#i am so fucking tired of feeling like. like someone scooped a part of my chest out. with like an ice cream scoop every time this

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

local minima rn lads.

#i cannot like put in words exactly what it is about my mom that does it for me #like to an outsider it would sound like a normal slightly rude interaction. and i couldnt tell you which part makes me feel bad #or why i feel like that. i just. my mind treats her differently than everyone else. i dont clock anyone's position in a room like i do hers #i am always so Aware. and. ive been grey rocking her now. its the only possible card up my sleeve tbh. no plan b. #she just... #acts all plaintive and innocent while pushing the exact buttons that make me shut down and go cold. and i end up looking #so heartless and cruel in front of someone who does everything for me and receives only hate back. when its just. #not true.. #i am so fucking tired of feeling like. like someone scooped a part of my chest out. with like an ice cream scoop every time this #happens #like so tired and HOLLOW #and its not the sort of thing i can explain to someone? its not like someone just called me a slur or cheated on me or whatever #nobody will GET it. like yes you just had a conversation where you were rather rude why is this causing a depressive episode #and just. by nobody i mean everyone who i know who also knows her and also most people who dont know her wont get it #yall got no idea #how much i wanna run away. im fucking desperate okay #i will literally do anything #i need a nap every time i talk to her which sucks because ive got nobody else to talk to. #so there's a lot of sleeping going on here #so much sleeping #just a couple months dante. just. ive done years and years of this. i can do a couple months more. #go to college and then its sayonara you weeaboo shits for everyone here #honestly i was scared of leaving everything i know behind before #but i think im realising i dont really have anything worth keeping here. #i was all like ohh i wont have any family or anyone to fall back on when im in trouble #and then i realised i dont have that anyway. I'd rather figure my problems out on my own than deal with toxic people on top #which is a pretty fucking good realisation peopleos #anyway. hyping myself up to keep from having a breakdown now #godspeed ME

[clotpolesonly]

When Restless Hearts Beat Imperfectly

my second TRC fic!! this was actually the first one i started writing, but i stalled on it and had to come back later so the Pynch one got finished first. i am just.....overflowing with Lynch brothers emotions, okay? i am thinking about them for 23 hours out of every day. feel my feels with me ❤️ | Ronan & Declan | Gen | 3.3k | Very Slight AU | Missing TRK Scene | Declan Is Trying His Best | Ronan Has Feelings | Family Feels | Complicated Relationships | Reconciliation | Card Games | (also on AO3)

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For someone who was primarily characterized by his ability to bring his dreams into reality, Ronan sure as fuck had trouble sleeping. He was no stranger to tossing and turning, to late nights and all-nighters, to watching the sun rise with eyes too gritty and exhausted to appreciate the beauty of it.

He hadn't expected tonight to be one of those nights. But also, he sort of had. 

His head was buzzing with everything. Making Cabeswater and kissing Parrish and demons taking over everything and his brothers leaving and kissing Parrish and being back in the Barns and Noah attacking Blue and kissing Parrish and—

Yeah, there was no way sleep was happening tonight. He hadn't slept in this bedroom in two years, not since his father was alive, and that all on its own would've been enough to make him wary of closing his eyes, but on top of everything else? He didn’t know what kind of dreams would come out of his clusterfuck of a head right now, if he could even make sleep happen, and he wasn’t eager to find out.

As Ronan slumped his way down the unlit stairs by feel and muscle memory, he wished, just for a moment, that he was back at Monmouth instead. Gansey would be awake too probably, cross-legged on the floor, myopically gluing pieces onto his tiny town. He would've offered Ronan the glue gun. They often sat together in total silence, just like that, for hours at a time on nights like this.

But this wasn't Monmouth. And, when Ronan picked his way through the dark to the living room, it wasn't Gansey he found, but Declan. Ronan had almost forgotten that Declan and Matthew were still here, packed and ready to make for DC at first light. Another part of him, on some deep buried level, had already forgotten that any of them had ever left. But Ronan had never had nights like this before, and if Declan had, he didn’t know.

His brother was cross-legged on the couch, wearing an old faded t-shirt with a stretched out neckline and flannel pajama bottoms that were a bit too short for him. ORBMASTER sat on the coffee table in front of him, casting its light over the table's contents: playing cards, laid out in neat little piles. Declan was sorting them by number. Sevens with sevens, twos with twos, kings with kings. 

He hadn't noticed Ronan's presence yet. Ronan considered yelling, for the satisfaction of scaring the shit out of him. He considered asking what the fuck Declan was doing and why. He considered turning around and going back upstairs, finding somewhere else to lurk until the sun came up. He considered trying to sleep again.

In the end, he padded across the carpeted floor to sit down on the other side of the coffee table.

Declan looked up, apparently too tired to be startled. When Ronan didn't say anything, he went back to his cards, putting the last few in their places. Each numbered pile was also organized by suit: spade, then heart, then diamond, then club.

He scooped them all back into a stack. Ronan held out his hand for them. 

Too tired to be startled, but not too tired to be suspicious apparently. Declan eyed him like he thought Ronan was gonna eat his fucking cards or something, but when Ronan flapped his hand impatiently, Declan relinquished the deck.

Ronan shuffled them. Then he handed them back.

Slowly, narrowed eyes confused now more than wary, Declan began his process again. Threes with threes, jacks with jacks. A heart tucked under a club, the diamond slid in between. 

Ronan watched. It wasn't exactly riveting stuff, and it certainly wasn't Ronan's kind of stuff. He was more inclined toward throwing the cards up in the air to see just how much of a mess it made. But as Declan made his way methodically through the deck, he guessed he could see the appeal. There was something…reassuring, maybe, about it. About knowing that everything had a place. Making order out of chaos.

It wasn’t a glue gun or a haphazardly constructed cardboard city, but it was something. The soft sound of two people breathing was the same, at least, even if the silence they breathed into felt different. Declan wasn’t Gansey. Silence with him wasn’t the simple, companionable thing that Ronan was used to. It felt like being in the car with the radio on and the volume turned all the way down, like there should have been sound, or like the sound was there, only Ronan couldn’t hear it.

Ronan touched his ear. The left one.

Declan gathered up his cards again. This time, he offered Ronan the deck unprompted. Ronan shuffled it wordlessly, cards sliding through his fingers to form a bridge, the two halves cascading back together into one whole. Some of the cards felt warmer than others. Or maybe his exhausted brain was making shit up. He was spending way too much time around psychics lately and their weirdness was rubbing off on him.

Instead of giving the whole deck back, Ronan split it and kept one half for himself, flipping over the top card in the universally understood invitation to play War. Declan gave him a dirty look for disrupting his weird little un-shuffling routine. But he laid down a card of his own anyway. He won, and the dirty look immediately became a smug one. Fucker.

For a while, there was nothing but the soft fwip of cards being turned over. The last person Ronan had played this game with was Noah. They’d gotten way too into it, whooping and hollering and shit-talking each other like there was actually something riding on the outcome besides bragging rights. Gansey had had to intervene to make sure nobody got thrown out the window again.

Ronan hadn’t seen Noah in days. Hadn’t seen him really be him in longer than that.

He flipped over a jack. Declan played a four.

Christ, Ronan was tired. He wasn’t really paying attention to the game, not that it was a game that required a lot of attention. There was an empty-wrong feeling in the back of his mind, one that crept around the edges of his consciousness all the time now. Cabeswater, dying. Cabeswater, decaying, just like Noah. The feeling was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Six. Ten. Declan took the hand.

Did Adam feel the empty-wrong too? Or did it feel like something else, this demon slithering in to pollute his connection with the forest? With Ronan's forest. With…

Matching eights. Three cards each, face down, and one more to win it. Declan grinned down at his jack with a mocking little head wiggle, just like he always had when they were kids. After winning hands of cards, after boxing matches that went his way, after mom agreed that Ronan had started it (this time), after succeeding in sneaking a cookie off the cooling rack when Ronan had gotten caught. It was a smug little shit of a gesture, all mischief and delight. Ronan hadn’t seen it in years.

Declan was sweeping the whole stack of cards into his hand when the words “I kissed Adam” fell out of Ronan’s mouth. He finally found the awakeness necessary to be surprised.

“Parrish?” he asked after a beat, his voice gritty from the late hour and lack of use but otherwise neutral.

“No, the other Adam.” Ronan slapped a three down on the table. He hoped the light from ORBMASTER wasn’t enough to illuminate the sudden redness in his cheeks.

Declan did that stupid thing where he blew air out of his nose and that was somehow supposed to be considered a laugh. He laid down a seven and took possession of Ronan’s three. He asked, “When?”

“Like, five hours ago.”

Queen and nine, in Ronan’s favor.

“Did he kiss you back?”

Ronan’s cheeks flushed hotter. “Yes.”

Out of the corner of his eye—the wood grain of the coffee table had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room—he caught the motion of Declan’s nod.

“Nice.”

He laid down an ace. Ronan stared at him.

“Nice?”

Declan raised an eyebrow. “Was it not nice?”

“No! I mean, yes, it was— Of course, it—” Ronan huffed and threw down a jack that Declan immediately snatched up with a noise of satisfaction. “It was fine,” he said, face burning. “I just thought you’d have more of a reaction than that, is all.”

Declan paused in his straightening of the definitely-more-than-half-the-deck stack of cards in his hand to raise another eyebrow at him. “To you kissing Parrish or to you kissing a boy? Because you and Parrish were attached at the hip all night and, I hate to break it to you, but you have never been subtle about liking boys.”

The noise Ronan made was 80% surprise and 20% embarrassment. Okay, maybe 60/40.

Now Declan actually laughed, real laughter with sound and substance to it. With the way he said Ronan’s name, he might as well have put a hand on his chest and said “bless your heart” like one of the painfully southern old biddies at church.

Ronan leaned across the table to snatch the cards out of his hand. “Give me those, you fucker. You don’t deserve to be winning.”

Declan let him have them, too busy laughing some more to protest. Like the dumb head wiggle, it had been years since Ronan had seen his brother genuinely laugh. Or laugh at all, honestly. Or even just smile, beyond that creepy, bland, picture-perfect politician shit he pulled out for important adults and girls he was trying to sleep with. Not that he’d ever really noticed, or thought about it, or cared. Here, though, in the Barns—in their home—it felt like a glaring oversight. The thought occurred, unbidden, that Declan hadn’t seen him smile in just as long, only he’d probably noticed.

The thought didn’t sit well in him. It lodged somewhere in his ribcage, like a stubborn stitch after running for too long, and made him feel… He wasn’t sure how it made him feel. So he yanked a throw pillow out from behind Declan and hit him with it.

“Laugh it up, fuckface, see if I tell you anything ever again!”

Declan didn’t manage to stop laughing entirely, but that did get a strangled “no!” out of him. He fended off Ronan’s pillow attack and righted himself, making a futile effort to finger-comb his uncharacteristically messy hair into something approximating its usual presentable state. He cleared his throat.

“No,” he said again, with a bit more composure, though the jackass was clearly still trying not to crack up. “I want you to tell me things. I want you to—”

The last of his amusement fell away abruptly. Something about the silence that followed his bitten off words was louder than anything they’d said so far. Years of words unspoken stretched out between them, most of them his own. They filled the air like static, like radio waves, like an almost-physical thing. Words about dreams and deals and burner phones and secrets paid for in blood.

A whole other life his brother had been living.

Declan ducked his head, cleared his throat again. He reached for the cards, abandoned on the table when Ronan had gone on the attack. Ronan expected him to start sorting again, to fall back on the reassuring predictability of his little numbered piles, but after a long moment of hesitation, Declan hastily split the deck. He handed Ronan the noticeably bigger half. This time, he was the one to lay down the first card. The invitation.

Slowly, gingerly, Ronan settled back into position on the other side of the coffee table. Declan didn’t look up at him, still and waiting, eyes on his two of spades.

Ronan played a card.

They played in silence again for a while. Hard to tell how long; the wee hours didn’t carry with them the same feeling of movement that daylight hours did. They were a crystalized thing, suspended in the warm dimness of his—Declan’s—little dream light, and there was nothing in the living room to track the passage of time. Ronan thought there used to be a clock in here. Something that ticked, at least. There was no ticking now, though, and he had to wonder if it had been a dream thing. If it had fallen asleep when their dad died. If their dad had sold it to some collector somewhere. If Declan had. He wondered what else he hadn’t noticed he’d lost track of.

Ronan laid down three cards and a jack to do battle for their evenly matched fours. Declan’s cards were late in coming, delayed by a yawn so strong and insistent that it scrunched his whole face up. He muttered a curse and dragged the back of one hand over his eyes. He lost with a seven.

“You sure you’ll be good to drive in the morning?” Ronan asked as he gathered up his spoils. “Sure would be ironic for you to end up dead in a ditch on the way to DC.”

Declan huffed. “I’ve driven farther on less sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He rubbed at his eyes again, though, then dragged his fingers up through his hair. He looked as exhausted as any normal person would at somewhere around three in the morning, which, for Declan, was probably a sign that he’d barely slept for days and it was all catching up to him at once. Ronan knew the feeling. Hell, he was that feeling incarnate. That heavy, soul-deep kind of tired was baked into his DNA. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising, then, for his brother to share it. It was part of the family resemblance. The Lynch legacy: curly hair, good teeth, blue eyes, and exhaustion.

Declan turned his cards over in his hand, tapping at the edge of the stack with his fingernail before drawing one. “I still wish you would come with us.”

He didn’t look at Ronan when he said it. There wasn’t much force behind it either. It wasn’t a plea or the overture to an argument. They’d done all their arguing earlier. This was merely a statement of fact, like he needed it on the record one more time. Like he just wanted Ronan to hear him say it. To know he meant it.

And Ronan did. It felt strange, believing it, like a square peg in a round hole, but all of it together—the wee hour stillness, the bittersweetness of home, the red rims of Declan’s eyes and the frizzy mess of his hair, every unbelievable piece of truth he’d offered up the day before—all sanded down the peg’s edges until the idea of it could wedge into place. His brother loved him. For all the blood and bile between them, for all the filthy water under their crumbling bridge, his brother loved him. He wanted Ronan with him where he could at least try to keep him safe, like he had been doing this whole time, their whole lives.

Ronan swallowed. It wasn’t easy. “You know I can’t do that. This is my fight. I can’t run away from it. Leave my friends to face it without me. I’m not that much of a coward.”

“I’m not asking you to be a coward, Ronan. I’m asking you to survive this. Can you promise me that?”

Declan looked so strange like this, at once entirely familiar and so new as to be almost unrecognizable. A liar with all his pretense stripped away. What was left was a boy, not far past 19, looking at the only family he had left with the knowledge that it might be the last time in his eyes, desperate for Ronan to tell him that it wouldn’t be.

But Ronan was no liar.

“I can promise I’ll fight like hell.”

It wasn’t what Declan wanted to hear, but he smiled anyway. Not a smile Ronan had ever seen before, but something new and painful and honest. He said, “Yeah, I bet you will.”

He laid down the last card in his hand. A jack of spades, falling to Ronan’s ace of the same. Something about that made Declan laugh again, that gentle puff of breath that barely qualified, and then he was pushing himself off the couch. He left the cards where they were—he’d probably found them stuffed down the side of the couch, where their dad had had a tendency to leave them, once upon a time—and scooped ORBMASTER into his hand. He cradled it against his stomach, the glow seeping out between his fingers to stripe the room.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Declan said, emphasis on try because, for all the times that Ronan had thought his brother could never understand him, the truth was that Declan knew him all too well.

“Yeah,” Ronan said to the deck in his hand. “You too.”

Declan rounded the coffee table, the dream caged in his fingers sweeping over everything like a lighthouse. He paused by Ronan. Then, like he often did with Matthew but Ronan honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever done with him, he ran his hand over Ronan’s head. On Matthew, it was a ruffle of his curls, but there were no curls to ruffle on Ronan. It was only the bare curve of his skull, cradled for a moment in the warmth of Declan’s palm.

If Declan were Gansey, they would have hugged. He would have made a speech about the power of love and how much they meant to each other. He would have had something optimistic and inspiring to say about the upcoming battle. If Declan were Gansey, there wouldn’t still be the static hum of things unsaid like radio waves in the still air between them.

But Declan was not Gansey. His hand slipped from Ronan’s head before Ronan could decide to acknowledge it or not, and then he was in the doorway, turning back one more time. ORBMASTER’s light just caught the edge of his smile.

“I hope things go well,” he said. “For you and Adam. He’s cute.”

Ronan fumbled the cards. “Oh my God, shut up, or I’m gonna have to break up with him on principle just because you said that.”

He could hear Declan chuckling to himself all the way up the stairs. Ronan grumbled about what an obnoxious fuckwad he was as he tried to gather the deck in the dark, then he grumbled some more when he gave it up as a lost cause. The cards would just have to stay a mess. He didn’t mind, really. He could sort it out later, or Declan could. If they all survived what was coming long enough to sort out anything.

Ronan didn’t bother going upstairs. He just crawled over the coffee table and onto the couch, the worn cushions as familiar to him as any mattress. The throw pillow he’d wielded against Declan earlier was better suited to weaponization than it was to comfort, honestly, but he stuffed it under his head anyway, and it didn’t stop sleep from tugging at him as soon as he closed his eyes.

He hoped his dreams would be kind, for once. He hoped his brothers would wake him up in the morning to say goodbye before they left. He hoped Adam would kiss him again tomorrow. He hoped they could salvage what was left of Cabeswater, and Noah. More than anything else, though, he sort of hoped he lived long enough to play cards with Declan again.

#Ronan Lynch #Declan Lynch #TRC #the Raven Cycle #fics by me #fanfiction

[alostlovergirl]

Gonna fix her ( part two)- Steve rogers x reader

Summary: what happens when you return back home after your party.

Warnings: throw up, mental abuse, verbal abuse, fear, slight physical abuse, and major degradation. Minors do not interact.

What was he gonna do to you? What and you guys have to talk about? Whatever it was, you didn't want to go back home. You didn't feel safe with your boyfriend anymore. You knew he was gonna hurt you and why would you go back to that. You weren't stupid.

You did everything you could to try and stay at the birthday party. Your friends took notice to it and they questioned you, but you say nothing, not wanting to worry them. You knew if you told them, they would call the cops and you knew what Steve would do to local authority. You would be putting everyone in immediate danger.

So, you keep your fear to yourself and refused to say anything about your relationship problems. So, when your girlfriend dropped you off at Steve and yours shared apartment, you felt your stomach churn in fear and slight alcohol sickness.

" darling, are you alright?" your best friend of 14 years, Jamie, asked you. That nickname even made you stomach turn worst. The nauseous feeling was getting worse and worse. Sooner than later, you puked all over your dress, your legs, and her car. She screamed and gets out the car, running towards the apartment to get Steve.

Your stomach hurt so bad that it felt like someone plunged a knife in and was twisting if around. Your heart dropped down to your ass when a shirtless, pj wearing, and hair messy Steve came out the house with a concerned Jamie. She just wanted to make sure you were okay, but didn't know that Steve was the reason you spewed out your party snacks all over her car.

He doesn't look happy about being woken up at 3 in the morning. He had work in the morning and you just had to turn up at right now, scaring your door friend to death. He swung the car door open, roughly and scoops you up in his arms. You start shaking as soon as you touched his warm chest. “come on, my dear.” he only says that because your friend was standing there, swaying side to side with worry.

He assures your friend that you were alright and needed a desperate alcohol cleanse. He told her that was gonna take care of you so you could get back to partying as soon as possible.

All of that was a complete lie and you knew it. He made sure you knew that because of that shit eating grin on his face. He carried you back inside and next thing you knew was you face buried in a tub full of water, drowning as he scrub the pure off of your body. It forced you to sober up and it was for a bad reason. He wanted you completely sober so you would remember everything he was going to do to you.

He pulled your face out of the soap water, eyes burning. " where do you get a kick? Huh? Getting so wasted that you soil the dress that I bought you. Got so shit faced that your sober friend had to pound on my fucking door! ", he yelled in your face. Oh no, you made him mad. You just about cried when the grip on your hair tightened and he yanks you up. He spins you around and picks you up by your plushy thighs, with a grip hard enough to leave finger print bruises on them.

" please Steve" you try to plead your way out of whatever punishment he had planned for you. You really didn't think that was gonna work, and you? He tosses your wet naked body on the bed, getting in between your legs. " don't rape me..."

He laughs an uproarious laugh. "I wouldn't give my dick to a stupid whore. " he spits out and you feel your heart crack in two. " you don't fucking deserve me, bitch. I have wasted so much time on you. I could be a respectful girl, but I wasted my time on your disrespectful, slutty, and loose pussy having ass. I am sick of you. I am tired of trying. I told you that I was gonna talk to you when you got home, but I fell asleep because unlike you, I actually work an actual job. Tell me, what do you do, hun?" every word that came out of his perfect mouth was a dagger to the heart. It tore you to pieces.

" You don't mean that, Steve. You can't mean that" your voice was quivering. You were about to cry. Everything he said was so cruel.

"I meant every fucking word, darling"he chuckles and pats your face. " tomorrow, you will prove yourself. I want this house cleaned from top to bottom or else. "

He gets off of you and gets on his side of the bed. " get dressed and go to sleep."

You shakily get up and walk over to your dresser only to see that he replaced all of your comfortable pjs with silk night gowns. You feel your face heat up, realizing now much can be seen through them. You such up your tears and put on the night gown. You crawl in bed with him and sniffle. His arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you close like didn't insult you.

He nuzzles into your neck and hums. "I am gonna make you perfect."

Maybe a part 3...?

#dark marvel #marvel #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans #new page #new writer

[baggebythesea]

Queens of the Horde - Tumblr exclusive curtain call

"Aaaaaaaand scene," Double Trouble said and bowed deeply. The audience applauded politely. Double Trouble did a little wave, and the curtain opened behind them, showing the rest of the cast smiling and waving at the audience.

"That concludes the final act of our show 'Queens of the Horde'," Double Trouble said to the audience. "Please, give a hand for our lead actresses, Glimmer and Catra!"

Beaming, the two queens stepped forward with Adora in tow and bowed deeply.

"Tell me," Double Trouble said. "What was it like carrying the narrative."

"Too much like work," Catra said. "But at least Sparkles was cute when she was mopey."

"I got to play the bad girl AND the hero," Glimmer said with a smug smirk. "It was great."

"And how about you, Adora," Double Trouble leered. "What do you think of the ending?"

"Can't hear you over the sound of me hugging Catra and Glimmer for a MONTH!" Adora said, burying her face in Catra's fur.

"And let's here it for our breakout characters," Double Trouble went on. "Jack and Frosta, also known as 'Jack Frost' or 'Snowbunny'. Thank you!"

An enthusiastic Frosta dragged a blushing Jack with her to the middle of the stage. Jack attempted a bow, but before they knew it Frosta had scooped them up in a big kiss, to the 'Oooh's and 'Aaaw's of the rest of the cast.

"How does it feel, knowing that the readers think you're the cutest thing of the entire fic?" Double Trouble asked.

"Darn tooting we are," Frosta grinned while Jack looked at the floor without being able to answer.

"What will you do now?" Double Trouble pressed on.

"We're off to a well earned vacation," Frosta said. "Did you know that Jack has never seen a hot spring? I'm taking them to Mystacor."

"You don't have to tell them that..." Jack mumbled, not looking at the audience.

"Sorry, you're just so adorable when you're flustered," Frosta teased as they stepped to the side of the stage.

"And a big hand for our lovely support characters," Double Trouble cried. "Bow, Scorpia, Entrapta, Lonnie, Netossa, Spinnerella, Perfuma, Mermista, Sea Hawk, all the rest of you, let's give them a big hand... don't set fire to the set, Hot Stuff."

The stage filled up with people as everyone tired to fit in - or in the case of Kyle, tried to hide behind the rest.

"I for one am very proud of everyone," Bow said. "This has been a great show."

"Go us," Mermista said with dry voice and snuffed out a torch Sea Hawk was secretly trying to light.

"DID SOMEONE SAY SWIFT WIND?" the flying horse said has he landed with a crash on the stage, forcing people to flee.

"And let's not forget our Villains," Double Trouble went on as Swift Wind was ushered off the stage. "Can't have proper drama without a good antagonist." Stiffly and without acknowledging each other's presence, Hordak and Shadow Weaver walked up on stage. They glared at the audience for a moment without bowing.

"Now when the fic is over, what's your thoughts?" Double Trouble asked.

"My part was mercifully short," Hordak grumbled.

"Exactly the flat melodrama one could expect from a story staring Catra," Shadow Weaver sniffed. "I am however deeply disappointed in Micah's daughter who wastes her potential on this kind of drivel."

"It's called romance," Glimmer leered, holding Catra and Adora tighter.

"I know what I said," Shadow Weaver said and left the stage with a harrumph.

"The author wishes to thank all of us for doing a great job," Bow said, entering the stage and reading from a letter. "With a special shot-out to Jack for being a really considerate Original Character (the author has been kinda shy about writing those before so thanks for easing them into it) and a special fuck-you to Catra for being emotionally complex and making the fic ten chapters longer than it would otherwise have been."

"Can't let that fucker have it too easy," Catra smirked, while Frosta and Glimmer high fived the flustered Jack.

"The author also wishes to thank the audience," Bow went on. "Every like, reblog, kudos, read, comment, piece of art, spotify-list, tv-trope entry, theory, 'damn you'... It has been an incredible journey, and your engagement has made it all worth it. Thank you so much."

"They are just fishing for more comments, aren't they?" Lonnie sighed.

"Never deny an artist their curtain call," Double Trouble smirked.

"There sadly won't be a sequel," Bow went on, reading from the letter, "but if it were, it would have been about taking down Horde Prime with cunning and teamwork, and the author doesn't feel up to another multiple chapter story of that magnitude."

"Go read 'Queen Glimmer - Supreme ruler of the universe' for that kind of story," Glimmer quickly piped in.

"Then what will be the author's next project?" Double Trouble asked.

"Well, obviously they need another big Glitra project," Catra immediately said. "I know they had an s1 story planned awhile back..."

"...or maybe some Glimmadora?" Adora blushed. "A sequel to Glimmer's hero?"

"Or perhaps another entry in the 'Baker and the Biker' series?" Bow hopefully said.

"All excellent options," Glimmer grinned. "And of course 'Glimmer dates everyone' is still woefully incomplete."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Catra said with an eyeroll. "The author has a type."

"So do you," Glimmer said with a sweet smile, causing Catra to turn away her face to hide a blush.

"And 'You even taste like Glitter' will keep update monthly," Bow explained. "Apparently something big is planned for two or three chapters from now."

"Will Catra finally pop the question?" Glimmer teased.

"Shut up, Sparkles," Catra muttered.

"I heard they are taking a stab at original fiction," Double Trouble helpfully said. "A short story about creepy princesses, and then something with mermaids?"

"What?" Glimmer said in indignation. "Why would they want to write about a dumb mermaid instead of me?"

"Because mermaids are, like, awesome," Mermista said with a little smug smile.

"Right you are, my oceanic blossom!" Sea Hawk rumbled and put his arms around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes and moved a bit closer to him.

"Yeah, whatever," Catra said with an eyeroll of her own. "We all know they'll write about a pink princess named 'Flimmer' in half a year or so anyway."

"That's trademark violation!" Glimmer gasped.

"Hate to break it to you, Glimmer," Bow said with a gentle smile, "but you are not the first pink princess in history."

"No, but I'm the best," Glimmer countered.

"You'll find the author's original fiction at Writer's Café and Royal Road, pen name Bagge," Double Trouble quickly interjected. "However, they promise that they won't give up on fanfic either. There will be more Glimmer stories to come."

"There'd better be," Glimmer sniffed.

"Anyway," Double Trouble said, while the cast took another deep bow. "Thank you everyone - cast and readers alike - for sharing this journey. Tons of fun were had, and there will be more where that came from. Keep making fandom great and have a grand ol' time."

They looked straight at the audience.

"And scene."

#spop #catra #glimmer #glitra #fanfic #just for fun #catra and glimmer - queens of the horde #queens of the horde #bonus material

[sams-sass]

In The After

Chapter 3: Autumns Changes 

Hello! Here is Part Three!!! Thank you so much to everyone following this story, I really appreciate you. 

Summary: This takes place after the finale. You are blurry wife. This is you and Sam’s story. 

Pairing: Sam x Reader (we are in the home stretch, I promise)

Warnings: I don't know...fluff? Maybe some language. Is the fact that Sam is FUCKING ADORABLE a warning? Because then, look out. Mutual pining. Emotional saga. Slow burn. This one is kinda long, I don't know, I’m a wordy bitch sometimes. Listen, I also do not know WHY there is so much DIALOGUE but there just IS. I am trying my best to make Holly and Amy funny while also making them more than one dimensional. 

Read Part One Here

Read Part Two Here

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There was an extra crisp to the air as you pulled into the bakery parking lot, staring for a moment at the black impala that sat still running. You had told him to come later. You felt yourself smile and suppress a chuckle as you climbed out of your car and walked to the door to unlock it. He called out as he jogged over to you. 

"Hey!" You called back with a wave. The two of you entered the bakery, and you rubbed your hands together after flipping on all the lights. Turning to face him, you realized he looked different somehow. He looked good. You couldn't deny that. The cold air had left a pinkish blush where it nipped at the tip of his nose and the high points of his cheeks. His eyes seemed bright and happy as he looked around the kitchen. 

"Good morning." He said, his eyes settling on you. 

"Good morning. Looks like you were the one waiting for me this time." You answered back with a smile. 

"Sorry, I'm early. I was uh…well, I was excited." He admitted sheepishly. You giggled while looking down, embarrassed. 

"It's been a while since someone beat me here." You agreed, taking a step towards him. He just smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Coffee?" You asked, breaking the tension growing between you. 

"Please." He said. Your hands got to work scooping coffee grounds, but your mind was left to wander. He was here with you…alone. You felt the heavy weight of his gaze, causing goosebumps to crawl over your skin. You silently wondered what it would feel like to touch him. You hadn't felt this way in years. You hadn't looked at another man since the day you met Josh all those moons ago…and yet…you wondered about Sam. 

You turned back to him as the coffee pot brewed, its earthy aroma quickly filling the space. 

"What's my first assignment of the day, boss?" Sam asked, placing his elbows on the counter and leaning forward. Clearing your throat, you rubbed your hand over your bicep as you thought. 

"Well…the tables could probably use a good cleaning. We are always so tired at the end of the day that we wipe them…but only give them a proper cleaning every once in a while." You explained. 

"Clean tables. Got it." Sam answered smoothly. 

"Oh, and today is Wednesday, so it is intake day. Walter will be here around noon to deliver the flour, salt, sugar, baking powder, and baking soda. And then Greg will be here around 2 to deliver all the fruit and extras like cinnamon." You said, listing things off on your fingers. 

"I can help with that. No problem." Sam answered. He was easy to talk to. Calm and steady. Centered. You liked being around him; regardless of how attracted you grew to him, he was good company. You watched as he unbuttoned his flannel cuffs and began rolling them up his forearms. You tried your best to look impassive as more and more of his skin became exposed. You stared at his smooth flesh that bore the occasional scar or blemish. Veins bulged against hardened muscles that flexed with every twist of his arm. Long fingers gently moved the fabric higher towards his elbow. You hadn't felt the stir of arousal in years. Hadn't stiffened against the creeping heat that blossomed in your core quickly. The ding of the coffee pot startled you back into reality. You jumped slightly and turned to hide the blush crawling across your skin and to pour the coffee. You and Sam made your cups the way you liked and sat silently while drinking for a minute. Sam leaned over the table again, holding himself on his elbows, and you did the same, staring at each other for a moment in the steam of the hot coffee. 

"I should clean those tables." He said suddenly, and you both jerked upright at the realization that you were getting closer to one another. 

"Uh yeah…I have to fold the croissants." You mumbled, scratching your head and looking anywhere but at him. 

You got to work on the dough, and Sam filled a large bucket with hot soapy water. He went into the dining area and sat directly on the floor to clean the tables. He felt…confused. You confused him, and he desperately wanted to understand. Sam was a man of science. Of facts and logic. He was a man who always looked to history and knowledge to comprehend and solve a problem in front of him, and yet. Here you were, making him feel like a pubescent teenager. You weren't an equation to figure. You weren't a puzzle that Sam could move pieces around until they fit together correctly. You were…well, you were you. He wanted to be respectful of you and your pain, but he also found himself leaning closer to you. He tried to get to know you better, but he couldn't stop staring at how the light bounced off your skin. He wanted to give things time, but he was beginning to wake up every day wondering how he could make you smile. You were there. Causing him to put the past where it was always meant to be. Behind him. To heal. His wounds, still open and raw, felt like they were finally being cleaned and bandaged. He scrubbed the tables until the water in his bucket ran brown and mucky. He stood to get fresh water when the door opened, Holly and Amy bursting through it. 

"No. We can't all be cats again. I can't do it." Amy was saying to Holly, her face turned away. 

"Oh, come on! It's so easy-." Holly stopped talking and froze when she saw Sam standing there, a bucket and rag in his hand. Sam tried to put on his most charming smile and give them his least awkward wave. Obviously, you told them…I mean, how could you not…

"Sam?" Amy asked. 

"What are you doing here?" Holly furrowed her brow. Ok, so clearly, you hadn't told them. 

"Uh…well. I work here. Now. Like today. This morning. Today is my first day." Sam sputtered nervously. The friends exchanged a look while trying…and failing…to suppress a smile. 

"Ohhh…Y/N hired you," Holly said, her voice sounding playful. 

"Yes," Sam answered, keeping his voice even and giving away as little information as possible. 

"Fun," Amy said back with a devilish grin. They both sped off into the kitchen like children going to recess. 

“Y/N!” They both called in unison. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the five seconds of silence you had before they found you. 

"So. Sam works here now?" Amy said relatively calmly when they found you in the back, squashing raspberries for frosting. 

"And you didn't tell us," Holly said. You could hear the slight annoyance in her voice. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys. It all happened so fast. He was saying he is staying at that motel on Smith and that he was low on funds, and I don't know, it just kind of…slipped out. I should have called you. I am so sorry." You explained in a rushed whisper. 

"The motel on Smith? Rats don't even go in there." Amy said, wrinkling her face in disgust. 

"Ew. Yeah, I would have offered him a job too." Holly agreed, grabbing her apron off the hook. 

"I love you guys. He will help with busing tables, dishes, deliveries, and intake. Everything but baking." You explained, getting back to crushing raspberries. 

"We love you too. And that all sounds awesome. I hope it works out." Amy said sincerely, Holly nodding her head in agreement. The three of you fell into an easy routine of baking. About an hour later, the first customers started filing in, and the day was officially buzzing. Sam was more than helpful; you don't think you had ever seen anyone work as hard as he did. Customers barely had time to finish their food before he was scooping up plates, bowls, cups, and mugs. Their coffee never ran cold as he constantly refilled half-drank cups. He was quick on his feet. His mind was sharp and observant. Always finding something to do. At noon, Walter pulled the truck to the back lot, waiting for help. Sam bounded outside before you could even get his name out of your mouth. He introduced himself to Walter and instantly began moving sacks of flour, sugar, and salt. You rang someone out at the register and noticed the rags that always sat by the counter were getting low. You made your way into the kitchen for more when you stopped dead in your tracks. Sam was unloading sacks and boxes of items. He had stripped down to just a black V-neck t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders but hung loosely around his slim waist. Flour dusted his skin and hair lightly, and a slight sweat sat on his brow. He grabbed two bags at a time, throwing them onto his shoulders and bending at the waist to pile them neatly next to the loading space. You gulped at the sight, your brain ceasing to work and comprehend anything beyond what you were looking at. Sam slapped his hands together, a small cloud of flour surrounding him in a white poof. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe off the sweat and flour from his face. A peak at golden skin kissed with a trail of brown hair and muscles you didn't know you needed to see. He turned and saw you, a smile growing on his flour-streaked face. 

"Hey, I didn't see you there." He said around breaths that made his chest heave heavily. 

"Uh-huh." You said, clearing your throat in embarrassment.

"Hey, Y/N, where- oh!" Amy bumped into you as she rounded the corner. She looked at you confused until she turned and saw Sam, the bottom of his shirt still in his hands. His breath came in hard and fast. White patches lay across his skin. Her face moved between confusion, shock, to understanding and finally settled on a cool arrogant smirk.  

"Amy!" You practically shouted. "I was looking for the rags that we keep by the counter. Have you seen them?" You asked, trying to cover your tracks. 

"Right there, honey." She said, pointing to a pile of rags literally two inches from you. 

"Awesome! Thanks!" You said, grabbing the pile and racing out of the kitchen to save yourself further embarrassment.  

The rest of the day passed by quickly. Sam continued to be the world's most helpful busboy, and Holly and Amy continued to tease you whenever he was out of earshot. But you didn't care anymore, not after catching his eyes every time you looked up from the register. Not after how his face had softened when he saw you in the kitchen. His skin was still sweaty and white with flour, all traces of the present leaving his expression the instant he looked. You were beginning to feel the warmth in your chest, the involuntary flip of your stomach. He was bringing back feelings you had assumed you would never feel again. The days were much more manageable with Sam there to help. Holly and Amy even said how amazing it was to have him around. Friday morning started like any other. You folding dough. Holly making bagels. Amy prepped fruits and batter. And now Sam, cleaning whatever he could get his hands on. The bakery was spotless, and it was all thanks to your ridiculously attractive new hire. However, as the hours passed, you noticed Sam looked…nervous. Twitchy and anxious. Finally, you understood why. 

"Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you quickly?" He had found you after the lunch crowd left when there was a lull in customers. 

"Of course." You said, walking back into the kitchen for privacy. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest it was making you sweat. 

"I was wondering, and you could say no, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight? It doesn't have to be weird, and I don't expect anything. I just want to spend time with you."

"Oh." Was all you could manage to get out. This was different from what you expected. This was…well, you couldn't quite put a word to the mess of emotions currently charged through you. Sam didn't say anything, and you were pretty sure he wasn't breathing, either. 

"I can't." You said finally, and although he tried to control it, you could see the hurt cross Sam's face. 

"I understand." He said softly. 

"No, Sam, no. I want to, but I actually can't. I have plans to watch Practical Magic with Amy and Holly tonight. We watch it every year on the Friday before Halloween." You explained, feeling both of you lose some of the weight that had been sitting on your shoulders. 

"Oh!" Sam said, his voice full of enthusiasm. At that moment, Holly walked into the kitchen. 

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Holly asked, grabbing a poppy seed bagel off the counter and cream cheese from the fridge. 

"Y/N was just telling me about your movie date tonight," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. 

"Ah yeah!" Holly said, cutting her bagel in half and putting it into the toaster.

"Best night of the year! My ultimate feel-good movie." 

"Practical Magic? I have never seen it." Sam said. 

"What?" Holly asked, her movements stopping at once. Her hands were frozen in a stirring position from when she was mixing the cream cheese. 

"Yeah, I have never even heard of it," Sam said with a shrug. 

"But…midnight margaritas," Holly said, her hands still frozen, mixing the cream cheese. 

"What?" Now it was Sam's turn to be confused. Amy busted through the back door, her mouth chewing the apple she held in her hands. 

"Amy." Holly began. "Sam has never seen Practical Magic," Holly said, finally moving. 

"What?!" Amy said loudly. 

"Uh yeah…no," Sam said. He wore a look of amusement at their befuddlement. 

"But…I wished for you too." Amy said as she walked over to stand next to Holly. 

"I'm sorry?" Sam asked, his eyebrows coming down over his eyes. 

"I think you may have broken them." You whispered, leaning closer to Sam.

"I wished for you too! It gets me every damn time." Holly said, turning to Amy. 

"Girl. The way he looks at her." Amy said, bending her knees and literally swooning. 

"Un.fucking.real." Holly agreed, punctuating each word for enthusiasm. 

"I don't know, Holly. I know someone who looks at you the same way." You said, joining in the fun. 

"If you bring up Eamon right now, Y/N, I swear to god," Holly said, pointing at you with a knife covered in cream cheese. 

"Fine, fine, fine." You said, throwing your hands in the air. 

"I have an idea," Amy said with a smile. "Sam. Why don't you join us this evening?" She said, giving Holly a look out of the side of her eye. 

'Oh yeah!" Holly said…almost too excitedly. "Come watch with us!" She said. Sam laughed and then looked at you. 

"You are more than welcome if you want to come." You said, nodding your head. 

"Uh, sure!" Sam said. "I just have to figure out what to do with my dog. These are long days already." He said. 

"Oh my gosh! Miracle! Well, obviously, he can come tonight, and starting tomorrow, he is coming to this bakery every day." You said, your hands flying to your face with the realization that Miracle had been sitting in a disgusting motel room all day. 

"No, no. That is way too much. We can't have a dog in a bakery." He said, gesturing with his hands to the super clean kitchen. 

"Well, it is my bakery, and I say we can! Plus, he is well-trained, so I am not worried about it." You said, leaving no room for questions. 

"So tonight at 6. You and Miracle at Y/N's." Amy said, keeping direct eye contact with you as she bit into the apple. Oh no. What had you gotten yourself into?

"Oh! And the tradition!" Holly said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"Oh yeah! You have to bring chips and dip." Amy said to Sam. 

"Chips and dip…?" Sam asked, confused. 

"Yeah, we all bring a bag of tortilla chips and a dip. Really, we don't care if it's jarred salsa from the grocery store. It's just tradition." You explained. 

"Oh ok, well what are you bringing so I don't bring the same thing?" Sam asked. He was getting kind of into this girls' night. 

"I am making spinach and artichoke dip." You said. 

"And I am making chili dip," Holly said around a mouthful of bagel. 

"I'm making white bean and lemon dip." Amy piped in. 

"Ok! I will see you there!" Sam said, nodding his head. 

"17 Sycamore Lane." You gave him your address. 

"17 Sycamore Lane." He repeated back to you, his full smile showed off his dimples, and you couldn't help the sheepish grin you gave back. Sam left the kitchen, letting you watch him walk away. 

"Y/N/N, when he smiles at you with those goddamn dimples…." Holly trailed off, raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes. 

"I know." You said, letting yourself feel the soft flame of titillation in your core.  

As soon as you got home, you immediately started cleaning. Your house was never gross, but bras were hanging on door handles, dishes in the sink, and the guest bathroom could use some attention. As soon as you finished that, you started the dip. Your spine began to tingle with nerves at the thought of Sam being in your home. And that he asked you on a date. And that you had to stop yourself from screaming, "yes!". You nervously scratched your neck when your front door opened. Holly and Amy let themselves in; no need for formalities with lifelong friends. You preheated the oven to bake the chili and spinach dip as you all gabbed and talked as if you didn't just spend the entire day together. About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang, and you felt your stomach drop at the sound. 

Sam stood outside your door holding a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa. Miracle sat beside him, his tail gently wagging in the cold October evening. You opened the door, and Sam's stomach did an involuntary flip at seeing you in the comforts of your home. You had changed into sweatpants that sat low on your hips, a long sleeve shirt that hung loose on your frame, and slippers. The scarf you usually wrapped around your head in the bakery was gone, and your hair fell into its natural state. Before Sam could get a word out, Miracle ran up to sit in front of you, waiting patiently for a few pets. You laughed before bending and giving in to his demand. 

"Come on in!" You said to both of them. Sam followed you and Miracle into the house. It was…cozy. That's the word that Sam would describe it as. Cozy. Everything was soft and calm. The comforts of home could be found around every corner. Blankets, candles, potted plants, and picture frames. Memories of your life could be seen everywhere. Throughout the years, you, Holly, and Eamon, then the six of you, Darren, Amy, and Josh came into the group. Birthdays, celebrations, and normalcy. All things that Sam had so desperately craved his whole life. Sam let his eyes take it all in, focusing on one picture in particular. It was you on your wedding day with Josh. You looked the same yet different. Josh stood beside you, holding your hand in his. He was a handsome man with kind eyes. You both wore huge smiles that encapsulated your entire faces. Sam couldn't overlook that you looked stunning in your white gown. 

"Oh yeah. That's my Josh." You spoke next to him.

"Looks like it was a wonderful day," Sam said, standing upright to face you. 

"It was perfect." You said, letting your eyes linger on the memory for a beat. You blinked and looked up at Sam. "Anyway, let's get the dips and start this movie."   In the kitchen, Holly sat on the dining room table, also in sweatpants. Amy had her feet up on the table while she reclined in a chair; she had on black leggings and an oversized flannel. They ate frosting directly out of the container with a spoon, but only after rolling their frosting-covered spoon in sprinkles. 

"Where the hell did you guys even get frosting?" You asked.

"The cabinet," Amy said, the spoon still in her mouth. 

"Hey, Sam," Holly said. 

"Hey, guys," Sam said, smiling at the two of them.  

You decided what to drink and moved the dips and chips into the living room with everyone in tow. It appeared that Holly and Amy already had specific seats. They barely even thought about it before grabbing the big couch together, laying a blanket over them, and forcing you and Sam on the loveseat. You both gave each other a shy grin before sitting down. As the soft music of the opening scene filled the room, you felt like your head was spinning. You weren't sure if he had ever been this close to you, but his scent drove you crazy. He smelt of orange peel and sandalwood. Earthy and hearty aromas that fit him well. He was so near, with warm skin just waiting to be touched. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind felt fuzzy. Swallowing, you rubbed your hands over your thighs and pushed yourself down to the floor to eat some chips and dip. Holly and Amy quickly followed you. 

"Love him," Amy said, pointing to the television with a chip. 

"Does he even have a line?" Holly asked about the main character's first husband. 

"Nope. But he's adorable." Amy countered, you and Holly shrugging in agreement. 

"Sam, come get some of this food!" Holly said, glancing up at him still on the couch. 

Sam let out a small laugh and jumped down on the floor too. You all grabbed food together, laughing at random jokes and the movie. Holly and Amy putting on quite the show. Swooning and fanning themselves over the cop. Falling on each other when the "I wished for you too" line was uttered. You hadn't even realized that this movie related to your current situation. A husband who made you so happy once was now gone. A new man, creating feelings in you that you thought you would never feel again. A twist of fate. She said the famous, "I dream of a love that even time will lay down and be still for." You understood what she was saying deep in your heart. Even though you loved Josh with everything you had, you also dreamed of a love that sickness could not invade. Of a love that would conquer all evils of the past and the future. A love that others couldn't help but feel envious of and crave. A love that when death came for you, it couldn't bare to part you for a moment longer than necessary. A love to withstand. To endure. To heal. Sandra Bullock said the last line, "fall in love whenever you can." And you felt your eyes involuntarily slide to Sam, only to see that he was already looking at you. Hazel eyes filled with questions and emotions. 

You all said goodnight, Holly and Amy making sure to leave before Sam, so you and he were alone. The door closed behind them, and he turned to face you, clearly feeling awkward. 

"Thank you for inviting me. This was a lot of fun. My brother, he loved chick flicks." Sam said, smiling at the floor. 

"Of course. I like spending time with you." You admitted, swallowing around the bulb in your throat. 

"I like spending time with you, too," Sam said. The air changed in the kitchen, electricity making it heavy and charged. You could almost taste the arousal growing deep in your gut. Sam took a step forward, his hand coming up slowly, fingertips tracing up your arm. Your breathing stopped for the quickest moment, and you almost latched yourself to his body. His face was getting closer to yours until you could hear your blood pulsing through your veins. His hand stopped at the curve of your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek next to your lips. You tilted your head up, inviting him in. But Sam stopped then, his lips turning at the last moment to kiss your cheek gently. He lifted his head only to press his forehead against yours.

"I'll be seeing you." He said, his voice husky and raw before he turned on his heel and walked away. 

"I'll be waiting." You whispered into the air. And just like that, you were hooked. Line and sinker. Fully open to him.

Sam closed his car door and let out a deep breath. He looked back at your house one last time before driving to the motel. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking of you. Couldn't get the scent of you out of his nose. His fingers grazed over his lips where your soft cheek had pressed against him. You were everything he ever wanted, needed, and more. You were the rays of the sun that pushed their way through the dense forest leaves to illuminate the life underneath. You were the flames of a bonfire that danced in the darkness of night, warming everything around it. You were the taste of a favorite and nostalgic flavor lost from childhood, only to be found once more. You were the memorized passage from a favorite book, bringing peace in their constant words. You were the healing. 

The next few days were filled with colored frosting, googly eyes, and homemade candy. Halloween was just a few days away, and you all had to be ready. You, Holly, and Amy decided to be witches this year, and Sam said he wasn't very into dressing up. However, he did a phenomenal job of decorating the bakery. Bats hung from the ceiling at different heights. Spider web ran across the counters and glass display cases. A witch stirring her cauldron was set up in the front window, and a purple and black wreath was placed on the door. You sold out of your Halloween and fall-related treats daily, and the usual customers told you how great Sam was to have around. Miracle now had a spot all to himself in the back room where he lounged around all day, coming out on occasion to greet guests and give Sam a nuzzle. You were happy. Really happy. The days seemed to fly by quicker, and you knew everything would be ok. 

Halloween day rolled around, and the whole kitchen was stocked with treats for the kids and some spiced cider and goodies for the adults. You closed the bakery around 3pm to get ready. You all got into your costumes and waited for Eamon and Darren. They showed up with takeout containers stocked with food. After greeting, you all ate dinner together, laughing and sharing memories. Amy nudged you and flicked her head toward the corner. Holly stood against the wall, her hands on her hips. Eamon stood over her, his arm resting on the wall behind her. You and Amy shared a tight-lipped laugh. 

"They think they are so sly," Amy said.

"It's honestly impressive how clueless they are." You agreed.

After eating, you handed everyone treats and a nice mug of steaming cider. You played Halloween music from the speakers and put the finishing touches on your Halloween decorations. The small kids started to show up around 5 pm, and it was a constant stream after that. You couldn't help but watch Sam with the kids. He was so kind and funny to them. He got down as low as he could to look them in the eyes, so they could choose their desired treat. He made comments to everyone he could about their costume. He even had some of the little girls giggling sheepishly behind their hands. You noticed some of the moms checking him out on more than one occasion as well. 

"You are very good at this." You said to Sam, laying your hand on his shoulder to get his attention. 

"Thank you." He said, turning to face you. 

"You said you aren't the biggest fan of Halloween?" You asked him, sinking your teeth into an apple cider donut. 

"No, I wasn't really…allowed to participate as a kid, and I don't know, it just kind of left a sour taste in my mouth." He explained, opening up a rice Krispie treat frosted to look like Frankenstein. 

"I'm sorry." You said sincerity. "Was there a reason? Did you grow up religious or something?" You asked, trying to get to know him better. 

"Not exactly." He said, looking down and thinking. "I didn't have a normal childhood, we moved around a lot, and my dad…well, my dad was a bit paranoid about many things. Growing up, I didn't celebrate any holiday, so I guess I never saw a need as an adult." He said, and you felt your heart ache for him. 

"Well, I hope this wasn't too much for you." You said. 

"No, no. Y/N, this was amazing. I loved this." He looked serious then, taking a small step towards you. "Tonight, here with you and your friends, I'm starting to see why everyone loves this holiday so much." He gave you a crooked smile, and you had to remind yourself to inhale. You both shared a shy glance and giggle. 

"You know…" You started, "you still owe me that dinner." You said, twisting your hands around your mug.

"It appears I do," Sam said, making direct eye contact with you. 

"How about tomorrow?" You asked.

"You're on." He said, and your chest tightened at the thought.

Tags: Imma tag @thinkinghardhardlythinking @mychemicalimagines​ @lacilou​

#Sam Winchester #sam #sammy #sam fic #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfiction #SPN FANDOM #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #Supernatual #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural series #I LOVE SAM SO MUCH #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester series

[obey-me-headquarters]

You know. This is the first blog I've ever created that I tired to create content on. Like, I've have another tumblr account that I had for YEARS but I just kinda rebloged stuff on and didn't make any of my own posts.

So having this account? Wild. Actually having people engage with my stuff? Waking up to 99+ notifications? Extremely Wild.

It's also very, very weird whenever I see someone who I followed before I made this account interact with my stuff. No one is like, celebrities lol, but I do just kinda sit there like O.O "do they know? Do they know their stuff inspired me to make and share my stuff?"

OK but actually shotting a few people out because their blogs are GREAT and inspired me to create smut:

@koumine their sub Lucifer stuff is literally AMAZING. I didn't actually care much for Lucifer before I stumbled across their blog, but after I did I started to play more attention to him in game. And omg. I love him. As you can tell by how much I post about sub Lucifer. Their words are SO pretty and flow SO nice. Go read "wear your independence like a crown" right now because it is one of my favorite fics of all time. Also their fic "the devildom diaries" is absolutely hilarious. Not smut just pure hilarity. But it's also really good for feelings!! Loved Asmo's part.

@demon-fucking-therapist Go read their yandere bros series right now go read their yandere bros series right now go read their yandere bro series 🌀🌀🌀 (I am hypnotizing you) ok but actually just go read everything they wrote because it is SO GOOD!! I wasn't the biggest fan of yanderes before their blog but omg. They changed that real quick! I absolutely love how they write Mc in the series, they feel like a real person and they never did something I couldn't see myself doing. Even when theyre with murderers I couldn't help by nod my head like, yeah I would probably do that do. They post a different of every brother and I absolutely love that.

@thedevilsdom exposed to a lot of different kinks I didn't think I'll vibe with, but now I absolutely do. A lot of their stuff is very sweet and loving, while also being extremely kinky. Everytime they write about the boys I just wanna scoop em up and wrap them in blankets. Does really good smut dialog, like I have trouble figuring out how people talk when theure getting absolutely ruined but thedevilsdom write it beautifully.

@domreader-headcannon-scenarios writes mean smut and I absolutely love it. Some times I just wanna be a bully and a tease and their work is great for that. If any of yall like my pact play stuff you're absolutely going to enjoy their stuff about the kink because it's TOP TIER. Honestly I didn't even really consider how the pacts could be used for kinky stuff until I read their stuff and something unlocked in me. Some of the stuff they write are for fandoms I'm not in but I don't even care because their writting is just THAT GOOD.

All of these blogs are amazing and write like absolute crazy so yall should check em out if you like my stuff lol.

#i wasnt sure if i should tag the blogs or not #but realized that i would probably fuck up their usernames if i didnt use the search freature the @ symbol provides #anyway. sorry for the notification lol #i also a few more blogs i found after i made this account but didnt want this to just be a full on rec list lol #if any of yall want to see more recs just ask because theres so so so many amazing blogs out there!! #wtf do i tag this as #uh #my post

[donald4spiderman]

Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

-

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

-

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

-

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spence #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic

[wordsfromthesol]

The Interview: The Sequel

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @togasbetch @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Requested: @the-house-of-auditore-frye Word Count: 1,378

Part One

The reality of the situation slowly began to set in. Everything seemed to hit you at once, just as you slung your leg over his motorcycle. Your entire body went stiff as you sat in silence for the entire ride. You didn't even question where you were going. The haze cleared from your eyes just as Dick pulled into the familiar building. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed where you were.

**

Dick could tell the kidnapping jolted you more than you wanted to admit. He didn't bother going to your apartment, and you didn't say a word as he led you inside his. Almost an hour had gone by, the two of you sat on the couch watching some mindless tv show. Dick was beginning to worry.

"Y/N, are you sure you're okay? They didn't hurt you?" His eyes desperately searched yours.

"I just…I don't want to be alone tonight." You mumbled as you buried your head into his shoulder.

Dick acknowledged your request by pulling you further into his arms. It was there you fell asleep.

**

This nonsense had been going on for three months. Every time you met up with Dick, there seemed to be swarms of paparazzi. Why did they even care about some Gotham playboy? Wasn't there a better celebrity to stalk? You let out a frustrated sigh as you saw someone photographing you walking into your office building. As if on cue, your phone began to ring.

"Dick, what a surprise…"

"Uh…did I do something?" Dick was clearly not expecting to hear the agitation in your voice so early in the morning.

"Yeah, an interview." You couldn't hold back the sarcasm.

"Right, about that. Bruce is having a charity gala this weekend. Can you make it?"

A smirk spread across your face, "One condition. You gotta tell your family about this little ruse."

"What? Why?" Dick seemed almost disheartened at your request.

"I may have made a bet. With Tim. And this situation is going to make it seem like I've lost. When I totally have not." You tried not to get into the specifics of the bet. It didn’t matter.

"You made a bet that you wouldn't date me?!" Dick figured it out anyways. Guess it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"Do we have a deal or not?" This was not a conversation you wanted to have right now.

"Fine…" Dick huffed out, clearly annoyed.

**

Everything appeared to be going smoothly, you were making your rounds and talking to everyone of importance. Yet something was gnawing at you. All these girls, they just threw themselves at Dick. You were pretty sure you even saw one of them trip another just so they would get there first. Watching the show, you lost track of just exactly how many glasses of wine you had drunk.

"Shit" you mumbled to yourself. Stumbling over to a table, you sat in the corner brooding over the whole ordeal. Thankfully, Tim soon joined you.

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could you blurted out, "I didn't lose! Dick told you, right?!"

Tim burst into a fit of laughter, "Don't worry, he told me. But may I remind you, there's still 6 months left before that 3-year mark." He looked you up and down before turning his gaze towards his older brother, "I'm not worried."

Your mouth hung open. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh nothing…" Tim hummed to himself. Before he could tease you further Dick walked up and enveloped your hand with his.  

"Let's get out of here." His eyes were locked onto yours, not even acknowledging Tim's presence. All you could do was nod. As you rose from your seat, Dick wrapped his arm around you.

"Thanks," you whispered in his ear as he led the two of you to safety.

**

Only two months left, you thought as you walked into the office. You didn't understand why, but you knew this fake dating thing needed to end. After all, how were you actually supposed to date someone? Dick had to understand, right? It’s not like he actually wanted to date you after all.

However, all your thoughts of ending this fake relationship were gone by the end of the day. The office drama was absolutely abhorrent and to top it off you were reprimanded for not meeting a project deadline.  Needless to say, it had been a long day and you needed your best friend. So once the clock struck 5, you headed out towards Dick's apartment. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he swung the door open to greet you.

"You aren't allowed to be this happy if I'm in a shitty mood." You retorted as you pushed past him and sat on the couch. "Wine please," you pleaded with a huff.

"Aw, and why are you so grumpy my little sunshine?" Dick questioned as he sauntered into the kitchen to oblige your request. Dick listened patiently as you ranted about your day until it was time for him to go on patrol. "Alright, I'm headed out. Don't leave too late and don't forget to lock the doors."

"Okay dad…" The sarcasm dripped from your words as you rolled your eyes.

Dick’s eyes narrowed as he turned back towards you, "Don't act like I didn't see you leave here at 3 am last week." You simply stuck your tongue out in response.

It was just past 4 when Dick crawled in through the window. Beaten and battered, his face lit up when he saw you asleep on the couch. He carefully scooped you up and placed you in the bed before he hopped in the shower.

You awoke to the sound of the water turning off. Shit. I fell asleep. Quietly, you pulled the covers back and slung your legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't you fucking dare." The stern words had come from the bathroom. "It's 4:30 in the morning. You can sleep here, I'll take the couch."

You knew protesting would get you nowhere and frankly you were too tired to go home. "Fine. But don't be ridiculous, there's plenty of room." You curled up in the comfort of the blankets. "Besides," a yawn interrupted the thought, "you're exhausted and probably bruised."  

**

"Tim, I don't think I can keep doing this…" Dick thought about you fast asleep in the next room.

"I told you it was a stupid idea to begin with." Tim scoffed at his brother's easily avoidable dilemma.

"It just slipped out, what was I supposed to do?!"

"How many alternatives you want?"

"Okay well I couldn't think of any at the time." Dick unsuccessfully tried to validate the decision once again.

"That's because you want it to be true. I saw how you looked at her at the gala last month."

"You just want to win your bet." Even Dick knew that wasn't true, but he continued grasping at straws.

"If that's what you think. Either way, you can't keep this up forever you need to tell --" Dick quickly hung up the phone as he saw you standing in the doorway.

"Was that Tim?" You tried to remember the bits of the conversation you had just overheard.

"Uh…yeah. Just talking about…a case."

"You know, given your alter ego, I feel like you should be better at lying. First the interview, now this."

"Wha--lying?" Dick was clamming up. It was as if you had some imaginary hold on him.

"Dick?" You raised your eyebrows and waited for the truth to grace his lips.

"Fine. I can't. I can't do this anymore. This fake shit." Dick ran his hand through his hair as he collapsed on the couch. "I don't want it to be fake." The sentence knocked the wind from your lungs. You never thought that was an option.

"How long?" Those were the only words you could get your mouth to form.

"Since the day I met you." Dick tried to bury his head in his hands, but you forced his gaze to meet yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of deception. It felt like time had stopped. Finally, the world sped up again as your lips crashed into his. 

#dick grayson #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson oneshot #nightwing #nightwing fanfic #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing oneshot #batboys #batboys fanfic #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #batboys x you #batfamily #BatFam #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson reader insert #nightwing reader insert

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 3): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: when things are uncovered, can you handle the truth? Or are you doomed to make a mistake you can't rectify?

wc: 2.1k

tw: violence

masterlist

song recommendation:

Ran's past was a lie.

When you met him at the country club five years ago, your pasts had been explained in hushed tones and excited flurries of memories; sharing photos of the time before he was an executive of the communications company he worked in and the time before you were a journalist.

Ran said he had gone to jail twice, both for crimes he had been an accessory to as a delinquent kid, but that he'd cleaned up his act after and made his way up the corporate ladder. Nothing about gangs or being a Heavenly King in Tenjiku made it past his lips.

You had been honest, too. Your tales included the time you'd accidentally happened upon a massive gang fight, and that's how your investigative journalism skills began to bloom.

Who was fighting?

What were they going to do after?

Where did these gangs come from?

When did this argument start?

Why were they fighting?

How did gangs form in the first place?

Those were all the questions you sought out answers for that night and the next five years after, devoting your time and effort to finding the truth about everything.

"Babe?" You freeze, hands hovering over the keys at the sound of Ran's voice. You don't turn around - you can't even look at him the same these days - but he fixes that by walking over to you and turning you around in your chair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Just doing some writing." His violet eyes search yours for the truth, but you know he won't be able to find it. Not while you're still trying to unravel his past. Ran kisses your eyelids sweetly, cupping your face in his large palms and littering his love across your face as you try your best to remain still and not confess about your research.

"Come to bed. It's late."

"I've got a few more paragraphs," you explain, motioning to the small print on your screen. "I'll be in bed soon."

But your lie is discovered shortly thereafter. It's five a.m. when Ran returns, seeing you slumped against your desk, arms cushioning your head, laptop screen blank. Instinctively, Ran pulls you out of your seat - making your notebook fall to the ground - grunting softly as he scoops you up into his arms and cradles you against his chest.

You willingly allow your husband to carry you to bed, where your two-year-old is also nestled among the sheets and pillows, thumb tucked into his mouth. And for a moment, Ran appreciates the view, seeing the two people he loved the most - besides his younger brother - laying in the bed he paid for, in the house he built, in the city he owns.

But then he remembers the slight disarray you left your things in at the desk and returns, picking up your pencil and notebook before laying them beside the laptop. Then his eyes catch "Ran's past?" written in bold, red letters, along with the words: "Tenjiku" and "Tandai" also written in the web of other words surrounding his name. "South Terano" is also on that web.

He'd have to take care of that in the morning.

And for the first time in a long time, worry bubbles to the surface of his mind, and Ran rips the sheet of paper from your notebook, tossing it into the kitchen trashcan and considering his deed done. He concealed his past to protect his family. And he's concealing the present to achieve the same goal; all for the future to be revealed later. That's how everything should be.

Right? _____________________________________________________________

"Ran," you whisper, lips running across his knuckles. His fingers cup your jaw, and his own lips press against your forehead, violet eyes darkening slightly. "It's six am. Where are you going this early?"

"I have to go into the office for a little while," he murmurs, kissing your forehead again. "I'll be back around lunchtime." Thoughts of Tandai and Tenjiku flash into your mind for a moment, but you smile at him sleepily anyway, absolutely sure these things are part of his past and not in the present.

"We'll be waiting for you, my love."

Despite all of your best intentions, though, you can't help but be consumed by the idea of Ran out, fighting, stealing, maiming... You consider asking him about these things, these concerns, but you decide against it as you're helping Kai with his lunch. If he wanted to leave it in the past, there's a good reason for it. He would have told you if it would be a problem later. Right?

Ran wouldn't jeopardize your family, your home, your life for something so... juvenile.

Right?

The clatter of keys on the counter in the living room brings you back to the present, and you perk up, your two-year-old mimicking your expression.

"Daddy!" Kai slides down from his seat and runs to greet Ran, clutching his father's legs with all his little might.

"Hey, buddy," Ran laughs, stooping to pick up his son with excitement. "How are you doing?" As son and father have a very stimulating conversation about playtime, you watch them in wonder, observing the way Ran makes his child a priority, just like he makes you a priority. But your countenance falls as soon as you see the blood spot on the bottom of Ran's lavender suit jacket. You know its blood because of the way it dried - that's no ketchup stain.

You fake a smile anyway, giving Ran a kiss on the cheek and tugging his jacket off after he sits Kai back on the tile floor.

"Hard day?"

"Kind of," Ran mumbles, and you catch the sight of a long scratch down the side of his neck. "But I made it through." You hum, taking the pin-striped jacket to the laundry room and slinging it over the side of the washer. You'd need that later.

"Need to relax?" you wonder, and Ran grins at you mischievously.

"Maybe later, after bedtime?"

_____________________________________________________________

But "later" never came.

Instead, Ran and Kai fell asleep on the sofa, watching a kid's movie, and you retreated to the office, powering up your laptop and pulling your notebook closer.

You immediately notice something's wrong, as the notes you had before were missing. Everything is gone. Not even a word of all the research you had done was there. Hadn't you written meticulous notes and names and things about Ran's past that could be interconnected? You break out in a sweat and search in every drawer of the desk, every place it could possibly be. You come up with nothing, and let out a frustrated sigh before slumping down in your seat and pulling up the computer history from yesterday. If you had to rewrite every single thing, that's fine. You'd just need more time to gather your evidence for the meeting on Saturday.

You're knee-deep in articles and police reports when you stumble across a more recent - actually as recent as this morning - article titled: "Ex-gangster found dead in meat factory". The picture of South Terano startles you, and you click on it, feeling a sense of dread as the article details how he was found hanging upside-down in the warehouse with a bullet hole in his head. And just like that, your newest lead has fizzled out. You groan, writing down "South Terano, deceased" on your notepad, then exiting the tab.

There had to be someone else you could ask. Shuji Hanma only provided you with Ran and Rindou's names, no one else.

"What's this?"

The door to the office shuts softly, and you look over your shoulder at Ran, who is walking toward you with measured steps, his eyes taking in your exhausted expression and the way you're hunched over that notepad. Again.

"What are you doing? You look tired, babe. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Suddenly, pieces begin to click as Ran leans his hip against the desk, staring down at you in the chair with squinted violet eyes. "You threw away my notes... Didn't you?"

"What are you doing in my business, y/n?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in two gangs?" you counter, fingers shaking slightly. "Ran, this is something I needed to know before--"

"You wouldn't have married me if I told you." Ran's tone is cold, almost as if he's turned into the past version of himself without batting an eye.

"You don't know that." Ran leans forward, coming to eye level with you a smirking.

"I know you. And that's all I need." Ran reaches out a hand to close the laptop, still smiling and maintaining eye contact. "Now here's what you're going to do. First, you're going to stop digging into my past. There's nothing there that you need to find. Second, you're going to come to bed. It's late, you're tired. Finally," Ran cups your chin like he did this morning, except his fingers aren't so tender this time. "You're going to cut off contact with both Shuji Hanma and Taiju Shiba. I'm not really fond of either of them, and I'm not a fan of having them tell my business to my wife."

"They were only doing it because I asked."

"Taiju, maybe. Shuji isn't so eager to fuck you. I doubt he did it out of the kindness of his heart." You can't say anything to refute his claims. Ran is probably right. But you can't get one question out of your mind.

"Why are you trying to hide your past? What's there that I won't like?"

"What isn't there is the real question."

"What can you tell me about the gang that's just surfaced in Tokyo?" Ran's face slackens, transforming into a half-surprised, half-blank look that you realize is one that means he's been caught. "Oh, my fucking god," you breathe, tears stinging your eyes. "South, the fish, the murders, the crime... It's you. It's been you this whole time. I've been chasing my own husband down." Panic begins to set in, and your mind whirls around as you shake in your seat, bringing your hands up to your head. "Just tell me Rindou isn't in this," you breathe, but Ran doesn't answer you, still wearing that dumb look on his face. You let out a cry of shock, covering your mouth and trying to back away from Ran as much as you can.

The source is a lot closer than you think.

You slide down the wall, shocked into stillness as your sobs quiet, and Ran straightens up, placing his hands in his sweatpant pockets. The long nights, the early mornings, the bloodstains, the damn suits... It all led to this. Ran had never really left his old lifestyle behind. He'd gotten caught up in it, and brought you and Kai into it unknowingly.

"I never meant for it to get this... unhinged." You can't reply, tucking your knees into your chest as you stare past Ran and at the opposite wall, wondering how you'd missed the signs, the obvious signs that Ran was up to no good. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we can--"

"I can't stay here."

The words fall from your mouth and Ran flinches, shaking his head.

"No. You can't leave."

"Yes, I can," you mumble, standing and wiping your tears. "I can do whatever I need to do to keep Kai safe, and--"

"Kai is safer here than out there," Ran snaps, pointing at the window. "I'm not letting my son out of my sight. Your snooping has caused enough trouble as it is; I wouldn't have had to go and clean up this morning if you hadn't--"

"Don't blame this on me," you retort, pointing at Ran accusatorially. "You're the one who joined a gang and is still in one! What kind of role model are you for our son now?"

"I provide the best way I can," Ran grits out, clenching his fists. "You've never gone hungry, cold, or ill-clothed a day in your life while you were with me."

"I would rather die than enjoy a life paid for with blood money."

"Blood money? You really think--" You try to push past Ran, but he grabs your shoulders, yanking you back in front of him. "You're not going anywhere except to our bed."

"Let me go, Ran Haitani," you mutter, hands balling up into little fists. "Or I'll scream."

"Who will hear you? Kai?"

How had you been so foolish? Ran's lips press together momentarily as his violet eyes run over your figure, taking stock of all your five-foot-six stature. You're no match for Ran. Not mentally, and certainly not physically. Ran notices your defeat and his hands slide down to your wrists, tugging your delicate hands up to his chest.

"Everything will be fine," he whispers, drawing you close. "I'm taking care of us. Just trust me."

Just trust me.

#ran haitani x reader #ran haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers

[andypantsx3]

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate​ for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou

[dapandapod]

40 with dad vesemir and one of the wolves? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

40. post-nightmare hug

Sure thing my dear! I might have gotten a bit emotional about it, I must confess, and I do love Papa V and Lambert. My brain is vaguely offline, but here, have a hug-ish! Please enjoy! <3

Warning: Baby witchers at Kaer Morhen, meaning they are having a shitty time. Hight toxcixity, potion overdose mention, nightmares, Lamberts immature insults. He is working on it.

Enjoy <3

Send me a hug prompt? On Ao3 Hug collection here

Toxicity can be rough for an adult to handle.

For a child, it’s even worse.

Vesemir has seen it so many times, and it hits each child differently. Some get violent, some get tired, some become catatonic.

His child of surprise, Lambert, was always angry. He lived through the Trial of the Grasses, he lived through the harsh training and he lived through the cold winters of the keep.

All this time, Lambert voiced his anger and defiance, roaring his rage to anyone who stood in his way.

Vesemir, being the one who put Lambert on the path, has always received the brunt of it.

But tonight, Lambert overdoses on his potions for the first time. His young body strains and fights against the toxins, his veins and eyes black as the night sky, his skin sickly pale and tacky with sweat.

As with everything else, Lambert recovers, but for the first time Vesemir finds him silent.

There are very few boys his age this year; the other wolf cubs are a few years older than him, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Lambert never allowed them to comfort him. He doesn’t trust them, doesn’t trust the adults, doesn’t trust the world to keep him safe. Rightly so, Vesemir thinks, believing distrust will hopefully keep him alive while on the path.

But tonight, that is worrying. Lambert’s silence is uncharacteristic and Vesemir has learned to watch out for it.

From the shadows, he follows Lambert, watching him sneak away to the barn and curl up in the hay.

Restless sleep and twitching limbs, his child tosses and turns as nightmares take him. In time, he will learn to repress the dreams, but for now they torment him.

Lambert startles awake with a muffled shout before he gets his bearings.

Crying children is nothing new behind the stone walls of Kaer Morhen, but Vesemir feels the responsibility weigh heavily on his shoulders.

He parts from the shadows, approaching Lambert and makes deliberate noise as he does. The child rushes to his feet, a knife in his hand in the blink of an eye, and Vesemir’s heart swells with pride.

“What do you want, asshole?” Lambert says, wiping his tears angrily with the heel of his hand.

“I have been thinking about something for a while,” Vesemir says calmly, walking up to Lambert and promptly plopping down on the hay.

“What,” Lambert asks, eyeing him suspiciously. The dark circles under his eyes are not only the remnants of the toxins.

“Sit down and I will tell you. And put away that knife before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Lambert grumbles but sits down without complaint. Again, not like him.

“What,” he repeats.

Vesemir eyes him right back, and then nods to himself.

“I have been wondering who would wear my hat better. You or me. But I still think I would do it better. So I’m keeping it.”

“You are so dumb.”

“The opposite. This hat has some splendid qualities and I’m not sharing.”

“Good.”

“Really? Not even if I let you try it out?”

“I don’t want to try your stupid hat.”

“Hm. What I heard is that you want to try my beautiful hat. Ok.”

Vesemir shoves his hat on Lambert’s head despite his protests, and then scoops him up in his lap and holds him tight.

“Hey--! You--! Asshole, let me the fuck go, you stinky… bearded- nasty!” Lambert fights him, but he is exhausted, and finally gives up, just accepting Vesemir's grip stiffly.

“Fine. Fucking fine. You got me, I’m wearing your fucking hat, what do you want?!”

“Yeesh, those words in your mouth,” Vesemir snarks, and wraps his arms more securely around Lambert.

It’s not a hug. Witchers don’t hug.

It is merely...a comforting wrestle.

They sit in silence for a few minutes until Lambert sniffles.

“Let me go,” he croaks.

“No.”

“Let me go!”

“You know, when I was your age, I hid in the stables.”

Lambert falls silent.

“Nightmares suck. But I don’t dream anymore.”

“No?”

“No. They can’t touch me. I’m too strong.”

“That sounds fake,” Lambert says, his voice wobbly and muffled under Vesemir's arms.

“You doubt my strength?” Vesemir asks, smirking and tightening his grip.

“Ugh, no, yuck, no, stop it, fine! I believe you!”

“Good. And now I am going to be super strong all over again and fight your nightmares too.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I absolutely can.”

“How.”

“Just close your eyes and let me do the rest.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to. But you can keep the hat for tonight. It keeps the bad memories away.”

“Really?”

“If you believe it, it will,” Vesemir says, slowly letting go of Lambert's small body, watchful of a vengeful elbow. But it doesn’t come, and Lambert doesn’t move away from his lap. He leans back against Vesemir’s chest, fiddling with the brim of the hat between his grimy fingers.

“Don’t tell the others.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Lambert does fall asleep. As soon as the nightmares start to creep in, Vesemir soothes him, petting his arms until he settles again. At some point, he falls asleep too, but pretends not to notice when Lambert stands up, waking him out of his sleep. Lambert places the hat on his head, and sneaks away.

Vesemir remembers his first night with too many potions in his system. Toxicity can be rough for an adult to handle.

For a child, it’s even worse.

#baby lambert #Papa Vesemir #high toxicity #kaer morhen #the witcher #Vesemirs hat #that one is important #Not me thinking about Lambert in Witcher 3 when he stole Vesemirs hat to impersinate him. #Not me thinking of how Lambert keeps it.... #lambert feels #i have them #hug prompts 2021 #dapanda writes #endrega23 #titles are hard

[frattsparty]

My Heart Needed You Part 16

An: I’m dumb and posted 17 before this so two in one night ✌️

Warning: language, we’re all sad and struggling.

Tag list: @bellisperennis0 @withmyteeth @lexondeck @redpoodlern @nessamc @chibsytelford @thegirlwhowritesfics

The drive was long and by the time you got in it was late afternoon, Venus had you go straight to her house. When you puked into the driveway you let out a small sigh of relief as noticing that Tigs bike isn’t here. Quickly you unbuckle and all but jog to the door, and before you could knock Venus swings it open and pulls you into her arms. Your whole body begins to shake. “Shh baby, it’s okay, you’re safe here.” She’s rubbing your back trying to calm you.

You stay in her embrace a little longer before pulling away, she immediately goes to wipe your tears away, “What happened Hailey Girl?” Using the sweet nickname that only Tig called you. “Oh my gosh, baby, your arms are bruised. Who did this?”

“He found out what happened, it was a huge blow up,” your tears start again.

“He was mad at the truth?” Venus looked shocked.

You shook your head, “No, we all got detained by this fed who I knew because of SAMCRO. I ruined a case he had that would have brought down the club, the IRA and the cartel, he’s held a grudge ever since apparently.” Taking a deep breath, “He had documents made up saying I got an abortion and then had pictures of me and Jose…” you couldn’t hold the sob in any longer.

She held you tightly moving so the two of you were sitting on the couch. Your body was exhausted, the lack of sleep, the drive, the crying, you couldn’t keep it together any longer.

“I’m just so tired of carrying this, of feeling shame and guilt.” You sobbed.

“I know baby, and you don’t have to feel like that,” she’s gently running her hand through your hair. “You did nothing wrong, you were hurt, don’t ever feel like you are the problem.”

Once you’ve calmed down you gave her a full rundown of what happened, keeping your eyes focused on your hands to get through it.

“Hailey, my sweet girl, look at me,” she places her hands on the side of your face pulling you up to look at her. “Baby, you haven’t done anything wrong, he’s beating himself up for not being there, for thinking the worst of you, and for how he treated you today. But you have not done anything wrong.”

You nod your head wanting to believe her. “The things he said,” sniffling you clear your throat. “That hurt more than any beating I could get, for him to say that about me.”

“I know, and I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I do think the two of you need to have a serious talk.” She grabs your hands, “You have gotten to let one burden off of your heart, don’t carry another.”

“That’s not all,” you whisper, scared to even say this next part out loud. Giving you a reassuring nod Venus takes your hand seeing that you are struggling. “I..I’m pregnant.”

“What? Hailey,” she moves, wrapping you in a big hug, “How do you feel about it?”

“Well I was honestly happy about it when I found out two days ago, I didn’t tell him yet because I wanted to tell him in person.” Letting out a shaky breath, “now I don’t know.” Sniffling, you wipe the stray tear with your sleeve, “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

The two of you talk for hours, for most of it she sits back and listens, but she provides sound advice. Encouraging you to take a few days to get yourself in order and talk to Nestor, but she also said he needs to come to me. Begging for your forgiveness, because a lady shouldn’t beg a man to be in her life.

That night Venus decided to have the guys over for dinner, she could tell you needed to be surrounded by your people. The two of you were working in the kitchen and you couldn’t help to think about all the dinners you had helped Gemma with.

“I think we are done, Hailey, so we’re all ready for the boys.” She’s wiping her hands clean and takes the final plate to the table. Just as she sets it down the door opens and the loud voices of your favorite men enter the houses

You can’t help the huge smile on your face as they walk in and the pure shock on their faces when they see you.

“Hailey Girl!” Tig is the first to squeeze you tightly. Then Happy, always quiet but holding you too tight, not that you’ll complain to him.

Chibs comes up, and you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s always good at reading people, especially you, “Hey darlin’, you okay?” He’s giving you a tight squeeze, all you can do is nod knowing if you speak you might crumble in his arms.

“It’s not like you to show up unannounced and not come to Scoops, you sure you’re alright?”

Giving him a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Alright everyone let's eat!” Venus announces saving you from this conversation.

Once dinner is done Tig and Happy go in the kitchen to clean up, Venus runs a tight ship here forcing the boys to help.

“Come for a walk with me, Hailey.” You look up and Chibs has his hand out to pull you off the couch.

The two of you walk along the neighborhood, it’s quiet and peaceful - and thankfully cooler than Santo Padre!

“So what happened? I can see the marks on your arms, your eyes are swollen and red, you've clearly been crying.” He scoots closer to you giving you a light nudge.

“I was engaged before I came here, he was deployed and when he was away I was assaulted by a family friend…” sniffling you wrap your arms around yourself. “I got pregnant, he beat me until I lost the baby, then threatened me that if I said anything he would kill my family. So I ran.”

Protectively Chibs wraps his arm around you and you continue. “I never told Nestor what happened, but when I came home we tried reconnecting. He found out what happened, but the story he was given was a lie. He was angry and he didn’t hold back obviously.”

“I told him the truth and he tried to apologize and I was so angry, hurt, sad that I left and ended up here.”

“Oh my girl, I’m so sorry,” he pulls you tightly to his side.

“I should have just told him the truth from the start but I was so scared, Chibs.”

“Don’t blame yourself, you were trying to protect everyone and yourself. I’m sure deep down he knows that, he’s just hurting and he probably hates himself right now.”

You nod, silence falls as the two of you continue your walk back to the house. Before going in he grabs your hand and pulls you to sit on the step. Pulling out a cigarette from his kutte.

“Hailey, you aren’t my child, but I love you like my own, and I hate seeing you hurting like this. Jackie wanted you to find happiness, that's why I supported you leaving.”

“I know, and honestly, I have been so happy.” Your voice broke as tears made their way down your cheeks. You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around your knees, chin resting on them.

“You still love him after last night?” He asks as you stare into the night sky.

“With everything I have, Chibs.” You turn so you can see him, “I’ve loved him my whole life, I’ve been planning my life with him since I was 15. I can’t imagine it with anyone else.”

“Has he ever been violent with you before like that?” His voice is full of concern.

“He never even raised his voice at me until after I left, he wanted to know why I left and I refused to tell him. He’s never laid a hand on me ever, nor would he under normal circumstances I know that for a fact.” And you did, you knew that Nestor would never hurt you.

“Can you forgive him for last night? Because Hailey, you may love him but if you hold on to this anger that you feel you’ll never give him a fair chance to be better.”

“I don’t know, Chibs, what he said was hurtful..” you trail off lost in your head, truly you can’t imagine a life without him but you aren’t sure if you can let those words go either.

“Have you thought about how hurtful it was in that moment for him to see that and think one thing, and then have an even bigger bomb dropped. One that I assume hurt deeply for him because he loves you and didn’t protect you?”

Letting out a large sigh you turn to look at him, “no.”

“Hailey, if I would be given those photos that would be my first reaction. And then to find out my love was assaulted and attacked, I would crumble. I would never feel worthy of you again.”

A single tear trails down your face, “I love him so much, and I’m hurting right now, but some of the hurt is thinking that I won’t have him in my life.”

“You need to give yourself some grace, get a good night's sleep tonight, let your body rest. But you do need to talk to him, but you make him earn you.” He squeezes your hand and let’s silence fall.

After a few minutes you speak up, “Do you think anyone will think less of me if they know the truth about Jose? Or if they know I will go back to Nes after what he did?”

“Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks.” Moving he gets in front of you and kneels so you’re eye level “No matter what your past is, you are smart, the smartest person I know, you’re loyal, determined, drop dead gorgeous.” Giggling, you give him a nudge. “That’s who you are, that’s Hailey Teller. The girl who will fight tooth and nail for her family, for those she loves. You aren’t what Jose did to you. As far as Nestor is concerned, from what you’ve told me I know you still love him, and if I had to guess he loves you. What you decide to do is for you and your future, I’ll support you either way. Fuck anyone who makes you feel bad.”

“I don’t want to see you in a relationship where you aren’t loved and cherished, Hailey. But you look like someone who just lost everything.” He pauses taking your hands.

“If you love him and you can forgive him for this, then you be with him. You be with someone who makes you happy, makes you feel safe, someone who makes you feel complete. Someone you can depend on to love and support you through all of life.”

“You’re pretty smart for a motorcycle enthusiast, Chibs.” His laugh fills the porch and causes you to giggle.

“I am more than that, love.” He pats your knee and moves to sit next to you again.

“You are so much more than that, I love you, Filip. Thank you for being the dad I’ve needed these past 6 years.”

“I love you too kid, more than you’ll ever know.” Wrapping his arm around you he pulls you to lean on his shoulder. “You can always depend on me, I’ll be in your corner. Always.”

***

That night as you lay awake in bed your phone went off, illuminating the dark room. It was a text from Miguel.

Miguel: I’m so sorry, Hailey. If I would have known I would have helped you...I’m sorry I let you down…Nestor was ready to come storming to Charming tonight but I made him stay. I’m only going to be able to keep him from you for so long though.

You: Thank you. I want to see and talk to him, but I just don’t know if I’m ready.

Miguel: I know I’m asking a lot of you but I need to have a meeting with the MC and Adalita, and I can’t do it without you.

Leaving him on read, you put your phone down, trying to decide if you want to go back. But being around Nestor will be so hard and seeing Devante again knowing everyone knows makes you nervous.

Me: Miguel, I don’t know if I can come back…but I’m willing to meet with Nestor. But he has to come here where I feel safe and then I’ll decide.

Miguel: Thank you!

Letting out a deep breath you roll over and try to sleep again, however, sleep avoided you, instead you laid there staring at the ceiling willing your body to rest. Tossing and turning most of the night only getting short stints of sleep, none of the peaceful.

As the sun comes up you are startled awake by loud voices. You silently shuffled to the door and opened it slightly and we’re shocked to hear Nestor and Venus going head-to-head.

***

Nestor’s POV

“She said she’s willing to talk to you so she can decide if she wants to come back.” Miguel looks up at you from his phone. “Don’t fuck this up, Nestor, she’s not taking you back right away but at least get her back home to us.”

“Did she say anything else?” The fear you’re feeling, the worry of never getting her back, it’s all consuming, but the regret you have for what you said, for not protecting her, that will be with you for the rest of your life. “I can’t lose her again, Mikey,” your voice broke. “I can’t live without her.”

“I know brother, I know, we’ll get her back here and then you’ve gotta be the you she knows you are the one who loves her more than life itself.” Giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze, he moves to leave the office. “Bring our girl home.”

***

The drive to Charming was long with just your thoughts running wild, what if she refuses to come back with you? You couldn’t survive the loss of her again, it would kill you.

Turning on to the street you tracked her to you spot her car in one of the driveways. Deciding to take a second to catch your breath and get your thoughts in order you park two houses down.

“Don't screw this up Nestor, you need her, don’t be stupid.” You mumbled to yourself.

As ready for this as you’ll ever be you get out of your car, adjusting your shirt and taking one more breath before walking towards the door. Unsure of what was going to greet you on the other side.

You quickly knock, and shove your hands in your pockets, the nerves were mourning.

“You must be the man that hurt my Hailey Girl.” The woman standing in front of you is clearly a force to be reckoned with, and your nerves are multiplying. Before you could react she pulled her hand back and stepped you clear across the face. “I’m sure you’re here to talk to her, beg at her feet for forgiveness, but before I let you see her we’re gonna have a chat ourselves.”

“Who the fuck are you?” You're trying to keep your cool, but who does she think she is.

“I’m asking questions here, but I’m Venus, Hailey and my husband are extremely close as she is with all of the SAMCRO men. She’s like my daughter here, I love her like one and I’ll defend her like one.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“For a man who swears he loves her, you have a shitty way of showing it. That girl has been through more than you even know, she stayed away from her parents so she didn’t have to cross your path, kept silent about what happened so you wouldn’t get yourself killed. And how do you treat here? You scream at her, push her around, disrespect her, you did that!”

“I know, and I regret it all.” You intersect, but Venus isn’t done with you yet.

“And you should! She suffered at the hands of two men, and then was abandoned and hated by the man she loved. You should feel bad and I hope you're hurting right now because she is. And you deserve to hurt. You sure as hell don’t deserve that girl in there.”

“Look, I know what I’ve done, I'm not trying to deny anything. Let me talk to her.” Pushing back on the attack she’s aimed at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done? Do you understand the magnitude of all of this?” It’s like she is staring right through you and trying to break down your walls.

“Just let me talk to her!” Your anger is boiling.

“Didn’t want to talk to her when she was trying to tell you the truth did you? She was begging you to listen and all you did was berate her.” She scoffs, “And yet, she still loves you. Her heart is breaking at the thought of not having you in her life.” Pushing past you she closes the door and sits at the little table on her porch. “Sit down.”

“I know you love her, I can see it and I could feel it when she told us about you when we all got together for the birthday party.” Her face has softened towards you, but you knew she wasn’t done with you. “She deserves the world, and I think you know that and from what she told me the younger you was ready to give it.”

Smirking you nod your head, “She deserves the world and more, without her…I don’t know if I would have even made it through high school. She was one of the only people in my corner and I didn’t realize until she left how much she did for me.”

“If you could go back and talk to that version of you what would you tell him?” Her question is genuine.

“I would tell him to appreciate everything she did, appreciate who she was and to talk to her about my plans, don’t block her out. Value her like she deserved.”

She lets out a sigh, “Do you still love her? Like truly love her? Want to be with her, have a family with her, wake up next to her each morning?”

“I love her more than anything, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.” A tear slips out, but you don’t even try to stop it, not now. “I felt so incomplete without her, then getting her back, it was like I could breathe again. I’ve only ever envisioned my future with her, with our babies, I won’t be able to live without her.” Your tears keep coming, the brokenness is all consuming. “I’m just so sorry that I made her feel so unloved, I know I don’t deserve her but I love her with everything I have.”

Grabbing your hand, Venus speaks again, softer and more loving than before. “Then you need to say all of this to her baby, because she’s hurting, feels so unlovable, but she still loves you with her whole heart.”

“I’ll go see if she wants to come down,” making her way to the door she turns to you, “If you hurt her again, these SAMCRO men will kill you, especially Chibs. He loves her with every fiber of himself. So I suggest you only go through with this if you’re all in and willing to work to get her back.”

A few minutes passed and you were feeling like she may not come down to see you, but before you got lost in those thoughts the door opened. She looks so small, sad, broken, and the guilt bubbles up even more.

“Hey,” her voice was so quiet you could barely hear her, she’s avoiding eye contact. Her usual confidence is gone, in its place was a girl so unsure of herself. A sight you’ve never seen with her.

“Hey, Hails.” Standing, you signal for her to sit down with you, “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Honestly, Nestor I don’t really want to talk right now, I have…a lot of feelings and thoughts that I can’t…” you can see her thinking of the right words, “that I can’t express right now. I know Miguel needs me and I want to go home, but I’m afraid to go back.” She whispers that last part, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are you afraid to be there? Nobody will hurt you there.” You reach for her fiddling hands trying to calm her nervous tick, but she quickly pulls her hands away from you. “Are you afraid of me?”

She shakes her head, “Not you, or Miguel.”

“Then who, Hails?” You are racking your brain trying to think of who she could be scared of, and then it hits you. “Devante?”

Her eyes met yours for the first time since she came out, and she simply nodded her head. Not saying a word.

“Did he hurt you too?”

“He got me to Mexico, told me that Jose needed me, had one of the guys get me, watched Jose do what he did…” a stray tear rolls down her face and she sucks in a ragged breath clearly trying to hold the emotion in. “He put me in a room that night and the next morning brought me to him again, let him…you know again and took the pictures. He threatened me that if I told anyone he would kill them, you, my parents, anyone.”

“What?” Your anger is boiling and you are doing everything you can to keep it in check.

“I was so afraid, Nestor, I told Niko and begged him not to say anything. I wanted to tell you but I knew if you knew or my dad, that you would end up dead and I couldn’t live with that.” Her hands were shaking and sobs wracked her body. Moving quickly you wrap her in a hug, she’s so tense and you don’t feel her relax like she usually would in your arms.

“I won’t let him near you, Hailey. I swear to you, I’ll protect you.” Pulling away so you can look at her, “I’m going to call Miguel, if you really don’t want to come back I understand and I’ll make him understand.”

She looks up at you, “Do you promise that I won’t be left alone with him? Or have to see him?”

“I will be with you, or Miguel, I won’t let him near you alone, I promise you.”

Nodding, “I’ll go back.” She whispers and you aren't sure if she is just saying that to please you and Miguel, or if she really feels safe going back.

Taking a hold of her chin you pull her face up to look at you. “Hails, only come back if you feel safe, don't do this to make us happy.”

“I am trusting you to not let him near me.” She sounds more confident, “If I feel uncomfortable I’ll go to my parents.”

“Do you promise to tell me if you’re uncomfortable or don’t feel safe so I can help you?” You look at her seriously, ensuring she knows you aren’t joking.

She simply nods.

“I’m going to call Miguel then, let him know what’s going on, and you can get your things together.” You told her as you began dialing Miguel’s number.

“Well I didn’t really get the chance to bring anything with me so I just have my purse and car, so when you’re ready I guess I am too.” Shrugging, she goes inside.

You can’t help feeling guilty for that too, knowing she had a bag packed and you ripped it from her. All you can think is how you have to do better for her.

You're lost in thought and don’t even realize Miguel has answered your call, “Nestor!”

“Mikey, we’ve got a problem.” You let out a large sigh, “Devante knew everything that happened, he is the one who made her come to Mexico, who took the photos, he threatened her.”

The line was silent, you know that means Miguel is planning, “Does she want to come back?”

“I don’t think I would say she wants to, but she’s going to. I promised she wouldn’t be around him alone, and we would be there.” Trying to reign in your emotions, “She’s so broken, Miguel.”

“Bring her home, we’ll take care of her, and him. If she’s not comfortable here, take her to your house. You’re in charge of her protection.”

“Got it, we’ll get on the road once she’s ready.”

Waiting on the porch you turn quickly when the door opens, but instead of Hailey it’s Venus, “she’ll be out in a second, don’t worry. I just wanted a few minutes with you.”

“When you take her back there you better take care of her, don’t you let anything happen to our girl. Because these men love her like their own. If she’s hurt again, it will kill all of us. You have to protect her, and if you’re going to love her give her the love she actually deserves.” She ends her speech wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I will, I promise.”

#nestor oceteva #mayans mc #nestor oceteva x hailey teller #nestor oceteva x oc #nestor oceteva imagine #mayans mc imagines #mayans mc fic #Mayans mc imagine #mayans fic #mayans fanfic #Mayans mc fx #venus van dam #tig trager #chibs telford

[thoodleoo]

well. it’s been a week back at school teaching in person, and i figured i’d share some thoughts on the subject. i’d like to start with a few things i’ve learned this past week.

1. your face can get sweaty in ways you never knew it could when you’re teaching with a mask on for 3 hours straight.

2. you don’t need to find time for a pee break during the day if you’re so dehydrated your head starts to hurt.

3. there is an exhaustion deeper than “first-week-back-at-school-teacher-tired,” and it’s “first-week-back-at-school-during-a-global-pandemic-teacher-tired.”

seriously, i’m more exhausted than i ever was while i was when i was interning during grad school. i come home and immediately want to collapse into bed. my eyes are bloodshot. i went to bed at 8:30 once this week, and i was still tired when i got up.

and i’m not the only one. it’s the same story with all of my fellow teachers. our conversations are consumed with nothing but covid talk- from our fears to the bone-deep exhaustion we’re all feeling. we aren’t taking care of ourselves enough. my group chat is full of pictures of what my teacher friends are drinking when they get home. the question of “i don’t know how long i can do this” is rapidly turning into the answer of “i CAN’T do this anymore” for a lot of my fellow teachers.

it’s been a week.

as if the physical aspect weren’t bad enough, it’s taking a huge toll on everyone’s mental health, too. more than one teacher i’ve talked to after going back has shared a story of sudden, intense chest pain, of the fear of a heart attack that turned out to be anxiety. i’ve noticed it in myself, too. my heart races more easily than it did before. i have trouble sleeping. i’ve scratched scabs into my scalp out of sheer nervous energy. but i’m in school, and i’m teaching, and i’m going to keep teaching. i love my job. i love my students.

but god, am i tired. it’s been a week, and i’m tired.

the worst part is reading some of the awful shit people are saying about teachers who don’t want to go back. that we should be grateful that we still have jobs, that we’re selfish for not wanting to take students back when their parents need to go to work, that someone will replace us in a heartbeat if we quit.

i’d like to pose two questions to these kinds of people. the first is, who do you want teaching your kids- me, who loved teaching enough to spend a year struggling through an unpaid internship while paying for night classes at grad school, who worked 9 and 10 and 11 hour days to figure out the best way to teach your child over zoom, or someone scooped up in a desperation to fill positions, whose idea of teaching is reading to your kids from a textbook?

the second is, what else do you want us to sacrifice? is it not enough that some of us spend our own money providing for students in need? is it not enough that some of us teach in buildings full of mold with textbooks that have been out of date for years? is it not enough that some of us have said that, if put in an active shooter situation, we would die to protect your children?

of course, i already know the answer to that second set of questions. it’s always been no. we learned that after sandy hook and parkland, when students’ and teachers’ demands for a safe learning environment were met with hostility and threats. we learned that after continuous budget cuts to public education have left teachers and students in school buildings that should be condemned. we learned that when parents took their children on trips to beaches and brought a deadly virus back with them, only to send them to school immediately after.

and so i am back at school, and i am tired.

and it’s not as if i don’t want my kids back in school with me. remote teaching felt like it was draining the soul out of my classes. but i want my students to be safe. and i want myself to be safe. and yet people are telling teachers that that is too much to ask. we are told to suck it up and get back into our classrooms. some of us do. but i wonder how long it’s going to be before we stop coming.

in some ways i really shouldn’t be surprised. it’s just another form of the same question we get asked every time something terrible happens in a school: would you die for our children?

my answer to that isn’t going to change. yes, i would die for your children. yes, i would put myself between your children and an intruder. yes, i will keep teaching your children through this pandemic, which half of you don’t even seem to be taking seriously. yes, i will keep coming in to school, even as the number of cases and deaths rises every day.

yes, i would die for your children. but i wish you would stop fucking asking me to. 

#sarah teaches latin #long post #sorry folks but it's complaining time over here. feel a bit better now tho lol

[dubersbutt]

Take a Bow (4) - Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Warnings: Babies, anxiety/feelings of heightened anxiety, smut

It’s not that Connor hates kids. They just make him uncomfortable.

Like when his aunt had a baby when he was 13 his mom asked if Connor wanted to hold him. Connor was fine when his mom gently placed the baby in his arms. Up until his mom told her to be super careful with his head or else he could snap his neck and kill him. Or if Connor accidently pressed his soft spot it could severely detriment his brain development. It was too much responsibility.

At least that’s what he used to think.

He fell in love with Emilia the minute you walked through the front door with her in the baby carrier. The dogs were excited by the tiny squirming arms inside the carrier, he had to hold Lenny back so he didn’t crush her.

“This is going to sound super cliche,” Connor says as he coos into the carrier where Emilia is trying to open her tiny eyes, “but she is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a lot cuter now that her head is a normal shape,” you joke, munching on a cookie Connor had set out for you.

“Can you stop making fun of our daughter’s cone head?” Leon rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t see it, it was terrifying.”

(Connor googles a picture of it later. Babies are fucking weird.)

He helps you up the stairs to the waiting cup of tea on the mug warmer in your bedroom. He lets you get settled, handing you the TV remote and giving you a kiss on the forehead before going back downstairs to meet his daughter (step-daughter? Connor didn’t really know).

“Can I hold her?” Connor asks when he finds Leon and Emilia in the living room.

“What happened to the three month rule?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

Connor had created it after the incident. He didn’t hold a baby that was younger than 3 months.

“I’m feeling brave.”

Leon scooches over so Connor has room to sit comfortably. Leon gently places Emilia in his arms, and gives Connor a pillow to prop his arm on. Emilia’s blinks at him before squirming and stretching her little arms over her head. Connor feels all warm and fuzzy in his chest.

“Hello, Emilia,” he says, with a smile on his face, “I’m your other dad.”

~~~

Connor’s not inherently a jealous person.

Or at least he thought he was. But ever since Emilia came home he’s been feeling it. He loves Emilia, don’t get him wrong. Well, actually, he should backpedal for a second.

Connor is still annoyed at Leon.

He knows he should probably bring this up (because look what happened last time) but he hasn’t because Leon was trying to make things right with you. He obviously was trying with Connor as well, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was an afterthought. Some days were better than others, but everytime Connor thought about how he woke up and couldn’t find Leon in the penthouse he felt like puking.

Emilia eases the pain. He truly does love her like his own. The only time he uses the “she’s your kid” card is when it's 2 am and he’s too tired to get up. But he rarely even does that because Connor’s always been the heaviest sleeper out of the three of you. But other than that, he volunteers for bathtime, plays with her while you’re in the shower, he doesn’t even hate changing diapers that much.The puppies love her too, they’ve transitioned from napping on the dog beds in the living room to the spot on the couch closest to the bassinet to keep an eye on them. He regularly has to stop Lenny from trying to jump in and crush Emilia.

Back to Leon (Connor tends to get side tracked when talking about Emilia). Connor’s still annoyed and he’s been working up to talking about it. But it never seems like a good time. First you were pregnant, and Connor didn’t want to upset either of you. Then it was playoffs and Connor didn’t have any time to think about anything else. Then they got swept and Connor did nothing but eat ice cream for a week like he just had his first heartbreak. And after that…well, he just hates confrontation.

He keeps telling himself that he’ll get around to it, that he just wants to gather his thoughts but he knows he’s stalling at this point. Mostly because -

“So did you do what we talked about last session?” Sophie, his therapist, asks him at the beginning of his appointment.

-his therapist calls him on his bulshit. And he realizes that’s the whole reason he pays her, but it’s still rude.

“About that…” Connor trails off.

She gives him an amused smile, “Connor, you know I don’t like telling you what to do but I strongly suggest you talk to Leon.”

“Sophie, my girlfriend gave birth, we started playoffs and got swept all in the last two weeks,” he says with an exasperated sigh, “I deserve a little time for myself. Isn’t that what you told me last week?”

“I was getting to that,” she says.

Connor almost didn’t show up to his first session. He spent the whole ride over that he his therapist would be a quiet homophobe and who’d sell his story to the presses and ruin his life.

But then he went in and saw the framed photo of Sophie and her wife and their twins. He let out a sigh of relief and felt more comfortable telling her about his life. She didn’t even really watch hockey and she told him that he thought he was a “good player” for his age. Connor always has to stop himself from laughing whenever she tries to compliment his playing style. She’s adorable.

“And what about  (Y?N)? Have you thought about what you were going to say to her?”

He knows. He just doesn’t know if you’ll want the same thing.

“I have, a little bit.”

“And would you like to share what you’ve been thinking about?”

“I-uh,” he swallows, “I want another baby?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sophie sends him home with the same homework he had last week: try to slowly figure out what he wants to say when he’s eventually ready to have a talk.

When he comes home, Leon’s standing in the kitchen by Emillia’s bottle warmer. He looks stupid hot holding a baby and Connor’s only mildly annotated about it.

“Hey,” he flashes Connor a bright smile when he notices Connor’s presence, “Can you hold her while I make her a bottle?”

“Sure,” He takes Emilia from Leon before sliding the dimmer down on the light switch. Her eyes slowly open in the dim light and her gumless smile warms Connor’s heart.

“Hello sweet girl,” he coos, watching as she somehow wiggles an arm loose from her blanket, “I love you. I hope you had a good morning.”

He doesn’t expect her to answer, obviously, but she does start to open and close her mouth, indicating she's hungry.

“Leo, you’re too slow,” he taunts playfully, watching as Leon carefully measures out the formula, “she’s starving over here.”

“I can only move so fast,” he laughs.

When Leon finally gets Emilia her bottle Connor relaxes into the dining room chair as she eats her lunch.

“How was therapy?”

Connor told you and Leon that he started going when he came home from his session. Connor didn’t divulge everything that happened in his sessions but it felt nice to have someone ask.

“It was good,” he says, leaning over and resting his head on Leon’s shoulder, “I only cried a little this time.”

Leon chuckles, “Does that mean therapy’s working?”

“Probably.”

~~~

Connor can’t help but laugh when he rewatches the interview of Leon talking about Emilia. He manages to somehow be adorable and sarcastic at the same time. You’re settled against his chest with your ipad resting on your lap and he can feel your giggles as Leon gives his short, glib answers to the journalists' annoying questions.

(Congratulations, she’s very cute.

“I know. She is my daughter after all.”

Your girlfriend’s not going to get mad about that comment?

“She’s gonna get mad if you keep asking questions about her newborn.”)

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this yet,” Connor says as he runs his fingers through your hair.”

“Neither can I,” you giggle as Leon looks into the camera like he’s on the Office.

Leon rolls his eyes as he emerges from the bathroom, now freshly shaven.

“It’s not that funny,” he says.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leo,” Connor says, gently hooking his fingers in Leon’s chain to pull him down for a kiss, “You’re very funny.”

“Why did you shave?” you say as Leon turns to give you a kiss, “Your beard looked so good.”

“It was also getting super scratchy,” Connor says.

Leon gets under the covers on Connor’s otherside, “Yeah Emilia’s been distracting me from the beard routine.”

You scoff, “the scratch is the best part, Con.”

“Tell that to the scratch marks on my ass,” Connor says without thinking, and then immediately blushes.

You groan, “Don’t talk about anything remotely sexy when my poor vagina is still healing from pushing out a whole watermelon.”

Leon laughs, “Don’t worry, baby, the beard will be back by the time you get your 6 week all clear.”

~~~

(5 weeks later - after your 6 week all appointment)

“Guess what bitches,” you shout as you enter the kitchen, “I can finally have sex again.”

“Mhm,” Leon hums, feigning disinterest, “And what would you like me to do about that?”

“You’re mean and not funny,” you say lightly hip-checking him, “Besides I have two boyfriends for a reason.”

“Yeah about that,” Connor stretches and yawns, “Emilia kept me up last night so I was gonna take a nap.”

You blink, “I will go to Whyte Av and find some rando to screw in a coat closet, don’t fucking test me.”

Leon grabs your hips and pulls you against his body so your back is flush against his chest before walking forward and pressing your hips into the kitchen counter.

“As if I could pass up the opportunity to fuck this sweet little pussy,” he grinds his hips, pushing your hips further into the counter.

“What have you been cleared for?”

“L-light, non-strenous sex.”

Connor laughs, “Boring, but better than nothing.”

“Davo, take her upstairs,” Leon commands so Connor scoops you up and carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wait wait,” you say when they reach the top, “Where’s Emilia.”

“She’s napping in her crib,” Connor says as he drops you onto the bed, “Leo’s gonna check on her before he comes. So you can turn your brain off for a little bit.”

Connor doesn’t wait to hear your answer, just presses his lips to yours. He fels you moan against him. Connor’s hands slide under your shirt, slowly exposing skin. When he gets it over your head he trails his kisses down your body, unhooking your bra as he does. His kisses move in between your breasts to your belly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses your belly button, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

He hooks his fingers on your shorts, pulling them down your legs. He settles himself on the bed as he spreads your legs to press kisses to your inner thigh.

“Perfect,” Connor says, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin.

The tiny hitch of your breath causes all of his blood to rush straight to his dick, but he can’t bring himself to care. He takes his time, warming you up with kisses to your inner thighs, gently scraping his teeth against the skin. He kisses your pussy before running his tongue through your folds. His tongue gently caresses your clit with his tongue. Your hand comes down in his hair when he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your hips start to move against his face, grinding down to give yourself more friction.

“So impatient,” he hums, fucking one finger in you.

“It’s been six whole weeks,” you say,  “I haven’t gone six weeks without sex since I was a virgin.”

Connor chuckles, “Easy baby, we’ll get there.”

~~~

Connor can’t help himself when he sees you changing Emilia’s onesie in her nursery. He walks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “And good morning to the world’s most adorable baby.”

Emilia gurgles but doesn’t retort. Smh, someone needs to teach her how to be humble.

“Morning,” you reply, buttoning up her fresh onesie, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he responds with another kiss, “Except when you kicked me in my ribs.”

“I take offense to that,” you raise an eyebrow, “I am an angel in bed. And, yes, pun intended.”

Connor snorts, “We both know that's a lie.”

Both Connor and Leon have been victims of your aggressive sleeping style. One of these days he’s gonna tie all your limbs down, and not in a sexy way. But not in a murderous way either, let’s make that clear. In a Connor-wants-one-singular-night-to-not-get-punched-in-his-sleep way.

Oh god, his brain is rambling. Oh god, he does not want to do this.

“(Y/N),” he says before he can talk himself out of it, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” you ask, holding Emilia close as you sit down in the rocking chair.

“I…” Connor has never been this sweaty in his life, “I want another baby.”

“Oh,” you say, indifferent, “Congratulations.”

His brow furrows, “what?”

“On growing a uterus,” you arch an eyebrow, “Because I sure as hell am not using mine again for like 3 years.”

Connor laughs, “I wasn’t saying right away. But, I just want to know if it’s something on the table.”

“I want another baby,” you say, “And as long as you’re willing to wait, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

~~~

And Connor definitely feels lighter after his talk with you. And he even impresses Sophie by actually doing his homework for once:

“So did you talk to Leon yet?” She asks after he’s finished giving his rundown of his week.

“No,” he says sheepishly, “But I did talk to (Y/N) about having another baby.”

She has the professionalism to not look shocked, but Connor is getting a little better at reading her. Or at least he thinks he is. He still gets anxious whenever she writes things on her notepad, “and how did that go?”

“Honestly, it was better than I expected.”

“How so?”

He shrugs, “I guess I was just expecting the worst?”

“And why is that?”

He shrugs again, “Isn’t that something that you’re supposed to figure out when you psychoanalyze me at the beginning of every session?”

Sophie throws her head back in laughter, “You do know I can’t read your mind right.”

It sure feels like she can sometimes. Which is why he pays her but still, it’s rude. ~~~

Connor thought he was sweaty and anxious before talking to you. However, when it comes time to talk to Leon he also feels nauseous. Like, he might throw up in the kitchen sink again nauseously. But he’s been sitting on this for a few months now - but what if Leon hates him. What if he doesn't want to be with Connor anymore. What if he asks for a trade?

No, Connor’s spiraling. Leon’s a rational person; he's not gonna hate Connor for talking about his feelings, something Leon encourages because Connor tends to bottle things up until he explodes.

But what if-

No. No spiraling, yet.

“Leo,” Leon hums against Connors chest from his spot on the couch next to him, “You still awake?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “But I was thinking about going upstairs soon.”

Connor shuts the TV off, “Um, actually before that can we...talk?”

Leon sits up and stretches, “What about?”

Connor takes a deep breath, “I think - I think I’m mad at you?”

Leon looks a little confused, and Connor can’t say he blames him, “You think you’re mad at me?”

“I-yeah,” he takes another breath, “I know you’ve been trying really hard to reconcile with (Y/N), and that’s great, and I’m definitely not trying to say I take priority over her, but it kind of feels like you’ve put me on the backburner a bit.”

Leon nods, “How so?”

Connor shrugs, “I mean, when you came back and you apologized it was definitely pointed towards her. And it’s the little things, like you always make what (Y/N) wants for dinner and not me. It feels a little bit like there’s a hierarchy here.”

“Do you...feel this way with (Y/N) too?”

“A little bit,” he says, “But mostly with things concerning Emilia, so it’s not as big of an issue.”

Connor realized he feels a bit…scorned, for lack of a better word. Connor was with you first, and that’s not something he feels jealous about but now it’s all coming up. Connor never left you, Connor was the one who held back your hair and wiped your tears when Leon was MIA. Connor was there, Leon left.

...maybe he did need to talk to you some more.

~~~

Connor and Leon spend a long time talking on the couch before they join you in bed. Eventually, Leon puts his head in Connor’s lap as the conversation turns mundane and they just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s been a while since they’ve done that. They end the night with a little make out session that doesn’t lead anywhere more. It was nice.

The next morning Connor’s on baby duty. Not that he minds, it’s always nice to start his day with a smile from Emilia. He changes her diaper and puts a fresh sleeper on her, listening to the little baby noises she makes. When he’s finished he takes her downstairs to the kitchen where you and Leon are making breakfast.

“Good morning, babe,” Leon says when Connor turns the corner, “Do you want strawberries or blueberries on your french toast?”

Leon was making his favourite breakfast. Connor can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“And how’s my favourite girl?” he asks, giving Emilia a little kiss on her forehead.

“A pooping machine,” Connor responds to her, and Emilia laughs at him.

“Did she just-?” you get from your spot on the barstool and run to Connor’s side.

“Her first laugh?” Connor says, “Yeah.”

He tickles her belly in an effort to get her to keep laughing, but she chooses that moment to be a stubborn newborn and frowns instead.

He looks at Leon, “She is absolutely your baby.”

“I smiled when I was a baby!”

“No, Leo he’s got a point,” you say in between funny faces, “your mom said she has one baby photo of you smiling because you would refuse to smile for the camera.”

“I was shy.”

“You’re a robot,” Connor says.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you scoff.

~~~

“Connor please,” you pant, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Connor holds back a laugh, watching the sweat drip down your face, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Leo!,” you yell, catching his attention from across the room, “Tell Connor he’s being an ass.”

Leon does not hold back his laugh, “He’s got a point.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting bullied right now.”

Connor wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into his body, “It’s just some squats, baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It is when you keep adding weight!”

“Because you’re stronger.”

You just stare at him and, honestly, Connor feels a little scared.

“Tell you what,” he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “If you make it through your sets, without complaining, Leo and I will take turns eating you out tears run down your pretty little face.”

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky.

Emilia’s being babysat by her grandparents so Connor feels no qualms when he links his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Promise what?” Leon pipes up from his place on the leg press.

“Connor offered up your body in exchange for squats,” you say, shouldering the bar once more.

“And what did Connor say I would do?”

“You’ll find out,” Connor says, waving a hand at Leon nonchalantly.

“I don’t even get to know how I’m being used as a bargaining chip?”

“Nope,” Connor says with a smile, popping the ‘p’.

~~~

Leon learns what the exact terms and conditions are of the agreement about an hour later. And, just like Connor expected, he does not complain.

He even has the audacity to wink at Connor as he’s tongue-deep in pussy. Ugh, he forgot what the butterflies in his stomach felt like when he’s not constantly annoyed with Leon. He can’t help himself, he gets up from where he was giving his jaw a break, and slides his fingers over Leon’s hole. Leon tenses up ever so slightly, he breaks the momentum he had on you, evident by how hard your ankles are digging into Leon’s shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” Connor grunts, slipping one digit past the rim, “You don’t cum until she does.”

He slides his finger all the way before uncapping the lube and lathering his fingers up and adding a second. Connor knows when he hits Leon’s prostate when He lets out a low groan into your cunt.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, writhing against the sheets.

Leon pushes back on Connor’s fingers at the same time your hips start to grind down feverishly on Leon’s face.

“Make her cum, Leo,” Connor says, removing his fingers from Leon’s ass and teasing his hole once more.

Leon’s focus changes completely. His fingers dig into your hipbones, pulling you closer to him so he has a better angle. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, heaving off the bed when Leon finally sucks your clit. You cum with a shout, tumbling over the edge, pussy clenching around Leon’s tongue.

Connor wastes no time, grabbing Leon’s hips to steady him before spreading Leon's cheeks and swiping his tongue in long, broad strokes. Connor’s not the biggest fan of rimming, but Leon loves it. Leon groans as Connor teases him, starts to rut against the bed when Connor’s tongue dips into his hole, loses it when Connor starts to fuck him open with his tongue. He reaches over to jack Leon off, pumping him as he continues to take him apart. Leon goes limp beneath him, reduced to nothing but moans. Connor speeds up his ministries, revealing in the way Connor’s name falls weakly from Leon’s mouth. Leon bucks hard against the bed, cums with a shudder. Connor takes his hand off Leon's cock, and places it on his own but doesn’t quite relent on his tongue, working Leon through the aftershocks' pleasure. It doesn’t take very long for Connor to cum, finally letting up on Leon and effectively ruining his boxers.

“Aw Leo,” Connor says once he can catch his breath, “We have to watch the duvet cover now.”

~~~

“Where is my baby?” Connor teases playfully when you walk through the door, baby carrier in hand.

“Calm your tits,” you say, placing the carrier on the kitchen counter and allowing Connor to take her out, “She’s home, and just woke up from a nap.”

“I wish I took a nap today,” Connor says as he rocks Emilia in his arms. She gives Connor a toothless smile and Connor just wants to smoosh her.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look really good holding a baby?” Leon says, giving Connor a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good enough to have another baby?” Connor asks.

You roll your eyes, “Two years, Con.”

“I’m just teasing.”

And, yeah, Connor finally starts to feel like he’s home again.

#poly fic #connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #ran writes #connor mcdavid imagine #leon draisaitl imagine #nhl smut #nhl oneshot #connor mcdavid smut #leon draisaitl smut

[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

#hester.txt #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writeblr #the addams family #addams family #morticia addams #gomez addams #lurch #thing #wednesday addams #pugsley addams #gomez addams/morticia addams #gomez addams/morticia addams/reader #x reader #x reader fic #vampire #vampire fanfiction #vampire fic

[lyallblacklupin]

Prompt: Wolfstar - Sirius opens up to Remus about his thoughts on dating a werewolf. Any rating you want.

I truly apologize for such a late response. Your prompt was quite the unique one and I hope you like how I wrote it. Thank you for an amazing suggestion! Happy Reading! <3

Rating: Mature (Implied Sexual Content.)

Sirius bursts into the common room with the deepest frown on his face and the biggest pout on his lips which is enough to cast everyone’s attention in the room. Marlene squints from her magazine, James sits up from Lily’s lap, and Peter sets down his chocolate (which rarely happens, that means some disaster awaits the Marauders and others around them.) However, the only person who is straining his nerves to look nonchalant—but the nostrils don’t help much but flare hopelessly—is none other than Remus Lupin.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Sirius says curtly. James looks around to see who is he addressing with such aggression, and it is again none other than Remus Lupin sitting with a book hiding his face. The tension in the air is so thick that can only be cut with a knife.

“I am talking to you, Remus.” He speaks again, his voice is emphatic on each of his words. Remus changes the direction of the book from his face as if it is a mask, but it is still in between his index finger and thumb. His eyebrows are cocked up higher enough to disappear in his golden fringe.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have time to discuss anything as useless and pointless as your drama.” He says.

Peter gasps, Lily flinches, and Marlene snorts. Sirius shoots her a glare.

“Sorry.” She recovers and hides back her face in the magazine.

“You think I am being dramatic about this?” Sirius turns back and asks indignantly.

“I don’t think you are being dramatic,” Remus makes an innocent face suddenly, waving his hands to his sides. His facial expressions are always priceless, “but I think you are dramatic.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Lupin!” Sirius looks extremely mortified as he scoffs at him and the next thing everyone knows that he is climbing the dormitory stairs, and then which follows with a loud slam of the door.

The silence in the room is filled with the crackling sound of the fire before their sitting spot until James clears her throat as his eyes—in fact, everyone’s eyes land on Remus who is sitting like a terrified cat, scared but too prideful to admit his harshness.

“So…umm, you guys having a row?” James finally says.

“You think?” Marlene makes a bored face before she turns to Remus, “So tell me, darling, what is your problem?”

“My problem?” He asks as if he can’t believe he has been asked that question.

“Yes, Rem,” Lily says suddenly, looking stern and concerned at the same time, “Your problem.”

“How can you say that without knowing what’s going on between us!”

“We don’t know what’s going on between you two, but what we know is that you insulted him in front of everyone and now you don’t feel bad about it?” Lily scolds Remus, who looks like he has been slapped. He looks down at his hands. His books are still between his hands. He has been feeling bad the second he said those mean words to Sirius, and now he feels a lot worse than a few seconds ago. He is looking down at his book while his mind racing on how should apologize to his boyfriend before a shadow grows on which makes him look up to see James Potter snatching the book from his hands. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest because James is already settling his head on Lily’s lap, and acting to read that book.

“Fine, Potter!” He threw his hands up in surrender and stands up to make his way to the dormitory. He sees the smirk breaking on James’ lips but his eyes never leaving the book page which he is definitely not reading at all.

He opens the door of the dorm, and the air smells stale and something is on fire. The urgency suddenly takes place in his body as he walks around to find four perfectly tucked beds, the bathroom door is opened which means Sirius is not inside.

He sees the window opened and sees the wisps of faint smoke in his view. He comes close to lean out. His side glance catches Sirius sitting on the extremely narrow ledge with his legs dangling in nothing but a groundless view of Hogwarts beneath his feet, and for a second Remus has decided that his heart has stopped beating. He staggers back in to process the view in his head.

“Fucking shit! Fuck! Merlin!” Remus curses when his brain completely registers the terrifying idiocy of his boyfriend. He leans out again to call him, “Sirius, are you out of your fucking mind!?”

He doesn’t reply because he is smoking his cigarette in the most seductive way, or maybe he is smoking just fine but Remus can’t help but feel something funny in his lower abdomen.

“Sirius?” He says again with his clenched teeth.

“I will not listen to you unless you put your anger aside,” Sirius says with a deadpanned face which is, by the way, glimmering in the moonlight as if it is something sacred. His beauty is ethereal and yet so sharp to cut someone’s heart into two. Remus swallows because it is a mouth-watering sight. But then he remembers. This is exactly what they have been fighting about; Werewolf instincts. The moon is close, and the wolf is flowing into him.

“This is not some joke, Sirius! This is extremely dangerous! Come back in this instant!”

“See, no gentleness,” Sirius sighs and takes a drag from his cigarette, “Not coming right now.”

This is infuriating, Sirius is in fact infuriating. However, yelling at him is just like setting more fire on the raging flames. Remus inhales, and then reaches out his hand from the window for Sirius, “Please. Come inside, Sirius.”

“Nopes.” Remus clenches his mouth but then relaxes.

“Look, Sirius, I’m getting really worried for you. Please, come back? I promise I’m not angry.”

“I can see you grinding your teeth.” Remus grimaces but then eventually smiles in surrender. Sirius can be very convincing without any animalistic forms.

“Yes, because you are annoying,” His voice is utterly soft, “but I love you just like that. Will you come to me?”

Sirius narrows his eyes and cocks an eyebrow which instantly causes Remus to chuckle, along with a feeling of gushing love inside him.

“Okay, I’m coming.” He takes his hand and jumps inside to wrap his arms around Remus who immediately holds him in his embrace. Due to the height difference, Sirius stands on his tiptoes to hug him so the latter boy scoops his legs up to wrap around his waist and Sirius wastes no time to comply.

“I’m sorry, love…” Remus nuzzles his head in his hair.

“It’s okay, I know you’re not feeling good. The moon…” Sirius' voice is tired and low. It is always surprising to see his bottomless patience for Remus’ condition, considering how much edgy he can be otherwise.

“Hey…” Remus makes them sit on the nearest bed. Sirius completely sits on his lap with his legs tied around him, and his hands laced around his neck. He looks so small, and Remus doesn’t want to see his sadness. After a long drag of silence and relishing each other with feather-light touches and kisses, Sirius whispers in his skin.

“Why can’t you let me have you?”

“I’m right here. You have me.” Remus whispers back with his lips still lingering on his cheeks.

“Completely…Moony…” The voice breaks his heart, and he looks up at Sirius' hurting eyes.

“Sirius, this is not a joke.”

“Moony, I don’t take you as a joke in my life. Not even in the slightest.”

“You don’t realize how dangerous it is.”

“Then make me!” And Remus winces but doesn’t leave his grip on Sirius’ waist, “I want you all. I…I like it that way…” The last words hang awkwardly in the air with Sirius blushing like he has tomatoes beneath his cheeks.

“You are not serious, are you?” Remus lets out a hollow laugh.

“Yes, Moony, I’m serious about this.” He is frozen because Sirius’ eyes scream nothing but the truth, and most importantly he has completely missed the pun.

“You are…” He stutters but Sirius cuts him off.

“Yes. I want to be with you in every part, Remus. You lose control? I don’t care! I want you to be the most honest version of yourself. I want to love you more. I fell in love with your rawness, your scars, and your real self. I want you to lose control.” Sirius rocks him and tightens his grip on his neck, and Remus closes his eyes, “I want to have you in the most Remus way. Your way. Just you. All of you.”

Remus inhales the scent of Sirius that is beginning to saturate around him, enveloping him in the haze of his soul and body. He feels lightheaded with the softest sensation of certain lips brushing his neck and jaw. A shiver runs down his body, and a whimper comes out of his mouth.

“Sirius, you…can’t…you are…please, no…” Because Sirius cannot understand this.

“Moony, it’s okay.” Lips still roaming dangerously at the back of his ear.

“No, it’s not!” Remus snaps, causing Sirius to flinch, and instantly he feels terrible. He immediately rests in hand back on Sirius’, “Please, don’t be disappointed in me…Merlin, I can’t hurt you, Sirius.” His free hand travels up to hold the other boy’s face which looks as gloomy as death, “I just love you too much for that…you can’t ask me to ruin you! You can’t ask me to fuck you like an animal! I know I’m not enough for you—“

“No! You are more than enough, Remus!” Sirius pleads with eyes that were at the brink of spilling tears.

“Sirius…” Remus sighs, not leaving his grip on Sirius’ hand. The silence fills them up again. His eyes wander around the dimly emitted dorm, then to the opened window where an almost full moon peeks out like a thundering reminder. Sirius looks down at their hands but stays quiet…pretty much tired. He looks exhausted. Remus shakes their hands for him to look up and he forces a smile on his tightly pressed lips.

“I’m not asking you to break me,” Sirius speaks lowly after a while, “I’m asking you to be yourself. Is that too much to ask?”

“Myself is not pretty to encounter, Sirius.”

“You think I need you to be pretty? You think I would want you fancy and sparkly? I don’t expect perfection from you because I know you have millions of flaws and imperfections, and fuck I fell in love with all of those! Call me sick or downright stupid, but it is the truth. You being a werewolf is something that the Marauders know, and that makes us feel honored and so so special to know that part of you. That you allowed us to know that part of yourself. Is it a beautiful part to you? No. But is it a beautiful part to me? Yes! I cannot disgust you because this was never in your hands. You were given this! Worse or best, but it is you. And I love you. I love that part of you. I’m so sorry that you got what no one would ever even wish upon their enemy, but that doesn’t make me want to hate that part of you. I love you whole.”

He reaches forward to put both of his hands on Remus’ face to wipe away the flooding tears, which is when Remus realizes that he is crying. The realization hits him like an iceberg and sobs erupt from him. Sirius wastes no time to quickly hold him against his chest as he keeps rubbing his back.

“Listen, you are not ready, and it’s okay my love,” Sirius brings in mouth closer to Remus’ ear, “I just want you to know that you don’t have to hold back your urges. You don’t have to hold back anything. I want to let you know completely and soundly that I’d do anything for you to make you feel yourself. This is what I feel about you. I hope you understand this, truly, but tell me if you still don’t I’ll try my best to open up more to you. But at the same time, open up to me, too. Be with me, for real.” He emphasizes each of his words, and Remus nods in his chest.

He pulls himself back to look at Sirius’s face. His hands trace his perfect face with careful eyes and he realizes that he fell in love with the real Sirius Black. He knows that his boyfriend has different images for other people which mainly rules by arrogance and reserved personality. However, with Remus, he is a totally different person, the happiest and calmest he has ever seen.

“I love you, too.” It comes out in a wavering voice, and Sirius smiles genuinely, “You already opened up to me, you, perfect git.” He nudges his elbow in his ribs, making him laugh, “You wouldn’t…care…if I…you know…”

“Lose control?” Sirius suggests with tenderness in his voice which causes Remus to shudder. He nods at him tentatively.

“No, Moony. My love for you will never lessen because of that. I want you this way. I want to see you this way. Your way. Just don’t hold back. I am here. Always will be.” He turns his face just a fraction to plant a kiss on Remus’ hand that was holding his face.

“Okay…okay…” He swallows and feels damp with cold sweating. His palms are sweating too against Sirius’ face but he brushes off the thought and braces himself to take that mask off. It feels like tearing down his skins. It is like more than being naked. He leans in and kisses him hesitantly but Sirius complies with firm lips and eager hands. And Remus relaxes, deepening the kiss. His head feels fuzzy, his fingers are altering to the warmth of Sirius’ bareback, and his legs are wrapping round his waist as if they are returning to the place they belong. He is melting in his body.

It doesn’t take long when the swooning is over, and the urge to get the upper hand on their intimate connection grows on Remus. His hands slide down from their intertwined hands to hold Sirius’ wrist. He uses his weight as leverage to push him on the bed, and dive in to kiss his neck. He also realizes that Sirius is loud as he groans and moans on the tiniest touches. Remus doubts that they will get through this. He gets on all fours with a flushed Sirius beneath him. He sees his face is glowing like pearls that speak nothing but reassurance.

“It’s okay, love. It’s alright, Moony.” He whispers and gets up to reach Remus’ mouth. When they share a languid kiss, Remus decides that it is going to be okay. It is going to be alright.

#wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar #wolfstarendgame #established wolfstar #wolfstar supremacy #wolfstar angst #wolfstar happy ending #hp marauders #marauders era #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius black #werewolf remus #remus lupin #sirius loves remus #hogwarts #james potter #james x lily #lily evans #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #wolfstar fluff