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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 5 months

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The Lighthouse

Note: follow up to chapter 1. requested by @foxyanon! I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.

Warnings: 18!+ fluff/angst/suggestive. mention of past abuse (no details).

pairing: Sailor!Sihtric x Lighthouse Keeper!you (f)

summary: You were ordered to do your chores with Sihtric.

wordcount: 2,5k

Masterlist

Chapter 2.

Several days passed and Sihtric regained his strength quicker than anyone had expected. And every day he seemed to look more handsome than the day before. His dark hair was always braided on the sides and on top, while his long curls hung loose in the back and moved smoothly along with each movement he made.

It's not that you didn't like Sihtric, it was quite the opposite. You were irritated by how effortlessly good looking he was and, as some days had passed since the stormy night, you had found out he truly was kind and polite. You gradually became more at ease around him, and you didn't even feel the need anymore to keep a light on at night. The problem wasn't Sihtric. The problem was simply that you hated how you had fallen for the first man to wash ashore alive in years. But in truth, you knew you couldn't blame yourself. You were still just a lady. A lady with needs. You just didn't want to be obvious or come across as desperate, so you tried to keep a comfortable distance.

But since Sihtric had nothing to do, other than to wait for help, Beocca thought it was a good idea to have him help you out with your chores. You tried to argue against it and said you absolutely didn't need any help. You were perfectly capable of sweeping, cleaning windows, touching up paintwork and doing minor mechanical repairs in the lighthouse on your own. But before you knew it, Sihtric was dressed and ready to help. He wore a black blouse that didn't belong to him, with black trousers and black shoes, which also didn't belong to him, but he looked good wearing it regardless. And he once again made your heart flutter when he looked at you while he leaned with his shoulder against the doorpost and rolled up his sleeves.

'So, where do we go?' Sihtric smiled.

'The lighthouse,' you sighed and turned on your heels, holding a bucket with water in one hand and some old rags in the other, 'grab a broom,' you yelled back over your shoulder.

'Yes, madam,' he said with a smirk and was quick to follow you.

While you cleaned the windows up in the tower of the lighthouse, Sihtric swept the floor nearby, and there was a clear tension building quickly between you both. The silence wasn't what you could call awkward, but something lingered in the air and it grew thick, almost suffocating.

'So,' Sihtric cleared his throat when he couldn't stand the unspoken pressure anymore, 'eh, how… I mean, are you… are you married?'

You sighed quietly but immediately felt bad for doing so. He was just being nice and wanted to make conversation, getting to know you. He didn't choose to be here, unlike you. The problem was just that because of your solitary life, you weren't the best at small talk, so you rather avoided it and you and Sihtric only shared a few words during dinner together every evening. But there was just no avoiding it anymore now, as the sailor couldn't hide his curiosity anymore.

'I am not,' you answered curtly and continued your chore.

Sihtric nodded without speaking and continued to swipe the floor, but he soon broke the silence again.

'Why this work? I mean, how did you end up here? Because this is not a lady's job-'

'A lady can do this job just as well as a man can,' you snapped.

Sihtric stopped what he was doing and stared at you, a little taken aback, and he then looked down at his feet as he went on to swipe.

'I… I apologise if I have offended you, madam,' he said softly.

You gave him a curt nod and turned your back to him again, wiping the window. And regret filled you again in an instant. He had done nothing to you to deserve your cold treatment.

'It's a long story,' you mumbled after a moment.

'What is?'

'How I got here. The answer to your question.'

'Well,' Sihtric chuckled, 'I think I have some time.'

'Yeah, I guess,' you sighed.

Sihtric smiled and leaned against the window you had just cleaned, on which he left a dusty print, to which you grimaced, and you bit your tongue upon the sight of it. You threw the rag in the water bucket and sat down on the freshly swept floor. You looked down at your dress and nervously started to pluck at some loose threads.

'I am here because I escaped an abusive lover many years ago,' you said.

Sihtric's sweet smile disappeared and he sat down next to you, with compassion in his eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he said softly.

'I figured this was the last place he would ever look,' you shrugged lightly, 'it's been years since I've seen him, so I guess I was right.'

Sihtric quietly looked at you and how you carefully pulled a thread from your dress and mindlessly wrapped it around your finger. He desperately wanted to take your hands in his and tell you that he would never let anyone hurt you, but he was afraid he would frighten you if he did.

'The, eh,' he hesitated, 'the scar on your back?'

You snapped your head up towards him. 'How do you know about that?'

'I, I,' Sihtric stammered and his cheeks turned bright red, then he looked down at his feet, 'I swear I- I wasn't… spying or anything. I just, I, I walked past the bathroom the other day and you were changing. The door was half open so naturally I just looked in when I saw a movement. And then I saw you,' he rambled faster than you thought was humanly possible, 'I shouldn't have looked, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But that's how… I mean… the scar… I-I'm sorry,' he swallowed hard and awkwardly cleared his throat, then got up and continued to swipe the floor he had already cleaned thoroughly.

You looked at him and began to fight a grin. You thought the rough looking and muscular sailor was rather adorable when he became all flustered and shy, and you decided to tell him your own secret.

'Well,' you said as you got up, 'that makes us even then.'

'What?' Sihtric snapped his head towards you this time, 'h-how? What do you mean?'

'Really?' you chuckled, 'how do you think you got in dry clothes the first night?'

Sihtric looked down at his outfit, then back up to you, confused. You sighed.

'That night you washed ashore,' you said, 'I dressed you in clean and dry clothes. But first I had to rid you of your wet clothes.'

'Oh,' Sihtric mumbled.

'All clothes,' you grinned.

Sihtric's eyes grew wide and another shade of red coloured his cheeks, he then quickly looked away again and swept the floor as if his life depended on it. You giggled quietly and went on to clean the last window.

'Speaking of scars,' you said when you were finally done cleaning, 'you have quite a bunch yourself.'

Sihtric nodded and took a deep breath while he stood next to you, leaning on the broom.

'The ship?' you asked.

'No, madam. I've had those scars long before I set foot on that ship,' he said as you looked up at him, 'I took the work on the ship to escape an abusive father. I guess we both wanted to disappear in our own way.'

'So it seems,' you said softly, and cautiously took his hand, 'I'm sorry that happened to you.'

Sihtric smiled softly at your gesture, and he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. He leaned with his shoulder against the wall and let his eyes dart all over your face.

'I'm sorry for you too,' he almost whispered, then sniffed and cleared his throat again, 'I, eh, never thanked you for saving my life. So, eh, well… thank you.'

'Just part of the job,' you mumbled, and it was your time to feel all flustered now as the handsome sailor still held your hand.

'Is it?' Sihtric asked playfully and leaned in closer.

'I… you know, I'm not sure actually,' you chuckled.

'But you did it anyway,' he smiled and let go of the broom, which fell on the wooden floor with a thump, 'thank you,' he said softly again, and suddenly took your face with his free hand.

You were surprised that you didn't flinch at his unexpected touch. And before you could even try and wonder if he was going to kiss you, his warm and slightly chapped lips were already pressed onto yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you forgot how to breathe at the sudden pleasant feeling, and you dropped the rag which you had in your hand. Then, when Sihtric broke the kiss, all that was heard was the heavy and ragged breathing of you both, while you looked at each other with half open eyes and rosy cheeks. Sihtric let go of your hand and placed his own on the small of your back, pulling you closer while he held your face gently and close to his. He drew you in for another kiss when he felt your hands on his waist, and your fingers curled around his black blouse, lightly tugging as the kiss became more heated and passionate with each shaky breath you took.

His hand moved to your waist, where he lightly squeezed his tattooed fingers into your dress, into you, to keep you firmly pressed against his impressive body. Your own hands trailed up his chest, to his broad shoulders and then onto his neck. You slid your fingers up in his hair and tangled them in his dark curls. His facial hair felt rough, like sandpaper against your soft skin, leaving burning tingles on your face as he kissed you intensely, while you both seemed to give in to the lust and desire you felt for each other.

Sihtric let go of your face, and you then felt both his hands on your waist, making you feel so small in his big, warm hands. He gently pushed you a few steps back, up against the recently cleaned window. The sound of several tiny buttons falling down and rolling over the wooden floor was heard after you ripped open his blouse. He pushed your skirt up your thigh and lifted your leg, which you circled around his waist as he kept his warm hand wrapped underneath your exposed knee.

Sharp breaths now filled the air and you allowed his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss, while his hands moved up to your breasts. You moaned into his mouth when he firmly squeezed your bosom, and his fingers began to impatiently tug at the laces up front. Your fingers found the button of his trousers, which you unhooked with ease. You moved your hand down, teasing his erection, just to feel him twitch in his undergarments. Sihtric dragged his lips down your chin, to your neck, where he moaned heavily upon your teasing touch. He grabbed your waist and growled in your ear as he bucked his hips against yours. His trousers slowly slid down his muscular thighs, exposing more and more of what you already knew he had down there, and you'd lie if you denied the slight nerves you felt about whether or not you'd be able to take him. There was absolutely no doubt that his hard cock would stretch you, fill you up completely. And you anticipated it as much as you almost feared it.

'You're a goddess,' Sihtric husked in your ear while he grinded against you.

'And you're a beast,' you breathed with a smile, and a soft moan spilled from your lips when the sailor sunk his teeth into your neck.

'A beast,' he chuckled and hummed, 'I'll show what kind of beast I am, miss,' he brought his lips back to yours, capturing you in another deep, sensual kiss.

Your tongues explored each other's mouth and lips, while your hands explored each other's bodies, desperately wanting to completely ravish each other with lust and love and sin.

Sin.

Beocca used to be a priest, and he best not find out about what was happening in the lighthouse. And that thought captured you and took over all your senses.

'No,' you whined and reluctantly pushed Sihtric away, 'we- we can't,' you said out of breath.

'What?' Sihtric asked, confused as he panted, 'you… you don't want…'

'No, I-'

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric cut you off and shook his head lightly, feeling an instant guilt for the way he had just grabbed and kissed you. 'I- I'm terribly sorry,' he stammered and was quick to pull his trousers back up and tuck in his blouse, which now missed several buttons.

'No, Sihtric,' you said and grabbed his hand when he tried to back off, 'that's not what I mean. I mean that…,' you needed a second to catch your breath again, and Sihtric stared at you as he did the same, 'I just mean that… not here. Not now.'

'But… why?'

'We… we might get caught,' you said as the breathtaking man towered over you once again.

Sihtric then grinned. He bit down on his lip and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned in.

'All the more fun, madam,' he purred.

You giggled softly and closed your eyes as he brought his mouth back to your neck, enjoying the warmth of his lips and tongue on your skin. Your hands automatically found their way onto his muscular torso again, raking your nails down his chest. You were overpowered by your want and need for him, you wanted him to do unspeakable things to you that no man had ever done before. You wanted to feel his arms around you, keeping you safely locked in, while he'd do unholy things to you and make you beg for more. But it would come with a risk you couldn't take.

'No,' you chuckled softly, 'really, we shouldn't. Beocca…'

'The old man?' Sihtric asked and looked at you.

'Yes,' you sighed, 'he's a devout Christian. If he sees us… if we get caught, I just know he'll send me away. And you,' you looked up into Sihtric's mismatched eyes as you ran your fingers down his chest, 'he'll probably throw you back into the ocean.'

You both chuckled and Sihtric hummed softly, then leaned his forehead against yours.

'I do not wish to get you into any trouble, miss,' he whispered.

Sihtric then leaned back, smiled and took your chin. He kissed your cheek softly, after which he turned on his heels, picked the broom up from the floor and made his way down the long spiralling stairs without saying another word, or even looking back.

Leaving you behind, alone in the lighthouse. Still breathless, and even more desperate and needy for him than before.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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mc-lukanette · 5 months

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Everyone knew of the seamstress, famous more for her work than even the glowing fairy wings on her back. She could do anything for anyone and was always willing to help. She could sew any design asked of her, make repairs to have clothes look brand new again, or alter as necessary if someone might need an outfit fitted for them.

It was an experience simply to see her work, fingers deftly working away without any sign of stopping until the job was finally done. Her boutique was lined with her products and sources of inspiration, yet carefully selected so as to not overwhelm anyone. Helping her along was her trio of mice, who eagerly rolled spools across the floor and carried needles to her whenever she requested them.

Despite all of that, what she was most known for was her ability to sew emotions into clothes, ranging all the way from joy to anger. People who wore clothes infused with happiness felt better after a rough day, those who wore clothes saturated with sadness would find it easier to cope with their own by comparison, and those who wore clothes instilled with anger—

Well, they were probably gifted those clothes by someone who wasn't exactly happy with them.

The seamstress had a wide range of intense emotions ready when needed. She would imagine munching on a sweet cinnamon roll for happiness, the time she'd found her childhood toy ripped for sadness, and the cruel treatment she'd received from a bully long ago for anger. Depending on the circumstances, the memories she used would vary, but there was one feeling that she'd never been able to put into her clothes:

Love, specifically the romantic kind. Everyone who'd known her or heard the rumors was aware that she'd never had a relationship in her life, which seemed ridiculous to them. She had alluring blue eyes, black hair that was suspected to feel like silk, and most importantly, a big heart. She'd had suitors left and right offer themselves to her, but she turned them all away.

To her, love was important. She lamented the fact that she'd never felt it before and longed to be able to sew love into something one day, but she wouldn't choose just anyone.

Then came the model.

It'd been a stormy afternoon when they'd officially met. She'd been metaphorically trapped under an awning, unable to step outside lest her wings get wet, when she noticed a photoshoot (certainly an unsuccessful one) across the street being cleaned up. The model, his role obvious given that she'd seen him in fashion magazines, had spotted her and crossed the street to reach her. She suspected that she was easy to see with all of her brightness.

He offered her his umbrella without a word and, in the next instant, she heard thunder go off. The atmosphere made it seem weirdly like the perfect meeting, his blond hair glistening from the rainwater soaking it and his eyes reflecting the light of her fantastical wings. Their hands even brushed when she took the offered umbrella, her wide eyes never leaving him until he'd disappeared into his fancy car and drove off. Rain hadn't even been forecast that day and they wouldn't have met without it there.

It seemed like fate, a thought she only became more sure of when another chance encounter came.

She'd been walking to a store for new sewing supplies when alarmed cries alerted her that something was wrong. Following everyone's gaze led her to the sight of the model plummeting from the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, a pair of angel wings at his back that weren't doing any work in saving him. She abandoned all other thoughts and flapped her own wings, flying up to meet him and secure him in her arms.

The actual catching process had been rough - he was still bigger and heavier than she was - but all in all a success. She landed him safely on the ground and inspected the damage to what she'd now recognized as a magically-charged pair of fake angel wings, clicking her tongue in disapproval at the poor craftsmanship. Naturally, she fixed them up so he could control them properly and not have them start failing again at the slightest gust of wind.

She caught his emerald eyes sparkling when he thanked her for it, the both of them noting that their meeting had been a coincidence once again and he could've died had she not been there.

This had to be it, she'd thought. She was in love, it was destiny sending her exactly what she'd desired all along, and he would receive her first piece of clothing imbued with love.

A scarf was ultimately what she'd decided on, representing the warmth of their hands in contrast to the chill of the rain. Daydreams of the perfect moment to hand over the completed product flooded her mind, potential confessions playing back-to-back as she sewed away and debated on which would be the best to do. She imagined his god-sculpted face close to hers, either reciprocating her feelings or confessing himself, the mere image making her hands work even quicker for it.

However, an obstacle came when she stopped short of completing it, something that had never happened before. She pinched at the fabric, stretching and examining it every which way to determine the issue, but she couldn't place it. Perhaps the colors were off, or the width was wrong, or a combination of things that made it difficult to pinpoint just one.

She resolved to start again the next day when her mind was fresh, but the same happened again. It became a cycle for her of designing, sewing, and never finishing because she wasn't happy with it.

Her mice did their best to support her, though within reason. If she tried an all-nighter, they would make a tower out of themselves to flick the light switch off, wordlessly telling her to head off to bed when she worked too hard.

Sometimes, she wondered if it was her skills that were lacking. For all her fame and abilities as the fairy seamstress, she couldn't manage a simple scarf for someone she insisted that she was in love with. The model was even more famous than her - even more talented - and anything less than perfection would inevitably bring shame to his very name. She wasn't alone in her adoration of one so beloved by everyone and praised as a light rivaling the sun itself, which meant that she was competing with others for the final place at his side.

Admittedly, it added a lot of pressure, but any time she'd considered giving up, something would happen. She'd see the model's face on something as she passed by, they'd happen to be in the same place and make eye contact, or she'd catch him on television getting interviewed about his incredible life.

Other times, he would come to her, bursting through the boutique's doors like an angel opening heaven's gates. He'd leave her with any manner of things, mostly roses, but he always made sure to leave her with flirtatious parting words and promises to come back soon. They were only minutes of her day at a time, but nonetheless encouragement to continue doing exactly what she was doing.

She'd been doing just that, toiling away at her literal labor of love, on an otherwise normal day when she got a new customer. Looking up from her work, it was apparent that he was not like the model in any way: he wore a guitar case on his back, his hair was pure black with blue at the tips, and his clothes were casual rather than designer. Those aspects with the addition of his black nails and earrings made him the definition of "self-expression."

He left quite the first impression based on appearance alone, but more surprising was what he'd come in for: a rip in his jacket that he asked her to fix. When she pointedly looked him over, specifically at his distressed shirt and pants, he could only excuse that it was different when it wasn't intentional.

The idea was so absurd that she'd laughed, and before long he was laughing along with her. She still agreed to the job, never one to question her customers to the point of chasing them off, and they'd talked while she repaired the rip. It wasn't even about anything special - mostly their jobs and various hobbies - but the mere suggestion that she'd like to hear him play was all the incentive he needed to come back the next day.

And the day after that, then the one following that one. She wasn't sure how it happened, but they always had a reason to see each other again, whether it was not having had time to finish their conversation that day or just because. She learned that his favorite color was blue, he'd dabbled in all types of music throughout his life, and he lived in a shared apartment with his sister. Said sister had even been one of the seamstress's old friends, yet somehow she hadn't crossed the musician's path even once. It amazed her that they'd missed each other so many times before now.

Before long, his arrival had become expected; natural. There was already a place to sit that she often let her customers have if it was a quick job or they didn't have anywhere to go, yet at times she would catch herself thinking of it as his. They never quite defined what they had, only that they liked meeting up and talking to each other.

Once, he'd brought her coffee in the morning, and she was surprised to see that it was her favorite. It baffled her, wondering how he could've known, until he spoke of a "rough morning" story that she'd entirely forgotten about by then. He was even embarrassed when he noticed that she'd already gotten a coffee herself and dared to insist that she didn't need to drink the one he'd gotten her.

She did anyway with whole-hearted appreciation, willing to risk the potential stomach cramps and caffeine overload. For someone with such a carefree air about him, he did put care into remembering little details even if they were ones given casually. In a way, she supposed that she wasn't any different, having made observations on and learned about his whole deal with "rips and tears." She knew which types of clothes he preferred to keep untorn, what skin on his body he didn't mind showing through the various slits, and even that he preferred his accessories to stay new-looking.

Her mice had taken a liking to him as well. If she ever noticed one of them missing from her workspace, she could look over and find them hanging around him, either tickling his skin with their whiskers or using him as their own personal obstacle course. She may've found herself staring a few times, watching his deft fingers adapt, straighten, or flex as needed while one of her mice swerved around and slipped between them.

If he ever caught her watching, he never mentioned it.

There were some days where they didn't talk at all, but it wasn't awkward like one would suspect. Either they were engrossed in their own work or it was simply an enjoyment of the other's company. The musician could be so still and content during such times that she occasionally wondered if he was asleep, but he was always aware of her presence. She'd discovered as much when she lost her favorite spool of thread, even to the point of shrinking down to pixie size so she could look in small spaces with her mice, and he was up in an instant to help her out.

He was just like that. Even when she was struggling with her scarf as usual, he gave her constant reassurances and offered to help however he could. There was no sign of judgment or doubt, only a steadfast belief that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to.

It never occurred to the seamstress before how nice it was to simply have someone there. She'd fantasized about having a husband eventually, of course, but there was something different about experiencing what she had with the musician. They didn't live together, nor slept over at the other's home, but there were hints that the other had been there. He would take his wristwear off to wash his hands and mistakenly leave one behind, or one of her mice would go with him when it concluded that the inside of his guitar would make a good second home. She'd bring pastries to share from her parents' bakery and send him home with the box, or throw away a sketch in the trash and notice the crinkles of differently-toned paper next to it when he must've tossed a song he'd been writing.

It was the little things all culminating into a reminder that her days weren't just her, her mice, and whichever customers came by anymore. Putting a name to the feeling was difficult, but it was calm, safe, and warm.

Life continued as it was - the musician's daily visits, the model's infrequent ones complete with gifts and compliments, and failed scarves - until she'd wound up trapped in the rain once again. It was her own fault, having seen the cloudy skies but still jumping at the musician's offer to find some new albums with him. They'd gone down to the music store and picked up one album after another, discussing their musical tastes and making jabs about sellouts. Further still came the discussion of instruments as she prodded him for his experience on which he was most comfortable with besides his beloved guitar, all heads turning when he picked up a violin and started to play. Such soft music coming from someone dressed the way he was felt so uniquely him.

But then the fun ended the moment the seamstress turned to leave and noticed the rain outside. It was absolutely pouring, her wings already shivering in anxiety at the idea of being drenched. The musician himself hadn't even known of her issue until she explained, his eyebrows creasing with worry as he followed her gaze to the raindrops hitting the sidewalk.

Neither of them had an umbrella, but he leaned down to whisper a hesitant suggestion into her ear. She blushed, meeting his gaze to ensure that he was okay with it and receiving a resolute nod in return.

It seemed contradictory to shrink down when her goal was to avoid getting soaked, but not when his hands picked her up and settled her at the crook of his neck. He put his hood up next, leaving her in the space between the fabric and his skin whilst vastly lessening the risk of water coming down on her wings.

Sure enough, he stepped outside and only the fabric itself got wet, not the fairy tucked safely out of the rain's reach. She was stunned, not by the fact that it'd worked but that he'd gone through the trouble at all. He'd been willing to walk her home in the rain and, even if he would agree to stay at her place for the night, it took longer to get to her house than his.

When she pointed it out, his response was simple: that anyone would've done it. She shot it down immediately, insisting that he was diminishing himself needlessly and going much farther than protecting her from getting wet.

Then, like the sky after the rainclouds dispersed, everything became clear to her: the relationship she had with the musician, the feelings she had for the model, and the failed scarves that she'd accumulated over all this time.

Anyone could hand her an umbrella or give her shelter from the rain. Anyone could give her a bouquet of roses, and in fact many people did. Anyone could write a card, send her gifts, or even speak sweet words to her.

It took more than that to form a bond. It took getting to know someone and acting upon that knowledge. It took spending time with them even if the activity was simply enjoying their company. It took the ridiculousness of helping search for a spool for hours and not even batting an eye when it ended up being in the dumbest place possible.

It took love.

Looking up at the musician, she noticed the heat on his face despite the chill of the storm's wind. His footsteps were careful so as to not jostle her, but if she put a hand against his neck for balance anyway, she could feel his rapid pulse.

Putting her other hand to her chest, they were distinctly similar, like different instruments playing to the same songsheet or two strings coming together and tying into a neat bow. She suddenly had an urge to design something and it wasn't a scarf, the thing that was never going to get done when there'd been no love to put into it, having instead sucked away her confidence and time like it was a black hole.

No. She knew exactly what she wanted to make.

There wasn't a perfect moment, nor a perfect atmosphere, simply because she didn't feel she needed one. The musician had become a constant in her life and she only needed him to know that she wanted it to stay that way. The task was an effortless one, hindered only by the speed at which she could sew and the time he became available to visit.

When they were at a lull in conversation, she did it. The seamstress took her gift, approached, and held it out to him: a pair of fingerless gloves.

Being a creative force herself, she knew how important one's hands were. The were the tools necessary to sew or play music, and she'd always watched his when he was using them. They were the hands that set down the coffee he'd bought for her, the hands that played with her mice when she was too busy, and the hands that picked her up to place her outside of the rain's range. If he wore the gloves imbued with all her feelings for him, then it would be like he was always carrying her with him, the hands he'd used to express love being protected by her own.

The musician, normally one who always knew what to say, was left speechless by her confession. Even in the time it took for him to feel the gloves, put them on, and feel them again, he was still at a total loss.

Thankfully, as they'd proven over the course of their time together, words weren't always necessary to get one's feelings across. He looked at her, gloved hands cupping her face, and she caught her reflection in his eyes as he pulled her into a kiss. She easily reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer.

He might not have had the ability to infuse emotions into things like her, but she nevertheless felt the full force of his love.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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hatkuu · 4 months

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KYLAR DOES DESERVE TO BE CARED FOR!!! YOU'RE RIGHT... Probably whines (shy and happy) at any praise during aftercare, nuzzles into you if you let him, likely does like to be held... So-so chance you could just pick him up and carry him to a shared bath after if needed or desired, just bc he's so small - maybe once the manor is more repaired. He'd probably melt into the attention there, too, maybe cry about it if he got overwhelmed.. I think he'd be very enthusiastic about returning the favour if he was in a state to, and probably even if he wasn't. Might have to remind him you're trying to take care of *him,* if not, just to get him to relax..

ANYWAY. YOU'RE RIGHT HE'S HAD IT ROUGH ENOUGH & DESERVES SOME KIND TREATMENT

YEAH!!!!!!! see nica. it is a shared opinion to treasure the baby and make him feel loved. like. he's probably had the worst upbringing EVER out of all the love interests (i feel like. it'd be especially horrible if kylar's parents transformed when he was 12/13, and he hasn't really known how to take care of himself because of that :( makes me really sad because the instant you show even a SMIDGE of interest in him he's obsessed.) (also yes i am being a goofball all of the other love interests probably have horrid trauma too but i am ignoring that for the sake of argument)

anyways i remember vrel saying kylar would wait out his sickness and i REFUSE to let that happen. let me nurse him back to health and place damp, cold washers on his forehead. let me give him ginger tea and and ans and

idk. he rlly brings out the mommy kink in me and i hate that

#hatkuuasks #thank u for backung me up puffy *mwah*#u did this argument more justice than i and i salute you for that

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lololollywrites · 1 month

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STEWING in anger today. My younger sister - she's 33 - was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS) 16 months ago, which obviously has been devastating. She is no longer able to work as a nurse, which has been a huge adjustment mentally for her (she LOVED her job in post-labor maternal care). She and her husband had only recently bought a house, but now they can barely pay their bills; he has to work extra hours, and she's home with both of my nieces, one of whom (at 8 years old) has severe behavioral issues stemming from ADHD and OCD. They've already had to file for bankruptcy. She's a wonderful mother, but the stress of it all certainly doesn't help her MS symptoms, and it all piles up (she isn't always physically able to clean the house, etc.). I live about five hours from her and come down when I can to help, but I can't do that as often as I'd like.

She's been hospitalized five times in the past year (unable to walk, with spasms and pain) and received planned infusions even more often, though has thus far only received steroid treatments because HER INSURANCE COMPANY DIDN'T COVER THE INITIAL MEDICATION SUGGESTED BY HER NEUROLOGIST, then REFUSED TO COVER THE SECOND RECOMMENDATION (after the first one was ineffective) despite it being the one they argued should have been chosen in the first place. That's meant she's only had treatment to **manage** her symptoms rather than **treat** them. For over a year. FOR A PROGRESSIVE DISEASE. After more than five years of being misdiagnosed with POTS despite clearly having more going on (and a doctor's office "misplacing" an MRI from years ago that could have showed early signs). Fortunately, she recently got approval from her insurance and will begin treatments next month that will hopefully help.

But this post isn't even about that. This post is about the fact that, as she can no longer work (and briefly tried another desk job at the hospital that was also impossible due to her MS brain fog), she applied for disability. 15 MONTHS AGO. They've made her jump through SO MANY HOOPS - so much paperwork and waiting with no updates that she's been in tears more than once. My mother even contacted her state's Congress representative, who's reached out directly to the disability office to inquire as to why it's all taking so long. Without disability, she and her husband will barely be able to cover their bills, let alone save to repair the many things that need repaired in their new home or to support their children. Or even to just, you know, take a vacation for the first time in ten years to ensure their marriage is salvaged. We started a GoFundMe at the beginning, right after she was diagnosed, which was wonderful, but she doesn't want to do that again now; it feels like begging to her.

Yesterday, her disability request was denied. Who the hell knows why. It was just an instant updated status; we don't yet have the letter. She's devastated, as are all of us. It just seems incomprehensible, though apparently up to 77% of disability applicants are denied in the hope that no one appeals (about 50% do). She now has to get a lawyer and fight for what she deserves. More stress (making her symptoms worse) and more money. And more waiting.

This whole experience has just further radicalized me. I have no idea what to do. I'm just SO ANGRY.

#this is really just a rant #ms #multiple sclerosis #if anyone has successfully applied for disability - especially via appeal - in the united states i would love any advice #obviously i'm keeping this anonymous and she doesn't know about this so i will not be offering more specific information #please do not tell me any horror stories about ms because i have been too terrified to research it further

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crosseyedcricketart · 1 month

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new at sephora, spring 2024 / march 24 2024 u.s. sephora / gathered and put together by me.

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apex-academy · 4 months

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Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#16)

I check up on Mahavir first thing, then breakfast. There’s time to eat something warm before I worry about what to take back to him. Or should I be worrying about what everyone’s eating? Considering the distribution of cooking skills at this point.

Which I will never get used to.

Either way, I don’t go for anything more exciting than instant miso and a banana. By the time I'm out of the kitchen, Aidan’s started his own soup at his table.

Or, at least he’s staring at a spoonful of it.

“.......”

“You, uh. Need me to throw that back in the microwave, or.”

“...”

He stares a moment longer before blinking and actually meeting my eye.

“Oh, no, it should be fine as is. I just need to muster up the appetite for it, haha.”

He resumes staring. Don’t see any mustering happening here.

“Maybe the Nurse’s Office has something to help with appetite? I’ll go check.”

He quickly drops the spoon in favor of an enthusiastic “cut it out” gesture.

“No, no, no! There’s no need to fuss over my precise pace of eating.”

"I need to grab something for Mahavir, anyway, so it’s not much fuss. One sec.”

I set my stuff down and take off before Aidan can stop me.

“Fuss, huh?” I’m thinking there’s not enough fuss over that guy. Too injured to use more than one limb and still trying to lead the whole march himself?

Though he may be the most put-together mentally. Doesn’t completely override the physical context, though.

...

I swipe Mahavir’s burn ointment first.

“Not much left, is there.”

But it should be fine, right? As fine as it was ever going to be by itself. He needs proper medical attention.

And Kanagi broke her ankle, and Tsunyasha... suffered. No telling what kind of damage we’re looking at all around.

We have to get out of here.

But I can’t get caught up thinking that. I’ll do what I can do, right now.

There aren’t many relevant drawers to check, so it doesn’t take long to find an appetite stimulant.

“Okay. Good.”

Aidan’s health problems sure won’t improve if he doesn’t eat, so. There’s this.

I drop it off. Aidan’s protests die down quickly, now that the fuss has already been made. He thanks me unhappily, and I leave him to it as I eat my own breakfast.

Hard to say how much difference the meds make. Not sure how long they’re supposed to take to kick in, even. But by the time I’ve put up my dishes and put together something for Mahavir, half of Aidan’s soup is gone. It’s something.

Enough that he reminds me not to forget the ointment I left on the table. Genuinely none of us are all here anymore, huh.

No need to dwell on that, though. Places to be, people to see.

Knock, knock.

“Mahavir? Brought your food.”

“...”

“.......”

About two seconds before I can start panicking, I hear heavy footfalls. Not heavy enough to be a whole person falling down, but not much better.

Maybe I should have him rest somewhere else until curfew. Then he won’t have to keep opening the door for me.

But he manages this time.

“......”

I start to hold out his plate but don’t quite make it there.

“Hey. Think you’re in shape to move back to the Nurse’s Office?”

“...”

“If not, don’t push it.”

“.....”

“Perhaps...”

Extremely convincing.

“How about we just see how you feel after breakfast?”

He nods.

At least I don’t have to feed him by hand, but he doesn’t eat with much gusto.

Head trauma’s the last thing he needs when he was already full of burns to repair. As far as I could tell, he at least doesn’t have a concussion. Unless he did pass out those few moments I was too busy thinking Kanagi had just killed him, but he swears otherwise. Not like his treatment would be much different, anyway.

“.....”

So it won’t do me any good to dwell on what happened yesterday. Just... keep up with today.

Mahavir gets through his breakfast eventually, and after a considerable effort on my part to make sure, he promises he can walk to the Nurse’s Office. So away we go.

I pause as we pass the cafeteria door.

“Actually, I’ll drop off the dishes while we’re here. Wait outside?”

“Of course.”

I hop inside, wave hello to Kanagi, dump the dishes, and hurry out before Mahavir can go on without me.

He’s already gone on without me.

“You’d better at least be headed where I said we were going.”

Watching my step for any paint splatters that might still come up, I turn the corner to the main hall, but apparently Mahavir’s made it past here, too.

Well, vanishing is less concerning than collapsing a few steps in front of me.

Marginally.

I take the final corner, and...

“Good, there you are.”

But he doesn’t respond—just stands there stiffly. I assume it’s a pain or disorientation issue, until I look again.

No one moves.

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fangan ronpa

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truffoire · 1 year

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ladyvillainous · 2 years

Text

Billy Butcher - Father Fucking Christmas

Set sometime during Series 1 with own character insert as part of the group

Part of my Christmas advent series

Description

Butcher discovers Holly has been hiding a surprising Christmas themed fetish during a mission and has to take steps to deal with it...

Warnings

It’s The Boys expect alot of foul language and plenty of NSFW Smut

Word Count: 5125

“We have a problem” MM announced with a heavy sigh, eyes still locked on the laptop in front of him.

The group collectively looked up from their various tasks, making their way over to the corner where he sat. Clustered around him they too stared intently at the screen “Wot kind of problem?” Butcher demanded aggressively.

MM twisted in his seat to address the group, pointing to the screen with a careless wave of his hand “The information we got tells us the V has been sent to the Children’s ward under the guise of it being polio vaccine, yeah?”

“Yeah that’s right” Holly nodded frowning, unsure of his point and if he’d be getting to it anytime soon.

“Well how exactly do you propose we get in there?” MM finished with a shrug of his shoulders.

Butcher rolled his eyes at him “Just walk in and improvise, it’s not fucking hard” he shook his head in disbelief, like MM was being particularly stupid today.

MM didn’t appreciate his tone, firing up at once “It’s Christmas time Shit for brains” he growled at the British twat in their midst.

Butcher sighed “I had noticed as it happens” he strolled away from the others dropping heavily into the dilapidated couch he’d vacated moments earlier and picked his paper back up “Everyone’s so happy and festive, it makes me sick to my fucking stomach, bunch of cunts” he finished opening his paper once more and disappearing behind it effectively ending the conversation and leaving them to it.

Frenchie and MM exchanged a significant look as Holly strode over to the couch and snatched the paper out of Butcher’s hands “You’re such a charmer Butcher” She snarled, ferociously scrunching his paper into a ball she tossed it into the corner of the derelict warehouse they were currently using as their base of operations, if you could call it that.

If Butcher was annoyed by her actions, he gave no outward signs, merely crossed his ankle over his knee, settled back against the couch more comfortably and stretching his arms out across the back. Watching her all the while as if she were a vaguely amusing television program.

“Thank you, I try” he said at last a small smirk crossing his face, turning back to MM “What the ell does it have to do with our plans though?”

“What plan?” Holly asked tartly, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing the Brit with barely veiled contempt “Thought you wanted to walk in and improvise”

The smirk vanished from his face, replaced with a hard dangerous look, his mouth thinning into a grim line “Alright Love, watch it” he growled out eventually.

“Or What?” Holly challenged with a smirk of her own, she didn’t know what made her do it, something about the man just made her want to batter him to death with a baseball bat on an hourly basis.

“Guys can we focus” Frenchie shouted jumping in between the two, trying to head off the fight that was clearly brewing.

Holly had joined the Boys on their quest to take down the corrupt supes and teach them a lesson not long after Hughie. Spurred into action by the treatment of her sister at the hands of Translucent, she’d taken an instant liking to Hughie when she heard what he did to him. Butcher hadn’t been happy to include a woman in the group at first, but on discovering her unique skill set honed through 3 tours in Iraq, and the watching the cold calculating ruthless way she despatched the Lamplighter, when they caught up to him recently, he’d changed his tune somewhat. The grudging respect that he had so ungraciously granted her hadn’t gone very far to repairing their rather fractious working relationship however, they just seemed to drive each other to distraction purely by existing.

MM and Frenchie had their own theory about the constant tension, but neither were willing to voice their opinion to either of their extremely volatile colleagues. Opting instead to do their best to ignore it or defuse it where possible, but when it boiled over they just got the hell out the way and waited until it was over.

MM waited until he had both Butcher and Holly’s attention before continuing “The problem is that because it’s Christmas the hospital is crawling with carollers, make a wish foundation do gooders, bible thumpers… basically you name it we got it”

Hughie spoke up for the first time “So it’ll be chaos, surely that can only help us?”

MM nodded “I would have agreed with you but this year Make a Wish have partnered with Vought which means?..” he trailed off with a significant look around the room, watching as they all realised the extent of the problem.

“Meaning they have supes visiting all the kids” Hughie supplied with a heavy sigh.

“Exactly, practically all day, every day” MM finished, throwing his hands up in the air in resignation.

“Fuck” Butcher barked out sharply, a scowl etched across his face as he tried to think of a way round the problem.

“You have such a way with words, Butcher” Holly muttered under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Butcher flicked his eyes up to her face but otherwise didn’t react to the jab.

Getting heavily to his feet Butcher began to pace the room agitatedly, which started to irritate Holly even more. She’d spent more than enough time in his presence recently if he was irritating her this much, she needed a break.

“Ok I’ve got it” Butcher announced at last, coming to an abrupt stop a devious grin spreading across his face “So we go in disguise, I got just the fing”

Holly exchanged a significant look with MM, Butcher’s plan were always prone to fuck ups “Jesus” she muttered rolling her eyes.

“No not that one, the other one” Butcher responded, grinning even wider if that was even possible.

Hughie looked back and forth between the rest of the group a baffled look on his face “Anyone got any idea what he’s going on about?” he asked at last as the silence stretched out.

Clapping a hand across Hughie’s shoulders, Butcher strode from the room grabbing his trench coat on the way out “I’ll be back, gotta see a man about a dog”

“Guess we’re going to have to wait and see” Frenchie shrugged to the room in general and returned to his previous task, making supe stopping pipe bombs.

2 hours later Butcher stomped back into the warehouse wearing a bright red and white fur trimmed Santa suit, complete with a big bushy white beard “Ho, Ho, fucking Ho” he announced loudly.

Holly looked up taking in his dishevelled appearance with mounting apprehension, hat askew, his black hair and beard peeking out from behind the white and the jacket open wide with his trademark Hawaiian shirt on display.

“Watch out kiddies it’s going to be a dark dark Christmas this year” she remarked dryly to MM.

“Pitch Black” he agreed readily, eyeing Butcher’s outfit with a deeply concerned look on his face, before departing with his laptop in hand.

“What ya fink? It’s perfect innit? And I brought outfits for my elves” Butcher dumped the bag he had slung over his shoulder onto the nearby table with a thump. Reaching in he pulled out a rather creased elf outfit which he threw in Hughie’s general direction and something glittery which he advanced on Holly with, clasped tightly in his hand.

It wasn’t until he reached her that she realised it was a sparkly candy cane striped skirt and a Christmas tree green velvet crop top with white fur trim.

Her mouth fell open at the sight, snapping her horrified gaze up to Butcher’s smiling face, she realised with a flash of anger that he was serious.

“I am not wearing that” she shouted at him outraged

Butcher’s face fell, confusion clouding his features “Why not?”

“It’s indecent” Holly shrieked “I’m not a fucking stripper”

Butcher shrugged, looking at the outfit clutched in his hand for a second, a wicked grin spreading back across his face “I thought you’d look lovely in it” he added suggestively, deliberately raking his eyes up and down her body in a way that made her feel violated and strangely hot under the collar at the same time.

“We’re going to a children’s hospital not a strip club” she ground out through gritted teeth, seething at the audacity of the man to even suggest it.

Butcher shrugged again, sauntering back over to his bag and stuffing the outfit back inside “Fine I’ll return it to Crystal then”

“Crystal?” Holly asked in horror “You got it from a strip club didn’t you?” she demanded exasperatedly.

“Needs must love” he smiled innocently at her.

“Wanker” she muttered resisting the urge to stamp her feet out of sheer temper, lord but this man drove her to complete distraction.

“Oi…” Butcher shouted, walking back towards her all traces of amusement wiped from his face “Now while I applaud the use of British swear words love. I do not appreciate them being applied to me” he stated menacingly.

Hughie looked around for Frenchie or MM but they were no where in sight, so it was going to be left to him to intervene this time or risk it descending into violence. Holly and Butcher had come to blows on more than a couple of occasions, Hughie was horrified that Butcher was willing to hit a woman though not entirely surprised. But then having watched Holly handle herself, he didn’t really blame him for defending himself. Holly actually preferred it that way, she herself pointed out that she wasn’t going to hold back, so why should anyone else based on her gender.

Holly squared up to the Brit, smirking up into his irritating face “Stop behaving like one then” she retorted, audibly cracking her knuckles as she spoke.

Holding out his own outfit Hughie stepped between them, right into the danger zone “Here Holly you can wear mine, I may have something else I can wear”

Holly sighed, the tension broken, shame she was looking forward to letting off some excess energy by pounding Butcher’s smug face “Thanks Hughie”

Butcher regarded Holly curiously, the expression on her flushed face a mix of apparent rage and something else that he couldn’t quite identify but it was defintiely new “Good lad Hughie, we’ll meet you outside the hospital in 30 minutes”

Holly sloped off to change, resigned to having to spend her afternoon in Butcher’s company once again.

“Where the ‘ell did you get a Rudolph costume on Christmas Fucking Eve?” Butcher boomed out in astonishment, as Hughie exited his car and jogged over to the van, across the hospital carpark.

Holly sniggered “You look cute Hughie”

Hughie sighed, but shot her a quick smile “It’s a onesie, Robin bought it for me as a joke last Christmas”

“What the fuck is a onesie?” Butcher demanded, completely ignoring Hughie’s reference to his deceased ex with his usual tactless ability to not give a shit about anything, but his own agenda.

“Never mind let’s get moving” Holly muttered, offering Hughie a sympathetic look and Butcher a death glare.

“Wot? I was just asking” Butcher held his hands up, in mock surrender as Holly shot him the dirtiest look she could muster.

They entered the hospital through the front door and joined the throngs of people moving around the halls, managing to slip past several nurse’s stations on their way to the Neonatal Unit on the 3rd floor, by pretending to be part of a group of carollers.

They broke off from the pack as they reached the correct corridor, pausing briefly as they spotted people wearing Make A Wish Foundation T-shirts in the distance. A-Train was amongst them which immediately brought Hughie up short.

“Hughie, keep your nose on” Holly muttered over her shoulder to him as they progressed slowly down the corridor, they were going to have to pass right by the group to reach the objective “I don’t think anyone will recognise you, but better safe than sorry and Butcher…”

“Wot?” He demanded in an undertone, shooting her a sideways look and adjusting his beard so it covered more of his face than before.

Holly’s eye’s darted over his appearance, he couldn’t look less like a children’s entertainer if he tried, despite wearing the suit “Just be less… well less you, alright?” she sighed finally.

“How the ell am I supposed to do that?” he muttered aggravated, through did make an effort to move in a less menacing and suspicious way.

“Improvise, it’s your speciality right” Holly grinned at him, throwing his own earlier words back in his face.

Despite himself Butcher smirked at her, least the girl had a sense of humour on occasion “No one likes a smart arse” he muttered, chuckling lightly.

“Oh shit” Holly said suddenly, screeching to a complete stop and spinning on her heel to face a startled Hughie, shielding him from view.

“What’s the matter?” he asked shocked.

“It’s fucking Starlight, Hughie you better split” Butcher explained over his shoulder keeping his eyes trained on the newest member of the Seven.

Peeking over Holly’s shoulder, Hughie watched as his fake girlfriend, who he had real feelings for, but couldn’t admit that to the boys and Holly, appeared from a room on their left, a Vought executive hot on her heels “What about the V?” he hissed.

“We’ll take care of it” Holly reassured him with a quick nod to Butcher, which he returned. Looking over his shoulder he addressed Hughie directly “Do one Hughie and make it fast, she’s not as stupid as the rest of them, she’ll definitely recognise you”

Hughie nodded, ducking right into an empty hallway and hurrying towards the stairwell at the other end without a backwards glance.

Holly sighed leaning back against the hallway wall. Glancing around the corner to her left she was relieved to see Starlight and A Train head away from them, into a different part of the floor.

She jumped as Butcher leaned into her, placing a hand on the wall by her head and whispered into her ear “And there were two Love” his tone was almost suggestive. The lingering look he gave her chest in the too tight Elf T-shirt she was wearing, giving away his thoughts more clearly than perhaps he realised.

“Butcher” she intoned quietly, making him pause and hold his position so she could whisper into his ear in return.

A lazy grin spread across his face, the bastard was enjoying this “Yes love?”

“Remove your hand from my ass right the fuck now. Unless you’d like me to find a doctor to surgically remove my elf boot from yours” Holly threatened casually with a sweet smile.

Butcher withdrew his hand from her rear end reluctantly with a sigh “No need to be so tetchy love”

“Piss off” She ground out, irritated that he still hadn’t moved away from her. She vaguely registered the smell of his musky aftershave, which while not entirely unpleasant was mingling with his own unique scent, in a way that was making her slightly lightheaded, and that she didn’t like at all.

“Wot’s got you so worked up?” Butcher muttered leaning back slightly to stare intently into her face.

“Nothing” Holly gritted out, wanting him to back off, but also not wanting to make a scene and ruin the mission, something she suspected he knew.

He watched her face for a moment, she was flushed, her eyes dark and lips parted, it had been a while it was true, but Butcher wasn’t without experience, he knew the look a woman got when she was turned on and craving a release.

“Don’t seem like nothing love, come with me” abruptly stepping back from her, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the corridor Hughie had fled down minutes earlier.

“Butcher, what the fuck?” Holly hissed as she bobbed in his wake, hurrying to keep up with him.

Passing the door to the stairs Butcher pulled her down a dark corridor, locating an unused Hospital room, apparently being used for storage and pulled her inside locking the door behind them.

Turning to her he yanked the beard and hat from his face, advancing on her “Now you’re going to tell me what’s fucking wrong right now” he declared aggressively “You’re putting this whole operation in jeopardy”

Holly gaped at him, the nerve of the man “I’m putting it in jeopardy? What about you? Dragging me into a storage room for what? A team huddle?” She shrieked at him in indignation at the accusation, mindful to keep her voice low, in case anyone was passing that might overhear.

“If you’re distracted you could fuck this whole thing up, I need you focused” he ground out, still advancing on her, forcing her to back up into the desk in the corner of the room.

Holly realised her breathing was coming in sharp pants now, dammit why couldn’t she get a grip on this. Butcher was watching her with a curious expression on his face, he seemed amused by something. The temperature climbed rapidly as Butcher smirked at her in that damn way he did. He wasn’t as stupid as he appeared sometimes and she knew he’d been a ladies man before Becca, so he could probably read her like a book, the knowing look in his eyes confirming her fears.

Realising she was fighting a losing battle Holly gave in slumping down onto the desk, admitting only due to lack of options “That’s not going to be easy”

“Why not?” he asked quietly, leaning over her and placing his hands either side of her, palms flat on the desk, forcing her to lean backwards, their faces inches apart.

“Because you’re dressed like that” She forced out, barely louder than a whisper.

If anything, his damn smirk got wider “Got a fing for Father Christmas, have you?” he asked, his eyes darkening in response to her physical proximity.

“Might have” Holly admitted heavily, her heart beating frantically.

Butchered grinned at her admission “Never took you for a kinky one love, but Father Christmas? That’s fucking diabolical even by my standards”

Holly’s hands found the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly fingers touching his, where they remained splayed on the desk either side of her.

Pulling back Butcher fixed her with a slightly concerned look before asking “Your dad never dressed up as Father Christmas, did he?”

“No of course not” Holly shook her head at once, slightly disgusted that he would suggest it.

“Well then love” Butcher straighten up, abruptly stepping away from the desk “This is something I can help you out with” Reaching out, he grabbed the curtain that hung from a rail on the ceiling, left from when it was used for patients, pulling it sharply, enclosing them and the desk and shielding them from the small window in the door.

“What are you doing?” Holly asked, confused by the sudden flurry of movement.

Returning to his previous position Butcher snaked his hands around her, dropping them to her hips and easing her backwards onto the desk so her legs dangled over the edge “Don’t wanna get interrupted, do we?” he breathed against her ear, his beard tickling her cheek.

Holly swallowed thickly, making a last attempt to retain her dignity she placed both hands on his chest pushing him away, forcing him to stay at arm’s length “Butcher if you lay so much as a hand on my so help me I’ll…” she attempted to threaten him, but they both knew it was a futile attempt, she’d already unconsciously parted her legs, making room for him to step closer to her aching body.

“Will you scream love?..” Butcher whispered into her ear, stepping closer as her hands fell back to her sides, allowing him access to her “Promise?” he added wickedly before placing a soft kiss against her neck, making her shudder in response her body betraying her completely.

“Jesus” she hissed, her hands flying up to tangle in his hair, her head falling back to allow him further access to her “Fine, just don’t fucking tell anyone” she added, groaning as he kissed his way down her neck, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back to the edge of the desk, positioning her.

“Scouts honour dahlin” he chuckled between kisses, amused by the outcome of their mission. He hadn’t seen this one coming, though it made sense if he actually thought about it, which he wasn’t inclined to do at this precise moment as she was distracting him with the noises she was making.

Tugging his head up, Holly brought his lips down to hers, need hot and sharp spiked through them both as they clutched at each other. Getting as close as they possibly could to the other, their tongues fighting for dominance as the kiss turned hot and heavy. Holly’s hands explored his broad shoulders and muscular back, surprised to find he was in far better shape than his dodgy Hawaiian shirts suggested. Dropping her hands further still she grabbed his tight ass pulling him to her, grinding her core against his already shockingly hard erection with a guttural groan.

Butcher swallowed her fevered moans responding with his own, Jesus she was all fire, he knew he was going to get burned this time and he revelled in it.

Chuckling he dropped his hands to the hem of her T-shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to rip it over her head, dropping it on the floor next to his feet without a second thought. “You know this would have been a lot easier in the other costume” he added with a wink.

Holly rolled her eyes at him “Shut up” pulling him back to her for another scorching kiss, her hands already working the buttons of his shirt. He helped her out, shucking off the Santa suit jacket along with his shirt, leaning back over her to skilfully remove her bra and adding it to the growing pile on the floor.

Pulling his mouth from hers, he turned his attention to her breasts engulfing one hardened nipple in the heat of his mouth, expertly swirling his tongue around it making Holly cry out, her back arching with pleasure as she angled herself to give him better access.

“Shh love, you’ll get us caught” he muttered, thrilled at the noises he was pulling from her. Turning his attention to her other breast, he smiled against her skin as he felt her tugging at his trousers sliding a searching hand inside to stroke him through his boxers.

“Jesus Christ Butcher!” She ground out, beyond shocked.

Butcher returned his face to hers with a long groan as she slipped her hand inside his boxers to grip him tightly “Problem Love?” he muttered against her lips, claiming them roughly once more.

“You’ve been holding out on me” she chuckled against his lips, pumping his velvety length slowly but firmly with her hand, ripping another groan from the man now dropping hot open-mouthed kisses across her throat.

“Sweetheart if I knew dressing up like Father Christmas would get you to drop your knickers, I’d have done it a lot sooner” he grinned, latching onto her neck and sucking hard making damn sure to mark her. Holly hadn’t expected it, gasping out suddenly she squeezed his cock harder than she’d intended, making him jolt “Shit love… careful with the fucking merchandise” he ground out against her throat, stopping to collect himself momentarily.

Holly chuckled throatily “I thought you could handle the rough stuff love” she mimicked his Cockney accent, mocking him.

Dropping another rough kiss on her kips, he invaded her mouth thoroughly with his tongue, his beard already scratching her tender skin deliciously.

“I’ll show you rough, bend over” he added, stepping back from her just long enough for her to be able to slide off the desk, turn and lean over it, her ass up in the air. She tossed him a careless smirk over her shoulder and bit down on her lip in a way that drove him wild.

Whipping her stripped leggings down her legs, followed swiftly by her lacy red panties Butcher paused to marvel at the sight in front of him. Reaching around her to slide his fingers through the damp curls between her legs and into her soaked entrance, she whimpered and clenched around him. Moans falling from her lips like a prayer as he pumped two fingers inside her, his thumb bearing down on her clit so hard she thought she might come immediately with the pleasure of it all.

Butcher wasn’t the sort of man to neglect foreplay, he enjoyed using his hands and mouth on a woman almost as much as he loved burying his cock deep inside them, but he was rapidly approaching the limit of his control and he mustn’t forget that they were here to do a job after all. Thankfully Holly seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because she spread her legs slightly wider, steading her stance and with a long groan as his fingers grazed her g-spot demanding ”Billy, Fuck me already”

Chuckling at the use of his first name, when he was usually just Butcher, he removed his fingers from her, sucking her juices from his fingers as she watched him over her shoulder, her eyes dark.

“That’s the plan Love” he grinned, pushing the rest of the Santa suit down his legs his boxers following, allowing his impressive length to finally spring free from confinement and rest proudly against his belly.

Holly’s eyes widened at the sight of him, slightly concerned, he chuckled again at the expression on her face.

Taking his cock in his hand he guided himself to her entrance with one hand, the other holding her hips steady. Rubbing the tip against her entrance, he coated himself in her juices and without any further preamble, pushed inside her with a single deep stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so tight Dahlin” he growled, both hands now gripping her hips so tightly his fingers were sure to leave their mark on her.

“Fuck” Holly barked out breathing deeply, feeling herself stretching to accommodate his size.

Giving her as much time to relax into the feeling as he could muster, Butcher pulled backwards before pushing himself back inside once again, even deeper than before.

Holly huffed out a long drawn out moan “No one’s ever been in me so deep before, don’t tease me Billy just fuck me”

Butcher exhaled shakily as the last of his control fell away “Hold on tight dahlin” he ground out.

Pulling back once more and slamming back into her so hard she screamed out in pleasure and pain, quickly stifling herself by stuffing her hand into her mouth.

Snapping his hips into her, he set a brutal animistic pace that left Holly wanting to scream the place down with every thrust, but instead she gripped the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles went white.

Butcher was struggling to stay quiet himself, it was taking every ounce of concentration he had to keep the string of expletives leaving his lips from turning to a shout. The feel of her around him, squeezing his cock was almost too much. He wasn’t going to last long but thankfully Holly seemed to be having the same issue, she pushed back against him with each thrust, the noises she was making though quiet, building to a fever pitch.

Reaching back between her legs he pressed insistent fingers to her clit rubbing furiously, making her squeal and squirm back against him, as her release coiled deep within her belly. Snapping suddenly, her walls contracting so hard around his cock he was almost forced from her body.

With 3 more increasingly rough and sloppy thrusts, he found his own release spilling himself deeply within her, belatedly realising they’d been in such a hurry protection hadn’t even occurred to either of them.

Almost as if reading his mind, Holly chuckled weakly “Don’t worry I’m on the pill”

He didn’t respond beyond a weak murmur of acknowledgement as he pulled out of her with a wince.

Gathering themselves, slowly they set about cleaning up as best they could in silence, the only sound echoing around the room their ragged breathing, as it gradually returned to normal.

Butcher was the first to break the silence, as he retrieved his shirt from the floor, passing Holly her bra “Well that’s a first” he smirked at her as she slipped it on.

“What?” she asked carefully, eyeing him warily. “Never known you lost for words” he chuckled.

Holly shrugged offering him a small tired smile “First time for everything”

“Come on dahlin, put your shirt back on we’ve got a job to do” he added, tossing the item of clothing to her.

“Shame you didn’t want to wear the other outfit” Butcher commented conversationally as they dressed quickly.

Holly rolled her eyes “We’ve been over this”

“I Know” he nodded “But it would be easier access for later” he added with a wicked grin.

Holly’s head snapped up “This is not happening again” she muttered firmly.

Butcher shrugged still smiling “Whatever you say love”

Holly chewed on her lip for a second as Butcher put his jacket back on “How long can you keep the suit for?” she asked quietly.

Looking back up to her nervous and yet excited face he shot her a smug look “We’ve got all night dahlin”

Holly debated the options, convincing herself that it would only be one night and then never again, though she knew she was probably lying to herself if she was completely honest.

“Fine” she nodded “But we need to get out of this room right now” she added, pulling back the curtain and striding towards the door now fully dressed.

“Why’s that?” he frowned, trailing after her as he reaffixed his Santa beard.

“Because if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna get distracted all over again” Holly explained in a rush as she reached the door.

Butcher’s arms whipped out to grip her upper arms and yank her backwards flush against his body, she gasped in response, her breath hitching in her throat “I’m very tempted to pin you to the wall and fuck you senseless all over again” he growled into her ear “But we’ve pushed our luck far enough for one afternoon”

Releasing her, Holly stumbled to the door on unsteady legs at the thought. Unlocking the door she paused on the threshold, looking back over her shoulder at him “See you back at yours after?”

“It’s fucking date dahlin” he laughed out, following her out the door to complete their mission.

#the boys #the boys fanfic #billy butcher #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher smut

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inun4ki · 3 months

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i’m sorry i wasn’t here, not just tonight, but every day. i haven’t been here. i know that now.

random sentence prompts

He's not paying much attention - too little, too late, anyway. Empty packages of bandages, gauze, a curved needle, and thread were strewn about in bloody piles, evidence, now, of the self-inflicted lacerations on his arms and upper thighs; Having to use his Blood Sacrifice technique more and more frequently, give away lifeblood and pieces of himself just to scrape by. All in a day's work, he supposed, just desserts for doing his thankless job, protecting thankless people. By the times things were through, would he have anything left? Would the hands so possessively cradling him, interrupting his desperate attempts to stop the bleeding- Would they still? Would Naoya still touch him, fight with him like they were kids, and kiss him when no one was looking? Would he still want him if he were ugly and torn up, thoughts a shattered mess, if his gaze was empty and his bones were tired?

He wanted him to, for the loop of his arms to make him feel safe, needed, cared for...for those words to bring him comfort when the weight he bore was at its heaviest. But could Kaede relent? Tear himself from the aftermath of a battle hard-won and sink into layers of fabric and skin, lean on him - finally, at last - and trust he'd still be there in the wee hours of the morning, holding him tightly like he'd fade away the instant he so much as shifted? He wanted to be cruel and push him away, tell him it didn't matter what he said, that he needed to leave, fuck off and go home...but all he could do was tremble, arms too weak and achy, still slick with blood. He breathed a shaky breath and hid his face in Naoya's chest instead, gaze fluttering shut, wincing at the slightest motion.

A relationship he couldn't enjoy to its fullest. There was always something or someone pulling at both of them, too many lines they couldn't cross, too many secrets they had to keep, the looming threat of death each and every day. But he wanted to. How he wanted this to be all there was, freed from the shackles of jujutsu society and allowed to indulge, to love, to keep Naoya's bed warm and his mind occupied - no more blood, no more pain, no more hatred and anger.

Was it wrong of him, to think of nothing else but the false hopes of a future they could share? Death was more than a possibility - it was a certainty, the longer Geto Suguru got to play his games. With every curse he exorcised, every life he couldn't save, Kaede felt further and further away from his shittiest friend - the man he loved most, wanted to see and kiss and writhe under like a lovesick puppy most. Hold hands that'd hurt him before but dug into him now, appreciate the rare softness in his voice, accept his apology.

Oh-so weakly did he grasp at cotton and silk, limply tugging at Naoya as tears welled in his eyes. He didn't want him to see him this way - bedraggled, every hair out of place, clothes shredded to mangled bits, shivering coldly in the dark while shadows tended to his wounds, ugly and torn apart with blood on his hands. He didn't want him to think of him as weak, too soft, to much of a princess to handle the violence he came to meet day in and day out. He didn't want to be seen for the husk he felt he was, not by him. Not by Naoya. He could stomach it from anyone but him; He could take an execution order on the chin, survive being ripped to pieces by curses, withstand cruelest treatment, but he couldn't take Naoya looking at him as if he were broken, damaged beyond repair.

Even if it were true.

Any other night, this tender apology and distracting embrace would've comforted Kaede. It only made the burn in his heart ache all the more. Still, he burrowed, seeking the warmth Naoya offered him, a quiet desperation to the grip he had on his kimono. He could hear his heart beating in his chest, rhythmic, familiar, erratic... Apologizing was hard, and it must've been harder still for him. The thought made lips quiver and tears overflow, that so much pride be swallowed on his behalf and turned into something so tender and necessary. Guilt settled in, followed by self-loathing and a bitter seethe, silk moistened by the salt of his tears. Was he so ungrateful, so damaged that he couldn't give this to Naoya? Never mind numbly throbbing wounds in need of bandaging. Was he so selfish as to deny him, turn him away, whimper in the cold, empty dark of his room-- Hide from him?

Kaede pulled away, lifting his head, miserable cornflower meeting the gold that matched. Always and ever so handsome, no matter the anguish, haughtiness, smugness. He blinked through the tears, trying his hardest not to be further diminished by the whirlwind of emotion and thought coursing through him. Naoya took the time, found him in spite of baleful family members on both sides, and pulled him into his arms to be there for him now.

And it was enough, it was enough - appreciated in time.

"Naoya..." he rasped, mouth going dry, feeling a sharp pang in his chest at the sight of his blood staining the Zen'in's kimono. But he pushed through it, set shaky hands upon his face and grimaced sorrowfully as blood was smeared into his skin, too. He couldn't stop himself from weeping, he knew, but-- He couldn't let him go, not without him knowing his efforts hadn't gone to waste, that what he felt hadn't been ignored. Kaede wasn't perfect, and he was far more selfish than even he realized, but this was genuine, wasn't it? This was real, wasn't it? He meant it...?

"I-I don't need you to...baby me," he rasped, a painful tweak to the hollow of his voice. "I don't need any apologies... What - matters is that you're here now. W-with me. And it's...it's enough."

#死/// Inquiries.#死/// Time is Better Spent Alone With You; Naoya.#/ it got long and sad and i am not sorry #/ take my novel #/ im sorry he's having a crisis #divinezenin

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kevinszabojrplumbing · 8 months

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Solving Common Plumbing Problems with Innovative New Products

Imagine a world where your plumbing system knows what you need, as if by magic. Nowadays, plumbing is no longer about repairing leaks and unclogging drains. It is a world of innovative ideas that make life easier, water better, and the environment healthier. From touchless faucets to clever sensors that protect your pipes, this is the time when plumbing and innovation come together excitingly.

Let us look at some groundbreaking innovations and how they can make a difference in your plumbing system.

Touchless Plumbing: Embracing the Future

Touchless plumbing fixtures have rapidly gained popularity for a good reason. These fixtures bring many benefits, including convenience, enhanced control, cost savings, and improved energy efficiency. Touchless fixtures use sensors that detect user presence, eliminating the need for direct touch.

These touchless fixtures are discreetly built into sinks, toilets, and urinal stations—suiting locations experiencing heavy usage, such as public washrooms, medical facilities, and transportation hubs. Within such settings, contactless mechanisms reduce the risk of cross-contamination while helping ensure stringent cleanliness standards. This reassures individuals utilizing the spaces of their well-being when automated operations reduce direct physical contact.

Next-Generation Filtration Systems: Elevating Water Quality

Water treatment systems determine water quality within a building's plumbing system. By effectively removing contaminants and impurities, these systems ensure that the water flowing through our taps is safe for consumption. The installation can occur at entry points or individual fixtures, depending on the property owner's requirements.

These systems offer more than just water safety; they extend the lifespan of plumbing fixtures and appliances by minimizing mineral and sediment buildup in the pipes. Water treatment systems optimize water quality and reduce the need for repairs and replacements, presenting a sustainable approach to plumbing maintenance.

Green Plumbing: Sustainable Solutions for the Future

Green plumbing shines as a symbol of sustainability in a world where people are more aware of how their actions affect the environment. Greywater systems are a part of this movement, reusing water from showers and sinks to help plants grow. This way, water is not wasted but put to beneficial use.

Rainwater harvesting is another way to be eco-friendly. Large barrels connected to hoses collect rainwater, which you can use for cleaning and gardening. This approach is about using water wisely and caring for our planet.

This eco-friendly plumbing approach tackles the worries of water scarcity while reducing unnecessary water use. It emphasizes how innovation and being environmentally friendly can work harmoniously to protect our planet for future generations.

Smart Sensors: Predicting and Preventing Issues

Besides touchless faucets, technology is delving deeper into plumbing with the arrival of smart sensors. These inconspicuous gadgets act like watchful guardians, keeping an eye on every aspect of your plumbing system. They can detect leaks, shifts in humidity, and temperature changes—sending instant alerts to homeowners and plumbers.

Their early detection helps prevent minor issues from turning into expensive repairs. Moreover, these clever sensors can also track how much water flows, empowering people to make informed choices about their water use and conservation efforts. With smart sensors, your plumbing becomes more competent and efficient—making life easier and more efficient.

Pipe Rehabilitation: Reinventing Pipe Repair

Pipe issues can wreak havoc daily, but revolutionary pipe rehabilitation technologies are turning the tide. Methods like trenchless pipe lining, pipe bursting, and cured-in-place pipe (CIPP) lining provide innovative solutions for addressing damaged tubes. These techniques minimize disruptions by eliminating the need for extensive excavations.

Pipe rehabilitation technologies effectively combat leaks, blockages, and corrosion while ensuring minimal disturbance to property and routine. This change highlights how plumbing is improving, focusing on making things simple and dependable.

Access Doors: Sealing the Path to Safety and Accessibility

Access doors, a rising star in plumbing innovation, solve a crucial problem: providing secure and convenient access to hidden spaces. These doors, like the Acudor A-FPS flood-tight floor panel, effectively seal off areas vulnerable to water ingress, gas infiltration, or odor transmission. Imagine a basement prone to flooding or a room with hazardous gases—these access doors act as a barrier, preventing air and moisture from entering the floor.

They make things safer and more accessible for maintenance, allowing quick and effective checks. These doors show how innovative plumbing ideas can solve real problems by being practical and creative at the same time. With their seamless integration into various spaces, access doors embody modern plumbing's commitment to enhancing both convenience and safety for homeowners.

Final Thoughts

These innovative ideas make a significant difference in a world where plumbing is becoming more creative and effortless. From faucets that work without touching to sensors that catch problems early, these new products are changing how we use water in our homes.

Incorporating these innovative plumbing solutions is about fixing problems and making positive changes that enhance your daily life. With touchless faucets, you can prevent the spread of germs effortlessly. Improved filters ensure clean water for better health. Smart sensors save you money and time. Embrace these advancements for a more positive, sustainable, and convenient plumbing experience. Be a part of the future of plumbing and enjoy a better life.

Guest Contributor: Chris Jackson

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