not to drop any of your supplies as your heart-rate picked up.

Just around the corner, you kept thinking, just a little further and-

“Boo!” 

You shrieked, shock coursing through your body in a split second as Miss Daniela appeared right in your face when you turned the last corner. Her bloodied mouth split into a wide, cunning smile at your reaction, your face flushing red in embarrassment and sudden fear.

“Oh, now that was fun, wasn’t it?” she cackled, circling around you with the curiosity of a feline, far too close for comfort, “I haven't seen you up here before.”

The water in your bucket had managed to spill over the side in your jump, and you felt your stockings and shoes soaking through. You grimaced at the feeling and Miss Daniela could only giggle.

She tugged at your hair like a bratty younger sibling as she disappeared in a swarm of insects that buzzed around your head, calling after you,

“Have fun~” 

You felt the water squish in your shoes as you walked the last few steps towards the intimidating double-doors of Lady Dimitrescu’s personal study.

It wasn’t anything like the last study you had cleaned. It felt massive to you- everything must have been custom made for her. The chairs, the desk, the bookcase. You’d have to do some real climbing to clean all the nooks and crannies in here.

But it was the piano in the centre of the room that really caught your eye. It was dark- but not quite black. There was a rich, deep red sheen to it, and just like everything else in the room, it seemed to tower above you.

And her- 

Lady Dimitrescu was already in her nightly attire- a long-sleeved nightgown. It was a cream colour, as always, and you wondered if the light was a little stronger, how sheer the fabric would be..

“Ah, there you are.” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you straightened up a little. “Come closer, little songbird. Into the light.”

The nickname made you blush furiously, though you did as she asked. So she hadn’t forgotten you. Was that supposed to be a relief? The squish of your shoes made you grimace, and from the way her eyes trailed down, she heard it as well.

“Did it rain on the way here?” she asked, dryly. You looked down at the carpet, clutching your supplies. You were leaving footprints behind. You’d definitely have to clean that thoroughly.

“I- I spilled some water on the way here. I.. tripped,” you said. You didn’t think ratting out her daughter would put the Lady in a good mood. 

Her expression didn’t prove to you that she believed you, but she let it be. She picked up a small sheet of paper with listed chores and handed it to you without much thought.

You expected an explosive list of unending duties, but you were quite surprised with the sparse instructions. Dust the bookshelves, sweep under the piano, scrub the floors...

This was one of the few rooms in the entire castle that looked, quite frankly, immaculate. Everything seemed to have a place already, so you really didn’t need to do much at all.

You quietly set to work without any further commentary, and didn’t catch the way Lady Dimitrescu watched you from her desk when you came into her peripheral vision. The letters from Mother Miranda didn’t register in her mind as she listened to you work, hoping for the sound of your voice. Then she heard you hum, lightly, only for you to catch yourself mid-dusting, and stop altogether.

When you got to the piano, you needed to move the bench to get under and sweep, but when you pushed against the heavy piece of furniture, it screeched against the floor, startling both of you.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, barely audible. You looked up and caught her deep yellow eyes staring at you intently, and something stirred deep inside you.

“I didn’t know you played,” you commented once you realized Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t going to say anything to break the awkward silence. In fact, she adored seeing you so flustered and shy, and didn’t want it to end.

“I don’t often,” she eventually replied. She stood up from her desk, and you nearly snapped your neck keeping your eyes on hers as she rose above you.

You hurried out of the way as she came to sit on the bench. Lady Dimitrescu lifted the fallboard and a soft, light chord rung out as she pressed down on the keys. 

“Can you match pitch?” She was testing some of the sound in various chords, simple but effective. You watched her fingers dance, only to realize you had not seen her without gloves before now. The nails were painted in a dark, deep red. Her fingers were long and pale, and the skin on the backs of her hands were marred with little silvery scars. You wondered what they tasted like.

She gestured for you to come sit next to her, and you clambered up on the bench to kneel on the cushion. Lady Dimitrescu played a little more as you hummed along with the chords. 

“Sing a song for me, pet,” she said, without glancing towards you. Her hands stilled to give you a moment to think, but your brain was only short-circuiting. It was like all of a sudden, every known song had disappeared from your memory.

Then a finger tapped your chin and lifted your head up to gaze into her eyes, and you sighed in contentment at the physical touch. 

Her eyebrow quirked a little, as if barely registering the sound you made. 

“No? No ideas?” she asked. Her perfume was that much denser when close to you, and it overwhelmed you. You could only weakly shake your head, nerves churning in your stomach.

“Well, we can’t have that,” she hummed. “I still want to hear you, little one.”

“I’m sorry...” you began, but she tutted. She’d make you sing in a.. different way. She wasn’t going to let you go after all those agonizing days without getting to hear you properly.

The hand that was holding your chin dropped down to your thigh. Your eyes were still adoringly glued to her face as she dropped the fallboard back over the keys. It nearly made her blush.

The world surged around you as you were suddenly lifted up from your seat. You were put on top of the piano, facing Lady Dimitrescu, and she nudged your legs apart so she could lean forward a little more. Your eyes were level with hers now, and you caught a flash of her white teeth as she smiled, lovingly, but devilishly. 

“Do you think you can sing well?” she asked, one hand wrapping around the entirety of one of your ankles. You immediately shook your head. The dampness of your feet and legs caught her attention, and she tutted again.

“Off,” she ordered, leaning away, before wiping her hand on her dress. You hurriedly did as she asked, tugging down your still-wet stockings, ripping a little bit of the fabric, but you couldn’t mind with the way Lady Dimitrescu was eyeing you.

“Good girl.”

You clamped your thighs together, and she definitely didn’t miss that. Her hand went back to wrap around your ankle, now fabric-free. The other reached out to cup the side of your jaw, trailing down and wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly for less than a second. Then it lowered even more and undid the top button of your dress.

“Still want to stay and sing for me, little songbird?” she asked, her hand lingering, but not moving from its spot. “Your tasks are long done.”

That was not true, you hadn’t even swept yet. But you slowly began to realize maybe the chores had nothing to do with you coming up here tonight.

The question burned deep inside you, and Lady Dimitrescu looked like she wasn’t going to move until you gave your consent. Though you loved the tension that was building, you began to feel restless.

“Yes, please.” You inched your legs a little wider, and her smile grew. 

“Such a pleasant sound, your voice,” she said, as her hand from your ankle trailed up your leg. “I was enraptured many weeks ago, when I heard you for the first time.”

“You.. you’ve heard me before?” you gasped a little, because her cool fingers pressed against the sensitive inside of your thighs. You thought you were always alone when you sang during work.

“Oh yes,” she grinned, “now sing for me, little pet. Make all the noise you want.”

Her mouth was on yours in an instant, filling your lungs with perfume and warm breath. The buttons on your dress came apart as her hands pulled at them one by one. Your skirt was pushed up, and then she pressed down on your torso to get you to lie on your back. The piano was smooth and cold beneath, and there was a brief moment you regretted that it was definitely going to be dirtied by what was to come. But then Lady Dimitrescu’s mouth latched onto your neck and all thoughts evaporated from your brain. 

There was a pinch as she nipped at the soft skin between neck and shoulder, making your back arch and your body lift off the piano.

“Hmm.. delightful,” she growled. Her large hands slid up your dress and your entire lower half was exposed.

“Oh, I can smell you,” she sighed. She pulled back only a moment to tug the dress off your whole body. Your fingers scrabbled against the piano’s slick surface as you felt your nipples harden at her touch.

She sat back on the bench and scooted forward, leaning down to inhale your alluring smell as you lay there, gasping for air. 

“Now.” She pulled your legs apart, eyes zoning in on your cunt. “I want to hear you sing.”

Her mouth pressed against your folds and a warm, wet tongue slipped up to catch your clit. A squeal escaped you and she kissed it a little more in reward.

“That’s it. More.”

Her fingers dug into your thighs before she began sucking and licking almost aggressively. Your body was trembling with every swipe of her tongue, every delicate nibble on your folds.

Your gasps rose in volume, your voice breaking in small squeaks and whimpers. Though she adored it when you carried a tune, this was much more satisfying. 

Her tongue pressed inside without any hesitation. You felt it curl and push inside you, catching your wetness and scent. A low growl in the back of her throat made you cry out, and her grip tightened even more.

It wasn’t going to take long, you realized. The despair in her relentless tongue, her piercing eyes watching your body rise and drip with sweat made the coil tighten with every passing moment. 

Her pupils were blown, and every time you let out another sound, she pressed on a little harder, a little faster.

“Oh!” Her tongue had slipped out and were replaced by two thick fingers. Your cry of delight earned you her warm lips wrapping around your clit, and you couldn’t help but grab at her head of thick, smooth hair. 

The curls slipped delightfully through your fingers and you were watching the ceiling, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness, until she pulled away and said,

“Eyes on me, dear. Nowhere else.”

You had to hoist yourself up with one hand to watch her, and she got back to work immediately. Eyes locked, one hand in her hair, and hers wrapped around you so tightly you couldn’t move away. 

“Fuck..” you hissed out as her fingers curled. Her eyes flashed; she seemed to like it, so you kept going.

“Please..” you begged, hips trying to buck in her hold, “oh, please please.. it feels..s-so good.”

Your thighs had been completely smeared by her lipstick, or those were bruises forming from her grip. Either way, the marks made your head spin with arousal. 

“Please don’t stop... Please, don’t ever stop.” You were gasping, trying hard to focus on your words, but then her mouth sucked hard on your clit, and you were lost in meaningless sounds and little cries of pleasure as you came.

She didn’t stop, revelling in your gasps and broken whimpers, music to her ears. When your body began pulling away and you felt a tingling sensitivity every time she tried to touch your clit again, that was when she knew to let you go. 

Lady Dimitrescu sat back a moment, basking in the sight of you, wet and spent, spread out over her piano and with cum dripping down your thighs. She lifted her hand and wiped her mouth with the back of it to catch any further stray lipstick, but she didn’t quite catch all of it. 

When you could finally breathe normally, you sat up slowly and trembled again under her piercing gaze. 

Your small hands reached out to cup her cheeks, startling her. She thought you’d dash off with your bucket and leave immediately. You inched closer and used your thumbs to wipe the last bits of lipstick, and then kissed her. Soft, sweet, just like your singing. 

You peppered her lips and chin with kisses for a few minutes. She allowed all of it, held you close as you breathed her in. You shifted, feeling your body unstick from the piano with an unsavoury sound and you pulled a face, making her laugh. It made you giddy inside.

You stayed like that for a long while, and you relished in how warm and soft she was. 

“Perhaps you can sing again for me sometime,” she suggested, “an actual song.”

You buried your head into the crook of her neck, making a whiny noise in the back of your throat. She said she liked your singing, yes, but it still intimidated you. Whether it was nerves, or the fact it was her that was listening.. but you did want to please her. Always.

“You realize you sing beautifully, little one?” she eventually asked. “Even when I’m not inside you?”

You let out a burst of giggles and she lovingly kissed your shoulder. The glee of her enjoying your voice and the aftermath of your orgasm soared like butterflies inside you.

“You best get back to your duties,” she hummed, though her hand curved around your waist and held you close, like she wasn’t going to let you go. “The shelves in this castle aren’t going to dust themselves.”

You laughed again, feeling adoration swell up inside you as you ran your fingers through her loosened locks of hair. 

“...can I come back tomorrow night?” you asked feebly.

She chuckled, low and sultry, and tipped your head up to look at her, “you can come whenever you want.”

Your face went beet-red in a matter of second and she grinned widely.

“But tomorrow night.. come to my chambers. And don’t bother with your supplies. Won’t want you getting wet again... at least not like that.”

A/N: thank you all for the love on part 1 ☺️ I hope this meets your expectations <3

[platypanthewriter]

Take On Me

Art by @fae-vorite​ for the Harringrove Big Bang!

When Steve pulled up in the drive, he had a mouthful of blue slushie, and he was watching the tiny old lady he’d been driving behind.  She’d barely been tall enough to see over the dash, and as he watched, grimacing, she barely swerved around a row of mailboxes, and then carreened through a four-way stop.

As he stared after her, there was a weird hissing noise by his elbow.  Steve yelled and threw his arm up in the air, spattering himself with slushie.  

“Bwah!” Max yelled, stumbling back, and smacking blue slushie ice off her arm.  “Steve!  What the hell.”

She hadn’t been in the driveway when he pulled in, Steve was fairly sure, and he stared around.  “Where are the rest of you?” he asked warily, rubbing flung slushie off his chin.  He glanced up, half-expecting Dustin to swing down on him with a vine from a tree.

Max squinted at him, her jaw working, and then glanced around.  “In the bushes,” she said.  “Get us inside, now, Steve.”

He rolled his eyes, stalked over and held the front door open—and then swore and dropped his slushie right on the ground and ran over to help, because it wasn’t Dustin and the Chipmunks hiding in the bushes.  There was a woman, shaking, her hands stained with what looked like blood, and Billy Hargrove, who apparently wasn’t dead, barely staggering between Max and the lady.  He was bandaged, and half-naked.  

Steve elbowed his way in past Max, and got an arm around Billy, hefting his sweaty, shivering ass towards the door.  

Once Steve had Billy, Max ran ahead and kicked the slushie cup aside, ushering the woman into his house.  “Mom, come on,” she groaned, and it occured to Steve that he’d never wondered about Max’s mom.  It seemed obvious, thinking about it, that most people had a mom.  One of his girlfriends freshman year had had two, and didn’t seem to have a dad, which Steve had never quite figured out.

Billy looked dead, mostly, pale until he was nearly grey, like instant oatmeal.  “I thought you were dead,” Steve hissed at him, and he snorted a laugh.  

“Guess not,” he breathed, his head against Steve’s as he stumbled along.

When they got inside, the phone was ringing, but Max ran and stood in front of it.  “Don’t answer,” she told Steve, staring at him with wet red eyes.  He nodded, still half-carrying her undead brother, and trying to figure out whether the blood on Max’s mom could have come from under Billy’s bandages.  

“We should call somebody,” Steve pointed out, as he lowered Billy onto the couch.  Billy’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t try and get himself more comfortable, or anything, he just laid there.  Steve threw a blanket over him, feeling like he was covering up a body.  

Max’s mom looked like she wasn’t up for much, staring at her hands and the floor, and Max took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing her face.  

Steve beckoned her into the kitchen.  “We should call somebody,” he whispered, again.  Max set her jaw, shaking her head, and Steve made a face.  “At least a doctor,” he hissed, and she deflated, staring out at the limp shape of Billy on the couch.  

“H-he should be fine,” she mumbled, digging her fingernails into her forearms until the skin whitened.  “He—he didn’t get shot,” she gritted out, and her mom flinched, shivering, and rubbed at her bloody hands.  

“Wait,” said Steve, staring between them.

“M-my husband,” said Max’s mom, and then covered her mouth, and a shaky sob.

“You have a dad?!” Steve yelped, looking around.  “He got shot?!” he added, grabbing his car keys, because it seemed like somebody should probably find the guy. 

“He’s dead,” Max’s mom whispered, staring at her bloodied hands.  “He died right—right in front—in front of—”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Max said flatly, “—and we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Steve nodded, and then shook his head, bewildered.  He hung the car keys up by the front door, and then braced himself, and sidled over to touch Max’s mom’s shoulder, waving at the kitchen sink.  “Um, d’you want to…?”  

She nodded, and took a couple weaving steps to lean against a chair, which she drug to the sink.  Steve leaned down to whisper to Max.  “...so...somebody’s dad got shot?  That’s—that’s where the blood—” he asked, feeling well out of his depth.  His fingers itched to call a functioning adult—Hopper, or Joyce Byers, even, because it looked like Max’s mom wasn’t up for much more than staring at the bloody water in the sink.  “Should I try and find some...tea,” Steve hazarded, and Max snorted a laugh, rubbing her eyes.  

“Billy’s dad,” she whispered, watching her mom.  “The, um—” she dropped her voice further.  It rasped in her throat.  “—Mom let them in because they told her they were the CIA.”

“The CIA shot Billy’s dad?!” Steve choked out, trying to keep it under his breath.  

“They weren’t actually the CIA,” Max said, rolling her eyes.  “Obviously.”

“O-obviously,” Steve echoed, because it sort of made sense.  It did seem weird that the CIA would come to Hawkins, Indiana to shoot anybody’s dad.

“Mom thought they were just...checking on us, you know,” Max said, sniffling, and Steve tried to imagine assuming that the C-fucking-IA had banged on his door just to roll out the welcome wagon.  “Just—just like the FBI does, all the damn time,” Max mumbled, biting her lip.

“Wait, what,” Steve interrupted with a hiss.  “The what now.”

“We’re, um, we’re not really from California,” she whispered, swallowing, and biting back a sharp laugh.  

“Okay,” Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, and watching Max’s mom cry softly with her arms in the sink, and her head bowed.  “Okay, yeah, no, hang on,” he told Max, jogging the couple of steps over to her mom.  He poked the woman’s shoulder gingerly.  “You all cleaned up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, and she turned big watery eyes on him, but she nodded.  

“Come out in the front room and sit down,” Steve told her, feeling like sitting wouldn’t really help much, but crying into the sink had to be worse.  He reached in and turned the water off, and guided her by the elbow into the front room.  “Gonna get everybody something hot to drink,” he told them, hoping he still had...something.  Ancient instant coffee from the last time his dad was home, maybe.  Something old and dusty, probably, but Steve didn’t think Max’s mom would know the difference, not after having her husband shot by somebody pretending to be the fucking CIA.  

After he pointed her at the big recliner, Max started fussing around with the color-coordinated throw blankets Steve’s mom had bought and never used, and Steve stepped over to the couch to squeamishly lift the blanket off Billy’s head.

“I-I’m fine, honey,” Max’s mom told her, behind them, as Steve surveyed Billy’s pale, sweaty face.  His eyes were closed, but the skin around them was as red and raw as Max’s mom’s.  His eyelashes were stuck together with the fresh tears leaving trails down his cheeks.  

Steve dropped the blanket again, grimacing, and stalked back into the kitchen to find the teakettle, fill it, and put it on the stove.  He found some packets of hot chocolate Dustin’s mom had given him at Christmas, and dumped them into two mugs.  After a minute, watching the glow of the burner shine off the bottom of the kettle, he grabbed another mug, shrugging.  

 Max shook her head when he walked out and tried to hand her the hot chocolate.  “I’m not a little kid,” she said, glaring at him, but her mom took it with a soft sigh.  

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely.  “Max, sit down, I—I’m fine.”  She reached out and took the mug Steve had offered Max, and held it out to her, and Max sighed heavily, but took it.

Steve went back for the third mug, and then uncovered Billy’s head again.  “Hey,” he whispered, and Billy licked his chapped lips without opening his eyes.  He grimaced before he blinked and squinted up.  “Here, at least hold it,” Steve told him.  “It’s warm.”

“...you made me tea,” Billy growled, glaring at the mug, and then, warily, at Steve’s face.

“It’s chocolate,” Max put in.  “You like chocolate, asshole.”

“...made me chocolate?” Billy asked muzzily, frowning harder, and Steve sat it on the floor, in order to get his arm around Billy-suddenly-alive-Hargrove, and help him sit up.  

“Are you sure you’re not...dying?” Steve whispered to him, lifting the mug and pressing Billy’s hands around it.  “Like, right here?  I need to, uh...kidnap a doctor, or…?”

Billy snorted into his first sip of hot chocolate, biting his lips together as his chest shook with coughs.  After a few seconds, he took a shaky breath, and opened his eyes again.  “Don’t...kidnap anybody,” he rasped out, smirking.  “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harrington.”

“I know a guy,” Steve told him, letting go of the mug, and reaching out to tug at the bandages visible over the top of the blanket.  Billy went very still, holding his breath, which was creepy.  If he wasn’t sitting up, Steve would have checked his pulse.  “A doctor.  M’not gonna let you die,” Steve told him, eyeing the stretched pink scars under the gauze.  Some of the gauze looked wet, not red, but pale yellow, and Steve grimaced, brushing his fingers over it.

“It’s just the surgeries.  Fuck,” Billy creaked out, his hands shaking on the hot chocolate so it nearly spilled.  “They had to cut me open a few more times.  Stitch me back together.”  

Steve put his hands around Billy’s on the mug, to steady them.  “...I got some duct tape somewhere,” he offered, under his breath, and Billy’s breath huffed against his fingers in a laugh.  His mustache tickled, but Steve held steady, watching him drink the hot chocolate.  His cheeks were pinking up a little.  He stunk, kinda, sweaty, and sour from his bandages.  It was weird to be anywhere near Billy Hargrove and not smell his cologne.  “...I thought you were dead,” Steve said under his breath, and Billy shrugged a shoulder, wincing, and swallowing hard.

“Murphy’s law,” Billy hissed back, grinning, but his eyes welled up again, and he blinked rapidly.  “Whatever you least want to happen…”

 Steve helped him drink the hot chocolate, trying to think of something to say.  ‘Sorry your dad got shot,’ seemed wrong.  ‘At least your mom’s alive,’ didn’t seem right either, and then Steve realized he had no idea whether the woman was Billy’s mom.  Billy and Max’s family seemed complicated, and it was entirely possible both parents were Billy’s, and Max had been snatched from a stroller outside a grocery store.  

“So, um,” Steve started.  “You’re...not from California?  Why would you…”  

“Lie about that?” Max asked, flatly.  “The goddamn FBI told us to.”

“...the ones that…” Steve stared over at her, trying not to stare at whoever’s mom’s hands, where they’d been all over blood.  Max called her mom, he told himself.  Whatever she is, Max thinks of her as her mom.

Maybe they’re aliens, he thought, trying not to laugh, because why was the FBI checking in.  Maybe they’d all raised Max from an alien egg they’d taken turns sitting on.

She seemed okay, for an alien, he decided, as Max said, “We’re in Witness Protection.  Or we were, until the Starcourt Mall footage made the national news.”

“Ohhhhh,” Steve said, nodding.  “That makes more sense than aliens,” and Billy choked on his hot chocolate.  “Did you see a gang murder?” Steve asked politely, that being how it usually worked in Hawaii Five-O.

Billy coughed harder, and Steve patted his back, gently, grimacing as he tried not to break the guy any further.  

“Noooo,” said Max, and when Steve glanced over, she was staring at him.

“What?  Shit happens,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Sometimes monsters steal your brother.”

“They didn’t exactly steal him,” Max said weakly, and Steve blinked.  

“I was talking about Will Byers,” he said, and shrugged.  “No gang shootouts, then?”

“We lived near Portland,” Max said, like that fact made Steve’s question the stupidest question ever asked, and then she sighed.  “It’s, um, it’s actually...stupider.  Than that.  There, um, there was a...lab.  There.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said, nodding, and thinking of Hawkins Laboratory, and Eleven.  

“They wanted children to...experiment on,” she whispered, and trailed off.  Steve turned to see her glowering into her mug.

“Set up this machine to check the local kids,” Billy said, suddenly, near Steve’s ear.  He huffed a laugh as Steve jumped.  “At the arcade.  Looked like a normal arcade machine, but it was keeping track, high scores, you know.”  He took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat.  “Even had a fake name.  Polybius.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Max shouted, suddenly, her voice wet and uneven, and her mom grabbed her close, squeezing her with white-knuckled hands.  “How the hell...we saw guys in suits parked around the place, we thought maybe the owner was like...running some kind of gambling with the machines and they were watching him, or something, how could I have—”

“Went to pick her up and they were shoving her in a van,” Billy’s voice rasped, and Steve jerked unintentionally, imagining it.  “I followed them to the lab and they tried to tell me it was some...class for special kids,” he hissed.  “Tried to tell us all to shut up.”

“They came and talked to N-Neil and I,” Max’s mom said.  “They were...we did what they asked, if they’d leave Max alone.  We couldn’t talk about it, not with anyone.”  

Steve nodded, familiar with the way laboratories worked, and filed away the fact that Max’s not-dad had been named Neil, before somebody’d shot him.  There was a long silence, then, as Billy bit his lips together, frowning into the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate, and Max’s mom cried softly again.

“I called the fucking police,” Max said hoarsely into the silence.  “I—I called the goddamn police, they were—they were stealing kids, they—”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing.  He’d found out more and more about what the lab had been doing, after he’d promised to keep quiet.  They’d even killed the nice burger man, he thought sadly.  His name had been Benny, Steve learned later, but at the time, he’d just been the nice burger man, the one who listened and advised as Steve told him about being terrible at college application essays, and his love for the smartest girl in school.  

Luckily, in Steve’s case, the sheriff had already been told.  “You had to,” he agreed.

“They shot the cop she told,” Billy said flatly, in Steve’s ear.

“They were kidnapping little kids—” Max yelled at Billy, her voice cracking with emotion and he raised his voice over hers, his voice wavery as he tried to catch his breath.  

“Shot him in the head.  They shot his partner, too—”

“The FBI helped us sneak out,” Max’s mom said softly, but they both shut up.  “We were shuffled around a lot…”

“Why bring you here,” Steve said doubtfully.  “Where our lab is?  I mean, it’s better, now.”

“Maybe our FBI guys weren’t as on our side as we thought,” Billy muttered, swallowing hard, again, and Steve realized he was trying not to cry.

Steve tried not to do anything, push Billy away, or anything weirder, like hug him.  He’d gotten too good at this babysitting thing, he thought with a grimace, if he was inclined to hug Billy Goddamn Hargrove.  The problem was, Billy’s inaudible, bitten-back sobs felt like when Nancy’s little sister was scared of the noises outside, while her parents were at the movies.  Steve was conditioned to pull that kind of thing against his shoulder, even when it was Billy Hargrove, with his broad, heavy, muscular shoulders, and heavier fists.

“Fuck,” Billy hissed under his breath, pulling his hand loose from Steve’s to rub his wrist across his eyes.  

“...d’you want...anything,” Steve whispered, as softly as he could, fairly sure Billy didn’t want him to sing Old MacDonald even if he was really good at all the animal noises.  

“How about my dad, alive,” Billy snarled, his unsteady breaths taking the sting out of it.  

“Thanks for letting us in,” Max said, hoarsely, and Steve turned to frown at her.

“Of course I let you in,” he snorted.  “I wasn’t gonna leave you hiding in my bushes.”

“We—we’ll figure out what to do,” Max said, as her mother squeezed her close again.  “Soon.  Before—before the lab people figure out where we are.”

“We need Hopper,” Steve told them, starting to stand, and then realizing he was holding Billy up, and he didn’t want to drop him on the floor.  He wasn’t sure how together Billy was under the bandages—he didn’t seem very...healed—and the thought of dropping him on the floor, and just accidentally jostling all Billy’s internal organs out through a big hole in his back made Steve shudder.  

“You can’t call him,” Max’s mom said bleakly.  “They were listening to our phones.  They said, as we...ran,” she choked out.

“...bet they aren’t listening to walkie-talkies,” Steve told her, absently spreading his fingers over the cool skin of Billy’s shoulder, to warm him up.

“Where’s yours?” Max asked breathlessly, and Steve gave her directions to his sock drawer.  

Billy was shivering harder, and Steve waited until his little sister and maybe-mom weren’t looking to pull the blanket away from more of his bandages.

There was red smeared on them.  “Billy,” Steve hissed, urgently, and Billy laughed wetly, wiping his nose.

“‘S not mine,” he laughed, a little hysterically.  “S’my dad’s.  He—he died right—”

“Shit,” Steve said, blankly, watching Billy try to wipe it away with shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.  “That can’t…” he trailed off as Max brought the walkie-talkie down, and she and her mom started whispering about what to say.  “You need new bandages,” Steve told Billy, the one thing he was confident he could do.  “I need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, fuck,” Billy panted, sniffling juicily, and Steve nodded once.  

“I’m taking Billy up to...clean him up,” Steve told the other two, and they nodded, watching him.  

“He’s still got stitches,” Max said, glaring.  “Don’t get him wet.”

‘Your dad’s blood got all over’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say ever, so Steve just nodded, and got Billy fairly upright.  

“How far we going,” he panted, swaying, and Steve made a face, then turned around.  

“Piggyback,” he announced, and Billy swore under his breath.

 “Fuuuck,” Billy whispered in Steve’s ear, as Steve made his way carefully up the stairs, steadying himself with one hand on the railing, and one hand awkwardly supporting Billy’s ass.  “Watch it there, Harrington,” Billy snorted, with a pained grunt.  

“Sorry,” Steve told him.  “Is this like how you can’t squeeze the donuts at the store unless you buy them?” he asked, because Billy was heavy, and his ass cheek was soft in Steve’s hand, and Steve’s tongue was on cruise control.

Billy coughed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder and chest as he gave a strangled-sounding laugh.  “...yeah, Harrington, it’s exactly like that,” he gasped out.  “I’m...your fucking donut...now, asshole.”

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him, all the adrenaline of them showing up covered in blood draining out of him.  “Shit,” he panted, staggering up onto the landing, and taking a minute to breathe.  “Don’t make me laugh on the stairs—”

“You started this shit, I just finished it,” Billy mumbled against his neck.  His breathing was uneven and shuddery.

Steve took a slow breath to steady himself, and carried Billy just that little bit further through his plaid bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Billy didn’t even comment on the extreme plaid, his teeth chattering, so Steve nearly dropped him on the toilet in his urgency to get a few inches of really hot water in the tub to plonk Billy in.  It’d be just like with Holly, he figured, put few inches of water in there to keep her warm, but not enough so she could slide in and drown.  It wouldn’t be enough to get up near Billy’s bandages, he told himself, then, while the water was running, he realized he didn’t know where all the bandages were, so he reached over and yanked at the drawstring of Billy’s sweatpants.

“WAH,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand with his cold, sweaty, shaking one.  “...what,” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, and then blinking stubbornly open again.  

“Come on,” Steve said, grimacing at how pale he was.  “You got any bandages below the chest?”  Billy just shivered and breathed, staring into the middle distance, and Steve finally bit his lips together and grabbed Billy’s cold face, turning it to face him.  “Billy,” he said.  “Billy?”

“...Harrington,” Billy whispered, focusing on him, and then looking around, his eyes welling up again with tears.

“Come on, stay with me, I’m gonna get you warmed up,” Steve told him, ignoring his own heart pounding.  He was aware of shock as a concept—he’d seen Joyce Byers after—after.  But Billy had bandages, he could be bleeding out, or something, and the thought made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he tried to lift the guy enough to get his sweatpants off, and pull him into the bath.  

“Come on,” Steve whispered, pulling Billy up until he was sort of standing.  Steve had to reach down and lift Billy’s feet one by one into the tub, and he yelped, opening his eyes again at the heat.  “Just gonna clean you up,” he muttered, pretty sure Billy wasn’t hearing him, what with the way he was slumped against Steve’s side.  Steve lowered him into the water, and Billy shook his head, mumbling inaudibly.

Steve held his shoulders for a long moment, watching his face, and then yanked at the bandages.  Billy still had some stitches underneath, but to Steve’s profound relief, it didn’t seem like any of the blood was his—or that the blood had seeped in anywhere.  From what Steve remembered of reading Johnny Tremain in middle school, gangrene was a possibility if stuff got past Billy’s stitches, and so he was very careful to wipe around them.  

Billy relaxed slowly against the back of the tub, his head tilting to rest against the corner as his eyes closed.  His hands occasionally lifted to touch Steve’s, and then fell away as Steve washed him all over, until he was pink and warm, and didn’t smell like sour sweat anymore.  Billy snored softly under his fingers, and Steve bit back a laugh.  

The bath water started to cool, and Billy’s shoulders started to clench again, his legs goosepimpling, so Steve ran the hot water again.  He pulled the plug on the cooler water, then when the tub was empty, replugged it.  As the hot water rose, he ran out to grab an old plastic cup from his desk—he had to dump the pencils out—and pour warm water over Billy’s legs.  

Billy screamed, this awful broken noise, scrambling to get out of the tub, and Steve yelped and turned the water off, helping frantic, naked Billy Hargrove out of the tub and half into his lap.  He was slippery and warm, and Steve tried not to think about it, stretching to try and reach a towel, but Billy was laughing brokenly into his hands, muttering “I’m me, Harrington, I’m fucking sorry, I’m the best you’re gonna get, I’m still me, I’m Billy goddamn Hargrove—”

“Shit, I know,” Steve told him, as Billy’s wet shoulder soaked into his t-shirt.  “You’re Billy, you’re okay, shit.  You were just cold, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Maybe I’m better as the Mindflayer,” Billy laughed, gulping and sniffling.  “Could’ve taken out that lab guy before…” he took a shuddering breath, wiping his nose.  “Not just...let my dad get fucking shot,” he whispered.  “F’I wasn’t such a waste of space I’d have answered the door.”

With a sinking horror, Steve realized he had his arm around a naked guy in his bathroom, a naked guy who’d once beaten him unconscious.  A naked dude who wished he was dead.  “Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said, after some thought.  “You don’t know he’d have gotten away.  Max’d be crying over you again.”

“Like she would,” Billy snorted, reaching for the toilet paper and loudly blowing his nose.

“She did, though,” Steve told him, and Billy glared over.

“Yeah, right,” he said, and then opened his mouth again, shut it, and wiped his eyes.  “...what the fuck am I doing here,” he grunted.

“Uh, well,” Steve started, “—you were um, playing an evil videogame in Oregon—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, wheezing with pain.  “Why are you...why’d you—” he mumbled, as Steve set his jaw determinedly and wrested him up from the floor, dragging Heavy-Ass-Hargrove out to his bed, and tipping him into the sheets.  

The bandages were an adventure, with Billy falling asleep--and he finally fell asleep again right on Steve, as Steve tried to get him dried off.  

He didn’t wake up for hours, until Steve was sitting up in bed, on the phone with Hopper.  Billy blinked big blue disoriented eyes up at him, frowning grouchily, and Steve held his finger up to his lips, listening to Hopper explain the situation.

“It’s okay,” Steve hissed to Billy.  “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

Billy stilled, watching him, then snorted a laugh as his eyes drifted shut.  “...’kay, Harrington, he mumbled, sighing contentedly as he curled into the warm pillows.

Steve smiled, and rolled his eyes.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

-------------------------------

By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

-------------------------------

Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

[vecnawrites]

Jaune didn't know why Velvet and Coco had been so pushy to get him to meet them in downtown Vale, on a particulary Sunny day. Seeing both the hotties wearing flowy sundresses, he quickly saw the appeal and even more so, when Coco had lifted the back end of Velvet's dress. Seeing the cute and full rear was already hot, wearing no underwear was hotter and the Cottontail Butt Plug, was the cream on top.

Velvet whined as she looked at the different clothes that Coco had placed on their beds, more and more fabric spilling from their dressers and their closets like blood from a Grimm Attack. “Isn’t this enough, Coco?” she gestured to the ‘rejected’ pile, where most of their casual clothes lay. “I mean, we’re just going to Vale…” she began timidly, freezing in place, rabbit ears twitching as her friend stiffened, before slowly turning towards her, tilting her sunglasses down and staring at her with narrowed chocolate eyes.

“Oh, but Velvet, this isn’t just a visit to Vale!” Velvet felt heat creep up into cheeks at the sudden passion that her friend was showing, waving her arms as the Coco slowly advanced towards her. “This is a visit to Vale with. Your. Crush. You managed to get the courage to ask the brave knight who defended you out! To repay him for his kindness. To admit your feelings! To take him to a quiet place and ride his-”

“COCO!” Velvet nearly shrieked, cheeks burning and heart beating rapidly as the images formed and danced around in her mind, images of her hugging, kissing, making love to the attractive blonde that had been so kind to her. She bit her lower lip as she imagined riding him, him holding her hips and looking up at her, love in his eyes-

“Perfect! Found it!” Velvet was ripped from her daydream when Coco’s victorious cry reached her, and glanced over to see her holding a cream colored sundress high above her head like a battle trophy. Velvet felt her cheeks somehow darken even more as she realized what dress this was. She remembered Coco buying it for her because ‘it goes wonderful with your complexion, Bun-Bun!’, but she had never worn it out of the dorms.

Why? Well, it looked nice on her, that was for sure, but the length of the sundress left much to be desired! It just skirted legality, barely cresting her upper thighs! The slightest breeze would flip it up and expose what underwear she was wearing to whomever was in front of her or behind her! “Coco…!” she whined as her friend moved forwards, a smirk on her face.

“Re-lax, Bun-Bun...there’s no breeze at all today really. You’re in no danger of showing the goodies off to Jaune or anyone, until you want to!” Seeing the firm look in Coco’s eyes, Velvet’s shoulders slumped, knowing that there was no way she was getting out of wearing this. All she could do was submit, and hope that the embarrassment wouldn’t be too great in front of her crush.

She squeaked as Coco descended upon her, her top being pulled over her head and being tossed into the corner, her bra following, her orange sized breasts settling onto her breasts with a jiggle, before her pants and panties followed, leaving her naked before her teammate.

A quick moment later, she found the sundress pulled over her head and her arms put into the sleeves, leaving Velvet disoriented for a moment as Coco ran her fingers through her lightly tangled brown tresses, easing the small knots out. “Perfect! Now, time for me to get dressed!” she hummed, heading back to the closet and looking for something for herself, leaving the slightly dizzy bunny alone. As she cleared her head, Velvet took a step, then blushed brightly as she felt a healthy breeze over her bare pussy. “C-Coco...underwear, please!?” she squeaked out, making her friend laugh loudly. “Coco!?”

~x~x~x~x~

Velvet walked with burning cheeks next to Coco, making sure to keep her thighs pressed together as much as possible. Why, one may ask? The reason was simple: Coco had refused to let her wear underwear. Neither bra nor panties. Meaning she was completely bare underneath this woefully short sundress which just barely fell past her mound and upper thigh. Even now, she was afraid to raise her legs too high to walk so the people around them didn’t get a perfect view of her freshly waxed pussy!

But still, on some level...this was exciting. And Velvet hated that that was true. She didn’t want to find this exciting! She didn’t want to get turned on! And she certainly didn’t want to leak down her thighs! That would be so humiliating! All...all the people seeing her juices sliding down her thighs, a small breeze all it taking to just expose her to all their eyes, to Jaune’s eyes-!

She was pulled out of her frighteningly arousing thoughts by Coco tugging gently on her hand, making her nipples graze the inside of the dress, becoming dangerously close to getting hard and saying a loud and happy “HELLO” to everyone. “There’s Jaune! Come on, Bun-Bun!”

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune Arc was confused. He had never really understood girls, even with being raised in a family of seven sisters. If anything, that made it worse. He constantly mixed signals and such...but even he couldn’t mix this one up. At least, he thought he couldn’t mix this up.

When he had helped Velvet, the admittedly very cute rabbit faunus in the year above him, he hadn’t been expecting anything from it! He had just been doing what was right getting Cardin to leave her alone.

But later on he had pretty much hunted down by the bunny girl and her fashion plate of a partner (trust him, with seven sisters, he knew girl’s fashions, and she was wearing all the latest trends with the best fabrics and colors that accentuated her skin and eyes) and told him in no uncertain terms to meet them here today in Vale, on a bright and sunny Saturday.

It wasn’t a date, of that he was sure. After all, why would two beautiful girls want to be seen publicly with him at the same time? But still, he wore some clothes that he knew were acceptable for an outing with a lady, or ladies in this case.

He took a sip of his tea, savoring the cool sweetness and wondering where they were. He knew that he was early, a holdover from his childhood where his dad was of the belief that not only was it better to be early than late, but to never keep a lady waiting. They still had about ten minutes before he would begin getting worried, at any rate.

Hearing a familiar voice, he looked up to see Coco and Velvet making their way towards him, Coco surprisingly enough missing her beret and sunglasses, and Velvet with a deep blush on her face. He smiled a bit, finding her beautiful, adorable. He paused. Beautiful? Adorable?  That wasn’t something that was a common thought with every girl that he saw.

He swallowed as they made their way over. Both of them were wearing beautiful sundresses that accented their figures wonderfully, Velvet a cream colored one that seemed almost gauzy in its composition, and Coco was wearing one the color of her namesake, Cocoa, with accents of Burnt Sienna. He found himself holding back a wince. His sisters really had done a number on him if he knew the colors on sight.

Biting his lip and taking a deep breath to calm himself, he stood.

~x~x~x~x~

Velvet swallowed roughly, mouth watering upon seeing Jaune wearing clothes that she didn’t expect him to have, but Brothers, did he look delectable! A soft yellow dress shirt was pressed and buttoned up against his frame, tucked into his navy blue slacks and topped with black dress shoes. His hair was combed neatly, framing his face nicely. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, so loud she worried that Coco could hear it.

Speaking of her partner...Coco whistled low. “Damn, Bun-Bun, he cleans up nice~!” she outright purred, licking her lips. “Hell, if you don’t want to take him for a ride, I think I will…” Velvet’s ears went stiff and she spared a glare at her partner, before putting her attention back to Jaune, giving him as good a smile as she could, despite the fact she felt a mixture of arousal, shame, and fear filling her as she felt herself moisten. This was...going to be difficult.

Especially when Coco practically dragged her along to go meet her crush, the breeze whipping along her damp lips as she was moved. Her cheeks darkened more and she shuddered as her arousal grew higher and stronger as they reached the table.

She nearly squeaked as Coco all but shoved her into the seat next to Jaune, her bare rear and thighs plunking down onto sun warmed metal, feeling the little...addition that Coco insisted on. She shivered as she remembered how she got it…

(Flashback Begins)

“Coco, what are you doing!?” Velvet screamed, cheeks burning as Coco bent her over the bed and pulled up the edge of the sundress, revealing the round swell of her bottom and her plump pussy lips. She tried kicking out, but it was useless, as Coco was too close to her for her kicks to do much, especially with the benefit of Aura. Her cheeks burned as she felt warm puffs of air across her backside, brushing over her most intimate of places.

She released a soft squeak as firm hands grabbed her soft cheeks, fingers sinking into them and spreading her rear apart, revealing the entirety of her pussy and her small hole. She whined, thanking everything that she had showered thoroughly that morning, before a startled shriek escaped her lips as something hot and wet licked a stripe between her cheeks, before prodding at the small depression of skin, circling it.

Velvet whimpered as she hunched and curled in on herself, her legs tucking inwards and knees pressing together as she dug her fingers into the sheets before her, biting viciously into her lower lip to try and make herself focus on something other than what her partner was doing to her ass...her eyes nearly popped clear from their sockets as she felt Coco’s tongue work along her rim, before pushing inside her.

She buried her face into the bed, releasing a wail as Coco insistently worked her tongue around, before pulling away with a ‘pop’, leaving her shivering at the wetness that was suddenly attacked by the cool air of the room.

“Well…” she could hear Coco sounding breathless, and heard her lick her lips, puffs of air brushing her soaked nethers, before she felt her partner release one of her buttocks, Coco’s other hand shifting to keep them spread apart. “If you decide to fuck the stud, it can’t be in your pussy...from what I hear, Arc’s got seven sisters...he shoots inside, you get pregnant. I guarantee it.” Velvet squirmed as she felt something cold poke against her small hole, before worming its way in, “So, what we’re going to do is make sure this bunny badonkadonk of yours is alllll ready in case you want to make love to the stud~” Coco murmured.

Feeling the item settle within her rear, plugged in fully, Velvet shook as she sat up slowly, looking behind her with wide eyes to see what Coco had shoved up her butt. She whined, her ears drooping as she saw it. She couldn’t believe that Coco had even gotten one of these. How had she not noticed that she had a-

(Flashback End)

Velvet fought a shudder as the cottontail buttplug that her partner bought shifted inside her ass, pressing against her inner walls, the sensations nearly making her miss what Jaune asked her. She released a soft ‘eep’ and spoke. “I-I’m doing okay, Juane! H-How about you?” she nearly scrunched her menu up in her hands, her emotions going wild as she glanced at her crush with a shaky smile. It didn’t help as she felt the air under the table going up her skirt!

And Coco, the wicked bitch, just sat there and smirked behind her menu!

~x~x~x~x~

Gods help her, Velvet couldn’t even remember what she had eaten, or even what they had talked about, her attention focused solely on Jaune. Were his eyes always such a deep, soulful blue? Did his hair always catch the sun that way? Did he always smell so...so good?

Velvet was mortified as she shifted, feeling slickness between her thighs. She just knew that she would be leaving a wet spot on the chair when she stood up! That would be so humiliating! Oh, she hoped that Jaune didn’t notice...that would be...terrible.

She could already see the look of disappointment on his face, feel his hand around her wrist, tugging her close, before he threw her over his lap, flipped up her dress, and upon seeing her bare bottom and pussy, began to spank her, punish her for being such a bad, such a perverted, naughty, filthy, outright slutty little bunny who needed to be disciplined-

She was pulled from her thoughts by the boy in question, who placed his hand on her arm, and she found herself drawn into his eyes, his smile. She melted. Coco was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She was smitten. Truly, completely, utterly in love with this young man. She wanted him...she wanted him so much, to be his. To be wrapped in his arms and hugged...kissed...fucked halfway through the mattress!

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune noticed that Velvet was nervous and stuttering, her words disjointed and almost frightened. He didn’t think it was him, but boy, did he understand social anxiety. Reaching out, he placed his hand on her arm, and found himself staring into deep chocolate eyes.

He had heard tell of the eyes being the windows of the soul, but he had always thought that to be complete and utter bunk that was in tawdry, bodice-ripper romances, like the ones that Saphron wrote, and the ones that Blake tried to hide that she read.

But looking into Velvet’s eyes...he understood what his sister meant. He could see warmth, fear, contentedness...attraction, desire, want. All of this, aimed at him.

“Hey, lovebirds~” a teasing voice made red blossom over Velvet’s cheeks, and heat in his own face made him realize that he was blushing as well. Both shrinking slightly at the confident smirk that the other brunette had on her face. “I paid for our lunches, and don’t worry, it was my treat~” she teased, obviously taking joy in their embarrassment. “Let’s go for a walk?”

~x~x~x~x~

Coco Adel was a lot of things. Team Leader of CFVY, Leader of the fashion trends in Vale, and most of all, she liked to think herself a good friend. She knew that her Bun-Bun was shy as fuck, but that she really wanted, thirsted for, really, the blonde that had helped her with that brute Winchester’s bullying. She often caught her closest friend staring at him in longing.

And by the Brother’s, this ship would fucking sail if it was the last thing she did!

So she planned, she plotted, she managed to get Jaune to agree to meet them in Vale, she got Velvet in the sundress (she was proud; she had known that she’d get her to wear that someday!), and refused her underwear, and even bought the cutest buttplug to prepare her!

She knew Velvet after two years. She knew that the timid little bunny would take ages to actually attempt to get close to Arc, so she knew that she had to help her. She had caught the needy little bunny masturbating in her sleep, moaning Jaune’s name! She had to do something!

And so here they were, by the artificial beach near the edge of downtown, with not a single person in sight. Perfect. She turned to see Velvet standing by Jaune, looking up at him almost adoringly, but could tell that her sweet little bunny needed help admitting her feelings. But she would, after all, Velvet had her for help.

“Jaune...you know why we called you out for a day out?” she asked, seeing Velvet stiffen and look at her pleadingly, but Coco wasn’t going to be stopped. She wasn’t going to let Velvet keep curled in on herself anymore!

Reaching out she tugged her bunny close and could feel her heart beating hard and fast against her rib cage. She rubbed her back gently, trying to soothe her a bit before redirecting her attention to Jaune, who stared at them with confusion. She smiled at him softly. “Velvet...she’s bad with talking, but she really, really likes you, but I knew that if I didn’t help her, she’d say nothing and possibly lose out. She’s my closest friend, and I can’t let that happen to her.”

Velvet trembled against her, and she felt her bury her face into her shoulder so she didn’t give into the urge to look back...not that that was an issue. Jaune looked at Velvet in awe, as though the bunny had hung the stars. Good. Maybe he was worthy of dating her.

Her lips titled upwards into a smirk. “Ready yourself, Velvet…” she whispered, feeling her partner stiffen against her, before she looked back at Jaune. “Yeah, she’s been, well…” she stopped herself, knowing that she was almost about to ramble, before quickly dropping into a bend, grabbing the end of Velvet’s sundress and yanking it up, revealing her bare bottom and the cottontail buttplug nestled between the fat cheeks, her free hand cupping the plump right buttock underneath her chin. She ignored the shocked squeak and flailing arms above her as she gently squeezed the delectable cheek in her hand. “See, Jaune? Velvet’s been ready for you~” she cooed.

Part of her worried that this action was a bit too much for him, but she needn’t have worried, as she saw Jaune’s eyes glaze over in lust and his pants swell...and swell...and swell...my, my. He was a big one...fortunately, she had prepared her bunny for this. She smirked, looking around, before seeing a small alcove hidden from most. Perfect~

~x~x~x~x~

Velvet felt her cheeks burning as Coco leaned back against the wall behind her, and she leaned against her, with Coco’s hands holding up her sundress, keeping her bare backside visible to the young man behind them.

Her cheeks burned as she felt eager hands playing with her rear, skilled fingers outright massaging the bubbly cheeks, making her whimper and tremble against her partner, her beautiful, caring, loving partner, her lower lips drooling her thick honey down her thighs.

She must have looked needy, desperate, slutty, because Coco smiled at her before looking behind her. “Don’t just tease Bun-Bun, Jaune...pull out that plug and make her day! You can’t have her pussy, you told me you have seven sisters, one drop of that cum gets in her womb, Bun-Bun’s a goner~” her leader teased.

But Coco’s teasing words ignited a fire within her belly, her pussy twitching, her womb hungry for cum, fantasies of her with a belly swollen with life, her lying in bed with Jaune as he rubbed her belly, the life within gently kicking out-

Velvet was pulled from her fantasies with Jaune’s hand gently grabbing and tugging on the plug in her ass, making her squeak and bury her face into Coco’s tits, the exquisite softness pressing against her burning cheeks reminding her that Coco had forgone a bra as well.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune pulled out the plug with a wet sounding pop, Jaune caught sight of the slightly gaping hole, and felt his aching cock throb harshly in his slacks. He had always known that Velvet was beautiful, hell, her partner was a woman of extreme beauty as well. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that...but he didn’t think it was actually possible for Velvet to think he was someone worth dating. So to have her (Coco, really…) flash her butt at him and then drag him over here (Coco again), really threw him for a bit of a loop...but if she truly wanted this, he wasn’t going to deny her, or himself.

Letting her rear go (not for long, it was like squeezing the warmest, softest pillows imaginable), Jaune looked for a place to set the butt plug (cute, a cottontail outside, with the actual plug looking like a carrot, perfect for this adorable bunny), only for Coco to snatch it out of her hand and tuck it away in a secret pocket, giving him a nod as she stroked Velvet’s hair.

Jaune groaned, his cock throbbed hard. SNAP! Three sets of eyes widened as his button snapped off, shooting over Velvet’s back and hitting the wall next to Coco, making the blonde groan in humiliation, before he worked his belt and loosened it, shoving his pants and boxers down, groaning again, this time in abject relief, as his cock was freed, landing between Velvet’s buttocks with a dull whap!

He grabbed her buttocks again, sinking his fingers into the flesh and spreading them enough that his cock slipped between the fat buns, making both moan, Velvet shuddering before him, arching her butt up against him. He rocked his hips back and forth a bit, sawing between the fat cheeks and getting a mewl from his...girlfriend? Girlfriend sounded nice. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. He loved it.

He took a deep breath. “I…” he winced as his voice shook, “Velvet, is this okay? I don’t want to take advantage of you…” he wanted this, Gods, did he want this, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of this sweet girl, either.

He saw her head move a bit between Coco’s breasts, the other girl smiling amusedly down at her partner as Velvet mumbled something. “Sorry, what was that, Velvet?” he asked. The mumble was slightly louder this time, making Coco giggle, but Jaune still couldn’t hear it. “Vel?”

~x~x~x~x~

Velvet couldn’t take it anymore! Popping her head out of Coco’s cleavage, she wiggled her ass as best she could. “Yeeeessssss~!” she whined out. “Fuck me! Make me yours! Use that bitchbreaker you call a cock and stir my guts up! Fill me with your thick, sticky cum! Fucking Breed My Ass!” she voice raised more and more, until she was almost shouting at the end.

Her cheeks glowed as Coco giggled. “You heard the sweet bunny, Jaune!” she chirped, making her realize she had just been such a loud, naughty, slutty little bunny, screaming out her desires like that. With a whine, she buried her face back in Coco’s chest, licking her lips as she felt the fat tip press between her cheeks. She quivered.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune swallowed as he pressed his tip against the still slightly winking hole Velvet was offering. Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to ease his way in...but was unprepared for Velvet to shove her ass back, swallowing his cock to the base, her bubbly ass hitting his hips with a muted clap!

He heard a muffled wail, and was afraid for a moment that he had hurt Velvet, but seeing and feeling her shaking and trembling between him and Coco, muffled squeals escaping her lips as she shook and (his eyes widened a bit) squirted between them, an arc of clear fluid splattering on the wall between Coco’s thighs. He knew he needed to wait, he didn’t trust himself not to pop off and cum from the brutal tightness that wrapped around his shaft.

His breath hitched, his cock throbbing hard within her searing orifice, his fingers digging into her rear as his girlfriend rolled and twisted her hips, making his cock twist and turn, rubbing against the inside of her ass. “Fuck…” he gasped.

~x~x~x~x~

Coco knew her panties were ruined; seeing Velvet come undone from having a cock in her ass was simply so fucking hot and who wouldn’t be turned on from having the desperate bunny in their arms while the boy of said bunny’s dreams was balls deep in her ass? His hands groping and squeezing that fat bunny bottom? She was surprised that she herself hadn’t cum yet just from watching!

She saw Arc staring at down at Velvet in utter lust. Completely understandable, the bunny was beautiful, and having finally given in and become who she was truly meant to be? Fuck. If only Velvet had gotten her cues...but that was neither here nor there right now.

Velvet released a loud cry into her chest, making her realize that Arc had started moving.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune couldn’t wait anymore! Slowly pulling back, he shivered as her ass clung to him, refusing to let him go as he rolled his own hips, thrusting back into Velvet’s lovely backside. His moves were slow and stilted in the beginning, not wanting to move too fast and make it too intense for either of them, but even with the slow movements, Velvet’s moans were getting louder and louder as he began to pick up his thrusting speed.

Taking a deep breath, he finally began to start smooth thrusts, a moderate roll of his hips that belied the power of his thrusts. He growled low as he squeezed and practically mauled the thick bubble of her ass in his hands, subconsciously wanting to leave his mark on the creamy flesh to let Velvet know that she was his now.

He knew that he wasn’t being too rough. He could hear her moans and whimpers of appreciation only getting louder. If she was allowed to continue, she might actually draw people towards them. “Well, well, well…” he spoke, his voice a low growl, his left hand loosening its hold on Velvet’s ass, rubbing the pliant flesh. “You needy little bunny...you know if you get any louder, you’re going to draw people to us. They’ll see us. Is that what you want? For them to see that you’re my little butt-slut bunny?” he growled. He didn’t know where these words were coming from, but he could see from Coco that it wasn’t a bad thing. Her eyes were dark, but not from anger, from lust. And the whine from Velvet, Brothers, that only made him harder.

Raising his hand, he brought it down on her ass with a loud crack, making Velvet clench around him with a loud cry, quivering like a bowstring. “Are you going to cum already, Velvet?” it wasn’t him who spoke, but Coco, her voice thick with lust and desire. “Is our little Butt-Slut Bunny going to cum her brains out from having her ass filled and being spanked?” her chest heaved as Velvet squealed between her breasts, “We can’t have that...you may want people watching you get claimed, but I don’t think Jaune or I wish to be seen in such a fashion...so let’s keep your mouth too busy to scream…”

~x~x~x~x~

Velvet shivered and moaned, quivered and cried out as her ass was fucked thoroughly by the boy she had fallen so hard for, completely missing Coco’s words...but she didn’t miss the hand settling on her head between her ears and moving her head down, down, down...her nose going wild as it picked up the thick sweet scent of what she knew was Coco’s arousal as she slid down her belly. The angle would have been awkward, perhaps even painful for someone that wasn’t as flexible as her.

Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the smooth fabric of the sundress rise up under her cheek until it rested on Coco’s flat, toned belly. Glancing down, she whimpered, seeing Coco’s bare, drooling pussy just underneath her chin. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips, only for Coco’s hand to be more insistent and push her down further. “Let’s keep that mouth of yours occupied, Bun-Bun.”

Any potential argument Velvet might have had was stopped as her head was moved down further, and her face was pressed against wet flesh. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she began to mindlessly lap away at the soft, fragrant flesh, eating out her beloved partner as she was dominated and fucked hard in her ass.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune watched, wide eyed as Velvet buried her face into Coco’s pussy and began to ravenously eat her out, slurping and smacking noises filling the small alcove, only just softer than the cries that she had been releasing.

He locked eyes with Coco who was now rubbing her breasts over her sundress, pinching her swollen nipples as he fucked Velvet’s ass faster now. Her chocolate eyes were smoldering with lust. “Mmm, what do you think, stud?” she purred, “Do you think Velvet can handle us? I think she loves being our little pet in bed…” her breath hitched and she arched a bit as Velvet became more insistent in her actions. “Fuck, this tongue is sinful...w-what do you say? Think we can share her? I think our needy, slutty little bunny just wants both our love!”

Jaune thought about it as he thrust into Velvet’s clinging rear, spanking her ass, loving the nice rosy shade the pale flesh had taken from his strikes. He heard Coco continue, maybe thinking that he needed more convincing. He let her, even though if Velvet wanted this, he was perfectly on board as long as she spent equal amounts of time with the two of them.

“And don’t worry, you won’t be just fucking Velvet, stud...I saw that cock, I want to take it for a ride too! How’d you like that? Both of us brown themed beauties on our hands and knees before you, wiggling our asses, making you pick-”

Jaune couldn’t take it anymore. “Sold!” he growled, beginning to fuck Velvet’s ass with even more force, loud claps filling the small area, the bunny’s bubbly ass rippling and jiggling as his hips crashed hard against them as his balls churned in need.

Coco cried out in shocked as Velvet wailed into her pussy, clenching down brutally around his cock as she squirted again, adding to the small puddle of slick on the ground.

Jaune growled as he plunged to the base, balls hitting Velvet’s soaked pussy and snapping taut against him as they unloaded every drop of thick seed they had, depositing it into Velvet’s rear end. He spanked and slapped her rear as he did so, loving how every swat to her rear made her clench and bear down more around him.

~x~x~x~x~

The three enjoyed their orgasms around each other, Coco squirting and coating Velvet’s face, Velvet herself trembling and shaking and whining between them, and Jaune pumping what felt like every drop of nonessential bodily fluid into the greedy backside is cock was buried in.

Finally, Jaune and Coco came back to themselves, and took deep breaths to steady themselves. Slowly, Jaune slipped out of Velvet’s rear end, his now semisoft cock slick with his cum, and he thoughtlessly reached out and took the plug that Coco handed him, admiring the gaping hole filled full with his cum before pressing the plug into her, making sure that it was secure and none of her cream filling could leak out.

Carefully grabbing the near unconscious, giggling bunny, Jaune helped her upright, only to gasp as Coco sank to her knees and throated his cock, sucking and slurping off all of the cum and Velvet’s taste off of his cock, then tucking him into his pants and making sure they were settled as good as they could be on his body.

“Now, stud, we are going to a hotel, and you are going to fuck both of us. I’m sure you can do that, right?” Coco smirked when Jaune scooped Velvet into his arms and tucked her against his chest, the absolutely glowing bunny smiling and rubbing her pudgy belly full of cum. “Velvet got me off, but I need more than one orgasm to be satisfied...and I can tell you do as well. Ready to go, stud?”

Jaune couldn’t nod fast enough, making Coco laugh.

The trio left the alcove, leaving behind no evidence of their being there beyond a large clear puddle near the wall as they made their way back into Vale proper.

[postwarlevi]

Wooow over a month since the last self ship?!

Since I'm not really writing (my bad) let's get back to this for now!

It's spring date time! Back to regular questions eventually.

Just put how the date would go with your self ship :)

Some of these might be self indulgent. You're very welcome to send me ideas for future shipping!

Who are you self shipping?

1 Farmers market

2 Picnic

3 Outdoor play/movie in the park

4 Paintball

5 Bike riding/tandem bikes

6 Scenic walk/hike

7 Strawberry/fruit picking

8 Dessert/ice cream parlor

9 Stargazing

10 Road trip

Bonus question: Were do you go on your road trip?

Other self ships on my masterlist!

tagging: @levisbrat25 @hauntedhousecat @levi-supreme @theferricfox @thesimpsstuff @antoxsmith @ackersbride @ack3rlady @smol-stone @sckerman @starryenigma @happybird16 @holy-guacamoly @jayteacups @levmada @levis-hazelnut @cookiefics @nelapanela94 @m-jelly @lucysarah-c

Tagging who I think will like this, no pressure! Anyone can join!!

I wrote a novel I'm so sorry LOL!

Who are you self shipping?

Levi

1 Farmers market

One of our favorite things to do when it's not too hot! We dress casual and he always likes my sun dresses. Come home with way more produce then we could possibly use and wind up freezing fruit and making dishes with lots of left overs. We finally bought a folding grocery cart because it gets to heavy to carry everything! Levi always gets some fresh flowers for me, and we look at the plants for our garden. Stop and get the local honey and eggs, among other things. Usually stop for more soaps and tea. Always take a nap once we get home. Levi I insist. "Can't you go half a day without sleeping?" But I whine and pull him along, not that he's putting up a fight.

2 Picnic

This one is special for us and happens usually a couple times a month. It's always a very nice time and we pack up some treats in an old fashion picnic basket, grab a blanket and head out. Find a spot under some shade and sit close while snacking and talking softly. Levi usually winds up laying down with his head in my lap when we finish eating and lets me play with his hair. Almost falls asleep because of how peaceful it is. Once I got him to sleep and gently put flowers all over him and when he sat up was very confused when they all fell off. He was only out for ten minutes but swore he had a dream that he was a flower seller on the streets, like Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady.

3 Outdoor play/movie in the park

We'd probably do this as long as it's not going to be too crowded. We bring folding chairs and a small tote of snacks and things to clean up with. We eat a meal beforehand because Levi is not eating from the food trucks. Also brings bug spray, sanitizer and a flashlight for the walk back to the car, just to be safe. Glares at families with kids running around disturbing others even though we tried to stay away from everyone.

4 Paintball

Levi does this because I ask 100 times. He's not happy. We don't use the shooter but just throw them. Levi barely tries to hit me because he knows it could hurt. It's not my favorite thing, however the looks on Levis face when he's hit with pinks, blues and yellows is hysterical. He threatens to make me pay for it later, but I don't know what he means since he only actually hits me twice. :) We don't do this again lol. "We're showering the second we get home." "We?" He doesn't answer.

5 Bike riding/tandem bikes

Tandem biking goes okay, he sits in front and does a lot of the work and asks if I'm doing okay a lot. I can't always hear him since he's in front and usually just give a positive response. He realizes what is going on when he asks if I want a break or to just keep going and I just say yes. On regular bikes he goes slow and makes sure I'm in the inside if we're near a street. We go in the morning before it gets too warm.

6 Scenic walk/hike

We try hiking and each bring a bag and snacks and water but turns out I'm not great at going uphill. Paths are a different story and we hold hands and stop a lot to admire running water or interesting looking trees. Levi makes sure I stay hydrated if we're on the trail for a long time but that just means I have to use the bathroom, so more stops. He never complains though.

7 Strawberry/fruit picking

Levi doesn't even try to stop me anymore when I go on a fruit picking frenzy, he just wiling holds the bag/bucket. "We have enough now, right?" "No, no, just a few more rows!" Really he doesn't mind, whether it's berries or, his favorite, apples, because we're going to make some yummy stuff with them.

8 Dessert/ice cream parlor

We come here on discount night to bring some home, but also eat a cone while we're here. Levi has to stop me from overloading with toppings. While we sit and eat I forget to actually eat since we're talking and Levi rolls his eyes at me, but it's done so fondly. "Can't bring you anywhere without making a mess." He holds my cone so I can wipe up the drips on my hand, and won't give it back without a kiss. "Yum, chocolate." He'll say with a smile, while I get a taste of vanilla.

9 Stargazing

We'll go for a late night drive away from the city lights and lay back on the hood of the car to get a better view. While I'm busy trying to make pictures from the stars, Levi is getting really scientific with star facts. I have no idea where he's got all this from (Hange) and he doesn't even realize I'm looking at him with a smile. Once he does he'll stop mid sentence and blush and look away. I tell him it's okay, even if I don't really understand everything, and tell him to help me find Orion. Which he does in under a minute.

10 Road trip

Sometimes we take the highway, sometimes the backroads when we're not in a hurry. Usually he has two hands on the wheel but sometimes Levi take one hand off to hold mine or put his on my leg. Classic rock and roll and sometimes country music get played a lot. We play a few rounds of Never Have I Ever and Would You Rather and he comes up with the most ridiculous questions, usually about hygiene. "Would you rather never wash your hair again or never wear deodorant again?" He keeps telling me this is not a test. After we stop to eat I insist on a new game.

Bonus question: Were do you go on your road trip?

A quiet mountain destination away from everyone.

---------------------

Who are you self shipping? Jean (doing both!)

1 Farmers market

We love this one! We do get produce, he insists on an entire flat of strawberries every time (the way he eats them they barely last the week) also lots of bakery items and dried pastas. Depending on what time we go will sometimes get breakfast or pizza from a food truck. We also like looking for hand crafted gifts for friends. One of us is always looking for a new hat, and once in a while we bring our dog. He gets so excited to see the vendors with the peanut butter dog treats! We grab food to go when we're ready to leave and start eating on the drive home.

2 Picnic

This is rare but the spontaneity of it makes me love him even more. It can be during the day but sunset by the water is more likely. Jeans just made an amazing meal and brings a fancy blanket and dishes and glasses like we're at a fine dining restaurant. Very romantic until this fool gets into his playful side and starts throwing cherry tomatoes at me. "You're ruining dinner!" He doesn't care. "It's MY dinner" The next thing you know food is flying and dishes are being knocked over and I can't even be mad cause we're laughing so hard. We bring dessert back and save it for after we've cleaned up and gotten the blanket in the wash.

3 Outdoor play/movie in the park We'll bring both chairs and a blanket and pillows so we can be comfortable and go back and forth between the two. Others might be annoyed at how much space we take up, but they should have gotten here sooner! Might grab food from nearby first but will bring our own snacks and drinks in plastic bags that can be used for trash. We bring a card game to play while waiting for it to get dark.

4 Paintball

I have to be honest, I don't know if I want to play paint ball with this guy. I feel like he'd really try to get at me while I shriek and run away because I don't want it to hurt since we're using the shooters. I basically cry after the second hit and Jean stands there and let's me get in a freebie and it makes me feel slightly better. We wind up teaming up against another couple and Jean shields me from most of their hits. We take a bath together later.

5 Bike riding/tandem bikes

We try tandem biking with me in front to steer and Jean in back to help peddle but turns out that's wrong, and we end up in tiny arguments most of the way since I get distracted. IDK what the heck he's yelling about, I only went off course four times. Anyway, he's worse at regular biking because I swear he forgets I can't go as fast as him and while I'm trying to catch up he's having a conversation with no one. "Babe, when did you get all the way back there?" This fool *rolls eyes*

6 Scenic walk/hike

Same as before, Jean is fit, I am not. But he continues to try to get me to hike and is always encouraging, and puts me on his back if it gets to much. "Come on, I got you, you're done for now." Scenic walks are extremely comfortable and we have conversations about the future usually. There's lots of hand squeezes and stops for hugs and kisses.

7 Strawberry/fruit picking

We love strawberry picking. I still say strawberries are his favorite fruit. We spend a couple hours in the field, each with our own bucket. We make it a competition on who can gather the best ones in a certain amount of time. Honestly we both win because we come away with 11 pounds of fruit and spend the weekend looking up recipes and baking together.

8 Dessert/ice cream parlor

We come here on make your own sundae night and make each other a sundae at the bar. We know what the other likes and usually end up eating out of both our bowls. Chocolate and strawberry go very well together. Sometimes for fun we'll dress up fancy and act proper. The staff engages and calls us sir and madam. We give a nice tip.

9 Stargazing

This is our favorite, because it's how we got together. Meteor showers laying on the blanket are the best and we lose count of how many we've seen because we can't stop telling each other that we ARE each others wishes and share lots of kisses "Oh, there's one! Kiss!" "Jean, there wasn't-" "Yes there was." and now we're kissing again and miss yet another one...yeah we can get really gushy sometimes. It's sickening LOL!

10 Road trip

Yes, let's go! We're blasting rock music from Bob Segar to Queen and head bang our way down the highway. Jean accepts if I switch it up to female driven vocals and if it's something like Katy Perry he'll sing in a higher voice with me. We're both terrible. He constantly asks me to look through the snack bag, since I'm the queen on road trip snacks, and soon our trash bag is filled with left over orange peels and granola bar wrappers. "Hey babe, can we stop somewhere?" He goes through the snacks so fast we have to hit a drive through.

Bonus question: Were do you go on your road trip?

Disneyland! Resort and activities booked, the whole thing is planned for a few days!

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

[deluluass]

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future! 

  & @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3 

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

  Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

  Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was. 

  That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun. 

  “Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

  This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too. 

  So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat. 

  His car, maybe.

  The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed. 

  Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

  “I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

  The larger man laughed again.

  “Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left. 

  “I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

  Akaashi passed the box to Wataru. 

  “Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

  How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

  Huh. 

  That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding. 

  “You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him. 

  This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

  “Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.” 

  “I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him. 

  “He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

  “Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied. 

  “That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

  His earpiece crackled to life. 

  Konoha’s voice emerged from the static. 

  “We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

  “Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

  Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!” 

  He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

  “I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

  Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

  “You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

  Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed. 

  Wataru followed behind him. 

  “We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

  The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

  It collapsed and clunked against a stone. 

  He heard the birds flutter away.

  When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor. 

  And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer. 

  He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

  It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

  But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really. 

  The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world. 

  Maybe some other time.

  “Wataru.” 

  Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

  Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

  His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek. 

  It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

  “No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered. 

  From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion. 

  (It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

  He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm. 

  “A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

  Akaashi halted. 

  “No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

  Wataru stared at him. 

  Akaashi went ahead. 

  He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries. 

  By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.” 

  Of course he knows the man is married. 

  But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms. 

  Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things. 

  That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing. 

  But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

  You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

  Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

  Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest. 

  Yet here he is. 

  His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

  "Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

  You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands. 

  "S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

  Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

  Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

  Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing. 

  Yet here he is. 

  Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

  Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

  "Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

  Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

  Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed. 

  “Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief." 

  It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two. 

  So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

  (He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

  “Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

  You looked at him, wide-eyed. 

  “Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

  He spun you around.

  “Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

  Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

  A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own. 

  He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

  Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

  “Is for the way you look at me.”

  “Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

  Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

  “O is for the only one I see.”

  Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else. 

  Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

  Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips. 

  “Where did you go earlier?” 

  The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you. 

  Love was made for me and you.

  “I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

  You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him. 

  “Are you happy?”

  It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

  You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist. 

  “Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise. 

  Music. Laughter. Running water. 

  Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

  Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

  After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

  He spoke after the first two rings. 

  “Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

  His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

  Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives. 

  Why?

  “Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

  There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

  A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

  Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

  “Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

  His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

  Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

  “Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

  Three days. 

  They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo. 

  To run right here. In Miyagi.

  He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

  The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

  Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter. 

  And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

  “I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

  Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

  The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An  old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

  It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

  They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement. 

  Don’t let her stay too long.

  That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

  So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

  “Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

  There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out. 

  He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course. 

  Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

  You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

  It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells. 

  Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat. 

  Akaashi-san was right.

  You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

  Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore. 

  He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth. 

  It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron. 

  The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later. 

  It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

  "How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

  It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

  "Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you." 

  The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved. 

  Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

  "Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

  You looked back down to your bowl. The  tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

  "So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

  Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room. 

  "I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

  "I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel. 

  "You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

  "I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

  "And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

  A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

  It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

  Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.    

  He didn't need to say it. 

  That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

  Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped  what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

  The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

  You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted. 

  "Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

  The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

  Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.   

  Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

  It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done. 

  "I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say. 

  I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say. 

  Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

  "Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.  

  "I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed. 

  You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table. 

  You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you. 

  It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

  "Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

  He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

  "I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear." 

  You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive. 

  And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

  "Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

  Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

  "I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly. 

  It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though. 

  "I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

  Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger. 

  "I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

  That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying. 

  Except, you, too, know it. 

  When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

  He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

  "Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

  When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning,  clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help. 

  You hated him all the more for it.

  "Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

  He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

  The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway. 

  But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights. 

  "We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger. 

  A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

  No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you? 

  Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

  You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top. 

  You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

  You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time. 

  Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

  He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

  He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

  Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

  Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons. 

  Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

  The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

  (And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

  This man is the real one. 

  And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

  "What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

  Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

  "N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

  "Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

  You shivered as his palms swept over your  stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

  "Look at me when you say it."

  You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

  "Please," he rasped.

  The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her. 

  "I will be happy," she said.

  Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name. 

  And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck. 

  "I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

  The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

  His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

  Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.  

  "You understand, don't you?" he rasped.   

  Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

  But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.  

  You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

  That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

  But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

  The flesh had a memory of its own. 

  You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

  His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue. 

  You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

  You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

  And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table. 

  The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

  "Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

  You don't know. 

  When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

  You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

  She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

  Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips,  spit trailing down her chin.

  "Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

  "So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again." 

  You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

  "I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die." 

  He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

  You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

  There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day. 

  But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances. 

  When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

  “I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

  You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

  He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

  “I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

  You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

  Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

  Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry. 

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 6

Sunshine

Summary: Reader finally goes back home to meet Levi & Luna and discovers the true reason behind her fallout with him.

Chapters: Five | Six | Seven

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Fluff, Spice - non-explicit , Modern AU

Word Count: ~ 2.7k

Inspiration: Shall We - Chen

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall, @badbitxhbuckybarnes , @sweet-assh0le ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Being at the patisserie today was difficult. You were exhausted after staying up all night in anticipation of how the day would go. The thought of returning to your old home that evening to see Levi and Luna combined with the revelation bombs that Hange had dropped on you yesterday had your heart in your throat for a good part of the day.

You were so distracted that a dozen eggs went flying from your hands when Miche tapped on your shoulder from behind during one of his usual visits, causing a huge mess on the kitchen floor. You had blown up at your new assistants Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie for looking at you wrong when they rushed to help with cleaning up the mess, after which Miche had officially ordered everyone to stay out of your way.

Your head rested on his shoulder, as you ate a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich, sat in the breakroom during lunch hour. Mikasa sat opposite you, quietly analyzing your body language, contemplating whether breaking the silence would be the correct choice to make. The television news anchor’s gibber-gabber played like white noise in the background while you chewed on the dry bread at a frustratingly slow pace, your eyes glued to the Aztec patterns on the ceramic backsplash beyond the sink. After hearing you sigh for the fourth time in three minutes, Miche decided to finally speak up.

“You do realize you’re not going to war, right? It’s just your little girl, not a titan. What has got you this terrified?”

He was right. Why were you overthinking this? Luna was your own daughter. She could never hate you, could she? Would she despise you for not being there for her for the last two months? What if she refused to see you today? What if she refused to see you at all? Your breathing began speeding up again.

“Oi!”, Miche jerked his shoulder and shook you out of your thoughts. “Stop worrying, will you? It'll be just fine.”

This resulted in another sigh from you and an eyeroll from the two.

Hours flew by in a matter of what felt like seconds. It was already time to leave for the much-awaited reunion. You assured Miche that you were okay to drive when he offered you a lift. Upon beginning on the familiar route you took every day for the last five years before you moved, memories of the long periods you spent stuck in traffic, longing to see your family after an exhausting day at work flashed before your eyes. Unlike then, you were hoping to be stuck in it today, just so that you could buy more time to prepare yourself.

But obviously, life had other plans. You zoomed past surprisingly empty roads and didn’t have stop at many red lights. And before you knew it, you pulled up on the street outside the house, your house, within fifteen minutes. You sat in your car frantically shaking your leg and running your hands through your hair, looking at the little home where you had spent both the best and the worst days of your life.

Light emanated from the large windows, the Prussian blue front door that you and Levi had painted yourselves, was closed, the lawn was freshly mowed, and Luna’s swing set sat on the grass just like it did while you still lived there. The sight made your heart warm, but you couldn’t get yourself to walk towards it. You gripped the steering wheel and laid your head on it, trying to calm down, until a knock on the window caused you to jump. You looked up to find Levi hunched over and motioning you to step outside.

“Oi! You’ve been parked here for thirty minutes. Are you coming home or what?”, he asked when you lowered the window.

Home?

You decided to finally leave the comfortable confines of your vehicle and slowly made your way to the house, your heart beating rapidly. Levi’s hand found yours; the warmth from his fingers intertwining with yours made your breath hitch.

“It's going to be okay. She’s really excited to see you.”, he assured you when you met his eyes.

Inhaling deeply, you stepped inside the house. Everything looked exactly how you remembered it. The sheer white curtains lining the French windows were gently blowing with the breeze, the rich cherry-wood grandfather clock that stood ticking away at the far end of the living room, books were lined neatly on shelves, family pictures were mounted on the wall, warm yellow light from the lamps illuminated all these features - it was all unchanged. You were instantly drawn to the pictures. Letting go of Levi’s hand, you moved to stand in front of the wall, softened gaze roaming through them and reminiscing the happy memories they brought back.

“Mama!” You were roused from your reverie by a voice you yearned to hear for the last two months. Immediately, Luna had clung to your leg like a koala bear.

“Loonie!” you squealed, picking her up and pulling her into a solid embrace.

“I missed you, Mama!”, she reciprocated with an equally tight hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much more, baby girl!”, you didn’t realize when you began sobbing.

Levi, who was happily watching your reunion from a distance, walked closer and placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as a reminder for you to stay strong.

“I’ll get dinner ready. Moon beam, why don’t you take Mama up to your room?”, he drew Luna’s attention as you stole some moments to compose yourself. The little one zealously tugged on your hand and guided you upstairs yapping in excitement the whole way.

You watched in awe as she told you story after story about everything she could possibly remember since the day you last saw her. Her angelic voice was like cool water to your parched ears. What took you so long to come back here? All the fear of rejection vanished in thin air as Luna modeled the new dresses you just gifted to her, and showcased the toys and books that her doting Papa, uncles and aunts bought. She insisted that you tie her hair into two space buns like you always did before because apparently, “Papa never gets it right like you do.”

Levi leaned against the door frame and smiled at the sight of Luna theatrically narrating an especially thrilling story about her encounter with a ladybug in the backyard. He clicked a mental picture of his little girl's dramatic oration while you marveled at her as if she sprinkled the stars up in the sky. As soon as she was finished telling how the polka-dotted bug landed right on the ridge of her nose, she spotted her father and announced that the three of you were to immediately commence with a tea party.

Akin to the rest of the evening, Luna insisted upon sitting on your lap as you sipped on hibiscus tea that Levi brewed while she drank the warm turmeric latte that she requested you to make. You peppered the top of her head with kisses as the walls of your home reverberated with more tales about her day at the park, and about a puppy that tickled her fingers by licking them. At 8:00 PM sharp, Levi declared that it was time for dinner when you finished your respective beverages.

His signature dish, Tonkotsu ramen was on the menu that both you and Luna gobbled it up in no time. For dessert, you brought her favorite strawberry ice-cream mochi that you made yourself at the patisserie. You two ladies chatted away and Levi participated every now and then.  You couldn’t help but think how perfect this felt and going by his serene expression, Levi seemed to be mirroring your thoughts.

Bath time after dinner had been a routine as the three-year-old was still learning to eat by herself and more often than not, made a big mess. You volunteered to bathe her while he cleaned up.  He slet out a content sigh when Luna’s laughter accompanied by yours echoed through the house as you splashed her with water while she played in the tub. Even the most beautiful music in the world did not hold a candle to this harmony that was falling on his ears.

When it was finally time for bed, Luna was in deep slumber within minutes, drowsy after a warm bath and a fun-filled evening. You reclined on the bed by her side, caressing her hair and listening to her mellow snores, and Levi sat on the armchair by the bed, catching up on some reading, occasionally glancing at the pair of you.

It was tranquil. The light from her moon-shaped night lamp dimly illuminated the room. The dream catcher that you made for her swayed over your hear. Nothing but sound of the soft breaths of your baby and of Levi occasionally turning the page of his novel filled the air. There was no stress, no negativity, only peace of mind. With closed eyes, you took it all in, this life you missed so much.

You had been entranced for a while before feeling a soft tap on your forearm. Levi signaled you with his neck to head outside. Right as you tried to get out of bed as gently as possible, a little hand gripped yours tightly.

“Mama, don’t leave.”, the melancholy in Luna's sleepy voice tugged on the strings of your heart. You opened your mouth to respond, but words refused to spawn.

“Moon beam, Mama will be back home with us soon.”

Levi was now on the bed beside you, caressing Luna’s hair with one hand and clutching yours tightly with the other. It was hard to decide whether the sudden flutter in your heart was a result of bewilderment, or from the warmth of his words.

Making sure she was really asleep this time you both lightly kissed the snoozing baby, snugly tucked her in and made your way downstairs.

“Tea?”, he offered while entering the kitchen. You obliged, making yourself comfortable on the couch, not ignoring the sudden Deja- vu that dawned upon you.

He soon returned with two steaming cups of fragrant chamomile tea and sat next to you, stretching his arm on the backrest. He absentmindedly twirled strands of your hair between his fingers as you both sipped the hot beverage in a serene silence.

“I owe you an explanation.”, Levi finally began.

You turned to face him, with your back now resting against the arm of the couch. Poles apart from his usual calm demeanor, he looked... fidgety. His puffed the already plump pillows beside him, eyes glancing over everything in the room but you. Your continued silence was enough sign for him to go on with what he wanted to say.

“Uh... You are the first person I’m about to tell this to. In fact, I have never even uttered this out loud before. I only just came to terms with it myself.”, he exhaled sharply.

“What is it, Levi?”, you urged.

"Okay. Here goes. Something in me changed on the day Luna was born. I knew that as a father, I was expected to be her protector; that's what I was told a father should be. But- But I was too afraid for her. It was an obsession, almost blinding. It started with keeping the kid out of harm's way at all costs. But it just deteriorated from there. As she grew up, she wanted to try new things and explore. And you, like any parent would, encouraged her to do just that. It makes me sick to even say this, but my urge to shield Luna got so bad that I started to perceive you as a threat to our own daughter. I got these splitting headaches and I’d black out and lose track of what I was saying or doing every time things didn’t go my way. I didn’t even realize when I pushed you far, far away until it was too late.”, he sighed, his gaze locked on the blank television screen in front of him.

Your stomach was in twists, horrified face exuding your inability to grasp what you just heard. There was a long, pregnant pause as he waited for you to say something... anything.

“How could you?”

Levi and you had been together for a long time even before you married. You were offended that he could feel this way about you. It made you furious that he put you, Luna and himself through so much pain. Neither of you could control tears from being shed as he continually begged for your forgiveness.

"I knew I had fucked up, the moment I signed those papers. I turned our whole world upside down with my own hands. My mind felt like a prison that I could not break out of, and instead of letting you help me, I abandoned you.", he despaired.

Your rage started to evaporate when he described how lost he felt the moment you were gone; how he had hung on to Luna like his life depended on it, just to maintain his sanity. He was barely sleeping and the frequent nightmares he had were only making things worse. He told you how he had been working hard on controlling his impulses - starting by trusting Furlan, Isabel, Hange or Erwin with taking care of her in his absence.

“I can’t express how much I regret letting you go, love. I wish for every second of every day that I hadn't done it.”, He was breathing raggedly, as if trying hold back another wave of tears.

You quietly stared at him, unable to think of anything to say to him.

“It is getting late. I should leave.”, you sniffled as you began to gather your things.

Your mind was in scrambles; the heartache threatening another breakdown. It was almost midnight, the tea had done its job and you were exhausted, causing your feelings to be much more amplified than they would be otherwise. The last two days had been too much to process.

He nodded in despondency and watched you walking to the door.

It reminded him of something.

This.

This was his nightmare coming true. Again.

In his dream he was stuck to the floor, robbed of his voice, his limbs frozen. He couldn't let that miserable dream win this time. He needed to stop you. He had to have you back. He couldn't let you leave.

Not again.

Just as you were about to step out, he called out your name and reached out for your hand.

“Stay.”, he whispered, almost too softly.

“Levi, I have to be at work early tomor...”

“Why are you such a dumbass? Do I really need to spell everything out for you?”, he interrupted.

“You’re not helping your case right now.”, you raised your brow.

“I love you, you idiot. I let you go once, and I don’t want to do it again. I wont survive being away from you any longer. I need you. I horribly failed at being a good husband. But I promise I’ll make everything right if you give me another chance. Please.”, he begged, the lone tear running down his cheek shone in the dim luminescence of the room.

Dumbfounded, you gaped at his anguished face. You were wordlessly taking in what he had just said when he mistook your silence for rejection and turned around, looking dejected.

“Levi!”, you clutched his hand and pulled him towards you.

Your bodies collided, faces just a few inches away from each other's. Reaching for his face with your other hand, you wiped the tear away with your thumb.

“Kiss me.”, you breathed.

He looked... befuddled, unable to comprehend the words that just left your tongue. Getting impatient, you took it upon yourself to close whatever little distance that remained between you.

And like pieces of a puzzle, your lips met; perfectly merging together as if that’s where they always belonged. The stars that twinkled in front of your closed eyes accompanied were by ecstatic explosions in your heart and butterflies in your stomach. His lips tasted like sweet chamomile tea, with hints of the tangy strawberry from earlier. His touch was so gentle that you were transported back in time to the balcony of his old apartment where a shy Levi took all evening to muster up the courage to kiss you after your first date while it snowed outside.

The tenderness soon heightened into fiery passion when his hands wandered down to your thighs to pick you up and pin you against the door, slamming it shut. Waltzing tongues, heavy breaths, frisky hands; you were like two starving animals who were just presented with their favorite meals, hungrily grabbing the other and moaning into each other's mouths. He began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up with one hand as the other held you firmly against the door.

“Oi! What the fuck?”, Levi resembled a child who dropped his ice-cream on a hot summer day when you swatted his hand away.

“Slow down, Tiger. What’s the rush?”, you smiled coyly while wiggling out of his grip.

“I-I uh...”, He looked dazed, unable to form sentences.

“I love you too, Levi. I never stopped. But I don’t want to get hurt again. It has only been a day since we reconnected. Can we take this slow?”, you sighed, smoothing his hair and straightening out his shirt.

“We’ll go at whatever pace you’d like.”

A/N: So, did you ever expect to be Levi's Modern AU Zeke Yaeger? 🙊😬

Chapters: Five | Six | Seven

[wonder-womans-ex]

Make a Promise

“Sirius,” Remus says, rolling onto his side to face the man beside him, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Shoot.” Sirius’s eyes stay focused on the ceiling above, but he smiles warmly. 

“Do you—well, you probably don’t remember, but when we lived together, before, in the flat with the piss-yellow walls and the floors that squeaked and the stove that never worked, I had a shoebox. Under the bed. And I never let you look in it.”

Sirius is quiet for a moment, then, “I remember.”

There were three things is the box. And I didn’t want you to see any of them, all for different reasons.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re about to tell me what they were?” He’s teasing, but his eyes go soft when Remus replies, “Because you know me better than anyone.”

“The first thing,” continues Remus, “The one that took up the most space, was my registry papers. Documents of where I spent every full moon, what classification of werewolf I am, whether I’ve attacked anyone—that sort of thing. 

“Then there was a photo from first year. The one Peter took of James, you, and me after our first detention.” Sirius clenches his jaw, and Remus knows he’s thinking of their old friend. “For years, I thought I’d lost it, but then I was cleaning out the attic after my mum died, and there it was. And I kept it. Because in that photo, you’re looking at me like you looked at me after fifth year; like you look at me now. It just... amazes me, I guess, because we were eleven and we’d barely known each other a month, and already there was something there. I used to take it out, sometimes, when you were gone, and remind myself that what we had was real. It was... it was the only photo of you I didn’t burn.”

The silence envelopes them, heavy and painful, until Remus swipes a hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck, I’m crying.”

“‘S’okay,” Sirius says, “so am I.”

“You know I love you, right? More than anything?”

“I know. I love you, too. Always and forever.”

Somewhere along the way, their fingers have twined together. Sirius, after giving Remus’s hand a reassuring squeeze, asks, “And the third thing?”

“The third thing in the box?” 

“Yeah.”

“A box.”

“A box. Inside a box.”

“That’s right.”

“How exciting.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Shut up. What matters is what was inside the box.”

“What was inside the box inside the box?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I try.”

“Do you want to know what was inside the box or don’t you?”

“Please, do tell.” The grin on Sirius’s face still does embarrassing things to Remus’s heart, even after all these years. “How about I show you, instead?” he says. 

Sirius nods. 

As he leans over to grab his wand from the bedside table, Remus takes a breath. No going back now. He performs a wandless summoning charm, looking anywhere but at Sirius. 

“So.” He snatches the box out of the air as it flies towards him. “I bought this our last Hogsmeade weekend of seventh year. And I meant to give it to you right after graduation, and then again when we bought the flat, and again when I found out James was planning on proposing to Lily, but things kept coming up and I kept putting it off, and eventually it was too late. So I’m giving it to you now.”

He stops. His lower lip is trembling. “Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Slowly, Remus presses the box into Sirius’s outstretched hands. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sirius does, eyelids fluttering, and his eyes fix onto what he’s now holding. He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Probably.” Remus waits to see if Sirius is going to say something else. He doesn’t, so Remus goes on. 

“Padfoot,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you have known me since before I really knew myself. You taught me I matter; I deserve to be loved. You were the first person to find out what I was—what I am—and think no differently because of it. I have tried time and time again to find where I belong, and I never find that the answer is anywhere but with you.

“You are my world, Sirius Black, and it it because of you that I have the confidence to say I am yours. So I ask you, in the house of your awful parents who are probably rolling over in their graves right now... will you marry me?”

Sirius nods, the tears in his eyes spilling over. “Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely yes.”

And now they’re both crying, and they’re kissing each other on the cheek, the forehead, the mouth. Neither of them has ever been happier. 

Finally, Remus pulls back, prying Sirius’s fingers back from around the box, “Aren’t you going to look inside?”

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Sirius hold his breath a he opens the lid, deep red velvet contrasting starkly against thin, pale fingers. A smile spreads across his face. 

The ring inside glints gold; the four tiny rubies set in the band catch the early morning light. “It’s beautiful,” breathes Sirius, grin lopsided where his lip is between his teeth. “Can you...?”

It takes Remus a moment to realize what his boyfriend—fiancee, he corrects himself with a surge of joy—means. “Yeah,” he manages, taking Sirius’s left hand in both of his own and sliding the ring carefully onto the fourth finger. They stay there, palm to palm, for a long time, trading sweet nothings and gentle, chaste kisses. 

“I’ve been imagining how you’d look wearing that ring for nearly seventeen years,” Remus is saying when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Breakfast!” Both men look up when Molly’s shout rings down the hallway, neither speaking until she’s moved on to the next door. 

“Our first meal as engaged wizards,” Remus says, pulling Sirius to his feet. “C’mon.”

They wait, giggling and smiling at each other, until they’re sure everyone else has gone down, and then they race to to stars, still holding hands. They slide down the banisters, too; it’s like they’re sixteen all over again. 

At the first landing, Remus stops to push Sirius against the wall. “We’re getting married,” he murmurs into the kiss, and he feels Sirius smile against his lips. 

At the second landing, Sirius brings Remus’s hand to his face, pressing his mouth to each knuckle. 

They don’t stop on the third landing, but they do on the stair after it. Sirius almost falls over as he turns, one foot catching himself on the step below. 

“Can I take your last name?” His eyes are shining. 

Remus says, solemnly, “It would be my honour,” and they laugh again. 

The dining room does not go quiet when they enter. They make no grand enterance. Everyone else continues with their noise and clutter until Harry looks up from his game of chess; he nudges Ron, sitting opposite him, and both boys wave. 

Sirius glances sideways, catching Remus’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow.

Harry grins when Sirius sits down next to him. “Morning,” he yawns. “Ron’s checked my queen.”

“Good for him.”

Ron opens his mouth to say something, but Sirius never finds out what. With a flick of her wand, Molly has set out the silverware—it’s stainless steel, technically, so it doesn’t hurt Remus—and the plates, steaming with porridge. 

“Go on, eat,” she urges loudly, pouring out a cup of tea. “Don’t let it get cold.”

There’s a flurry of movement as everyone claims their place at the table. Remus ends up between Arthur Weasley and Sirius; he has to keep his elbows tucked in so as not to knock over anyone’s morning coffee. Across from him, Tonks is putting her metamorphagus skills to use, her Dumbledore imitation in particular sending Ginny into fits of laughter. 

He nearly burns his tongue on the first bite of porridge. Through the pain in his taste buds, he notices it’s quite good, and makes a mental note to compliment Mrs. Weasley on the recipe. Anyone who can make oats and water taste good, he reasons, is worthy of whatever praise falls their way. 

To his right, Sirius takes a thoughtful sip of his tea. They catch each other’s eyes and smile. 

Glancing around, Sirius sees that everyone is once more engrossed in conversation. Fred Weasley in particular is gesticulating wildly with his spoon, and Sirius has to duck to avoid a flying bit of porridge. Absentmindedly, he twists the ring on his finger around, rubbing his thumb over the four jewels. 

His chair almost topples over when he leans back in it, grabbing an antique crystal goblet from the shelf behind him. He takes the sugar tongs from the table, too, and then he stands up. 

Even with the ding ding ding of silver on crystal, it takes almost ten seconds for just one person—aside from Remus, of course—to look up. Hermione holds his gaze for a moment before leaning over and whispering something in Ginny’s ear. By the time he’s got everyone’s attention, he’s begun to contemplate sitting back down again. 

But, finally, there’s silence, and all twelve pairs of eyes in the room (minus his own, obviously) are on him. 

Sirius clears his throat. He resists the urge to climb on top of his chair, because a broken neck would not be a good start to his engagement. 

“Good morning!” he announces. “I, uh, I have news. Good news.”

Dear lord, he used to be a lot better at this. From somewhere down the table, there’s a mutter of, “Well, get on with it, then.”

Skipping the rest of the preamble, he allows his face to split into a smile. “We’re getting married.”

There is none of the happy amazement he expected. He receives no applause. What he does receive are slow blinks and confusion written on every face except his own and Remus’s. It’s Molly who eventually says something, and what she says is, “Congratulations! If you don’t mind me asking... who’s the lucky lady?”

Now it’s Sirius’s turn to be confused. “You mean... you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Bloody hell.” He isn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry. “I thought we made it obvious enough.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t!”

“How much do we need to broadcast it for you to see what’s right in front of you? How often should we hold hands at mealtimes? During Order meetings? Do you want us to take down the silencing charms on the bedroom, too, so you can hear everything we say, everything we—mmph.”

Sirius is cut off when Remus stands up, grabs the back of his head, and smashes their lips together. Between all those times back at Hogwarts, and now this, it seems it truly has become a trend—Remus shutting him up by sticking his tongue in Sirius’s mouth, that is. 

They break apart far too soon for Remus’s liking, but they do have an audience, after all. He can imagine without looking the expression on Molly’s face, and his imagination is proved correct when he turns away, sliding his fingers down Sirius’s arm to clasp their hands together. “That should answer your question,” he says before anyone has the chance to pick their jaw up off the floor. 

It’s been silent for a while—or, at least, it feels that way; the grandfather clock by the opposite wall shows only thirty seconds have passed—when Sirius realizes they’re still standing. “Excuse us,” he says, and pulls Remus out of the room. 

Out in the hallway, they stare at each other for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. “Oh my god, Remus,” Sirius wheezes. “Oh my god. That was fucking incredible.”

Remus covers his eyes with one hand. “It was spur of the moment, okay? Bloody hell, that was—”

“Unbelievably attractive? Absolutely iconic?”

“So embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for you, maybe. But that right there? That’s why I love you.”

“What, not my dazzling personality?” 

Sirius grins, leaning in. “Well, yeah, that too. And your gorgeous golden eyes, and your genius mind, and you smile that always makes me melt inside, and—”

“Okay!” yelps Remus, because he knows Sirius too well. “I get the idea!” His gaze is soft, though, and when Sirius reaches up to cup his cheek in one palm, he leans into the touch. 

Eventually, someone—Tonks, or Harry, or one of the Weasleys—will come to find them, demanding explanation. But for now?

It’s just them. 

And despite everything—despite who they’ve lost and what they’ve been through—they have each other. 

[shieldmaidenofgod]

Writing Our History––Prologue

This is an Arthur x reader fic I had an idea for a while back. Hope you enjoy it! Story below the cut.

(Y/N) sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She set her delicate embroidery on her lap and looked around the parlor as if something in the room would suddenly be able to entertain her.

After a few more painfully intricate stitches, she decided to forgo her embroidery work and laid it on the seat of her chair as she stood. She made her way to the gardens to get some fresh air, smoothing the small wrinkles and crumples out of her wide skirts on the way.

Once (Y/N) was outside of the mansion, she took a deep breath of the crisp spring air. A soft breeze danced through the arches of twisted rose vines and rows of bluebells and forget-me-nots, sending their fragrance through the air and swirling around (Y/N).

Giggles rang through the gardens and (Y/N) smiled, knowing it was her young cousin Percival playing between the neatly-trimmed hedges.

(Y/N)’s aunt Marjorie and her son Percival had moved to America with her family back in 1895. The Great Land of Opportunity had apparently intrigued Marjorie as much as her brother, (Y/N)’s father. Percival hadn’t been so excited to leave all his friends in the private school he attended in England, but he hadn’t had much choice.

Mr. Gilbert Hawthorn had decided to uproot his entire family from their estate in Halifax, England and move them all to America, and had succeeded in making something of himself. He had gone from simply being a wealthy man with a daughter every young man wished to marry to being a wealthy man and partner in a booming business with a daughter every young man wished to marry.

(Y/N) Hawthorn had not been too pleased with her father’s decision to leave England for America, but she was in no place to argue with her father, nor did she wish to be. (Y/N) was not a confrontational young lady, especially toward men, and even more so toward the man who clothed and fed her.

(Y/N) took a deep breath to clear her mind and watched her wide skirts brush up against the rows of bluebells along the sides of the garden’s pathway. The numerous full layers of linens, velvets, and crinolines were so big that seeing her legs move was practically impossible. Percival had once said that it looked like she was floating instead of walking.

Percival must have caught sight of her bright yellow dress between the tall leafy hedges, because he shouted her name and began running to greet her. (Y/N) turned the paved corner of the walkway and grinned at the sight of her cousin, opening her arms for a hug. Little Percival ran into her poofy skirts and wrapped his short arms around her legs. Her heart swelled at the thought of the immense love the little boy had for his cousin.

(Y/N) laughed lightheartedly and squeezed her cousin. “Hello, Percy!”

“I found a turtle by the bird baths!” Percy cried, hopping excitedly.

“Oh, did you?” (Y/N) picked up her skirts to raise them above the grass and began to follow Percy, who was skipping ahead of her off the path. “I wonder why he traveled all the way out here. The pond is decently far away; I’m sure that’s where he came from,” she mused aloud.

“See?” Percy pointed to the small turtle that was slowly inching toward one of the bird baths.

“Oh! He is rather cute, isn’t he?” (Y/N) bent down to get a closer look at the animal as Percy picked it up.

“Can I keep him?” the little boy asked.

“Well, that’s not really up to me to decide,” (Y/N) said, straightening up. “I’ll tell you what. You go and find something to put him in and then go see if your Uncle Gilbert will let you keep him in the greenery room. How does that sound?”

Percy nodded, ecstatic that he might now have a pet of his own, and ran off with the turtle into the mansion.

“Oh! Careful!” (Y/N) called after the boy. “Make sure he doesn’t end up upside down!” (Y/N) smiled and shook her head with a chuckle, walking back to the path to finish her garden stroll.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

That evening, (Y/N) sat at the mahogany desk in her room, writing a letter to one of her friends in England. A knock sounded at (Y/N)’s door and she announced for the knocker to enter.

“Supper will be ready in five minutes’ time, Mademoiselle,” a maid said in her thick French accent.

“Thank you, Dominique. I’ll be right down,” said (Y/N), wiping her fountain pen’s nib clean and closing the small inkpot with its cork stopper. With all the doorways she’d have to squeeze her voluminous skirts through, it was best that she left then.

After navigating through long corridors and twisting staircases, (Y/N) made it to the spacious dining room just as her mother, father, aunt, and cousin were sitting down to eat.

Supper began quietly as the servants doled out portions of boiled potatoes and cabbage, cream corn, roasted chicken, sautéed collard and mustard greens, and flakey buttered croissants.

“(Y/N),” the girl’s father spoke up after swallowing his first bite, “tomorrow morning, Dominique will prepare your hair and assist you in dressing. We have an important visitor arriving in the afternoon.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) raised her water glass to her lips. “Is it another one of your business partners?”

“Yes. He and I will be discussing a, ah . . . different sort of ‘business’ prospect.” He put another large spoonful of cream corn in his mouth, his bushy mustache brushing the food and picking up a coating of the cream. “Your marriage.” He said this rather bluntly, as if it meant nothing, although it was quite the revelation to his daughter.

(Y/N) choked on her drink and coughed into her glass at hearing the mention of her supposed wedding. She raised her napkin to her mouth to avoid spraying water on anyone as she spluttered for air. Dominique rushed from her position alongside the other servants against the wall to (Y/N) and patted her back.

“Mademoiselle!” the maidservant exclaimed. “Are you all right?” (Y/N) nodded, still coughing, but Dominique didn’t move from her side.

“Honestly, dear,” (Y/N)’s mother said with an irritated sigh, not even bothered to look up from her plate, “must you carry on coughing like that? Surely you do not need to be so dramatic.”

(Y/N) glared at her mother with red, watering eyes and continued to cough into her napkin.

“Perhaps I should escort Mademoiselle (Y/N) to her rooms and she can finish her supper there?” Dominique suggested in an attempt to prevent any heated argument from arising (as they so often did at the dining table).

“Yes, I think that would be best. Mrs. Hawthorn, do pass the butter,” Mr. Hawthorn said to his wife.

Dominique quickly arranged (Y/N)’s supper on a silver tray and led her to her bedroom, the fuming girl slamming the door shut behind them.

“I can’t believe him!” (Y/N) shrieked. “Marrying me off to a business partner like I’m some . . . slab of meat he can sell to the butcher!”

Dominique shook her head. “It’s revolting.” She set down the tray on (Y/N)’s desk. “Oh, Mademoiselle. I do wish there was something I could do.”

(Y/N) plopped into an armchair with a huff. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just do my best with your preparations anyway,” Dominique said.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” (Y/N) agreed.

Later that evening, (Y/N) laid in bed, her hair having been washed and dried by Dominique, ready to be styled the next morning.

Nearly all of (Y/N)’s anger had turned into a twisted, mangled knot of anxiety and betrayal that’d made its home in the pit of her stomach. How could her father think it was all right to give her away to some man she probably had never even met? Did her father and mother even love her anymore now that she was of age to be married? Did they ever care to begin with?

What if he’s old? (Y/N) thought. What if he hits me? What if he just wants a pretty face to parade around and show off at parties?

As the moon began to lower in the sky, (Y/N) eventually fell into a fitful sleep, her thoughts swirling around like a hurricane in her mind.

She woke early, the first rays of sunlight shining through her large bay windows and into her eyes and causing her to squint. Dominique strode quickly into (Y/N)’s room with her arms full of pressed crinolines, petticoats, skirts, a corset, and a basket of supplies hanging on her arm to fix (Y/N)’s hair.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Dominique announced. “Out of bed now, Mademoiselle, we’ve a lot to do before your . . . ah . . . meeting,” she said with a cringe-like grimace, “and you must eat breakfast before all that, too.”

(Y/N) nodded and yawned as she stood from her bed. Dressing and hair styling was quite boring, but (Y/N) had a book of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry to lighten the mood. Nothing much besides Dominique’s skillful hair styling was going on, except for when (Y/N) noticed something out her window.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the dark blob on the horizon.

Dominique squinted out the window. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Looks like it might be someone on a horse.”

(Y/N) hummed. “I wonder what they’re doing,” she mused.

A sudden knock sounded at the door, startling both Dominique and (Y/N).

Mrs. Hawthorn opened the door. “The carriage will be ready in ten minutes,” she announced, a haughty, almost triumphant look on her face. “Be finished by then.” With that, she left just as quickly as she’d come.

Dominique sighed, finishing the braid she’d been working on. “I wish you the best of luck, Mademoiselle,” she said softly, brushing non-existent debris off (Y/N)’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Dominique,” (Y/N) murmured, reaching out to hold and pat the maid’s hand. “I’m sure I’ll be back for supper.”

[sashi-ya]

{+18} – Cherry Blossom & Tangerines – Trafalgar Law x Y/n – Part 2

Modern AU. Living in Seoul, Sk. Trip to Jeju Do (Island). Everybody is alive. No spoilers. Female reader. No physical descriptions. Everybody is +18, canon ages. Chopper is human.

Tw: anxiety, fear of flying. No further tw warnings. Mostly SFW. Nami x Vivi & and some ZoSan.

A/N: The AU is inspired on Jeju Island, SK. I've made some research on cute places from there, such as touristic attractions and coffee shops. Even though, it may not be 100% accurate, so keep in mind is mostly inspired♥

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31059467

Word Count: 4K

» List of parts: {P1} {P2} {P3} {P4} {P5} {P6}«

Chapter 2. “Law?!...” I said surprised. “Y/n-ya?...” he asked, also surprised, but before I could say anything else, Luffy came running through the aisle and hugged Law, and I came to the conclusion that he was, indeed, Zoro and Luffy’s friend.

I moved my stuff out of the way, and after he got rid of Luffy, Law helped me to put my backpack on the overhead locker and then sat next to me.

I remained silent for a little bit, waiting perhaps for him to talk, but he didn’t. The flight attendant announced the takeoff was about to happen, so we fasten our seatbelts as the plane started moving. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and I could see how he seemed a little bit nervous. I thought it was my imagination, but when the plane gathered a little more speed through the runway, he began to breathe faster.

I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and I had to ask, “Law, are you ok? Are you feeling bad?”. He directed his gaze at me with blushing cheeks, and after a few seconds, he said “Y-Yes. I just tend to get a little nervous during the take off, but I’m… ok”. Poor thing, he was trying to cover his heavy breathing… “Don’t worry, it's completely normal, would you like me to hold your hand? You can squeeze it as much as you can”, I said kindly, keeping my cool just for him to see how it wasn’t a big deal, and nothing to get embarrassed of. I placed my hand, palm up, over the armrest that separated our seats and waited for him to hold it. He doubted a little bit, but he finally did it, first softly, still ashamed, but then firmly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon, try to focus on your breathing”, I guided him, with a calm speech, and looking directly into his deep grey eyes, smiling kindly. He slowly calmed his respiratory frequency, and a few minutes after the plane was already flying at cruise level, he sweetly let go of my hand. Our palms were a little sweaty, but I couldn’t care less.

“T-Th- Thanks…” He said, looking at the floor. “Don’t worry, you saved me three times the other day, now I owe you only two” I said, winking an eye at him. Law smiled a little, but kept looking at the floor. I was about to point out the fact that he was Zoro’s friend when Nami peaked through our seat backs saying “Oi Torao, you finally decided to come with us!! You normally don’t go anywhere, I’m glad you separated from your books for good!... Oh, and you two must know each other, right Y/n?” she said pointing at us, “Both of you study at the same U and are becoming doctors soon”. Vivi who was next to Nami began to giggle covering his mouth. Suddenly I realized that both of my friends already knew who Law was, and began to suspect that for some reason they wanted to perhaps pair us up.

“I know him from other circumstances”, I said smirking at them, but with an underhand expression of “I’m gonna kill both of you for not telling me”. Law smiled at them, but didn’t say much, and the girls returned to their seats.

“So, your surname must be Trafalgar, right? I thought you were a Donquixote…”, I asked him. “Yeah, is a long story…”, he said with no emotion at all, and I realized it wasn’t a good topic, so I changed the curse of the conversation. “Oh, you were the one who was complemented by Dr. Marco? You are amazing, doc!”.

“Uhum, but I’m not that good. Dr. Phoenix is just an amazing teacher”, he replied. “Indeed, he is”, I said. The small talk came to an end when the flight attendant offered us something to drink. I opted for a glass of plain water, and so did Law. He then grabbed a manga from his little bag, and began to read. “Maybe he doesn’t wanna talk to me…” I thought, put my air pods on and turned on the music. Some minutes after I regretted not having any sleep last night, as my eyes were trying to close...

The voice of the captain announced over the speakers that we will be arriving on Jeju Island in a few minutes. I was being lazy to open my eyes, as I felt extremely comfy sleeping in that position… until I realized I had my head - and almost the right side of my body - over Law’s shoulder. “Oh my… I’m sorry!” I said gaining composure and sitting properly on my spot. Law gave me a smile with kind eyes, and said “Don’t worry, I was asleep too, I used your head as a pillow, I didn’t want to wake you up, though”. Behind us a few laughs from the girls were heard, and I asked, confused, “You… what?. But the landing was already happening and the cabin crew asked us to prepare, so I decided to shut my mouth. I gazed at Law to see if he needed any help with the landing, but he didn’t seem as scared as he was with the taking off.

We all descended the plane, waited for our luggage and headed to the car rental picking point. I’ve booked three cars, so we distributed perfectly on each one. Franky picked the blue Hyundai Venue. Usopp, Chopper and Brook went with him. Law chose a yellow Hyundai Sonata, of course he would, he looks so cool… Zoro, Sanji, and of course Luffy followed him. I chose the white Tucson, for me and the girls.

We left the airport and drove through the streets of Jeju, admiring the beauty of the cherry blossom trees and the yellow flowers on the side of the road. Law’s car was behind us, and sometimes I spied through the rear mirror, just to see his face fully concentrated on the road.

I asked Nami to put the GPS for me, because our Airbnb was a little bit remote from the center and I was afraid of getting lost. The girls and I sang the whole drive to the songs the radio was playing.

We finally reached the house. It was just as the photos, a white two-story house, big enough for all of us. The beach was next to our patio, the typical style of grey rocks of Jeju Do garnished the entrance and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore with a few seagulls squawking made the whole atmosphere unique.

I gave the entrance code to Robin and she opened the door. Luffy entered first running excited and went directly to the garden to see the beach. We followed him, pretty excited too. Inside, the house had a minimalistic style, everything was white and the floor and furniture was made of light wood.

There were four rooms, so the guys distributed in two of them, Robin and I went to another and we let Nami and Vivi have a room for them. We took turns to use the shower and got ready to explore the island right away.

Sanji suggested that we should go first to Dongmun traditional market to buy fresh ingredients for him to cook for us. He became a professional chef a few years ago and works with his father Zeff, on his well-known restaurant, “The Baratie”. His cooking skills are heavenly, and he loves to cook for us, so we agreed immediately.

We arrived after a 10 minute drive, the market was extremely busy, the food stalls offered a variety of typical korean dishes, kimbap, tteokbokki, tteokgalbi and fresh and canned ingredients, such as typical fishes from the island and the famous kimchi.

Luffy, as always, drove by the smell of the delicious food, ran desperately inside and tasted every single sample the sellers offered to him. Nami, Vivi and I, decided to try the famed tangerines of the island. Nami, who is an expert on tangerines, would give us the final verdict on if they are good as people say. The juicy mandarin slices we tried were exquisite, the sweetness mixed with a little bit of tartness made us want to buy bags of them.

I saw Law approaching us, he had separated from Zoro’s group who were trying the variety of Sojus. I called him with a big smile and some tangerine slices on my hands, “Law!! Come here, you should try this!”. He came closer also with a little grin. I stood on tiptoes and said, “Open your mouth!” and without any shame I offered him a big juicy slice of mandarin. He opened his mouth surprised, but accepted the fruit and while taking it, his lips softly touched the point of my fingers. It felt almost as if he was kissing them, or for a moment I wished it was the case… A little drop of juice ran from his mouth through the commissure of his lips, so I immediately rubbed my thumb over it to clean it. He fixed his eyes on mine, and for a few seconds it seemed as if the rest of the world stopped existing around us. He swallowed up the fruit and thanked me still without taking his gaze off me. The moment broke when the old lady at the tangerine selling stall asked us if we wanted a box or a bag for the fruits. I turned to her, and saw Nami and Vivi looking at the lady wanting her to shut her mouth. My cheeks thanked the interruption, though, because they couldn’t get any more flushed.

“A box would be great, thanks!” I told the seller. Law carried the box himself, and we reunited with the rest of the group.

Sanji had already gathered everything he needed, Zoro had bought his alcohol provision for the next few days, Luffy had his face completely stuffed with some meat, Franky had a cola on his hands, Brook a milkshake, Robin a bag of tangerine tea, Chopper of course some candy cotton on both of his hands and Usopp was eating some type of ramyon. We left the market and headed to our temporary house to leave the provisions and decide the plans for the afternoon and night.

“I want to go to Bomnal Cafe, I heard they serve delicious pastries! Can we go there?” suggested Chopper. “We can go there for the afternoon, and then have a picnic with a bonfire at the beach for the night. What do you think, guys?”, I proposed. “BONFIRE! BONFIRE! Sanji, you could also make some barbecue!!” screamed Luffy, excited, and everyone agreed that it would be a great idea.

Some of us headed to the coffee shop, while Sanji, Zoro, Law, Usopp and Franky stayed at home to prepare everything for the night.

The little coffee shop had a minimalistic, all white and grey, and maybe a little vintage atmosphere. We ordered a few pastries, puddings and lattes that tasted exquisite. We sat by a big window that let us admire the beauty of a little garden with cherry trees and a little pond with some fishies swimming peacefully. We were making stories for Instagram, taking photos, having fun. “Oi, Y/n, pose for me!” said Nami and took a photo of me with her iPhone. I didn’t have time to pose properly, so it was a pretty casual photo of me drinking a matcha latte. Brook insisted on me posting it, because he said it was cute. Chopper and the girls agreed with him, so I uploaded it to my Instagram.

Suddenly, a new notification popped up on my screen, “@DrHeartSteeler liked and commented on your photo”. “Hey guys, do you know who is @DrHeart…” I was asking them while opening the notification and realized it was no other than Law. “@DrHeartSteeler > Beautiful… place. Can you bring me one of those when you come back home?”. I hadn’t had the chance to say anything else when my friends began to make a fuss about the comment. “WHEN YOU COME BACK HOME?, Torao what the fuck?” said Nami laughing out loud. Chopper who was a little innocent, started asking why everyone was laughing, and it only fanned up the flames that were blushing my cheeks. “Yohoho… I guess you have to bring him “home” a matcha latte, Y/n, he probably misses you already…” mocked me Brook. Robin, who is the most mature of all of us, simply laughed and looked at me with kind eyes.

“Stop it guys, he is just asking for a latte…” I said, fanning my face with my hand. “Oh, yes, of course. He wasn’t even following your account. Before we left home, he asked Vivi for your user, right babe?…” said Nami and Vivi nodded with her mouth full of chocolate cake. I didn’t want to show the excitement I was feeling on my insides, so I simply replied that he probably wanted to follow me because he was already following everybody in the group. We decided to come back before the sun set, so we could see it on the beach and after buying Law his tea, and some pastries for the guys we left the pretty tea room and drove home.

“Guys, we are home! we brought you some pastries!!” I said, while carrying the papers bags, and Law’s latte on the other hand. Everyone came running to me and grabbed the bags, while Law, who was sitting on the couch reading, looked at me above his manga, as if he was waiting for me to say something. I tried to act cool, so I said “And oh, uhm, Law your matcha Latte. I hope it’s the right size for you”. He smiled at me, left the book on the armchair and stood up. He walked towards me slowly, I didn’t know if he was trying to be sexy or it was just how he was… Because he certainly was, only using black with yellow spots, swim shorts and a yellow open shirt, that let me admire his tattooed chest and abs.

“Thanks, Y/n-ya. When I saw your picture, I craved for…” he made a little pause, and continued while grabbing the plastic cup, “some matcha latte”. Well, now I crave... you… I thought. I gave him a look from head to toe, and said smirking “It’s nothing, now I only owe you only one favor, so, you tell me if you need something more”. “Mh... I’ll keep it in mind”, he said with his low sexy voice and a little side smirk. I smiled at him and went upstairs.

I threw myself on the bed and sighed loudly. My heart was racing, my lower parts were feeling funny and the sexual tension I’ve just experienced was too much to handle for me. “How hot he is, damn it”, I expressed out loud covering my eyes. “Who is hot, Y/n?” asked Zoro, who apparently was entering my bedroom to ask me something. I almost had a heart attack, but calmed myself down and asked him what he needed. He told me that we were getting ready to go to the beach to prepare the picnic and watch the sunset and if I could bring some blankets. I told him ok and he left my room laughing.

“I came here to rest, and I’m getting more stressed than during finals”, I thought, annoyed, while gathering for a few blankets and pillows to bring to the beach. I headed downstairs. Everybody has already left the house and I could see them walking towards the beach from our patio. I was about to leave and closed the door trying not to throw the blankets I had in my hand, when someone scared the hell out of me. “Oi, you almost let me locked in..., let me help you with that”, said Law who was still inside. “God… Law, you scared me… what are you doing? I thought I was alone…”. “Sanji forgot the salt shaker, I returned to bring it to him”, he calmly answered. “Oh, I see… Well let’s go” I said, still breathing fast from getting scared, and handed him a few blankets to help me carry them.

The chilly sea breeze kissed our cheeks, and the sound of the beach began to fill my ears. I was wearing a long silky dress that danced with the wind, as well as my hair. The sun was going down, everything was golden. Oranges, violets, reds, were the colours that tinted the clouds above the sea. Law was walking right by my side, and both were admiring the beauty of the evening lights that bathed the cliffs. I decided to stop, and take a picture with my analog camera, and as I did, Law kept walking a few steps more until he realized I had stopped. He turned around and looked at me, just when I pressed the shutter. “I’m sorry, I… didn’t know…” Law excused himself for appearing in the photo, but I wasn’t mad at all. I gave him a smile and told him, “It’s ok, you are part of the trip, I’ll give you a copy when I develop the film if you want”. “Thanks…”, he said, and we kept on walking admiring the beauty of the sun setting.

We finally arrived at where everybody else was. Law gave the salt to Sanji and helped him with the barbecue. I started to set up the blankets with the girls and told Brook to play some music with his guitar. The boys had already put up the bonfire and some torchlights that lit up our night.

The night was lovely, it was a little cold, but a few beers after I was dancing with the girls barefoot on the sand to “A lovely night” from the movie Lalaland. Suddenly, Robin said to me “Hey, Y/n… it seems that Torao-kun can’t take his eyes off from you tonight”. “Huh?” I told Robin, confused. She pointed to where the boys were cooking and I turned my face to them. Law was indeed looking at me, with a beer in his hand. I smiled gazing at him over my shoulder, and he did too. I turned back at the girls and kept on dancing covering my mouth, giggling a little. Vivi, Nami and Robin also giggled and gave me a complicit smile.

“Dinner is ready, everybody! “announced Sanji and we gathered all around the grill to receive the plates that surprisingly Zoro helped Sanji to serve. I guess alcohol and food made them somehow get along, at least for a few hours. I wonder when they are going to stop the fighting and begin the kissing… fufufu…

The brochettes were heavenly, we ate them sitting around the bonfire while singing “Binks no Sake”, one of Brooks classics. He is the musician of the group, and even started his professional career a few years ago as “Soul King”. He is such a talented guy.

As the night passed Law and I sometimes interlocked eyes, or exchanged little smiles. I took some more photos during the picnic and we kept on dancing until 3 am, when we decided to raise camps and head to our beds.

I was exhausted, yet, the idea of stalking Law on Instagram was on my head and didn’t let me sleep. I covered myself completely with the sheets and searched for his user on my phone. He has no more than 5 photos posted. One of them was with Luffy and Zoro, after training, another one of him and Rosinante -he called him “Cora-san” on the image caption, how cute - when he was a little boy. The rest of the photos were with some friends dressed up as pirates for Halloween and in the comment section they called themselves the “Heart pirates”, ha-ha funny.

I suspired whenever I zoomed the photos over his eyes. I was starting to like this man, way too much... I tossed and turned in bed trying to fall asleep, but I simply couldn’t, so I thought drinking some tea would help me. I went downstairs, trying not to wake anybody up and got to the kitchen. From the big glass door that looked at the beach I saw how the moonlight lit up the waves crashing on the cliffs and the whole kitchen. The scenery and the chamomile tea were slowly fading away the image of Law’s eyes, until I felt someone placing a hand over my shoulder. I slightly gazed at it, and it only took me a few seconds to know it was the tattooed hand of the guy who was keeping me awake. He was wearing black shorts, and a loose white shirt. His hair was more disheveled than ever. What is it with this guy that looks so good no matter what he looks?...

“I see I’m not the only one who can’t sleep”, Law whispered. “Yeah, I’m exhausted but somehow I can’t fall asleep… I guess it must be the bed, I don’t know. Do you want some tea?”, I offered him. “Yes, that would be great”, he accepted.

I was turning on the electric kettle when we heard some noises coming from the living room. I looked at Law and both of us peaked through the kitchen entrance to see what was going on…

“Shitty cook… we shouldn’t….”, “What? are you afraid, idiot Marimo?”. Sanji and Zoro seemed a little drunk and were somehow hugging and walking at the same time. At first I thought they were trying to help each other to go upstairs, so I started walking towards them to help. I couldn’t walk any further because immediately Law grabbed me by my waist, and pulled me back into the kitchen covering my mouth. “Shh… just wait”, he whispered into my ear and let go of me. What I saw next was something we’ve all been waiting for. Finally, Zoro and Sanji accepted how much they loved each other, and went upstairs kissing as two teenagers in love.

I opened my mouth and looked at Law with a surprised expression, that soon turned into a happy face. I started making little jumps in my place. “I knew it!!” I said and Law giggled almost without making any sound. With the excitement I didn’t notice how near we were from each other, until Law softly caressed my face with one of his soft hands. He, of course had the hands of a surgeon, long fingers, soft skin, perfectly cut nails. “Why don’t we do the same as them?” he asked me, and I gasped and stood still in front of him. He slowly approached his face to mine until the point of our noses were almost touching. I got lost into his grey eyes, my mouth was ready to receive his lips. The sweet torture of the moments before a first kiss, I wished I could make it last as much as I could, but at the same time, I wanted him to kiss me, passionately, now, right now.

My eyes probably showed how desperately I was for him to kiss me, that he smirked and finally planted his luscious lips against mine. He explored my mouth with his tongue, with no modesty at all, and as we were passionately kissing he lifted me up and sited me over the kitchen counter.

Without stopping the kissing, I open my legs to allow him to come further and as he did, he slid a hand to my sex…

Part 3

PT1

[shih-coulda-had-it]

This is not officially from the tropes list, but... Third Wheel/Not A Date with Inko and Toshinori, featuring Gran Torino as the shortest and oldest third wheel known to man.

All Might - no, he’d introduced himself as Yagi Toshinori, so it would only be polite to refer to him as Yagi in public - called Inko two weeks into U.A.’s endeavor to protect their students. Politely, he asked if she would like to have lunch and talk about Izuku’s situation in further detail.

Inko, being a widowed housewife experiencing a severe case of empty nest syndrome, only hesitated for a few seconds on whether to accept.

Did teachers normally arrange parent-teacher conferences outside of the school?

Surely not. Yet Izuku was a special case; Inko didn’t think other parents received a one-to-one visit from All Might.

“Midoriya-san?”

“Yes,” she hurried to agree. “Would you prefer to eat in private? I could visit the school grounds, if you think that would be safer.”

“Well,” Yagi said, just a tad nervously, “I believe your comfort should be of higher priority. I’ve invited my own teacher - the pro-hero whom Midoriya-shonen interned with - to share some insights into Midoriya-shonen’s capabilities.”

“Oh,” said Inko, but before she could respond, there was a brief yelp of surprise.

And then, a gravelly voice. “Hello. This is Gran Torino. If it’s no trouble, we’ll visit you. Visitor protocols at U.A. eat up too much time. Toshinori will bring take-out from Lunch Rush, won’t he?”

“I - yes, of course, but - Gran Torino, please don’t drop my phone - ”

“That works for me,” said Inko, blindsided by the fact that All Might could be cowed into emitting a teenage-like whine. She tried to recall Izuku’s internship week, but in a year where it seemed every other week was an escalation of danger, Izuku’s time spent with Gran Torino did not register immediately.

“Anything Toshinori can get for you?” Gran Torino asked briskly, to the tune of Yagi straining to recover his phone.

“Ah… anything simple will do? Katsudon?”

“Hn. We’ll see you soon.” A perfunctory click punctuated Gran Torino’s goodbye, and Inko bewilderedly set her phone down. A second visit from All Might? Accompanied by All Might’s own teacher?

Inko stared at her home and the accumulated clutter of two weeks’ worth of arts and crafts, her attempt to distract herself from Izuku’s chosen career. Then she sprang into action.

//

“Leave your jacket,” barked Torino, leaning hard on his gimer stick.

Toshinori, burdened with carrying both the take-out Lunch Rush had thoughtfully whipped up and a thick binder full of his and Torino’s collected observations about Midoriya Izuku, was obliged to set down everything. He stripped off the yellow blazer and draped it over a chair.

“The tie, too?”

“Hm.” Torino’s critical eye was as terrifying as ever. Self-conscious, Toshinori picked up the plastic bag and what he had privately christened the DEKU Report. “Did you wear it the last time you met Izuku’s mother?”

“Um,” said Toshinori.

“Sounds like a yes. Tch. Off.”

“It was a joke,” he begged. “Can we please go already? The food’s getting cold.”

“I can see the steam coming out of the bag, and I can see the All Might embroidery in the tie. Off with that. Was it some gimmick your marketing team came up with? Was the mug and calendar not novelty enough?”

Toshinori sighed. He set everything down again in order to undo his tie.

He was grateful that all this was happening inside his U.A.-given apartment; what his colleagues would think, seeing All Might literally be dressed down? What would his students think, having never seen All Might in less than his suit? (With the exception of Midoriya, of course.)

“I’ll need to find another tie…”

“No time,” said Torino shortly. He tapped Toshinori’s ankle impatiently. “The food’s getting cold.”

“You just said - ”

“Ignore what I just said! We’re trying to fix Midoriya Inko’s first impression of Yagi Toshinori, and bringing her cold food will have the opposite effect!” Torino squinted at Toshinori’s hair, and appeared to give it up as a lost cause. He made to pick up the DEKU Report, and Toshinori’s dusty, rusted habit of helping elders revived; he scooped up both items before Torino could concern himself.

“We should get a taxi.”

“Fine.”

“No argument?” Toshinori joked, leading the way outside his apartment. Torino followed. Their pace was slower than usual, constrained as they were by health and certain delicacies in Toshinori’s hands.

“You wanna go?!”

“No, no, it’s fine, we’re fine!”

//

When Izuku first mentioned his mother to Sorahiko, it had been to explain the origins of his costume. (The origins of his strange pro-hero title, Sorahiko left alone.) Tailored after one of All Might’s uniforms, further accessorized by the U.A. Support students - yes, the fabric was easily torn and often scorched, but Izuku could hardly give it up.

His suit was a sign that his mother finally believed in his dreams of becoming a pro-hero. It was an undeniable pillar of support.

Reminiscent of Nana’s first gift to Toshinori. That’s what Sorahiko thought, hearing Izuku tell the story. And that’s really all Sorahiko would believe to be a parallel, between Midoriya Inko and Shimura Nana.

He didn’t expect them to look similar.

When the door opened, Sorahiko felt himself pale; he had to readjust his grip on his walking stick and blink until the colors filled in. It was the hairstyle that threw him, but with a few seconds more of examination, Sorahiko could recognize it was different.

Green, like Izuku’s. The bangs were shorter. The half-updo was tied higher, and not as heavy-looking as Shimura’s. Her eyes were as much of an open book as her son’s.

“Torino-sensei,” murmured Toshinori, and Sorahiko reassembled his sense of self.

“Hello,” he said, and Midoriya Inko welcomed them into her apartment. They took their shoes off by the door, and Toshinori helped her arrange their lunch into sharing plates. Sorahiko took a seat in the dining room, observing Toshinori’s inner awkward teenager surface after decades of suppression.

Toshinori maintained a generous bubble of personal space, presumably attempting not to loom over Izuku’s mother. This had the result of cramming his skeletal frame into the crooks of counters or hunching over to look smaller than he really was.

Sorahiko noticed a faint flush to Toshinori’s ears after Midoriya passed over a serving spoon.

Aha.

“Allow me,” Toshinori said, scooping up the platters of food with the ease of a waiter. He then proceeded to say, “My homeroom operated a maid cafe in my third-year of U.A., and I was one of their best servers!”

“A maid cafe,” repeated Midoriya, trepidation for the fate of her son evident.

“It was a long time ago,” Sorahiko hastily interjected. “And for the purposes of charity.”

“I imagine it was very popular.”

“With the ladies especially,” he said. In spite of how rude it was, Sorahiko settled his cane on the chair to his left. There were only four chairs at the square table, and with Sorahiko taking two of them, Toshinori would be obliged to sit near Midoriya. Some news deserved to be broken with an outlet for rage nearby. “Whose idea was it to have the boys in dresses and the girls in butler coats?”

“The truth is lost to history,” said Toshinori, setting one plate down with a forceful clatter. Too late. Midoriya had clearly latched onto the anecdote.

“The boys in dresses?” she asked.

“There was a competition among the boys to have the bounciest skirt,” Sorahiko reminisced. “They were begging the girls to help them sew more and more ruffles to the skirts.”

“I don’t remember begging.”

“Then you certainly didn’t win the competition, did you?”

Toshinori puffed up. “I earned the most tips out of all the servers!” he protested. “I had my priorities in order, Torino-sensei!”

“Then sit,” said Sorahiko. “Don’t keep a lady starving.”

A flustered burst of apologies later, and in the midst of eating, Sorahiko stopped prodding Toshinori into conversation. Toshinori was regaling Midoriya with tales of her son cleaning up Dagobah Beach, and recounting some of the shenanigans he and his friends had already pulled in the Heights Alliance buildings.

Given how engrossed Midoriya was at hearing how her son thrived with his newly manifested Quirk, Sorahiko thought it prudent not to betray the truth about Toshinori’s initial shoddy teachings.

Still.

Sorahiko had agreed to take time off tracking down Shigaraki in order to talk business, not to hear two unconnected parents wax eloquent about their shared child. He was too old to play chaperone, and if Toshinori possessed a single suave bone left in his body, he could test the dating waters on his own time.