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sometimesliterate · 2 days

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progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #honkai sr #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine fluff #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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moonstruckme · 2 days

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hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.”

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?”

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.”

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.”

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.”

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea.

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.”

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow.

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?”

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.”

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over.

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained.

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.”

“Mm, thanks.”

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Mhm. I’m ready.”

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away.

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh.

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.”

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you.

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers.

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.”

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.”

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?”

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.”

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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homestylehughes · 2 days

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forbidden love

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!hughes sister

summary: what happens when they both want a love that's forbidden?

warnings: fluff, sooo much flufffff. nicos a cute little baby in this. shy, nervous and cute reader. use of pet names and y/n. cussing, implied smut 18+ intense makeout, nothing too heavy.

wc: 3.6k

an: hiiiiii loves!!! NICO FIC NICO FIC NICO FIC!!!! about damn time!! loveeee nico. hes so ?? to many words. i really enjoyed writing this. this is my first hughes sister story i've written, and i loveeee, hopefully you guys do too! i had trouble deciding if i should make this a cliffhanger or not... i kinda did but i think i want a part 2 if you guys want that!!! share your opinions, i love hearing them!! anyways i hope you enjoy, this might be my favorite piece yet. i hope you guys enjoy! like and reblog if you do, much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Nico knew he couldn't have you, but he wanted you anyway. Being Luke and Jack's older sister, made you off limits to anybody on the team, older or not. Nico had not always felt this way about you until recently.

Ever since Jack got drafted to the devils, and then luke, he started to see you at more fundraising events held by the devils, team outings whenever you were in town visiting. Stealing little glances at you when you were in the same room, being pulled in by your smile and how you moved your hands as you talked to anyone and everyone.

If that didn't already pull him into you even more, what did was, how you acted with the rest of the team treating all of the boys like they're our own family. Always greeting nico with a shy smile and hi, making conversation about anything, hockey related or not.

Nico was enhanced by you, but he couldn't have you, which brings you guys to this moment.

–

“Jack if you don't answer your phone, god help me” I yell shout out, as I call Jack for the 10th time in the span of 15 minutes. Already calling Luke’s phone around 30 times, still no answer. My hands are shaking as I type out random masses of texts to both of them.

So maybe taking an impromptu trip to see my brothers wasn't the best idea. living in vancouver had its perks, being close to Quinn was one of them but i missed my two younger brothers, or maybe i should say assholes since neither of them can answer their phones.

I'm standing outside their apartment soaked from head to toe, not thinking about the rain, nor was I thinking about the fact that they had moved, leaving me with no key to their place.

So I'm stuck, knowing there's nothing I can do. I pull my suitcase over to the wall, slowly and dramatically slide down the wall, letting out a deep sigh as I do. My phone is almost dead, I'm hungry, jetlagged, annoyed, cold, wet and so many other words right now.

Dropping my head into my arms that rest on my knees, deciding that this will be my final resting place, for tonight. I hear the elevator door ding open on the floor, not bothering to look up knowing it's neither jack or luke walking down the hall.

“y/n” I hear my voice with a thick accent say, knowing the voice I slowly lift my head up, locking eyes with the one and only Nico Hischier “Hi..” I mutter back embarrassed at the fact that look like a lost wet dog right now in front of him.

“Are you okay, did something happen?” he asks back as he begins to walk closer to me. “I uhh…wanted to surprise Jack and Luke but it seems like they aren't here.” i sign out, “to make it worse i don't have a key to their apartment, they're not answering my calls or texts. My phones almost dead and i'm covered in wet rain and i'm cold.'' I huff out the last part, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I close my eyes quickly not wanting to look like a fool even more and cry in front of nico.

“Oh y/n”, expecting him to just stand there, instead he makes his way to me taking a seat on the ground next to me. "What are you doing nico?” I say, opening my eyes again, turning my head to lock my eyes with his. I get a good look at him for the first time since this, and fuck is he beatiful.

His deep voice snapping me out of my trance as he speaks, “sitting with you, what else does it look like.” he says followed with a soft chuckle. “Nico, you don't have to do that, I'm okay, you can go home, I'm sure you're tired.” instantly feeling bad he's wasting his night away with me out here.

“Jack and Luke would kill me if I left you out here by yourself”, “if I don't kill them myself” I say back my eyes now dropping back my feet. That earns a laugh from Nico, he has such a nice laugh, I think to myself. y/n, snap out of it and get it together.

Sitting up straighter, pulling my head to lean against the wall, mirroring nicos position. “Are you sure? You don't have too, i'm not even sure when they'll be back.'' I say looking at Nico, who's looking back at me. “Well I do have another idea,” he says, licking his lips before speaking again. “I live right down the hall, if you'd like you can stay with me until they come back.”

“Nico i can't do that, i feel bad”, “don't feel bad, i'm offering. I'm leaving you out here by yourself.” he repeated to me again. My heart picks up at his words. Taking a deep breath, I weigh my options in my head, knowing that this is probably the best option, but also my worst.

How am i going to survive with very, sweet, hot, sexy, nice, handsome, pretty, swiss caption of the new jersey devils, nico hischier? I'm probably not, but at least I'll die happy and not here.

“Okay, I'll come. Thank you so much nico.” I finally answered him, “dont worry about it, come on let's get you changed and warmed up i can't imagine how cold and tired you are” he says with a soft loving look on his face. Getting up before me, holding out his hand for me to grab, pulling me up from the floor. His hand feels so soft and warm in mine, I don't want to let go.

Pulling my hand out of Nico’s, I go to grab my suitcase, to follow him down the hall, before I can fully grab it Nico has it in his hands. “Nico..i can grab my own suitcase” “i know you can, but i want to do it, so i am” he says as he looks back at me smiling.

Ignoring how his smile made my whole body tingle, I sigh out and shake my head as a small smile breaks through on my lips, as I follow Nico down the hall.

Stopping at his place, only a few doors down from my brothers, popping in the key and turning the lock, quickly opening the door. He motions for me to go in first, I give him a small smile as I enter the apartment.

Taking in the place around me, pictures of his family and teammates over the walls, little nicnacs that fill the space, it feels like home. “Does my place give you your approval?” he says from behind me, “yes it does, jack and luke need to take a few home decor lessons from you.” that earns me another laugh from nico.

“Let me show you the guest bedroom” he says, leading me through the apartment, down a hall, opening a door which I assume is in the guest room. “Here's the guest room, hopefully it's okay and comfortable for you, I wasn't expecting anyone over anytime soon and i-” “Nico'' I say, cutting off his ramble. “It's perfect, thank you” I say walking in front of him, pulling him into a hug.

God, he smells so good. The way his warm body is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, I don't want to pull away, but I do after a few moments.

“You're welcome y/n” he says looking at me again, i can feel my heart beginning to heat up. Clearing his throat before looking away, “the bathroom is at the end of the hall, my room is at the beginning of the hall.” he says, while pointing in the direction. Nodding in understanding even though he can't see me.

“Feel free to shower and get changed, i'm going to head to the kitchen to start making dinner” he says now turning back to face me, “nicooo… you don't have to cook anything. You're already doing so much for me by letting me stay here, really”

“Now what kind of host would I be, if I let a pretty girl like you starve under my watch.” Nico replies with a teasing smile on his face. “A bad one i guess” I smile breaking through my face. “You called me pretty” I said again, my eyes never leaving his. “I did, because you are.” he says before walking out of the room, leaving me stunned.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” I hear him shout from the kitchen, popping my head out of the room, “no! Surprise me!” I replied.

This is dangerous, I can not think or find him attractive. He’s my brother's captain, teammate and also one of their closest friends. I have to keep it together.

I gather my things to take a shower, making my way to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on. I then work on peeling off my semi- wet clothes off my body, the relief filling my veins once they're finally off, finally making my way into the shower. The hot water relaxes my body instantly. Throughout the whole shower all of my thoughts are about Nico, and I'm going to act once I get out of here, making me nervous and feeling things. Things i shouldn't feel.

Turning off the shower, getting out and drying myself quickly. I began getting redressed again, clearing the mirror to take a look at myself, the old devils shirt i've had for god knows how long, that's probably three sizes too big, and shorts that you cant even see. Not bothering to pack pants, because I thought I would be staying with my brothers, not Nico.

Inserucies start to plague my mind but I push them down. brushing my hair, fixing my shirt, deciding that it's good enough. Grabbing my things before making my back to the guest bedroom. dropping off my things in the room before taking a deep breath making my way towards the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen, nicos back is turned to me. A sight that I'm not complaining about seeing. The way his mussels are ripping through his shirt, is enough to make my mouth water. What I'm doing. Get it together.

Walking further into the kitchen, I get a better look at what he's cooking, pasta boiling the water and it looks like he's making a type of sauce. Smiling softly to myself, at how sweet he is.

“Do you need any help?” I say breaking the silence. Nico turned around quickly, a smile dancing on his face. “No, I'm okay, thank you though. How was your shower?” he asks before turning back to the stove again.

“It was good, thank you” I say, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure where to go or what to do. “I can feel your nerves from over here y/n.” nicos voice breaks through the kitchen as he speaks, “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” I nervously laughed out loud. “Why?” Nico says as he circles his way around the counter leaning against it, in front of me.

“You make me nervous, I don't know how to act around you.'' I said truthfully to him, while looking in his eyes. “You make me nervous too, don't worry” he says as he looks me up and down, his gaze feels like summer sun on my skin, leaving trails of heat throughout my body.

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, feel free to take a seat, or keep standing there checking me out. Either work for me” nico says to me, winking as he walks around the kitchen again. I'm frozen in place. What just happened? Is Nico flirting with me? The wink? Holy shit.

My mind and body are on fire, as I walk over to the island to sit down. Tension fills the air, I sit there for a few minutes trying to wrack my brain of something to say.

Nico beats me to it before I have the chance to open my mouth. “You look different” he says, back still turned towards me. “What do you mean by different? Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Not bad,” he replies now, turning to look at me, “just older, I'm not sure how to explain it, but you look good.”

“Thank you?” i say my cheeks are warming with blush. “You’re welcome” he hums back. “You look really good too” I say, Nico chuckles at me “shit, sorry. You look good like everything you know? Mussels, everything. I'm rambling, shit. this is embarrassing." I say, dropping my head into my hands with a groan.

“I found it cute, don't worry pretty girl.'' Turning around to get plates out of the cabinet. Pretty girl. Gosh he's making it harder to not go pounce on him right this second.

“Dinners done, are you ready to eat?” he says a few moments later, nodding my head at nico as he looks my way. Grabbing two plates filling them with the pasta he made , which looked so good. My stomach growling, reminding me how hungry I am.

Placing my plate in front of me, along with a glass of wine that I didn't even see him pour. “I think you might need this after today” he says justering to the wine, as he takes a seat next to me. “How'd you know?” I slowly laughed to him, “this food looks so good, nico. Thank you so much”

“You don't have to thank me, y/n but, you're very welcome.” he says to me. “Now eat, I heard your stomach growl in the kitchen.” he says in a teasing tone. My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my fork, and digging in. the flavors, melting on my tongue. I internally moan at the taste.”fuck this is so good” i say with a mouth half full. Forgetting Nico is right next to me, I'm quick to cover my mouth with my hand.

“I'm glad you enjoy it.” Nico says, smiling at me before taking another bite. Nico and I make small talk as we eat, talking about anything from hockey and my brothers to my job in Vancouver, and everything in between. Finding myself laughing and blushing more than I would have liked. Nicos charm pulled me in, and I couldn't find a care in me to stop falling for it.

“Thank you again for dinner nico” I say as he clears the plates. “Of course, not everyday I get to cook for thee, y/n hughes” “shut up” I laugh back at him.

“At least let me do those dishes, since you made dinner,” I say , making my way to the sink where Nico is standing. “No way, go sit back down,” Nico says, looking down at me. “I'm not taking no for an answer nico.” I say placing my hands on my hips, “fine, but I'll dry them.” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I know why Jack and Luke say you're bossy”. “Hey now. I'm not that bossy, shut it” turning my body away from him as I speak. Turning on the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap, and began washing the plates in the sink.

Nico just chuckles in response. We began a system of wash, dry, wash dry. The silence is comfortable as we work in peace. It almost feels domestic? Something that I could get used to. y/n stop thinking about that. It will never happen.

“y/n” nico says snapping me out of my day dream, “hmm?” “You've been washing the same plate for the last 2 minutes. I'm pretty sure that it's clean ""oh!" I say looking down at the practically shiny plate in my hands, “here you go I'm sorry” handing him the plate, our hands grazing, making my heart rate speed up.

I have to get out of the kitchen, I say to myself. Turning off the water and drying my hands on the towel, stepping away from the sink, locking my eyes on my sock covered feet.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks me, raising my head to look at him. “Yes I'm okay, just tired,” I say softly. “I think I might head to bed, see if Jack or Luke responded to me or not.”

“Of course, feel free.” Nico says, while putting the dishes away. “Okay..thank you again for dinner, again. Goodnight.” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen, Nico following behind me. “Good night y/n.” he says to me with a small smile on his face, i smile in return and make my way to the guest room for the night.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. making my way over to the phone to see that neither jack or luke have responded to me, a frown falling on my face. I call them each again, even sending Quinn a text asking if he's heard of them.

Locking my phone, setting it back on the bedside table, I pull back the blankets settling into the bed. Slowly sinking into the comfort of the bed, I can feel the effects of today hitting my body. My eyes slowly closing, the one thing crossing my mind is nico.

Just as I'm able to fully close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. Getting out of bed, opening the door to see a now shirtless nico in sweatpants standing in front me. Hair messy, like he's been running his hand constantly through it.

“Everything okay, did you need something?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes on his face only. “Everything is fine, yes” he replies to me quickly. “Are you sure?” I ask again, feeling like he hasn't told me the whole story yet.

“Can I do something?” He asks me if I can feel his eyes looking at my lips, “yes?” I say swallowing quickly. Nico takes a step more, until he's directly in front of me, his face a few inches from mine.

“I shouldn't want to kiss you y/n '' he begins, my breath hitching as he places both of his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on them. “I shouldn't have these thoughts about you. Youre jack and lukes older sister, fuck i should be thinking about you like this.” he says now locking his eyes with mine.

“I can't help myself though, everything about you is perfect. I want you all to myself.” one of his hands begins tracing up my side, making its way to the side of my neck holding it place, lifting my head to meet his face better.

“I want you so bad. I can't have you though. You're like a forbidden fruit that i want to taste and kiss and love so bad but i can't have you, and it's killing me.” he finishes dropping his head lower to mine, our faces now only a few centimeters apart.

“Who says you can't have me?” I say softly, not trusting my voice, trailing my hands around his neck. “What if I want you too?” I whisper out before connecting our lips together.

Nico is quick to respond, pulling my body flush against his, our lips dancing together. His hand trailing down to my ass, grabbing a handful of it before pulling away, smiling at me, “I've wanted to do that all day” he smirked at me, before connecting our lips together again. His tongue enters my mouth as we fight for dominance, deciding to let Nico win.

I began to walk backwards towards the bed, hoping Nico would follow. Before I know it he's picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and tossing me on the bed in his bedroom.

I look at the room around me, taking in every detail, before locking eyes with nico who's now looking at me from above. The way his chain dangles in my face, and his brown eyes look in the dimly lit room, and how his chest rises and falls is a sight I want to see forever and forever.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he smirks to me, “you're just so pretty” i say as i run my hands through his hair. “Isn't that something i'm supposed to say?” he asks as he begins to place soft kisses down my exposed neck.

“Maybe you could show me instead?” I say, pushing my lips to his again. His hands quickly fell underneath my shirt, tracing up my bare sides. I remove my hands from nicos hair, pushing myself up from the bed. Pulling off my shirt, throwing it somewhere behind us, clipping my bra, tossing it in the same direction as my shirt. Now leaving myself completely bare in front of nico besides my shorts.

Our chests are raising and falling together, our eyes locked. “y/n..” nico says to me breathlessly. “Fuck you’re so beautiful” his hands running along my bare sides and underneath my breasts. “Are you sure about this?” he asks me, our faces close together again, “i've never been so sure about anything in my life, Nico please touch me.” desperation in my voice dripping like honey.

A growl like noise rips through nico, as he reconnects our lips together again. His hands are everywhere, heat spreading all throughout my body. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere.

If he's a forbidden fruit, then why does it feel so good?

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #nico hischer x reader #nh13 #nico hischier #njd #nico hischier smut

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colonelarr0w · 1 day

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Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

#colonelarr0w #astarion acunin x reader #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 x reader

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mommyssluttt · 3 days

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You see me in the woods from a distance but don’t pay much attention. Until suddenly I’m wearing a ghost face mask and coming really close. I’m gonna chase you around with a knife and finally catch you. Chloroform you until you pass out and you will wake up later with your clothes gone and in a bimbo like set of undies.

Tied up in a basement. There’s photos of you all over the wall. Photos of you from years ago. From college, from your office, from nights out and then you see it… Photos of you sleeping and looking so cozy and soft.

Photos of you where you suddenly feel so fucked up that someone was there and you didn’t even know and now that someone finally has you. You’re tied up in a dark room and dressed like a fucktoy. You feel so icky and gross.

Tears slowly start to form as you remember advice from your friends…

‘Don’t dress like a bimbo’

‘Don’t be a slut online’

And then you recall one friend who said

‘Someone will get you one day’ and that’s when the tears start to flow. You hear a door gently open and see the shape of a man. He’s 6 foot 4, muscular and broad shoulders. Wearing a ghost face mask and a blue tshirt and white pants. It’s the same guy you saw in the woods.

He stands in front of you and leans over you, touching your soft skin as you try to back away, making him chuckle. He speaks in the softest voice and says ‘finally, you’re here. This temple was built in your honour, little one. Don’t you like it?’ And he wipes your tears and forcibly makes you look again at photos he’s taken of you over the years. You can feel his bulge growing as he stands behind you, poking your ass which might as well be naked and exposed. You feel his hands groping your body and touching you all over inappropriately and you cry again.

‘Mister please.., please stop. I will forget and forgive it all. Just let me go. Please I’m begging…’

But he just shushes you and puts one arm around your neck and the other hand into your panties. ‘If you wanted to, you could’ve left you dumb little slut. You’re not really tied to anything. But I’m just making your fantasies come true aren’t I? You’re such a dumdum online and so fucking bold. Why are you crying now huh?? And look how fucking wet you are’. He brings his fingers, now coated in your juices to your mouth and you open it and stick out your tongue instinctively. The dumb little girl inside you somehow wants this, craves this. You taste your own juices off his fingers and enthusiastically suck them clean, wiggling your ass on his cock. Moaning softly as you do.

You feel your undies being slid to one side and suddenly feel his length pressing against you. You’re halfway between tears and pure unadulterated bliss and your pussy and brain aren’t in sync as you leak even more.

You feel him press against your pussy, halting at your entrance. You hear him grunt a little and say ‘Finally baby girl. After years of craving you, I can finally claim you.’

And with that, he gently thrusts into you. Using his height and strength he positions you and bends you over, making sure you can look at the one mirror in the room, holding your face and making you stare at yourself as his thick cock pushes into you.

Your pussy opens up and accepts its fate. Getting wetter and adjusting to his length and girth. You cry and moan at the same time, seeing the ghost face mask and feeling yourself grip on his dick as he moves inside you, thrusting deep and slow at first.

His other hand travels down your soft flesh touching you and groping you before settling on your hips as he increases his pace. The tears stop when you start to feel nothing but pleasure and your mind starts to break.

You’re still confused but now your pussy is clenching on him and you’re moaning and not crying anymore. Your hips move back on his cock as he violates you and uses you like you’ve never before been used.

Other men have bent you over, other men may have been inside you but this feels different. This, is surrender. And now your tears are those of joy as he growls and grunts and moans. His tip bruising your cervix as he gives you those last crucial strokes.

You start to cum on his thick cock, your body finally fully betraying you. Crying out as your orgasm hits, you feel him pick up his pace and become erratic. You half heartedly beg him to not creampie you, but you know he ain’t listening to you.

You now belong to him as his seed floods forward from his cock and into your womb. Settling warm and filling you up. It’s just Day 0 of being his little slave slut. And already you feel like this is where you were always meant to be. This is what your true purpose has always been. Being Ghostface’s Good Girl.

- T 😈😈😈

im gonna have so much fun to this when i get home, thank you anon😊

#cnc free use #breeding k1nk #free use toy #breeding toy #submisive and breedable #free use slvt #r@pe play #r@pe fantasy #r@petoy #r@pe k!nk

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flemingsfreckles · 17 hours

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Physio’s Daughter Pt 8

Read the other 7 parts HERE

Warnings: cursing, suggestions to sex, mentions of throwing up, that should be it!

WC: 4.8k

A/N: hello 👋

“Really? You still have interest?” Jessie looks baffled, her eyes wide with raised eyebrows.

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you saw me staring earlier.”

“Yeah I did.” She smiles, thinking back to how she had intentionally wiped her forehead while facing in your direction. She was more than pleased with herself when she put back down her shirt to see you had been watching.

“Look, you said terrible things, and if anything even remotely close to that happens again, I will never speak to you again. But Jessie I really like you. I want to give you a second chance even though maybe I shouldn’t but I’d like to believe what you and Janine both said is true. This isn’t your typical behavior, you’re just under a lot of pressure.”

“I promise I’m not usually like this.”

“I know, that’s why I like you. But that’s also why this is so frustrating and why the other night hurt me so much. I know you’re not usually like this, I know how kind and caring and sweet you are. And if it wasn’t for all this, the fact that we work together, in this dynamic, I would’ve asked you out on a proper date weeks ago.” It’s true, if you haven’t worked with her, if you’d met her at school, at a cafe, just walking down the street, you would’ve already taken her out. You would’ve asked her on dates, but you couldn’t, not when you worked together.

“Then fuck all this,” she gestures to the room and the Canada logo on her own training top. “Just ask anyway.”

“I don’t want to get you or myself in trouble.” You look at the logo on her shirt, it wasn’t that easy to just say fuck it to the team, the team Jessie had represented since she was 15.

“We can talk to whoever we need to.” She spits out.

“Oh be for real Jessie we haven’t even gone on a date, we don’t need to be in Helen’s office signing paperwork already.” You give her a smile, it was nice she was willing to talk to Helen but a little too early.

A smile breaks on Jessie’s face. “Okay, maybe that was a little premature.” The smile from her face fades as she speaks again. “So, maybe we go with the original plan? Wait until these games are over, see where we’re at?”

You nod in agreement. “But for now, coworkers.”

“Coworkers.” Jessie repeats looking at you before a mischievous smile comes across her face.

“What?” You ask, somewhat afraid of what her answer might be.

“This is I think the third time we’ve agreed to be coworkers.” She scoffs.

“No, this time I’m serious.” You do your best to give her a stern look.

“You said that last time.” She laughs

“Shut up.” You can’t help but laugh with her, you two were terrible at being coworkers.

“At least it’s only a few more days and one more game.” She says softly after she’s done giggling.

“Only one more game.”

You quickly found yourself getting ready for that final game. The reality that you were helping prep players for an Olympic gold medal match had you a little extra nervous. Canada was taking on Spain. Reigning World Cup Champions Spain.

The first 90’ minutes of the game felt like they went by in a blink. When the whistle blew the score remained 0-0. Both teams had good shots, both keepers making impressive saves.

The extra time came and went as well and suddenly you felt like you were back a few days ago.

Penalties. Again.

You watch the first few players step up. Julia makes her penalty 1-0, a Spain player makes her’s as well, 1-1. Feeling overwhelmed, you stare at the ground for the next few players. You watch your feet, you don’t even need to watch. You can hear the silence followed by the kick and you get the answer on save or miss through the reactions of the staff standing next to you. Chloe misses, 1-1, Spain makes theirs 1-2, Jordyn makes it 2-2, a player from Spain misses 2-2, Ashley makes her kick, and the Spanish player misses wide, 3-2.

You feel a quick pinch at your side where your Mom’s hand was resting around your waist. You look up to her and she subtly nods toward the field. You turn and watch as Jessie picks up the ball. You can practically feel the air get sucked out of your lungs. She was taking Canada’s fifth and final kick. If she makes it, it’s over. If she misses, Spain has the chance to tie.

You watch her meticulously place the ball, adjusting it a few times. Once she’s satisfied with the ball, she takes three steps back, and looks down, closing her eyes for a moment. You held your breath, beginning to subconsciously time how long she was waiting. You started to panic, feeling like you could puke, it felt like she was waiting too long again, or maybe it just felt like time had frozen. Jessie opened her eyes, and began her approach. She kicked it and you watched as the ball slammed against the back of the net.

You’re practically yanked onto the field by those around you, you’re not even sure where you were running besides the mass of red and white in front of you. You end up in the mob of bodies, receiving random hugs from whoever was around you. You kept your eyes scanning hoping to find Jessie, her height not helping her stand out. You also know she’s likely in the middle of the mass of her teammates, scoring the winning penalty.

As the initial celebration dies down, the players begin to spread out. Some find their families in the crowd, others moving to sit and soak in the moment. You keep your eyes scanning, hoping to find the girl with the armband.

While you’re busy spinning in circles looking for her, someone grabs your hand from behind.

“Come here.” The captain had found you before you could find her. Jessie grabs your hand, pulling you out and away from the crowd. The two of you move over to the side of the pitch, not far off from her teammates but enough to be in your own space. She turns you toward her, dropping your hand.

“I thought about you.” She says, tears in her eyes, her hands holding your face between them, her thumbs gently rubbing your cheeks. “I thought about you when I took that kick. You were my calm person.”

“I almost threw up.” You admit to her.

“What?” Jessie says, a mix of concern and a smile across her face. Her hands are still on your cheeks.

“I was so nervous watching you kick.”

“Oh.” She laughs. “You’re the reason I wasn’t nervous.” You’re grateful Jessie was able to quickly move past the fact that you had almost thrown up from nerves, embarrassed that you even said it to her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it Jessie.” You say, finally getting out the words you prepared and meant to say when you first saw her.

“I wouldn’t have been here without you, you deserve this too.” Her eyes are still locked with yours. You both stand listening to the rest of the team celebrate behind you. You both break eye contact hearing some screaming getting louder.

“Wooooooooo” you watch as Janine goes running by, a flag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other hand with Jordyn and Julia following shortly behind her yelling to give them back the bottle. You watch as Jessie rolls her eyes at her teammate’s behavior. You both turn back toward each other. This time Jessie’s eyes move down to your lips, then to your eyes and back to your lips. She moves her head slightly toward you.

“Jessie.” You warn her, you don’t want her to stop but you want to remind her that you’re both standing in a packed stadium with hundreds of cameras taking photos.

“Who cares.” She whispers before she starts to lean in again. You start to close your own eyes, not leaning in, wanting this to be her choice to kiss you in front of her team, her coaches, her family that was likely here.

“Congratulations Jessie.” You hear a voice you know all too well to the side of you. One of your Mom’s hands coming down on your shoulder while the other comes down on Jessie’s shoulder. You feel a slight push back on you, breaking up how close you and Jessie were.

Jessie’s hands fall from your face as she turns to look at your Mom.

“Oh, um, thank you, hey congratulations to you too, none of us would be here without all your hard work.”

“Thank you Jessie, assuming you were just thanking my daughter as well?” Your Mom gives you a quick glance, you know she’s teasing both of you, Jessie doesn’t get the message, trying to explain herself.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, she’s been great, um obviously, with my injury of course, my calf, she helped me a lot. I was thanking her for all that.” The way Jessie starts to stutter, tripping over her words as she tries to subtly deny the fact that she was about to kiss you, it was cute. You’re sure if she wasn’t already red in the face from playing, her cheeks would be from embarrassment.

“Hey if I don’t see you again before you players go out tonight, be safe, look out for each other.”

“We will.” Jessie assures your Mom before she walks away leaving you two again.

“She really has impeccable timing doesn’t she.” Jessie looks at you.

“She does.” You say before muttering “cockblock” under your breath only it comes out a little bit louder than you expected.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You both stand for a second, your chance to kiss clearly over as you’ve both been brought back to reality of standing in the stadium, Jessie’s teammates still running around. You watch as she scans the crowd before her head stops moving and she waves.

“There’s my family.” She points in the direction she waved in and you see a small group of people waving back at her.

“Go.” You shove her in their direction and she looks at you giving you one last smile before taking off running in their direction. You watch her, looking at the back of her jersey as she runs away to be pulled into a group hug. You turn back to go find the rest of the staff, giving your congratulations to whoever you passed in a Canada shirt as they did the same back to you.

The stadium is soon only filled with a sea of red, the Spain supporters leaving. The podiums are brought out at you watch as they begin to set up for the medal ceremony.

The team is quickly ushered back into the changing rooms put on their designated podium outfits. They quickly come back out, lining up to step up and receive their medals.

You stand off to the side, watching as France steps onto the bronze medal platform, followed by Spain. And then you watch as the Canadian team steps up. You can’t help but feel tears in your eyes, watching the girls that you’ve been working with for countless days helping at training, at matches, helping them stretch on the bus or in a hotel room, all those moments, all they had worked for and they did it. You watched as they got their medals Jessie receiving hers from Janine and putting one around Sabrina’s neck.

You watched as Jessie picked up the medal around her neck, examining it with her hands, flipping it around. You watch as Janine leans over, saying something into Jessie’s ear, Jessie immediately picking up her head and looking in your direction. She gives you a smile when her eyes meet yours. Janine must’ve noticed you staring and told her. You give her a thumbs up before they begin playing all the national anthems.

Once the ceremony is finished you stand around a bit longer, watching all the players soak in the moment together. You find yourself catching Jessie’s eye every once in a while until she finally makes her way over to you.

“You’re coming out with us, right?” She slings an arm around your shoulder.

“Tonight?”

“Obviously, we’re going to go celebrate, we’ve got a bar rented out.” You had heard discussions of the post game celebrations, but never really read into them too much, you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself thinking they’d win, it felt like you’d jinx them.

“I don’t want to intrude, if it’s a player thing.”

“It’s not, everyone’s invited, coaches, staff, families, everyone.” Jessie turns so her lips are against your ear. “Plus, I want you to be there.” She says quietly. You feel your skin prickle at her low voice and the feeling of her breath on your body.

You stumble over your own words as you agree to meet them at the bar later, your brain short circuiting from the feeling of her lips against your ear. “Oh, then yeah I’ll be there.”

You quickly found yourself a couple drinks in, courtesy of the Canadian foundation, in a rather large, but dark bar. Loud music and conversation filling the air. You had only arrived about an hour ago, thankfully it was within walking distance from the hotel. You had gone back and changed into a nicer pair of gray jeans and a simple Canada sweatshirt. Since you opted to change you did not arrive at the same time as Jessie, you had been unable to find her since arriving. You felt like you were back searching for her on the field after the match. Most of the players had remained in their sweatsuits, some changing into other t-shirts, sweatpants. You had found just about every other player, who all led you astray in which direction they last saw their captain.

You make your way back to the bar to get another drink, deciding you’ll just go sit with Olivia and the rest of the staff at the table they had occupied.

“Hey, where have you been?” You feel hands grab tightly onto your hips and you turn to see the brown eyes you’ve been looking for.

“Hi, I changed.” You gesture down to the fact that you were no longer wearing athletic clothing like you did while at work. “but I’ve been here an hour or so, I’ve been running around looking for you.”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes graze over your body. “You look good.” You can smell the alcohol radiating off of Jessie you’re not sure if it’s alcohol she’s consumed or if it’s just a mix of the champagne that was sprayed across her skin in celebration along with the smell of the bar. Her hands are still firm on your hips. “Come here.” She gently tugs you away from the bar.

“Hang on, let me grab this.” You reach for the beer the bartender had placed in front of you and then let yourself be pulled away.

She moves to grab your free hand instead and keeps pulling you, through the mass of red and white, back to the back corner of the bar and into a small hallway.

“Where are we going?” You ask when she finally stops walking.

“Here, where it’s just you and me.” Her hands find their way back to your hips and she pushes you back so you’re against the cool brick wall. “So we can do this.”

Her hand comes up to your cheek as it did after the game, but this time it doesn’t stop at your cheek she keeps moving it to the back of your neck, gently pulling you toward her and she moves in. This kiss was different than the rest, the rest had been timid, soft, gentle. This kiss was firm, her lips starting to move against yours immediately, its only a few seconds before you feel her tongue against your lips. You part your lips and let your own tongue graze against hers. You get the answer to your earlier question as you can taste the tequila and what you think is vodka on her tongue. The taste has you pulling back.

“Hey.” Jessie protests, a frown across her face.

“Are you drunk?” You put your hand without the beer against her chest, holding her back from leaning in to kiss you again.

“What?” She cooks her head at you.

“Are you just making out with me because you’re drunk? I can taste the liquor.”

“No you idiot, I mean yes I’ve been drinking, but I’m not drunk, plus I’ve wanted to makeout with you for weeks.”

“Okay but we’re in public. You team could see.” It’s not that you don’t believe her when she says she’s not drunk, it’s just you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy with her choices to suddenly makeout with you in a bar, knowing she had definitely consumed something.

“I don’t care.”

“Jessie, no.” You step away from her..

“What? Oh come on? Because I’ve had three drinks? How many have you had?” She posed a fair question, she had had just as many drinks of you but you had been at the bar for far less time, if anyone was the problem here it would’ve been you.

“I just think you’re not fully considering the consequences of making out with me in a public bar. When you’re sober, we can do this.”

She leans down close to you and you think she’s going to kiss you again, but she brings her mouth toward your ear. “Okay, then I’m done drinking because I want to makeout with you. I promise I’m not drunk, not even tipsy, but if you want to wait that’s fine.”

“Okay.” You reply and Jessie turns walking back into the room. You follow her and watch as she makes her way to the bar, when she turns back she has two bottles of water in her hands.

“You should drink if you want to drink, it’s your night to celebrate.” You say when she comes over to your side, shaking one of the bottles of water at you. You don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t celebrate.

“No, I’m not a big drinker anyway, I had already decided to be done, I just got peer pressured into some shots with some of the youngsters when I first got here.” She takes a large sip of water.

“Jessie.” Your conversation is interrupted by hearing someone call from behind you and a girl runs up to her followed by two other men and a woman.

“Hi! Oh I’ve miss you.” Jessie takes the girl into a tight hug before releasing her and moving onto the next person hugging the next person.

“We’re so proud of you honey!”

“Thanks Mom.” Jessie mutters into the women’s hug. That's when you’re able to make the connection, this was Jessie’s family standing in front of you.

“This is my family, my mom, dad, sister and brother.” She points to each person. She introduced her family to you. She starts explaining how you’ve helped her with her injuries, and how you help everyone with stretching and staying healthy. She’s singing your praises to her family, making you blush standing next to her.

You stick around for a couple minutes as Jessie continues to talk about you. Not wanting to force her family to listen to stories about you, you tell Jessie you’ll be over at a table and leave her to enjoy the moment with her family.

You slide into a booth next to Janine and a few other people you didn’t know, assumed friends and family of the team. It doesn't take long for Janine to bring up the topic of Jessie.

“Just so you know,” Janine claps her hand hard against your back, giving you a slight shake. She leans in close to you. “I’m spending tonight, and probably the rest of the nights we’re here in his hotel room.” She points at the man next to you who now you recognize from photos to be her fiancé. “So there won’t be someone else in Jessie’s room.” You pull back to just look at her, you couldn’t believe what she was implying.

Janine must’ve thought you didn’t understand what she was suggesting when you didn’t respond. “Ya know, if you and a certain someone want to-”

“I know what you meant!” You spit out quickly. Taking a sip of the water you had. Upon your snappy response Janine quickly changed the subject, eying up the medal around her neck again, showing it to her fiancé.

It wasn’t long before you felt the booth sag next to you and Jessie alone with her sister found themselves next to you in the booth.

“Elysse!” Janine exclaims reaching over you and Jessie to attempt to hug the girl. Both of them leaning in pushes you and Jessie practically into each others laps.

“Sorry.” You apologize to Jessie, it wasn’t your fault but you felt like you were squishing her.

“All good.” She gives you a sweet smile before returning to her own personal space as Janine removes herself from across you two.

“Hey.” she slaps Jessie’s leg getting her attention. “I just finished telling this one that-” You almost go to cover Janine’s mouth with your hand. You know she’s been drinking and you also knew what was about to come out of her mouth. But you don’t stop her, instead you tilt your head down clenching your eyes hoping it’ll stop Janine’s words, only it doesn’t. “I’ll be in Ethan’s hotel room the rest of the trip, if you want to use it.”

“Oh.” You can feel Jessie’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you slowly open your eyes and send a pointed look in Janine’s direction.

“What?” She says, reading the uncomfortable looks you and Jessie were both giving her. “Oh what, do you two really think you’re doing such a good job of keeping it secret? You were practically making bedroom eyes at each other during the medal ceremony today.”

“Janine!” Jessie shouts at her friend before just shaking her head. You finally have the courage to take a glance at Jessie, her eyes are wide, she looks uncomfortable, you can also see her sister behind her looking between you and Jessie, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Alright, it might be time to get you out of here.” Janine’s fiancé says, grabbing Janine’s hand as he stood up. He gives a quick wave at the table, half as an apology, half as a goodbye. You all wave back to him and Janine and they walk into the mass of people.

You sat for a little bit longer, some teammates coming to join your table for a few minutes to chat before they’d run off to talk with someone else. It was only an hour later that Jessie’s Dad found his way to the table. “Jess, we’re going to get out of here, it’s late and we’re not young anymore, we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course.” Jessie responds, she smacks your leg a few times then pointing to the side of you. You get the hint and stand up to let her out of the table. You watch as she stands up giving her Dad a tight hug.

“Coming now or later?” Her Dad looks at Jessie’s sister.

“Now, just give me a second to use the restroom.” She nods and her Dad walks away after they agree to meet outside.

“I don’t have to pee, I just wanted him to walk away. You two enjoy your night without Janine.” She says with a wink and a look between the two of you. You look over to Jessie who’s sporting a blushed red face. Her sister stands up to hug her and whispers something into Jessie’s ear, making her turn even more red. She gives you a quick wave and heads in the direction of the door.

“I think I’m going to call it a night too, feeling tired.” You say, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day hit you all at once. A yawn coming out of your mouth.

“I was actually thinking the same thing.” Jessie flashes you a smile. “Would you want to walk together?” You’re not sure if Jessie actually was ready to go or just decided she was going to leave since you were.

“That would be nice.” You take the empty water bottle from her hand and toss it onto the bin with yours. “Do you need to say bye to anyone?” Jessie just shakes her head.

“Do you?” You shake your head back. Your Mom had gone out with some of the older training staff, not wanting to be in a rowdy bar, Olivia was still around but you’d text her later letting her know you were back in your room. You’re not sure even if you said goodbye to anyone if they’d remember it in the morning or not.

The night was quiet when you stepped outside of the bar, Jessie shortly behind you. You start walking in the direction of the hotel and she quickly jogs to catch up. The two of you walk side by side down the roadway.

“Does it feel different the second time?” You break the silence asking.

“Does what feel different?” Her pace slows down as she turns her head to look at you.

“Winning gold.”

You hear her breathe in and then watch as she tilts her head slightly, deep in thought.

“It’s different, but I’m not sure if it's the winning that’s different. Last time it was an empty stadium, we didn’t get to do the celebrations with family and friends, there weren’t people watching, it felt so isolated, but it was in a weird way more peaceful. We got to just sit on the field, really soak it in.” She took another breath. “We didn’t get to do that, even if we could’ve there would’ve been fans, it would’ve been rowdy. Not to say one is better than the other, but yeah it’s different. I also wasn’t captain last time, so this time was more stressful, I felt like a lot of it was on me. Even though I know it wasn’t, it just felt that way.”

You hum acknowledging her answer as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. It’s thankfully pretty empty, Jessie's teammates still out celebrating and only a few other country’s athletes sitting around. You both get into the elevator, you press the button and you can feel a tension building as you ride up in silence. When you get out you walk Jessie to her door first, wanting to be polite and make sure she gets in alright.

“I’m sorry if Janine made it weird earlier. I'm not sure why she said that. I mean I get it but, I don’t want you to think I told her that was going to happen or anything. I don’t expect it to.” Jessie turns before she puts her keycard to the door.

“It’s all good. Little uncomfortable, especially with your sister there but it’s alright.” You shrug. It was uncomfortable but you didn’t mind too much, you had already forgotten about the conversation until Jessie brought it up again.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have to explain myself to her later, she thought it was funny, she teased me for how red I got.”

“Yeah.” You both stand awkwardly outside of Jessie’s hotel room, you shift your weight between your feet, swaying slightly.

“Um, do you want to-”

“Have a goodnight-”

You both speak at the same time.

“Go ahead.” She gestures to you.

“I was just going to say goodnight.” You didn’t want to invite yourself into her hotel room despite Janine’s offer.

“Oh, yeah okay.” You can tell she seems a little disappointed.

“What were you saying?”

“I was going to invite you in?” Jessie looks up at you, her eyes with a glimmer of hope in them. She blinks quickly a few times before adding “Only if you want to, you don’t have to, I’m not expecting anything, you don’t even have to stay very long if you don’t want to, I just thought,”

“Jessie.” You cut her off, able to tell she was starting to overthink by the way her hands were fidgeting. “I’d like to come in.” You say before you lean down, now it’s her back pressed against the wall as your lips find hers. You pull away before any of her teammates or god forbid your mother decides to take a trip down the hallway and sees you two. Jessie turns to unlock the door and you follow her inside. You pull your phone out quickly texting Olivia.

You: Probably not coming back to the room at all tonight, or if I do it’ll be late, don’t worry about me I’m safe.

It takes a minute but she responds.

Olivia: Thanks for the heads up, I expect all the details of your escapades tomorrow

Olivia: seriously though, be safe, don’t do anything stupid.

You look up from your phone over at Jessie, thinking to yourself at least if you “do” anything, it wasn’t considered doing anything stupid, Jessie was smart.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader #jessie fleming blurb

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

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6.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.

Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.

A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment.

If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.

Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch.

After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom.

After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Lily. Again.

Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”

“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now.

“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”

“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”

“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.”

“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call.

Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch.

With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss.

“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”

“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him.

After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”

Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.”

Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully.

“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”

The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.

“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”

“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.

“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”

“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”

“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit.

“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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undercoverpena · 1 day

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13. hello yellow

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter thirteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.3k (she became a biggie) chapter warnings: reference to anxious!reader. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this is the one you've been waiting for... .

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It grows on your tongue on a cooler morning—the birds having only just begun chirping, the sun really only just rising. But he's there, truck parked outside as he brings you coffee, for no other reason than just because.

It's almost hard not to say the three words.

They thicken in your throat when you surprise him at work, having already spoken to Harry, asking if you can steal him for an extra half an hour. His face brightens, practically illuminating when he sees you at the register. It continues to do so when you take him back to the place where the two of you had lunch, his face beaming.

You’re not sure how the words don’t escape there and then.

There are a bunch of moments saying them could have been right. It would be so easy to let them slip out, but then he'll say something that makes you laugh, or his phone will go off and the conversation shifts, and you wait a little longer.

But you don’t just want right, you want perfect.

Just like him.

You know how we love Harold?

Yes?

He might have recommended me to a friend of his for some paintwork.

This sounds like a good thing, yet it feels very bad for me.

The only date the man can do is the day I said we’d go to the beach.

If this isn’t you asking me to come and help you be your a-paint-tice I’m going to be really let down.

You want to come paint a man’s house with me?

I want to do anything with you, Butterscotch.

It vibrates from two rooms away—buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

Your feet rush for you, socks almost making you a health hazard as you round the corner from your bedroom to the hallway. A laugh trying to escape from giddiness as your palms press into your off-white walls, before using it for leverage to continue.

Moving, almost running, not looking where you’re going, only realising at the last second when your foot collides with it.

Pain.

It pulses and makes tears spring to your eyes instantly. The hurt is more than radiating, it erodes, grows and pounds.

Fucking toolbox.

Hand grasping it as you half-hobble to the little side table where your phone almost topples off.

Butterscotch <3

A caller ID that usually brings an immediate smile to your face, and still, even as you clutch your foot in your hand and drag your finger across the screen, it somehow still does.

“Hey, I’m almost there—did you want lunch in or out?”

Stuffing a wince down your throat, you blink back fresh tears as your thumb presses down on a particular spot. “I need to show you something but maybe out?”

“You okay?” No, you want to hiss—wanting to add extra O’s and everything. “You sound off?”

Swallowing bitterness, you try to smile as you lower your foot—putting some weight on it as you suddenly become warm, and uncomfortable.

“Rainy?”

“Butterscotch, I bet you’re one street—you’re literally pulling up.”

You swear you hear him grin. Almost being able to tell even from the way he puts his vehicle in park that his smile is growing into his cheeks and cascading over his eyes. It makes your own appear, somehow rising to the surface and kicking its feet furiously to appear.

By the time you’d end the call, quickly check your foot inside your sock and put it back in place, your eyes catch his coming through your front door. Letting in amber streams of sunlight that paint across the hardwood in warm, honeyed hues. Bringing in warmth, a calmness, the pain suddenly non-existent when you see him slide out the key from the keyhole—the one you’d told him to keep, the one you’d give him, told him to use.

The sight pulls at something inside of you, making it easier to smile, to beam as he closes it behind him and walks himself up to you—mouth pressing to yours. The taste of coffee and mint flooding your mouth, your fingers full of his curls as his hand presses to your lower spine—bodies flush, his keys clanging in the air.

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” he whispers, teeth teasing your bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “But, baby, what are you wearing?”

His hand slides down the plastic, water-proof full-body overalls you have on. It rustles, making your skin even warmer when he takes another long look at you, and laughs.

Not a giggle.

Not a quiet, hidden and disguised laugh. A full-on roar of laughter.

“I got it for next week,” you exclaim, heat rising up your neck. “You told me I’d need to wear something that would cover me—wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“Baby, I meant not your romper—'cause you’ll get paint on your legs. I didn't mean a… hazmat suit?”

Folding your arms, you take a step back, face scrunching in a wince you’re not sure he notices as you roll your eyes before turning on your heels to change. “I’m new to this.”

“I know, I know,” he says, trying to stifle his laugh, hand reaching out. “Baby, wait, I’m sorry. Okay? You just don’t need—fuck, Rainy. I can see your ass through this.”

“No, you cannot.”

“I fucking can.”

Letting him pull you into his arms, you shake your head, stupidly unable to stop yourself from grinning, before his lips brush over yours. Your nails digging into the t-shirt on his waist, mouth parting as he eases you back, a grimace hidden against his tongue as his knee nudges between your plastic-covered thighs.

“Frankie,” you whisper, it leaving your tongue like a whine.

He only hums in response, it vibrating against you, fingers tightening in his curls as his knee rises that bit more, friction so readily there, easily able to rock your hips if you so want to. Until it rustles, furrows, a noise so unsexy you feel him slowly grin against your mouth.

“Can’t believe you just wore underwear under this,” he teases, dropping his knee.

Your breath finds your lungs with more ease as you roll your lower lip between your teeth, admiring him, unable to stop ogling the man who is very much all yours after the position he just had you in.

“I should change before we go out for lunch,” you mumble. “Before I flash everyone.”

Moving away from him before he can stop you, you let out a groan as your bad foot flattens, unable to hide the misstep. Hearing him call your name, you're quick to wave him off. Digging your nails into your palm as you take (what feels like a thousand) steps until you’re unzipping the ridiculous plastic, all-in-one, and begin yanking drawers and doors open until you’re standing in something more appropriate for lunch.

Half-closing your bedroom door behind you, you don’t need to call for him, you know where he’ll be. Finding him exactly where you expected, tape measure in hand—right in front of one of the office windows.

“Thought you could do that in your head.”

Snorting, shooting you a look over his shoulder, he grins. “Wanna make sure I’m exact.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

Leaning against the frame, not obviously showing you’re taking the weight from your now pulsing foot, you try to smile. Listening as he begins telling you about getting something for your windows, instead of thinking how you should ice it, get him to wrap it, maybe ask him—politely—if he’d put his fucking toolbox away between visits before you actually break something.

Somehow, you hear enough to follow what he’s saying, about how blinds would help, that they’d give you more daylight while also shielding you if you wish to work in the dark—they’d be more flexible, modern. He could help you fit them.

And it dawns on you, that while you've had it in your head about curtains, this is a thing you should have thought of yourself.

A thing which feels so obvious now he’s said it that it irks you that you haven’t. Because blinds would be better. Digging a hole in you, making you feel silly, stupid, and foolish—

The realisation makes you pinch your forearm and take a deep breath. You re-centre yourself, thinking about the one image that inspired all of this, imagining it with blinds instead of what had remained fixed in your head, hung and stuck.

The problem with desiring something inspirational is that it isn’t always tailored to the person who desires it. To you, who will be using the room. Yet, Frankie has thought of you—like the considerate, beautiful man that he is.

“From your face, you don’t want blinds?” he asks.

Your mouth opens, before closing. Putting some weight down as your eye narrows in pain—it floods through you as you try not to frown. “It’s not that—I just thought curtains. Thought I preferred the way curtains look, is all.”

Frankie shrugs, staring out of the window, before glancing back. “Curtains it is then.”

“But, blinds do make sense.”

And you can see it, the way he chews his tongue—the way he swallows words he wishes to say. It flares something within. Rolling his head on his shoulders, and scratching the back of his head, he smiles.

“But you want curtains.”

“I did.”

“Then have curtains.”

He’s being nice—that’s what you remind yourself. He’s being kind and thoughtful. He’s taking what you’re saying and giving you exactly that.

Yet it feels… bad.

It makes you all of a sudden not want it—anger bubbling, trying to grow wider in your stomach. Instead, wanting him to tell you that you should have blinds, for all the reasons he’s listed, because it makes sense. They’re practical, and easy; it’ll block the sun out if it’s a bright day. They’ll even look modern; following the theme of the room.

And the fact he isn’t reminding you of that makes you mad. So much you feel it clawing up your throat, all ash and brimstone; flames and bonfire.

But you’re not mad at him. You’re mad at yourself for not looking. You’re not mad at him, just his toolbox. You’re not mad at him. You’re mad—

It repeating. Swirling. Shifting around the imaginary plug hole in your head as you wait for it to fall through and douse whatever it is that is brewing inside of you.

“I didn’t think of it like you did, so let’s have blinds.”

“It’s okay, it’s really—”

“But, they make sense, Frankie. You just said so.”

Jaw tightening, he hides his annoyance with a smile. “But, baby, you don’t want blinds, so let me just measure for—”

Standing straight, unable to hide the miniature sob from pain, you follow it with: “Stop being nice to me.”

He blinks. Both at your tone and the words that snap through the air as your palm pushes against your forehead, hoping to quiet it, the simmering anger that bubbles and thickens like soup.

“Rainy—”

“You don’t… I’m not broken, Frankie. Sometimes we can just… disagree. You can tell me I’m wrong.”

“I know that.”

He says it so quickly, all with a colder edge to his words. Ice threatening to wrap around them, freeze, as they go to land, pellet. Bruise against you.

Tilting your head, you stare at him—knowing you should stop. Remove your finger from the metaphorical scab. “Do you? Because ever since the other month you’ve been… extra nice.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It is when I’m furious with you,” you snap, it’s out now, you think.

Chest tight, things unfurling and uncoiling, flames ripping through you as though all the emergency doors have flung open and allowed it to breathe through every part of you.

“When I’m mad that I tripped over your toolbox again because you didn’t put it away. Because you likely did something nice for me and forgot. But now I’ve really hurt my foot—”

“—Baby, why didn’t you—”

But you ignore him. Not even waving him off, just continuing, “—and that I can’t decide if I want curtains or blinds and yet you make a very good argument for blinds that I hadn’t considered and you always do that—have amazing ideas, great insight, plus, you seemingly know me better than I know me, which is so lovely, but I'm mad at myself for not thinking of it. But, you, you didn't do that, because you understand me.”

“Is this a bad thing?”

No, you think as your mouth jams shut. Staring. Blinking. Because of course, it isn’t. It’s just that it’s never been something you’ve had, never experienced, never thought could possibly be given to you.

A thing that you both love, so much, but also feel is going to be ripped from you at any moment. Better not to have it, than lose it. No skill to prepare for this level of care, so used to having to make decisions and choices and have no one offer to help.

But he’s not going.

He’s standing, hands at his sides, line between his brows. Confusion trying to crawl over him and lather his features, but he seems to be fighting it, stopping it. His eyes somehow remain soft even as your mouth hands open, more words set to spit and fire—

“I need. I need a moment.”

And you don’t wait for the okay or the sight of his face falling.

Just moving, hurrying. Feet trying to carry you through to the kitchen as your palms use the wall as a crutch to do so, finding a counter to rest on, to lean on, to breathe against as thick, uncontrollable tears begin to paint your cheeks. Whether from the pain or the fact you’d snapped. Unable to hold them back from rumbling out when your forehead presses against cool wood as you take breaths in and out, in and out.

Doing so until the pain dries on your cheeks and you’re merely resting, taking the moment you said you needed before you hear him clear his throat. Before he asks if he can come closer and if he can look at your foot, two things you quickly nod for—wanting to take it back, apologise, even explain. Instead, you let him aid you up onto the counter, slide the sock from your foot assess it and turn it, finger brushing over your skin as light as a feather as he asks does it hurt here, or what about here?

It makes your heart flutter.

Makes it even harder not to blurt three words at him, when really he deserves a chorus of them for what in the hell just happened. So, you lead with:

“I’ve decided that I don’t like fighting with you.”

Snorting, he picks up the sock from the floor, easing it slowly back over your toes. “It’s not my favourite thing we do together either.”

Smirking, you stare down at him. Watching him. “I don’t want you to think I’m fragile. That’s all.

“That you can’t challenge me just because of what happened the other month. Because it’ll happen again. But I can still make choices, you can still tell me I’m wrong—sometimes, I need you to tell me I’m wrong, because if you agree with me all the time, you won’t push me to be better. I’ll just stay stagnant, and choose curtains when I really think I’ll regret it and want blinds.”

Standing, he places his hands on either side of your thighs on the counter, letting out a heavy exhale as he looks at you, as he stares from eye to eye, before whispering your name. The one which sounds so kind in his mouth, that sounds like it matters—that it holds importance and weight, even if you prefer Rainy.

“I don’t think you’re fragile,” he whispers as you slide your hand over his, watching his eyes soften, heal. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I did.”

Half-smiling, you nod. Eyes searching his, waiting to see if the lie appears when he blinks, whether it spreads out like paint touching water and if it makes his truthful eyes murky. But it never comes. Instead, his hand cups your cheek, in a way that centres you and makes you only want to look at him.

Exhaling, he smiles. “I just don't want to make you choose something you don't want. That's all, baby.”

Eyeing him chewing words, weighing up whether it’s worth it to speak them or let them slide back into the crevice they slithered from. Because it’s painful, maybe far too much truth for him, can see it in the way it makes lines appear across his face, as though it’s fracturing him to remember.

“I wasn’t really mad at you.”

Slowly, a grin breaks out. “Yes, you was.”

“Okay, a little bit, but it wasn’t your fault. So, I’m sorry. But I am mad at your toolbox, it really hurt.”

“I’ll be sure to tell it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly part your legs, tugging on him to move between them, wrapping them around his waist as he shyly smiles. “Been thinking.”

“About how you now want curtains again?”

Pinching him, hearing him hiss, you smirk. “Too soon, Morales. No. I’ve been thinking that the cupboard closest to the office door.” He hums in response, it vibrating against your collarbone as he kisses it. “Think that’s where your toolbox should live.”

You feel him grin against your skin, blow warm air in an exhale against it. “You making room for my tools now.”

Lifting his chin, nose bumping against the tip of his, you mirror his smile. “I want to make room for all of you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Pressing a peck to his lips, you wipe your thumb over it. “Yeah.”

Babe, what is the attire for a kid's soccer match?

Comfort. It’s a lot of standing at the sidelines and hopeful cheering.

So knee-high socks and tight shorts are a no?

Fuck. That’s a fucking image.

Help me, because what I’ve Googled isn’t helping me.

I have a spare shirt you can wear.

Does it have Morales on the back?

It actually does.

Frankie, did you make adult versions of your son’s soccer team kit?

Does it make me lame if I say yes?

No, it makes me want to ask you if you can grab me fifteen minutes earlier so my mouth can show you how not-lame that is.

You'll be pleased to know I've sent the email and I am no longer working with 'prickly-puta', as you so lovingly called him.

I'm really proud of you. You okay?

I'd be better if I could celebrate with you, but I can wait.

How would you want to celebrate?

You sure you want to know?

Always, baby.

Well, I was thinking about showing you my power tools.

Maybe even using them? Letting you see what I do with them. It's very different from what you do with yours.

You there, I can see the typing bubble keep popping up.

Give me ten and I can video chat.

Oh no, you don't get an advanced preview. Might let you listen though.

Fuck me.

That's what I'd be saying if you were here right now.

You don't mind that painting ruined the beach because the rain is unrelenting.

The grey of the day filters through the bare windows, spreading itself as far as it can as Frankie prepares the second room of the three the two of you were set to do.

You don’t mind the sound of rain; you never have. You find it peaceful how it cascades down from the drains and runs in marathons down the glass. Right now, the sound trickles in through the open window, while the room is suffused with the scent of fresh paint from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of the third pot of coffee Frankie’s been brewing.

Even if he doesn't admit it, you swear he's only making as many so he can take a moment to kiss you. To run his hands over your waist and slide them over your romper-covered ass—

“Have I told you how good your ass looks in this?”

Sipping your coffee, tasting each note of it, you reply, “Twice, actually.”

“Not enough then.”

Between acting like teenagers in a stranger’s home (including him leaving a large handprint firmly on your denim-covered ass), the paint goes on in thick strokes. You cut in, trying to match the rhythm of the song playing out on the radio—a game only you are playing to distract yourself—because the sight of Frankie using the roller is ruining you.

Unable to stop staring at the way his arms flex with each motion; how his shirt stretches out across his back to the point you're not sure how the threads haven't ripped.

“Want to see the colour for this room?”

It’s a serene shade of yellow, reminiscent of a summer’s day. It'll brighten the room, glide nicely over the old, smothering secrets and old stories, offering something new. Fitting, you think from the drive over when Frankie told you the situation.

“It's perfect.”

“Isn't it?”

Arm around his waist, fingers stroking up and down his side. “Did you pick it, Morales?”

Shyness breaks out then, smile lopsided, eyes averting before whispering, “Maybe.”

You made a note to tell him later what an eye for colour he has.

Dipping the tip of the brush in the paint tray, you swipe it against the corner where two walls meet, finding his eyes on you again.

“Stop marvelling at my paintwork and focus on your own, Morales.”

“S’not your paint skills I’m staring at.”

Smirking, you look over your shoulder at him, nose scrunching. “Who knew watching me paint was your kink.”

You like the sound of his laugh mingling with the yellow on the walls. It makes you smile wider, a thing you find yourself doing each time you refill your paint tray as torture him with your terrible singing.

The only other noise is the rain, the clink of a paint can and the rustle of plastic drop cloths as the transformation happens before your very eyes. It’s not even dried, and it already looks far better than the cigarette-stained walls and palm-covered handprints you hadn’t wanted to guess why they were there, yet had done all the same.

“Maybe he’s measuring how tall he is with his hands.”

Frankie snorts. “What if he wipes his dirty hands on the wall? Finishes his food, wipes. Gets something on his finger, wipes. Has a sticky hand—well.”

You’re about to tell him not to finish that thought, when the radio plays the beginning notes of something that steals your attention.

It hooks in the corner of your lips and drags it up your cheeks as the familiar melody of an old favourite drifts from the speakers, wrapping the space in a cosy embrace—both taking you back and rooting you here in a new memory.

You try not to, but you can’t help the movement in your hips. The way you begin whispering—hushed voice mingling with the music, filling the room with a gentle, attempted harmony as your pitch gets higher, and higher.

Then, you're swaying to the rhythm, lost in it, catching a glimpse of Frankie out of the corner of your eye as he leans against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

There's something in his eyes, you can see it. A tender look, one that makes your heart skip a beat.

But you close your eyes, and let the music carry you away, your voice rising and falling with the lyrics as they spill from your lips effortlessly. Opening your eyes at the bridge, finding him still watching, in awe, gaze unwavering.

And there's a softness there in his expression that you've never seen before, a quiet intensity that takes your breath away. It's as if the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this sunshine-filled room, back-lit by a horrid stormy day.

Yet, it feels perfect.

More so as you begin to sing to him, unable to stop staring as he takes a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers slide under yours, taking the tray and brush from your hands, placing it aside as his smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners, looking at you as if you're the most precious thing in the world.

“What?”

He reaches out, gently brushing his knuckles on your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft and steady.

For a moment, the room seems to stand still.

A flicker of something sparks inside you. Those same words have been so close to your tongue for days now that you almost need to pinch yourself to see if you've really heard them.

But, you know you heard it. The declaration hanging in the air, weighty and profound, making the actual music fade into the background, you swear time itself pauses, allowing the enormity of his words to sink in.

Frankie slides his arm around your waist, still smiling, tugging you closer—a thing your body gives with all but ease. And he repeats it. Those three words.

This time, your heart skips a beat. Emotions swirl within you like a tempestuous sea. One that calms under the stroke of his thumb as your fingers wrapping around his wrist, drawing a soft shape there.

“I love you too, Morales.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, a grin breaking out like the sun on the walls. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

Then you hear it, the velvety, smooth sound of him saying good, as he kisses you to the last notes and chorus of an old, but new favourite song.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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syrupfog · 2 days

Text

Zoro has always had a nose for alcohol. It’s how he’s always able to find it whenever the cook finds new hiding spots—

Used to. Used to find new hiding spots. He’s not their cook anymore.

But he’s got a nose like a bloodhound for alcohol, which is how he ended up here, at what looks like an abandoned shrine to a god he doesn’t believe in, on the outskirts of Wano.

It’s easy enough to dig up a floorboard and find a veritable treasure trove of sealed bottles filled with purple liquid. Saké of some kind, surely.

If it’s good enough for some god, it’s good enough for him. The nap he takes after the first bottle, though, is… vivid.

The cook is there. Why is the cook there? Fuck him. But Zoro watches as he paces. He’s in some ridiculous getup with a cape.

And suddenly, in the way dreams often go, they’re in the Sunny. And Zoro is watching the cook embrace HIMSELF. Another Zoro. He’s got him in a death grip so strong Zoro himself can almost feel it, watching as he is from a distance.

But then the Zoro he’s watching us pushing Sanji off of him, and drawing his swords, and yelling something about betrayal and disloyalty, and Zoro sure does agree with THAT.

He watches as Sanji steps back, hands up, placating, and that Zoro growls and lunges at him.

When Zoro wakes up, he vows to forget about Sanji and move on. He’s gone, and no useless dream is going to bring him back.

He lives his day as a ronin as is the plan, but returns to his secret stash of saké at night. It’s good, free and plentiful.

And the next night his dream is just as vivid.

It’s the Merry this time. The Sanji in his dream has his hair parted the old way, and there’s a young Zoro with both his eyes, still. Zoro growls in disgust. Again with the cook?

It’s night in the dream and they’re on the deck,

Sanji’s got a hand laid gently over young Zoro’s, and with the other he’s pointing out a school of glowing fish. Zoro has a vague memory of the real moment, but not of the hand over his.

Then Sanji leans over and KISSES young Zoro, which— okay. So this is one of THOSE dreams.

The ones full of longing that Zoro’s worked to squash.

But he watches his younger self kiss back, and get everything Zoro never got. He’s bitter, looking at them.

And then young Zoro is pushing him off, and yelling. That he’s a liar and a traitor and royalty playing at pirates.

Zoro’s really not sure about where that last part is coming from. But he watches the horror wash across Sanji’s face and something inside of him twinges a little. He hears a whispered “I didn’t want this,” but it’s covered by the sharp sound of swords drawn, and then nothing.

Zoro doesn’t return for the saké for two more nights. He has no dreams.

When he returns, sips, and sleeps, he finds himself in the Baratie.

He really doesn’t remember much of the place, so the details of it now surprise him. The whole crew is there, even Brook, all except Sanji

When he appears, from the back, he looks haggard. Exhausted. Sopping wet. He’s wearing a waiter’s uniform, and has none of the bravado Zoro remembers from the Baratie.

“Your favorites?” He asks, sounding almost hopeful. “Sea king curry? Mikans? Cotton candy?”

He’s met with silence, everyone stopping what they’re doing. Luffy breaks it. “Why would we want anything YOU make?” He asks. “A failure like you doesn’t even deserve to serve the future pirate king.”

Zoro, watching from his table in the back, sees the way Sanji breaks.

He shrinks in on himself. “Please,” he says. “I’ll do better.”

“You couldn’t even keep them safe,” says a voice Zoro recognizes as his own, sitting among them. “You left Luffy to starve.”

“N-no,” Sanji trembles. “Please, I couldn’t— I had to keep everyone safe—“

Zoro can’t listen to any more of this. He stands, chair scraping the floor loudly.

Sanji’s eyes snap to him. Not the him at the table, but HIM.

As the dream fades out, Zoro finds himself glued in place under the weight of that shocked stare.

He thinks there might be something wrong with the saké.

But, after one night without it, his curiosity gets the best of him.

The dream is in a castle, imposing stone walls and dark lighting. Sanji is there, in front of a mirror, his face covered in purple and green bruises.

He’s playing with gold cuffs around his wrists.

Zoro steps up, out of the shadows, and Sanji sees him in the mirror. His eyes are red and swollen.

“Mosshead,” he breathes. His breath hitches and he swipes at his face with the heel of his palm. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything. He’s used to another Zoro being here for this part.

“I know you won’t forgive me,” Sanji says. “If— when I come back. I know even in my dreams it’s too late. But I need you to know I loved you.”

“Loved?” Zoro questions.

“Love,” Sanji chokes out. “Love. Fuck. Always will, at this rate. Just— When I see you again, when we meet in Wano— please don’t pretend you forgive me when you don’t. I can’t— it feels like every dream I have you love me before you hate me and I can’t take that again. Please don’t even give me hope. I know this was unforgivable.”

“Why’d you do it, then?” Zoro asks. This is a dream and can offer no real answers, but he still craves them.

Sanji sobs, both hands on his face now. The bracelets rattle. “They said they had Zeff,” he says.

“They— you weren’t at Zou! They could’ve easily destroyed everyone there and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it! I just— I wasn’t supposed to live this long. I wasn’t supposed to live this WELL. I can’t keep being selfish.”

Zoro scoffs. “Shut up,” he says, and Sanji flinches.

“Just fucking get back here or whatever. I don’t care about your excuses anymore. I’ll be waiting.”

He turns to leave, and as he does, a pink haired girl with curly eyebrows runs into the room and says something about Luffy. Fucking weird dream.

Zoro wakes up, and he doesn’t drink the saké again.

When he sees Sanji, it feels like it’s been a lifetime. The kimono he’s wearing is bright and his smile mirrors it.

Then Sanji turns and catches sight of Zoro and his smile dims.

Zoro feels angry all over again.

What was WITH all those fucking dreams?

He ignores him as long as he can, until they’re together on the edge of a forest and Sanji’s sleeves roll up just enough that Zoro catches sight of two red rings, fading into brown, around his wrists.

How…

“Cook,” Zoro says.

Sanji looks to him. He looks almost… scared. “What, dumbass?”

Zoro thinks about the cape with the silly outfit and the cuffs. He pauses. “Do you have a— sister? Pink hair?”

Sanji looks BEWILDERED. “…yes?” He asks. “Is— has she been here?”

Not physically, Zoro thinks.

Zoro takes a moment to recontextualize every dream he’s had since getting to Wano.

“Cook,” he says. Slower.

Sanji grits his teeth. “What,” he says. “Whatever you want to say, just spit it out.”

Zoro’s not sure what he wants to say. He wants to say many things.

Things like “I don’t forgive you for leaving” and “you betrayed us” and “you betrayed ME”. But also now things like “what were those first two dreams? The ones with us?” And “did you stop having those dreams after I stopped” and “was it worth it” and “did you want to come home”

What he settles on is, “Is it all finished?”

And maybe that was the worst possible question in the most vague way, but Sanji takes a moment and then nods, the motion a little jerk-y. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m— it’s finished.”

“Good,” Zoro says. He steps up to him and Sanji flinches

Somehow, more than anything else, THAT is what convinces Zoro that the dreams were shared. That they were Sanji from the beginning.

He ignores the flinch. He grabs Sanji’s wrist, avoiding the fading bruise, and squeezes to the edge of too tight.

“You were a fucking idiot.”

Sanji goes to draw back but Zoro tugs him closer. “You were a fucking idiot and I did hate you for it. But I. Don’t.”

Sanji freezes. He stares at the grass between them.

“Don’t leave again,” Zoro says. “I don’t hate you. Don’t leave again.”

There’s tears on Sanji’s face that Zoro won’t mention. “Okay,” he says. “Shitty swordsman. Don’t get full of yourself.”

But he leans forward. Hesitantly. Like a child waiting to be reprimanded. And when Zoro doesn’t, Sanji’s head lands on his shoulder.a

And Zoro doesn’t mention the tear tracks on his kimono or the way Sanji shakes apart in front of him.

And Sanji doesn’t mention that Zoro doesn’t let go of his wrist.

And maybe it’s a reoccurring problem, that neither of them mention things often enough.

But today—

Today and tonight, it works in their favor.

And when all this is over, no one else mentions is when they hold hands over the railing of the Sunny and watch the glowing fish pass by.

#zosan #my writing

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thelov3lybookworm · 10 hours

Text

Fussy Nights

Summary: Amelia is grumpy

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: just a silly lil drabble for the love of my life, fire of my loins, the anon from @daycourtofficial's blog 🥹

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears ❣️)

anyways, enjoyy!

Eris had always been a light sleeper. Even the slightest of sounds would have him jolt awake, scared out of his mind.

That was until he met Y/n, after his fathers death.

It had been over months since Eris had taken up the role of a high lord, but still, he would always keep looking behind his back, under his bed and in his closet for the ghost of Beron. His booming voice still echoed in Eris’s ears almost everyday, and every night, his father visited him in his sleep. Which was also one of the reasons Eris had stopped trying to even fall asleep without the help of heavy sedatives.

But then Y/n walked into his life, smiled at him, and turned him into a fool in love. He stopped thinking about his father as often, stopped staying awake to the haunting of his fathers ghost. Instead now, he stayed up wondering how to make Y/n laugh, wondering how she would look laying next to him, how she would look standing in front of him in a wedding gown. Fantasising about having his own family one day.

And once the two had gotten married, Eris had slept like a deity buried for years, only to wake up to the sweet, honeyed sound of his mate’s voice coaxing him gently out of sleep.

Or the screaming of his daughter, of course.

Which is what jolted him out of his sleep.

Eris shot up, his heart thumping heavily in his heart before he realised that no one was in danger, and that it was just his daughter who probably wanted some attention in the middle of the night calling for her parents.

He glanced at Y/n to find her peacefully passed out, and he smiled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her brow before he got up, shivering slightly as the chill night air coiled around his shirtless torso.

As he hurried to the crib a few feet away from the bed, he willed his body to warm up and repel the crisp coldness of the autumn night.

Amelia had stopped crying when Eris finally reached her, likely having felt him. She lay on her back, her eyes wide open and filled with tears, her lips jutting out in a pout.

"What happened, princess? Did you miss daddy?"

She sniffled, staring straight at Eris as she made grabby hands at Eris, and he laughed, leaning down to pick her up. He placed her against his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her little body as he turned. He rocked in place for some time, waiting to see if she would go back to sleep, but when she continued fussing, he turned towards the door.

"Come, let us go out to check up on the hounds. Mommy will wake up if we make too much noise here."

"Eris?"

He groaned inwardly. So much for not waking up mommy.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"What are you doing?"

He turned to find her half sitting, staring at him with furrowed brows.

"Nothing, my love. Lia was just fussing a little, so I thought I might take her to see the hounds for a little."

She sighed. "It’s cold outside, Eris. She will get sick. Bring her here."

Eris nodded, walking back and handing Amelia to Y/n. He watched as she tried to calm down their daughter, settling down next to Y/n’s legs as Lia started to feed.

"She was just hungry?"

Y/n nodded, yawning as she moved to get comfortable. "It’s been a few hours since she last fed."

Eris hummed, grabbing one of Y/n’s legs unconsciously and starting to rub soft circles.

It was a few moments before Y/n spoke up again.

"You don’t have to do that, my love." Her voice was soft, gentle.

Eris smiled, rolling his eyes. "Mhmm."

She let out a soft laugh at that.

"I think she’s full."

Eris glanced up as Y/n covered herself up again, leaning forward to take a drowsy Amelia from his mate. "I’ll burp her then?"

Y/n nodded, yawning again as she settled into bed.

"Good night, Y/n."

Y/n hummed, patting the space next to her. "Come, let her stay."

"Are you sure?" Eris mumbled, though he had already begun to climb under the covers, his arms wrapped carefully around Amelia.

"Of course."

Y/n and Amelia were both passed out before Eris could even get comfortable, and he grinned, staring at both his girls, looking so peaceful next to each other.

As he drifted off himself, he could not help but thank the mother for gifting him such precious beings.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover

@minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe

@saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination

@gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination @sunnyspycat @artists-ally

@milswrites @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @buttermilktea11

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

@ysmtttty @secret-third-thing

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar #high lord eris #eris vandaddy #heir of autumn court

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dulcesiabits · 9 hours

Text

the birds weep for you.

summary: what does it mean for a bird to live in a cage?

notes: 1.9k words, author's notes, power play, unhealthy/complicated relationships, character + relationship study

The bird flits against the rafters uselessly, wings beating in an eternal circle against the roof. Its small beak lets out distressed chirps, a language lost to human ears. The passing guests glance at it and then pass on, even as it spins uselessly, desperate for an escape.

“What should we do about that bird, sir? I propose we should capture it and then let it out the window. If it keeps going, it’ll tire itself to death,” you say, as cool and unflappable as ever.

“No. It won’t survive if we just let it go.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“Let’s keep it with us,” Sunday says.

You nod. “I’ll have someone prepare suitable bedding, food and water for it, then. But…”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? It’s a wild bird. It might not be used to living in captivity.”

“It’ll get used to it once it gets shelter and consistent meals,” Sunday says. “That’s a much better fate for it.”

Your mouth turns in a slight, unconscious frown, as if that wrinkle on your face houses all your doubts ready to fly loose, but all you do is say, “All right, sir.”

The soft tread of your steps echo behind him, but Sunday can’t look away, his arms clasped behind his back. The bird is still seeking, just like the rest of the hotel residents, a paradise of its own.

ii.

In the time since Sunday has taken over the Oak Family, he has not once replaced his secretary.

It’s convenient, for one thing, because you’ve worked for him for so long and training someone else would be arduous. And he also has a fondness for your diligence and work ethic, both of which will be difficult to replace. The two of you work well, and he has no professional complaints to lodge against you.

No, the only complaint he has isn’t a complaint so much as an observation: it’s the way you look at him, the flat mask you level at his face.

At first, Sunday thought it housed your hatred, simmering beneath the surface. He could deal with dissent. But you didn’t act as one would towards someone they hated. Perhaps you’re hiding your appreciation of him, then, out of some sense of embarrassment or professionalism. Also not out of place, considering how the rest of his employees praise his direction and skill.

But the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes neither are true.

What you really look at him with is apathy, a carefully curated distance. You neither fawn nor condemn him, not like your contemporaries. All you do is do what he asks of you, no more and no less, and let no judgment cloud your gaze.

He knows this because you unfurl jokes and levy smiles at your coworkers, speak in more casual tones and quips. But none of that warmth is ever directed towards him.

(And this is the more selfish reason Sunday keeps you close: what will make that mask of your crack? How can he peel back all of your layers until he can feverishly dig his hands into your soft, vulnerable parts? Reading and understanding people is easy: you’re the only one who escapes interpretation).

You’re an excellent secretary, he tells others. He has no complaints over your conduct, and he hopes to work with you for a long time.

(Sometimes, you look at him like you know him. Know his little games, his false smiles, his facades. It sends a little thrill through him, the implicit challenge and understanding of your gaze. Until he can finger all the pieces of your cracked facade, there’s no point in letting you go).

iii.

Robin spreads her arms like wings against the sky, looking so free it makes Sunday’s heart ache. “Brother, I think I’m going to leave Penacony.”

“Is that what you want?” he presses, heart pounding.

If there is any hesitation in Robin’s voice, then he’ll leap on it and tug on her doubt until it balloons and he can convince her to stay. But she smiles at him, so sure, so trusting, like she has ever since she was a child, snoring in his arms.

More than anything else in the world, he is her oldest brother first and foremost. To crush her conviction here would be the cruelest thing he could do.

“It is. I want to do what I can to help others, and I can’t just do that within Penacony,” Robin announces.

“I’ll support you, then. Just… be careful.”

“Of course! I’ll write every month, so don’t worry!”

Not worry? What an impossible request. Robin is his little sister, a truth so ancient it’s coded in his DNA and embedded in his bones.

Sunday has been there from the moment she first drew breath, has been her eyes and ears when she was still learning to use hers. His little sister, his one and only surviving family. Even if the world crumbles to ash, she is the one person he cannot lose. He can always rebuild Penacony, but he can never build a new sister.

Robin believes in the good of the world, doesn’t see the same hopelessness and despair, the same hollow faces of the people who flee to Penacony for a refuge. Hope, she seems to think, will always bring the light back to their eyes.

What can Sunday do to understand the world from her eyes? Because maybe, just maybe, the paradise Robin shapes with her song can truly exist.

But the other part of him wonders only this: what can he do to keep Robin safe, even when she’s flying through the galaxy to distant planets he’s never seen, beyond his reach?

(Years later, after Robin has been hit by a stray bullet, Sunday will still wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of her blood, his neck aching from the ghost of a wound he’s never received. He will dream about birds falling out of the sky with broken wings, and he will wonder if there are any just gods in the world).

iv.

Like clockwork, you slide a white mug of coffee across Sunday’s desk, steam rippling across the dark liquid with the movement. You’re always efficient. There’s never a wasted gesture with you.

Maybe he should promote you to a position even closer to him, where the higher paycheck and generous benefits will motivate you and ensure that you feel less inclined to leave. There are innocuous ways to tie you to his side so that leaving him will always be the worse choice.

Sunday balances the cup in his hand, taking a sip as he scans over his paperwork, and pauses, mouth parted in surprise at the sweet tang that cuts through the bitterness.

“What did you put in this?” he asks.

“Sugar. Three cubes of it,” you say.

“I don’t recall saying I wanted sugar in my coffee.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” you say dryly.

“Then why?”

“Well, sir, you only drink black coffee with clients and members of the other Families. But in private, you always add three sugar cubes to your coffee.”

“How… meticulous.”

“It’s my job to know what you need before you do, sir.”

Sunday takes another sip. This time, the sweetness spreads through his mouth like a silent dream.

Here are the irrefutable truths of the world:

The things that fly out of his grasp are too far to protect. He has to keep them close if they are to be safe. Better yet, under his protection, they will never need to fly and risk injury again.

Half-hearted kindness can’t save anyone. If he wants to save everyone, he has to sharpen his kindness into a weapon. That’s the only way to protect those who are weak in a cruel and unfair world.

There is no paradise to be found in this world. The only paradise will be the dream he builds with his own hands, a haven to everyone who needs shelter. True paradise can only be birthed from strict rules and regulations, to guide those who are lost.

It’s his duty to bear the burdens no one else can. Only he is capable of such a feat. To protect paradise, someone must bear the curse of knowledge.

Birds are born alone and will die alone, falling from the sky with no one to hear their cries.

vi.

It’s not love.

It’s not love, because Sunday doesn’t know what such a thing would feel like anymore.

Is it love because he’s known you for so long, because you know his pretenses and stay with him anyways?

Is it love when he wants to bind you to him in such a way that it marks your soul forever, so that even in the next life he will find you again?

Is it love when he constructs the cage of Penacony around you, restricting your movement to his garden, where you can bloom eternally in safety?

Love, or possession, or familiarity, or desperation, or pulling you close until you have no choice but to look at him, or the urge to break your facade and see it glittering on the floor like shards of broken glass. It all means the same thing, at the end of the day.

(Sunday knows better now. If you want to keep a bird safe, sometimes you have to clip their wings to negate the danger of flying first).

vii.

You finger the golden bars of the bird’s cage, fingers trailing slowly along the metal. The bird tilts its head, unruffled. Sunday drinks in your every gesture, committing it to memory.

“It’s no longer skittish,” you murmur.

“Is that such a horrible thing? It’s gotten used to it.”

“But that means it’ll be harder for it to acclimate to the wild.”

“Then we’ll just keep it here forever. It’s infinitely safer here.”

“It’s your bird,” you say blandly. “I’ll follow whatever you decide.”

Sunday could laugh. Those aren’t your true feelings at all, but it’s fascinating to watch the wrinkle form in your brow, the tension of your displeasure. No matter what he says or does, you’ll always choose the path of least resistance, like a bird gliding in the winds of a storm, pulled along just to survive.

“We can name it if you feel bad for it,” he suggests.

“We shouldn’t name it. Then we’ll get attached more than we should.”

“I could name it after you,” he says, watching your face carefully for your reaction. All your little habits, your tiny tells: he knows them all. How can he not, with how long he’s been watching you?

Your eyes are still cold, but your shoulders jerk back just slightly. “That’s not funny, sir. I’m no bird.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you emphasize. “Now I’m going to finish my paperwork. I’ll report back later.”

You stalk off, and Sunday watches the curve of your back recede into the distance, the ends of your coat fluttering like feathers. A coat that matches his in color, so you’ll always be marked by him in some indelible way.

Sunday raises a hand and presses his fingers lightly against the bars, the metal retaining only the barest heat from your touch.

Inside its cage, the bird chirps. It might have been a lament or a condemnation, or even gratitude. But Sunday will never know for sure, and the bird will never tell him.

#liya writes #honkai star rail #sunday #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday hsr x reader #oh its so fucking over for me. he compels me too much hes in my fuckin head!!!

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ramblingoak · 2 days

Text

Little Thief

Secondo x Female Reader

A little yeehaw!Secondo story for my dearest friendo @kissingghouls. Happy Birthday to my favorite haunted painting! I hope you have the most amazing day because you deserve only amazing things 💙 (special thank you to @tasty-ribz for the perfect Secondo art)

Warnings: gun violence, smut, nsfw 18+ only, mdni, 5,700 words, this does have a connection to The Cardinal's Bride universe but you can enjoy this just fine on its own! (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

Coming here was a mistake.

You jumped over the bar as the bullets started flying, ducking down and throwing an arm over your head when the liquor bottles began shattering above you. The Ministry was a big mark, way bigger than you had ever hit before, and you knew, you knew that it was going to be risky. You just hadn’t expected this to happen. Although at least the gunfight wasn’t your fault.

This time.

A body crashed down next to you, lifeless and still. With a grunt you turned it over to search for their gun. It was still in its holster so you yanked it out, pausing to shove your hand into their back pocket and take their wallet too. It’s not like they were gonna need either anyway. You rolled onto your knees, carefully putting your hands at the edge of the bartop to take a peek over.

“Well, shit.”

Chaos was still reigning over the casino floor but fortunately now it was mostly fist fights. The Ghouls that worked here had made quick work of most of those that had started shooting. You could see a small pile of bodies forming already. The two big Ghouls that were working the door that night easily lugging the men around. They were distracted enough you glanced towards the door, knowing that you needed to get out of there soon. Especially before any deputies arrived.

Lowering yourself back down you started crawling towards the door, keeping behind the bar and trying to avoid the broken glass. Tonight had been such a damn waste. You should have just skipped the town altogether. This is what happened when you got cocky but damn, you had gotten tired of doing small jobs. Stealing from a big casino, from The Ministry of all places, would have been perfect. And it would have given you enough money to have a little breathing room before your next job.

Oh well, you had gotten a decent enough amount from cheating at cards. It was enough to get you a room in the next town over for a few weeks at least. You reached the end of the bar and started to pull yourself up for one last look. Unfortunately you weren’t met with a view of the casino floor like you expected. Instead you ended up face to face with the man that ran The Ministry, a man you had heard enough about to know you should avoid him at all costs.

“Going somewhere?” Secondo’s tone was bored, his eyes raking over you briefly before he turned his attention to the glass of whiskey in his hand. “That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

You knew you should’ve just kept your mouth shut and made a run for the door. The Ghouls were still occupied enough sorting through who needed to be kicked or carried out that you doubted any of them would try to stop you. The chance of this man trying to stop you though had you frozen in place.

“I was curious how much more of my money you would steal.”

Fuck. You glanced towards the door but Secondo was smirking when you looked back so you stayed put. There was no way you’d make it now. He might be surrounded by his Ghouls but you’d heard enough stories about Papa Secondo to have a healthy amount of fear of him. Enough to realize you definitely shouldn’t have come here. You took a fortifying breath and squared your shoulders while you stared him down.

Time to see if you could talk yourself out of trouble.

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Come now, I’m not an idiot.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing, “And despite you thinking you could get away with stealing from me I don’t think you’re one either.”

“A compliment from Papa? Sounds like something I should brag about.” When those odd eyes of his flashed to yours you reached out and grabbed the drink from his hands, knocking back a mouthful before setting it down. “Kind of like how I’d brag about stealing from you. You know, if I had done that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve been watching you most of the night.” His voice had dropped an octave and he’d turned to give you his full attention. “Ever since my associate Mist told me what you were up to.”

“Mist?”

“She’s at the end of the bar now. Watching.” You looked down to see a woman with piercing blue eyes leaning against the bar. When you turned back to Secondo he had leaned in close and his breath danced across your cheek with his next words. “She thinks you will do something stupid.”

“The only stupid thing I did tonight was come here.” He narrowed his eyes at your comment but you continued anyway, “Your games are terrible and this whiskey is mostly water.”

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to do at your insults. Threaten you maybe. At worst try to grab you and then who knows what. Mist certainly seemed the type to do whatever her boss told her to do. But all Secondo did was laugh, the sound drew the attention of some of the other Ghouls but they got back to cleaning quickly.

“Ma dài, bellezza? Sei una terribile bugiarda.”

“What did you call me?” Secondo’s only answer was to let his eyes wander over you again before taking another drink. “Answer me.”

“A terrible liar.” His smirk returned when he saw your face turning red. “But I suppose I could also call you a terrible thief.”

“A lot of words just to call me a liar.”

“Unfortunately the other ones will cost you.”

Secondo stepped around the end of the bar to stand beside you. To have him so close was…intoxicating was the only word you could think of. Despite the danger he posed you there was no denying that he was an extremely handsome man. His presence alone commanded attention, respect and a healthy dose of fear if you had wronged him. But your heart wasn’t racing just because you had a pocketful of money you’d stolen from him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to give you.” You teasingly patted the sides of your jacket, taking a moment to flash it open so he could see the gun holstered at your hip. “So how about we call it a night before anything else happens.”

“What could happen?” He reached over to one of the few unbroken bottles along the wall and poured himself another drink. “Would you continue to cheat at cards?”

“I didn’t fucking cheat.”

“Or perhaps there’s a pair of loaded dice hidden in a pocket somewhere.” Secondo took a step closer, pinning you against the bar. “Would you let me look, ladruncola?”

It irritated you how badly you wanted to say ‘yes’ but honestly the longer he looked at you like that the more you wanted him to. Up close he smelled so good, he looked good too. His clothes were immaculate, down to the green handkerchief peeking out of his vest pocket. There wasn’t any harm in enjoying his company for the evening, right?

Especially if it got you out of trouble.

“As long as you search me in your room and not at the bar.” You found yourself returning his pleased smile but a flash of something reflecting in the glass of the bottle behind him had your chest seizing. One hand went for your gun while your other grabbed ahold of Secondo’s vest and you shoved him to the side with all your might. “Get down!”

Secondo cursed as the bottle shattered and you ducked to the side as you turned with your gun raised. A few tables from the bar one of the men that started the fight was standing with his own gun pointed your way. Secondo’s way. He snarled and moved to point it at you but he was too late, you let out two shots that hit him in the chest and had his body jerking backwards. The nearest Ghoul kicked the gun out of his hand but you knew he wouldn’t be getting up from that.

“Well, well.” You turned to look down at Secondo, relieved to see him unhurt but also smirking at you. Even if it was infuriating. “Grazie, ladruncola.”

“What does that mean?” Secondo took your offered hand, rising from the floor elegantly. He nodded towards Mist when she wandered over and she quickly turned away to go to the other Ghouls. When you tried to pull your hand back he held it tighter, his thumb sweeping across your knuckles. “I’m waiting.”

“Grazie means ‘thank you’. And I’ll say it again, ladruncola.” He brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back. The hairs of his mustache tickled your skin softly when he repeated himself. “Grazie.”

“You’re welcome,” Your knuckles received kisses next followed by him turning your hand over to kiss your palm. “But I meant the other word.”

“I’d rather tell you after I get you in my room.”

You sighed, knowing you probably should just leave. After saving him he probably would let you without a fuss too. There was just something about him that had you taking a step closer to straighten the handkerchief in his vest. You rested your hand on his chest and moved it up towards his shoulder while you leaned in close.

“As long as you promise to make it worth my while.” He was grinning when you pulled away, his mismatched eyes twinkling in a way you didn’t think you’d be able to forget. “Papa.”

“That’s a challenge I’m happy to accept.”

“How many weapons do you have?”

Secondo’s voice was equally incredulous and impressed. You gave him a smirk of your own as you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back towards his bed. He went willingly, his eyes dropping down to your hands as you made quick work of pulling the two knives he hadn’t found out of their hiding places.

“I like to be prepared.” When he sat back on the bed you followed, placing a knee on either side of his legs and resting your hands on his shoulders. “Surely you can appreciate that, hmm?”

“I can.” He took your mouth in a dizzying kiss, stealing your breath while his hands began to work on the buttons of your pants. You broke away with a gasp when he slid one hand inside, right in between your legs where you were already hot and wet. He wrapped his other arm around your waist to pull you closer, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth all the way to your ear. “I’ll appreciate all of you tonight.”

“I think I can promise the same.” You trailed your hands down to the buttons of his vest, going for his shirt buttons when you were done. His chest was covered with dark hair, patches of silver mixed in. He nearly purred like a cat when you ran your fingers through it. While you explored his chest his own hands began to wander but you were too distracted to stop him from slipping his fingers into the hidden pocket in your shirt. “Wait!”

He pulled away, your loaded dice held triumphantly in his hand. You had a sudden jolt of fear that perhaps this was all a game to him and he only brought you up here to expose why you were even at The Ministry. Neither of you were moving, your eyes stuck on his face while he began to roll the dice between his thumb and forefinger.

“These are certainly interesting, aren’t they?” He made a loose fist and shook them, his eyes moving to your face while they rattled around. There wasn’t any anger there, if anything he seemed amused but you still couldn’t bring yourself to move. With a quick movement he flicked the dice on the floor, not looking away as they landed. “Tell me what numbers came up.”

You looked down, your legs starting to shake from where they still straddled him and your heart racing. He placed both his hands on your waist while you leaned over as far as you dared, trying to make a show of looking even though you knew what numbers would be facing up. He did too, the bastard.

“Lucky you, a pair of sixes.”

He smirked, tugging you towards him again abruptly. You fell against his chest with a grunt, your mouth hovering right over his. He flashed you a smile before responding, his words making your heart race for an entirely different reason.

“Lucky me indeed.” His eyes were locked on yours for a few heartbeats before he glanced down at your lips. “If you would like to leave I wouldn’t stop you.” He moved so his lips were hovering over your ear. “But I keep the money and the dice.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I won that money fair and square.” His chest rumbled with laughter, his hands tightening around your waist. “And I don’t want to leave.”

“Bene. Because I have been wanting to kiss you ever since you insulted my whiskey.”

A retort was on the tip of your tongue, it did taste like it was watered down, but talking was impossible when he kissed you. It was as demanding as the man itself. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck while one of his hands gripped your head, tilting it just so to make the angle perfect. He tasted like whiskey and smoke, the combination intoxicating.

The need to feel more of him became too much, your hands pushing and pulling at his shirt and vest to get it off. With a quick movement he spun you so you were on your back on his bed, staring up at him while he took them off himself. Your eyes moved over his chest appreciatively, enjoying how the muscles of his arms moved under his skin. It was obvious he had done more than run a casino in his life. Those muscles were evidence of years working with guns and horses.

“See something you like?”

“Take the pants off and I’ll let you know.” His sudden laughter had you smiling and you lifted a foot up to rest on his thigh. “Unless you want my help?”

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you the opportunity.”

In a flash you were kneeling before him on the bed, your fingers eagerly working on the fastenings of his pants. His gun belt was already on the floor next to yours and your small pile of knives. It had surprised you he didn’t want a weapon close but you also had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t need any sort of weapon to take care of you if necessary. The thought should scare you, being here in his room should scare you, but all you could think of was how he was making your blood race through your veins.

And how the sight of his cock was making your mouth water.

Thick and long, it jutted out from the patch of hair between his legs proudly. There was already a drop of liquid at the tip and you leaned in to lick it off, grinning when it twitched. You locked eyes with him as you wrapped your lips around the tip, applying pressure along the bottom with your tongue. You began to move further down but he rested his hands on the side of your head, stopping your momentum.

“Ah ah, I have a different plan.” You pulled back, licking your lips and watching him as he smiled down at you. “Would you let me taste you, ladruncola?”

“If you insist.”

The visual of Secondo dropping to his knees in front of you wasn’t one you would forget any time soon. His fingers were steady as they undid your clothes, far steadier than yours were right now. All you had the strength to do was watch, watch as he exposed more and more of you to his strange eyes. It felt a little unfair for him to still be wearing his pants as he pulled off yours but as he looked at your core you couldn’t find the words to say anything about it.

“Bellissima.” You had no idea what it meant but the word, the worshipful way he said it made your cheeks heat up. He laid his hands on the inside of your thighs and gently push them wider. As his face got closer to where you were wet for him you could see his nose twitch as he took deep breaths and you were not going to survive this. Secondo closed his eyes and you saw his lips moving briefly before he caught your gaze. “Nema.”

His mouth covered you in the next moment, his hands moving behind you to grip your ass and hold you still. It was a good thing he did because while he licked and sucked at your flesh you were twitching and shaking. The sensations were overwhelming and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to be closer or get away from it. His nose pressed insistently against your clit while he worked his tongue around your opening, flicking and swiping it over and over. When he suddenly pushed it inside you couldn’t help but cry out, your hand letting go of the blanket in its grip and instead gripping his hair.

“Secondo, f-fu–ah!”

The man growled against you, gripping you tighter while he ate you out. Words kept bubbling in your throat but they just turned into whimpers. You weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, perhaps your own words of worship to the man himself. The rumors you had always heard about the man and his family briefly flashed in your mind. Images of the devil and upside down crosses but they were banished as soon as he slid two thick fingers into you and moved his mouth to your clit.

If this was how they worshipped the devil you’d sign up in a second.

Your peak was coming fast, wave after wave of pleasure making spots appear in your vision. Secondo didn’t let up, he just fucked you faster with his fingers. Two soon becoming three all while he sucked on your clit. Your nails kept digging harder and harder into his scalp but it didn’t seem to phase him. If anything it only spurred him on and when he curled his fingers to rub against your inner walls you felt yourself fall over a cliff, your orgasm rushing to meet you at the bottom.

“Are you awake?” You had no idea how long you had been laying there panting but his deep voice finally dragged you back from where you’d been drifting. You blinked up at him, grinning when you saw how out of sorts his mustache was. “Something amuse you?”

“I should steal from casinos more often.” Making this man laugh was like a drug and you did your best to commit the sight and sound to memory. It wasn’t just his mustache that was a mess, his hair was tussled and twisted from your fingers too. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up and smoothing it out, smiling softly when his eyes closed and he pressed into your hands. “You’re like a cat.”

“Un gatto?” He raised an eyebrow when you grinned. “I’ve had worse nicknames.”

“Oh? Like Papa?”

“Papa was a title, my title. Long ago.” You continued to rub along his scalp, waiting to see if he said anything else. “I went by a different one before that, before I was called back to my family.”

“What were you doing then?”

Secondo flashed you a small smile as began to pat your legs, nodding his head towards the headboard. You obediently scooted back, not being able to stop your eyes from falling to his cock. It had softened a bit but still looked eager for attention. He followed you further onto the bed, rubbing his hands up your legs until they were encouraging your thighs apart once more.

“About the same thing you’re doing now.” When you raised an eyebrow and gave him a once over he chuckled. “The same thing you were doing earlier. Stealing.”

“I wasn–”

“But I was much, much better at it, ladruncola.”

“Either fuck me or shut up.”

He smirked as he looked down at you, one hand going to his cock and beginning to stroke it. You wiggled a bit under the attention, the tension building in you again just by watching him pleasure himself. Well, two could play at that game. With a smirk of your own you began to touch yourself, sliding your fingers down your wet flesh and easily pressing two inside.

His eyes quickly locked onto your fingers, watching intensely as you moved them in and out. You added a third finger but it wasn’t even close to how it felt with his in you. With a frustrated growl you said his name and he immediately looked back up to your face. There was an unreadable look there, one you hadn’t seen yet that night. For a moment you were worried he was going to move away and tell you to leave but instead he finally moved closer. He grabbed your hand and tugged it away so he could line his cock up.

“Bone Daddy.” Your eyes flashed up to his to see him grinning. “That’s what they called me.”

You repeated the name, trying it out on your tongue. While he teased your opening with the head of his cock you thought back to those rumors you had heard of the Emeritus family. An image of Secondo with a painted face resembling a skull flashed in your mind and your gasp had little to do with how his cock was beginning to stretch you. He could be terrifying now you could barely comprehend how terrifying he would have been looking like that.

Terrifying and beautiful.

When he was all the way inside of you the name tumbled from your lips again. You took a moment to trace your finger along his face, trying to imagine what the design of the paint looked like. He let you go on for a few seconds before taking your hand in his and pressing it down next to your head. If he hadn’t of been looking at you like he was, like you were something he cared about, you would have been concerned you overstepped. Instead he lowered his head to kiss you, nipping at your lips until you opened up for his tongue.

You kissed him back, trying to match his intensity but you were getting desperate for him to move elsewhere. He groaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around his waist and wiggled your hips. After what felt like an eternity he finally pulled back, his lips as swollen as yours were. You felt like you were going to lose your mind if he didn’t move, if he didn’t start fucking you right now.

“Secondo, please.”

“Ah, ladruncola. You don’t need to beg. I’ll take care of you.” You bit your lip as he began to pull out, the drag of his thick length so good along your walls. He paused with the head at your entrance and you were so close to screaming at him, especially when he looked down at you smugly. “We’ll save the begging for later, eh?”

“Whatever you say Bone Daddy.”

You expected a response, another comment to continue your banter but instead he began to press back inside of you. It was a slow and steady thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust as he pushed in all the way. Your hands were scrabbling at the sheets by your head and your body trembled. When your groins touched he didn’t pause, he just started to pull out immediately.

Secondo quickly had a rhythm going, a steady drive in and out of you with his cock. All you could do was hang on, your legs still wrapped around him. The bed creaked beneath you both, the headboard hitting the wall when he began to thrust harder. He dropped down so he could kiss you, mimicking the movements of his cock with his tongue. You bit and sucked at it, one of your hands letting go of the sheet to find its way back into his hair.

Both of you were moaning, gasping as the pleasure began to build. You had to pull away from his mouth to suck in air and you buried your face in his neck while you did so. He kissed along your scalp while one of his big hands cradled the back of your head. It all suddenly felt so intimate, so much more than what it had started out as that you couldn’t help but imagine more of this. More than a night and more than a frenzied coupling.

“Look at me, ladruncola.” His fingers tightened just enough to get you to pull away, your head falling back onto the pillow. His thrusts were more sure now, purposeful. He slipped a hand down your body to touch you between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it just right. “I want to watch you. I want to see your face.”

Fuck, it was too much but you couldn’t deny him. You clung to him and panted as you hit your peak once again, your walls spasming around him. He was the first to break eye contact, groaning and muttering in Italian when his cock began to kick and empty inside of you. For a moment you imagined that you could feel it, feel his seed fill you up. Your hips moved on their own accord then, rotating slightly to help him as he came down until he finally stopped and collapsed on top of you.

You weren’t sure if it had been minutes or hours but his weight was a comforting thing and you didn’t have any desire to move. His softened cock had fallen out of you and while the feeling of his seed leaving was uncomfortable you hoped that he would take you again before the morning arrived. You had no desire to leave this room. The only thing you wanted was Secondo and you’d take as much of him as he was willing to give you.

With a grunt he finally pulled away, rolling onto his back next to you. The cool night air drifted in through an open window across the room and distantly you could hear the tinkling keys of a piano. You risked a glance over at him, letting your eyes linger when you saw his were closed. The skull paint appeared in your mind again and you resolved to ask him later what it looked like.

“Would you like some watered down whiskey?”

You snorted, nodding when he cracked open an eye to look at you. He got up with a grunt and made his way over to a small bar against the wall. When he headed back with two glasses in his hand you sat up and leaned back against the headboard. The whiskey burned your tongue but it was good, much better than what you had at his bar.

“So you save the good stuff for yourself.”

“And you.” He tilted his head back and drained the rest of his glass, looking pleased when you did the same. With the ease of a cat he got up and refilled them, grabbing something else before he made his way back over. “I was hoping you would indulge me.”

“Haven’t I already been doing that?”

“Indeed, but I was hoping I could interest you in a game of poker.” He placed his glass on a small table by the bed and you then noticed the item in his hand was a deck of cards. They came to life in his hands as he began to shuffle them, doing moves and tricks that were impossible for your eyes to keep up with. “Perhaps you’d like to make it interesting.”

“I’m listening.”

Secondo began to deal the cards out and you leaned over to set your glass next to his so you could gather yours up.

“I would like an opportunity to win my money back.” Your eyes flashed up to his in alarm but his expression hadn’t changed. He had the same amused and almost fond look that he’d had since he had brought you into his room. You looked back down at your cards and started to shuffle them slowly. “But of course if I lose you stand to earn even more. Except fairly this time.”

“I can play fair but you’re going to regret it.”

“Oh I don’t think so. Either way I’ll still have you in my bed. Won’t I, ladruncola?”

“You haven’t told me what that means yet. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Another thing you can win then. I will translate that and more if you beat me.”

“Prepare to lose, Papa.”

Secondo laughed before taking a drink and then leaning in to kiss you. The whiskey was fresh on his tongue and you sucked at it to get a better taste. While the kiss deepened you thought about everything that had led you to this man’s bed. About getting caught up in a gun fight and then getting caught by Secondo himself.

You thought about seeing that man raise his gun and how you hadn’t even blinked before shoving Secondo out of the way. You thought of his presence and his words, how he had gotten you into his room even though he didn’t have to try very hard. It was easy to imagine this man holding the attention of a congregation if those rumors were true. You’d certainly follow him to more than just his bedroom.

When he pulled away you couldn’t help but pout and he nipped at your bottom lip before leaning back again. He picked up his cards but his gaze was steady on you, those green and white eyes unwavering. You began to fidget, shuffling your cards in slightly unsteady hands before you couldn’t take it any more.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ll be losing at all tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached out for your hand, bringing it to his mouth, cards and all. Gentle kisses were pressed over your knuckles before he let go.

“Either way I’m winning you, aren’t I?”

You had to bite your lips to stop yourself from saying something stupid. Something stupid and sappy that you had no right to say. But Secondo continued to watch you and his face was content, like he didn’t have a care in the world and just wanted to enjoy his time with you. It was a feeling you shared so you stopped trying to hide it and let it show on your face.

“Me too.”

“Bene. Well then, I’ll let you go first.”

As the game began and went on you couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun. Obviously the sex had been amazing and you hoped there would be more of it soon but spending time with Secondo like this felt amazing too. You were able to draw some more stories out of him and in exchange you told him a few of yours. Both of you showed off some scars and the actions that led to them.

You got a description of what Bone Daddy looked like, skull paint and all. He told you about the church he and his Ghouls belonged to. Used to belong to. There was definitely more of a story there but you weren’t going to press it. As a thank you for him sharing something you could tell still pained him you shared a story that still pained you. At that point the card game was forgotten, the cards falling to the floor when you both met in a heated kiss.

Later, as you both caught your breath, your skin sticky with sweat and other things, you felt something press against your back. With a grunt you raised yourself on an elbow and reached a hand into the sheets to find the culprit. You came back with a handful of cards and as you leaned over Secondo to toss them with the others on the floor you noticed something that had you freeze.

There were two ace of spades.

Secondo was laughing when you turned to glare at him, easily bringing a hand up to block the cards when you threw them his way. You wanted to make a bigger deal of it but the problem was you recognized them as your own cards. The bastard had grabbed your deck although when he slipped it out of your coat you had no idea. He wrapped an arm around your waist and began to tug you close, chuckling when you let him with minimal protest.

“That’s quite the deck you have.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t finish the game I think I had the hand to beat.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Ah, ladruncola. Don’t be upset with me.”

“Tell me what ‘ladruncola’ means.” When he didn’t speak you turned in his arms to stare him down. “Tell me.”

“Little thief.” He was kissing you again before you were able to curse at him. It was really unfair how his kisses made you lose track of yourself. It ended far too soon but he stayed close, tilting his head down so your foreheads rested together. “But you’re my little thief, aren’t you?”

You kissed him again in answer, opening your mouth over his while you moved to straddle his lap. There were certainly worse things he could call you. And there were certainly worse things that could be happening right now. This was infinitely better than spending the night in jail and if you were honest with yourself this was one of the best nights of your life.

You’d be his ladruncola as long as he would have you.

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bridenore · 2 days

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HD eight year fic recs : less than 10k words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are less than 10k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

All I Have to Do by @fluxweeed [9k]

The Patented Daydream Charm (Adult Edition) allows you to enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute sexual fantasy. Solitude and privacy spells advised. or: Draco finally has some alone time; Harry just needs to nip in for a book.

All We Want Is Danger by @cassiaratheslytherpuff [9k]

Something weird was happening to Draco. It wasn’t something Harry was used to being concerned about. He’d spent most of sixth year sure that Draco was up to something, yes, but this was different. This was – something was off. Wrong. Harry had never in his life been scared of Draco. And yet, something about him had changed enough to make the hair rise on the back of Harry’s neck every time he entered a room. The feeling was only made stranger by the rush of arousal that usually came along with it.

Alpha by @lqtraintracks [2k]

Finding out I’m Malfoy’s Alpha and he’s my Omega might have gone a lot differently had we not still hated each other. But we do, so here’s how it goes

Aurora by @wolfpants [5k]

Eighth Year at a half-built Hogwarts, and Harry is not following Draco Malfoy anymore. At least, that's what he's telling himself.

Awake in the Night by venis_envy [2k]

H/D Post war, eighth year Hogwarts.

Back to You by aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Bare Feet, Giant Squid, and One Perfect Moment by bryoneybrynn [4k]

Gryffindor may be the House of the brave but Harry’s feeling a bit nervous. It’s one thing to face a dragon or a Dark Lord. It’s quite another to make a move on the bloke who’s been your nemesis for the last eight years…

Brandishing The Wand by @ladderofyears [2k]

When four Eighth Year boys overhear Draco and Harry having sex in the dormitory bathroom, each jumps to a very erroneous conclusion.

Checking out the Opposition by birdsofshore [6k]

Harry and Draco seem quite wound up after their latest game of Quidditch.

The Comfiest Armchair by @xanthippe74 [2k]

In which Harry and Draco won’t stop fighting over the best armchair in the Eighth-Year common room, Hermione takes matters into her own hands, and Harry sees a (ahem) side of Draco that he’s never seen before.

Empty Nights by winterstorrm [4k]

Draco and Harry have had this ‘thing’ for months now. It’s ‘just sex’ though, right?

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Flutter by @shiftylinguini [4k]

Being back at Hogwarts is not what Harry expected, and neither is what’s going on between himself and Malfoy, but it feels good, and that? Well, that’s what Harry’s chasing this year. Amid the rebuilding of the school and the budding relationships of the other students at Hogwarts in spring, Harry finds that the flutter of change and the new feelings it brings are exactly what he wants ― and more.

Games Night by @agentmoppet [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus [6k]

Harry hadn’t expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it’s the only thing that helps him let go.

A Good Place to Start by JET_Playin [2k]

Harry is finding 8th year rather dull until he goes to visit Hagrid and ends up helping him deliver Draco Malfoy’s baby. Now he has to protect Malfoy and keep his secrets and he might just be falling a little in love with both Malfoys just to complicate matters.

Good to Me (And I’d Be So Good to You) by AWickedMemory [8k]

Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry’s groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that’s okay: Harry’s got a plan.

Grow by @shiftylinguini [3k]

There’s an abandoned greenhouse, right at the back of the lot. There are unruly trees, and snagged brambles, and the grass is long and lush. It feels like the Forest, but tamer somehow, and Draco likes it. It feels like the spot where the castle meets the wild, or where the wild is trying to creep back in. There’s something mildly thrilling about it at night, the potential for danger, for something to look back at Draco as he stares into the dark, lush woods. Draco’s always loved that feeling. This is where they meet.

Jump Into the Fog by taradiane [9k]

Draco returns to Hogwarts for his eighth year carrying a secret that will change not just his life, but Harry’s as well.

Of the Heart's Fullness and Of the Coming Emptiness by tout a coup [9k]

Harry Potter is nineteen, and he's already peaked.

An Old Habit by fireflavored [8k]

The boys have changed a lot over the summer after the war, but Harry hasn’t got over the urge to spy on Malfoy.

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks [5k]

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kneazles by curiouslyfic [1k]

Harry sort of comes back to the world to the sound of sniffling, which strikes him as odd.

Room for Improvement by acromantular [2k]

Malfoy’s family-rehabilitation project is going so well. But is Potter worth risking all his hard work?

Sexplanations (Of the Horrible Sort) by @bixgirl1 [7k]

Harry’s willing to put up with a certain amount of injury, as long as he and Malfoy can keep doing… whatever it is they’re doing. Maybe. Mostly. Especially if there might be more to it than sex. Based on a tumblr headcanon.

Snug by @moonflower-rose [6k]

Potter can’t keep his hands off himself. Draco can’t look away.

Sores by mijeli [3k]

It’s been going on for weeks. They don’t talk about it.

Speechless by mayberry_rose [6k]

In which Draco can’t speak, and Harry learns to listen.

Starting Positions by @bixgirl1 [8k]

Later, Harry would wonder if Malfoy regretted that first, surprised mutter after three days of hard-pointed silence. Later, Harry would wonder about his own lack of regret over looking up when he heard Malfoy’s voice. But that would come after everything had already happened, the way events always seemed to, when even a Time-Turner couldn’t change things. The shape of a path, as Harry knew very well by then, once walked, was a lot like a paper crane — unfolded and pressed flat, you could try to fashion it into something different, but the original creases would always remain.

Storm in a Teacup by @faith2wood [7k]

For reasons he’d rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter’s hair. This cannot end well.

swallow your words by icarusinflight [9k]

The truth is, not many things are known about the magic that is behind soulmarks. They’ll turn up when they want and not before. The truth is, you don’t get a choice in your soulmark. The truth is, not everyone is okay with that.

This Heart Shut Wide by @xanthippe74 [4k]

It’s New Year’s Eve and Draco refuses to talk to anyone at this wretched party in the Eighth-Year common room. He’s going to ignore Harry Potter and not think about snogging him in the staircase earlier. And he’s definitely not going to let himself fuck up both their lives by continuing the reckless game they’re playing. As usual, nothing goes according to Draco’s plan.

Trouble with your tie, Potter? by @tenthousandyearsx [6k]

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

the Veela codec by curiouslyfic [3k]

Potter wants obvious. Draco wants Potter. Clearly, some sort of plan will be required.

What Potter Wants by birdsofshore [3k]

Harry definitely didn’t want to do that to Malfoy. Not at all. So why did Malfoy keep saying that he did?

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #eight year

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pablitogavii · 1 day

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Hello can you do a Fanfic about Pablo Gavi and the reader are in toxic Relationship but with some smut? Btw no pressure take your time writing 💘💌

They are not in a relationship..yet ;)

Moving in with Pablo Gavi might have been the worst choice of my life. Even though the apartment was in the center, very luxurious and nice, having him as a roommate was the same as having him as a jealous boyfriend sometimes!

"I'm telling you that you're not going out like that!" Pablo was determined laying back in the sofa watching some old Barça game while I was getting ready in my own bedroom.

"And I'm telling you to stop acting like my dad Pablo! Just because we live together doesn't mean you can boss me around!" I yelled back rolling my eyes while messaging his sister. She is the one who suggested I move in with her younger brother so I at least have someone in Barcelona.

"I won't repeat myself, Y/n..you..are..not..going..anywhere" he was now at my door frame checking out my little black dress trying his best to look me in the eyes instead.

"Why do you care what I wear!? Maybe I want some attention tonight!" I said the first thing that came to mind obviously not meaning it..truth be told, I quickly developed a crush on my jealous roommate.

"Whose attention!?" he was quick and I rolled my eyes grabbing my phone but he quickly snatched it from my hands looking at the screen.

"Hey! That's mine! Give it back asshole!" I jumped trying to grab my phon from him but his hand quickly wrapped around my waist holding my down while he looked at my messages with his sister.

"You're dissing me to my sister, bug?" he smirked and I rolled my eyes pulling away and crossing my arms in front of my chest in anger. Pablo gave my phone back when he was satisfied that it was only his sister I was texting.

"Now if you're satisfied, move so I can go"I said about to walk past him but he was still as a statue shaking his head looking down at my little outfit.

"You will get in trouble looking like that at night.." he said more so worried than angry now. I looked him with big eyes using them to my advantage per usual. I quickly learned how to get my way with this man.

"Fine! Do what you want but have me on speed dial!" he said leaving my room and I smiled nodding my head quickly kissing his cheek before leaving for the night.

y.n.bebe

Barcelona, Spain

See ya tonight Barcelona ✨

comments:

juancarlos: aiii mamiiii 🤤

javierbar: i'll search for you in the crowds hermosa

braxtonmall: things I'd do to that body mamiii

gavifans: is Gavi coming???

aurorapaezg: linda💗

y.n.bebe: 💗💗

Pablo just kept scrolling down at the comments of various men saying the most gross and nasty things they would do to me. He was so anxious that he couldn't even pay any more attention to the game so he turned the TV off.

All he could think about is me in that black dress..all alone..with all of those sick people out there. He quickly changed into some fancy clothes texting to ask for my location. I didn't respond cause music was too loud to hear anything, so he called Aurora in the middle of the night.

"Do you know what club she went to Rora!?" he asked and the girl was just waking up from her sleep confused.

"Pablo? Did something happen to Y/n?" she asked

"No! I mean, I don't know! But she shouldn't be out looking like that and alone! It's dangerous Rora! They know she lives with me, so what if someone attacks or kidnaps her!?" he was spirling and Aurora told him to breathe for a moment.

"Seriously, Pablo. You care almost like you're her boyfriend. She's probably fine, why don't you go to sleep?" Aurora said knowing deep down about her brother's crush on me.

"I can't sleep when she's not here...just please tell me where she went!" he said feeling his own heart jump at the words he used. He really cared about me and wished I knew how much.

Meanwhile, the party was getting boring. People were too drunk and everyone started touching random strangers. I was never into that kind of stuff so I decided to call myself an Uber and go home knowing Pablo must be going mental already.

When I turned on my phone, I gulped. Shit! He called me nine times!? Ohh he's probably pissed off right now.

"Pretty girls like you don't need to pay for an Uber, I can drive you home linda" half drunk man walked up to me and I politely said that I was fine.

"What!? You think you too good for anyone but Pablo Gavi!? I have the same car as him, princess..vamos!" he was grabbing my hand now and i panicked speed dialing my emergency contact..Pablo Gavi.

"Y/n! Are you crazy not to answer your phone! Hola!?" Pablo's voice was heard as he was yelling as I tried my best to make him realize I was in trouble.

"Um..I don't want to go with you please leave me alone" I said a bit louder hoping Pablo heard before hanging up the phone.

Since Aurora told him where I was, he was already almost there seeing me in the parking lot pulling away from the guy and quickly braking and rushing outside of the car not caring that he almost cause a car accident.

"Hey hijo de puta! How do you like this, huh!?" he fist punched him and I screamed while he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the car with him before cameras and paparazzi showed up.

"Oh my God Pablo! You won't believe what happened..I.." I was catching my breath trying to talk but he interrupted me rather rudely.

"Callate! We'll talk when we get home!" he said and I gulped looking at his clenched jaw and bloody knuckles..fuck he was pissed off now!

"Come on, let me help you" he said seeing a little bruise on my knee when I fell trying to run and he carried me bridal style onto our shared apartment. I felt my heart beating fast as he sat me down on the sofa grunting a little while inspecting his hand.

"Pablo..I.." I tried again but he shook his head making me shut up.

"Are you really angry with me?" I said sadly but he was in no mood for sentiments. He was scared half to death when he heard my helpless voice on the phone.

"Yes! I am angry with you!" he yelled and I punted curling up in the ball leaving him alone.

"I told you what would happen! Bot Mrs. Independant does anything she wants even if it puts her in trouble!" he was saying it still not looking into my eyes.

"I didn't know that would happen, okay!?" I was angry now too. Why was he scolding me when if I try to be closer to him he pushes me away!?

"What did you think huh!? That you can protect yourself if a guy throws himself at you!?" he said finally looking at me with eyes red from anger.

"Whatever, Pablo! I didn't need your help anyways!" now I was acting out of stubbornness hating the fact that he still looks at me as a child. I tried getting up but he wouldn't let me throwing me on the sofa and hovering above me.

"Oh yeah!? And what would you do if a guy pins you down like this, huh!? Hold your arms above your head? You would fight him off, no?" he was mocking me now and I blushed bright red at the position we were currently in. He was only inches away from my face holding me tightly against the sofa.

"Pablo, let me go!" I said trying to struggle which only made the boy laugh.

"That's all you would do? Please, bug you don't have half of my strenght!" he said and I stopped struggling looking away with a sad face. He was right..he really saved me tonight and I am giving him the attitude again.

"I know what I would do.." I whisper and he leans down turning my face towards his.

"What is that preciosa?" he said looking from my lips to my eyes and I bit my lower lip..fuck it!

"I would call you.." I admit and he smirked nodding his head and leaning further down to capture my lips in a sweet passionate kiss.

"And I would always come..to protect you princesa" he spoke while leaving butterfly kisses down my neck and shoulders while I closed my eyes enjoying the new sensation.

"Mm Pablito?" I said and he raised his head looking me in the eyes.

"Yes mi amor?" he said and I swear something in be broke the moment i heard those words leave his gorgeous lips.

"Are you still angry with me?" I say with a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief shrugging his shoulders in response.

"What if I help you now?" I said moving a little to sit on his lap and he welcomed it curious to what I will do next. I smile leaning forwards to kiss his knuckles and he smiled playing with my hair gently.

"Better mi heroe?" I smile looking up and he smirked nodding his head and leaning down to kiss my lips hungrily.

"Don't ever do something stupid like this again, princesa!?" he said sternly and I blushed nodding my head.

"Now i have all the attention I need at home..from mi novio" I said and he grabbed my neck pulling me a little up before smashing his lips onto mine again.

"How long I wanted to hear you say that mi amor.." he whispered into my lips while we were kissing.

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #gavi x you #gavi x yn #gavi x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 3 hours

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AEIWAM ask: if my Kenpachi Count is correct, Gosuke Kiganjo might have been the previous captain of the 11th that Zaraki killed to get his job. Is that the case? How many problems did losing that co-conspirator cause for Aizen? And how much of a grudge did he hold for the big unkillable brute?

(With Reference to This Post and This One) It started with a pair of oranges.

---

It was Monday, November 11th, and like every November 11th, there was a ruckus coming from the 11th division. It was a faint noise largely obscured by distance and the windows that had been closed against the early winter cold, but it was still present as Now-Captain Sosuke Aizen reorganized Former Captain Hirako's office into his own.

He was luxuriating in the task. It was something he'd looked forward to for a long time- getting rid of the complex musical speakers that droned the worst assemblage of noises that apparently qualified as music, and finally installing a proper filing system in it's place was filling Aizen with a profound satisfaction that he assumed was an overture to his inevitable victory.

The way everyone was pointedly referring to him as Captain Aizen because they were trying to memorize the title tickled him a bit too. Perhaps it was vain of him to enjoy it so much but... well, the little theatrical dance of pretending to pretend he wasn't grimacing and playing up the act of Putting On A Brave Face, only for whoever was speaking to try to reassure him that everything would work out, that he was being so brave, and you don't have to do this yourself-

"Oh no, I don't think I could stand leaving it to anyone else!" He'd respond, and the whispers of how Brave and Dutiful and Humble he was slithered through the division...

...An actor can hardly be faulted for enjoying the adulation of the crowd.

"Hey Bos- uh, Captain!" A boy's voice called behind him.

Of course, it helped that Aizen had been blessed with such a stellar supporting actor.

"Can you help me?" now-Lieutenant Gin Ichimaru asked, tugging on Aizen's Haori for his attention like a normal child, something the boy had learned was enormously charming of him. "-I can't get this thing to stay on my arm." he explained, holding up Aizen's old Lieutenant's badge, the slightly oversized sleeves of his Kosode falling back to reveal his toothpick-thin arms.

"Oh dear. That' won't fit you for a few years yet, will it Gin?" Aizen smiled, patting the boys head and kneeling down, tying it one way, failing, trying another, failing again, giving an enormously defeated sigh, going over to Hira- No, HIS desk now! his desk and rifling through the drawers, and came back with a Safety Pin to hold the badge in place.

"...There!" he beamed, patting Gin's shoulder when the badge didn't slide off his scrawny arm. "-Just don't tell Yamamoto-sama!"

Aizen then turned to look over his shoulder down the hall, where no fewer than a dozen faces peeking out of doors and around corners to watch the scene, and held a finger up to his lips with a small wink. The heads vanished with small gasps, charmed chuckles and a few high-pitched teakettle-like outbursts Gin had once aptly described as "Squeeing".

Scene over and Audience satisfied, Aizen closed the figurative curtains and literal door. Suigetsu pinged softly, Illusion activating- anyone listening in wouldn't quite be able to make out the words, but walk away confident that they were only discussing Division Business.

"You're in a good mood!" Gin grinned up at him, noting Suigetsu's call and the invitation to speak freely. "Though I guess it's not a surprise. It's been a very successful week for you!"

Aizen shrugged, just a little bit smug. "I am allowed to enjoy my laurels once in a while, I think."

Gin laughed, and hopped up to sit on the desk, kicking his feet over the footwell as he fished some oranges he'd taken from the commisary out of his pockets. "Speaking of people who have had very... intense weeks, where's old blind bones?"

"Captain Tousen actually insisted on attending the 11th Division Tryouts, even though both Ukitake and Kyorako offered to go in his place so he could rest!" Aizen said, taking one orange for now and another for later- he'd like to have to work through lunch, he was now so burdened with responsibility, a fun little scene he was workshopping in the back of his head. "...I suppose the poor bastard still regards Kiganjo as his responsibility."

"Hm." Gin nodded, mouth full of orange, spiral peel on the desk beside him. Aizen nodded at the peel and pointed at the trash can behind the boy.

"Sorry, Lord Aizen. That might be-' he swallowed, and tossed the peel over his shoulder and into the bin. '-but it could also be tactical. Unohana-taicho attends every year and within arm's reach of her might be the safest place for him right now. Be a shame if he had a turn, you know?"

"It's a damn shame that Kiganjo hasn't had one." Aizen grumbled.

"Yeah I was sure the Menos invasion would be enough to do him and the Loud Idiot from the tenth in." Gin sulked. "Oh well, I suppose it's good we had a trial run- now we know we gotta really ramp up production of Menos."

"Fortune was on our side in that respect." Aizen agreed, examining his first orange for the best place to begin peeling. There was an art to it, and the practice helped maintain his skills. "Maybe fortune will smile upon us again and Kiganjo will fall to some idiot at the tryouts."

He had just found the perfect place to begin when the ambient reiatsu of the Seireitei suddenly shuddered and bowed, like he was standing inside a rubber balloon and could make out the silhouette of someone approaching with a hatpin. Aizen reflexively jammed the orange in his pocket with it's companion as his head swiveled north like an owl. The incoming sharp point of reiatsu approached at an alarming speed-

BANG!

Whatever it was met the outer wall of the Seireitei. To Aizen's Horror, did not slow down. It was however now accompanied by successive crashes that seemed to be getting closer-

BANG!

THUNK!

Aizen ran out the door, and slid a bit on the wood floors as whatever it was suddenly flew over the 5th division and made impact deep into the relatively soft earth of the training grounds.

"What the-?" He asked glasses askew not with practiced effort but genuine bewilderment. It took a moment to recognize the massive object now embedded upside-down in the middle of the courtyard, because Aizen had only ever seen it rightside up, and firmly bolted in place. "-Is. Is that the North Gate?" he sputtered, the feeling of surprise now turning into something bordering on Genuine alarm.

"I think that's Fortune's idea of a smile." Gin winced. "We uh... We should probably hoof it to the 11th."

"What?" Aizen repeated, genuinely surprised. "Why?"

Gin pointed in the direction of the 11th, and Aizen sluggishly followed his gesture-

CRACK!!

The outburst of reiatsu was so explosive it generated it's own superbolt of lightning- though whether it was the result of ionization down from the clouds, or worse- came up from the ground, he wasn't sure.

"...Oh." He paled, then steeled himself, clenching fists and inhaling. "LISTEN UP!" he barked to be heard over the growing din of alarm. "Our first priority is to keep the city from falling to chaos until we're told otherwise! Seated officers! Each of you take a dozen men and head to the Emergency rally points! Keep civilians calm, and direct them away from the 11th! Gin, you're with me!"

"SIR! YES SIR!" the assembled Shinigami shouted, and quickly fell in as he and Gin took off with Shun-po towards the scene of the catastrophe.

"You've got speed on me Gin, go scout ahead!" He called and the boy vanished in a silver flash of light ahead of him. He could make out other approaching officers- Kuchiki, his lieutenant with the fancy sunglasses and his grandson from the sixth and Lieutenant Yamada and an emergency troop from the fourth.

Another flash- bright red-orange for the instant it was visible- and he realized Yamamoto himself had deployed to the scene.

"Why does every woman turn into a huge bitch when you ask her to smile?" Aizen groaned.

Even with Shun-po it still took him a few minutes to actually arrive, just ahead of the Kuchiki detachment, and landed beside Gin where he was standing on the roof of the 11th. "How is it?" he panted.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" Gin grimaced as more people arrived behind them-

"Holy FUCK!" Yelped Captain Ukitake, a man who was so careful with his language he kept a division swear jar.

"What the hell made that?" Echoed Captain Kyoraku, voice trembling.

Below them, the Dueling arena in the courtyard of the 11th had been cleft in twain. As had the rest of the Courtyard. And the ground below. And the Sewers below that- even from up here he couldn't see how deep the cut went- it had to be at least a hundred feet deep, which made it... deeper than it was wide, a terrifying thought.

"Just give me the news, Gin." He said, trying to sound like a Captain in control of the situation, but his voice cracked for the first time since puberty. Aizen shuddered as he realized that all was left of Kiganjo were the splashes of red on either side of The Hole's median.

"Well uh, the good news is that the thing that made that hole was only mad at Kiganjo specifically, and has peacefully accepted the commission as Captain of the 11th." Gin explained.

"Oh thank god!" Ukitake exhaled with relief.

"...What's the Bad news?" Kyoraku asked.

"...The bad news is the The Thing That Made That Hole is now captain of the 11th." Gin winced, pointing him out in the surprisingly calm crowd. "...Also, I think he already knows Captain Unohana because he was awful polite without her threatening him at all, and unless I'm mistaken, I think he knows Tousen too."

Aizen followed Gin's lead with great alarm for the second time in under ten minutes, and barely managed to pick out Tousen's garish orange scarf in the crowd. Mostly because of the Giant man in about half of a ratty Yukata and mostly bandages was standing next to Tousen, hand on the captain's shoulder and grin so broad it was visible even from up here. The man had long, unkempt black hair that came down to the middle of his back and some kind of bundle on his shoulder.

"...I guess we go make our introductions?" Ukitake mumbled, and the other two captains shrugged, then jumped down.

Tousen's expressions were hard to read on a good day, and right now he looked so stunned he might have been hit by that lighting bolt.

"-See, I never forget a face!" The giant was saying cheerfully. "Even if it's in a pho- whatsit. The paintings that come out of a box." The giant was an ugly beast of a man, at least seven feet tall, standing barefoot, and had a strangely long and angular face, with dark, sunken eyes.

"A Photograph Ken-Chan?" the bundle asked, and Aizen realized that the thing draped over his shoulder was the little pink-haired girl Tousen had smuggled in and out of the Captain's meeting yesterday.

Uh-oh.

"Thems." The giant nodded. "You alright Kaname? You look like yer about to keel over."

"I- I'm-" he started to speak and Aizen snapped Suigetsu open to flash the assembled crowd and hopefully catch the giant in the illusion before Kaname could speak and blow the whole operation-

"-PUT THAT THING AWAY!" The Giant roared, glaring at Aizen over his shoulder ...Through an eyepatch? Aizen paused, startled.

"You look like sheep when you run up on 'em at the road at night." The Giant chuckled at him. "Keep yer panties on, it's all done and dusted."

"Really Sosuke!" Ukitake huffed, chopping him on the shoulder to make him sheathe Suigetsu again.

"My apologies for my friend, it's literally his first day on the job." Kyoraku waved apologetically. "I'm 8th Division Captain Shunsui Kyoraku, the silver fox is 13th Division Captain Jushiro Ukitake, and that's appointed-yesterday 5th Division Captain Sosuke Aizen."

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Captain-?" Ukitake asked brightly, attempting to distract the giant from Aizen.

"Kenpachi Zaraki." The Giant leered down at them. The other eye was sunken and gaunt and an unpleasant shade of yellow as Zaraki studied them in a way that made Aizen's skin crawl, like without suigetsu's Illusion, Zaraki could somehow see him naked. Yep. That's an eyepatch... But why do I have the feeling he can see right through it? Right through me?

"My apologies, Captain Zaraki-" Aizen sputtered, closing the distance and putting his hand on Kaname's other shoulder. "-Kaname is a very dear friend of mine and it's alarming to see a stranger touching him." he explained, digging the heel of his palm into the Silence character carved into Tousen's shoulder.

Tousen made a faint clicking noise in his throat as he involuntarily swallowed the shriek of pain under the Curse's command, and nodded in agreement. There- if I can't conceal Tousen from this brute, I can at least force him to remain silent. The illusion is safe.

"...That so?" Zaraki asked, the yellow eye fixed on Aizen's hand, and Aizen let go before he realized what he was doing. What? Why am I flinching? Who is this guy?

"You've taken to your title quickly!" Aizen smiled up at him, feigning cheerful interest.

"Title Schmitle, it's been my Name since before you were a wiggle in yer Da's nutsack." Zaraki grunted.

Aizen felt his glasses slipping off his face without his permission again. I didn't think there was an expression worse than Hirako's 'since you were kickin' in your momma'...

"Ah, here's trouble- WHAT TOOK YOU ASSHOLES SO LONG?" Zaraki roared cheerfully at two men who appeared on the 11th's roof, panting and enraged.

"HI YUYU! HI BALDY!" Yachiru waved cheerfully!

"Yachiru darling! I'm so glad you're safe!" the lithe, effeminate one waved back before jumping down to meet them.

"FUCK YOU!" howled the bald, muscular one.

"FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Zaraki called back, grinning as they approached. "Come look who I found-!

Fuck! Aizen suddenly realized that when he'd let go of Tousen, Zaraki had not, and was now herding him away from Aizen, his huge and terrible body between them.

"OH MY GOD! IS THAT KAKIYO'S BROTHER?" the fop shrieked with excitement, sprinting over and grabbing Kaname's hand. "Yumichika Aseyagawa- oh this is DELIGHTFUL! I've heard so much about you!"

"Holy shit! You're the guy that burned down that shitass Daimyo's compound down, right?" the bald, clownish one grinned, shaking Kaname's whole arm. "Ikkaku Maderame, it's such an honor to meet you!"

THEY KNEW KAKIYO!? FUCK!! Aizen paled.

"-Burned what down?" Kyoraku asked.

"Shut up cueball, they acquitted him." Zaraki grunted, flicking Madarame's forehead. "Speaking of- I haven't heard form Kakiyo in Donkey's years, how is she? Running one of these divisions, right?"

"Gin!" Aizen hissed, searching the crowd for his Lieutenant. "Do something!"

"...She's dead." Kaname said flatly, still dazed with the... the everything probably.

Zaraki's shock rippled through the ambient reiatsu like being dunked in cold water. There's no sign of Gin, and no way to silence Tousen-

"What? How?" Aseyagawa demanded, the other two equally horrified.

"She was murdered." Kaname's voice was small, weak and he was starting to sway- the effort of resisting the curse was about to make him collapse.

Zaraki slowly crouched down, perched on his toes so he could pull Kaname close, face to face

"Who." It wasn't a request.

With a shaking arm, Tousen pointed to the remains of the Arena.

SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK!! Aizen felt his heart racing.

"I- I'm sorry. I tried to, but- I can't- I can't I'm not strong enough-" Tousen stammered, trying to speak through the pain.

"It's alright. I am." Zaraki said, voice suddenly strangely gentle, touching his forehead to Kaname's. He sat down, pulling Kaname down with him, half in Zaraki's lap so he couldn't be easily pulled away. "Tell me the details later, ya look like yer about to drop dead. Y'all got anything he can eat?" He glared at the other captains.

Ukitake immediately produced a large bag of candy and Kyoraku a flask that smelled like you could use it's contents for eye surgery. Aizen made a show of patting his coat, and suddenly remembered the two oranges Gin had handed him earlier.

"Uh, I have these..?" Aizen offered the fruits, mentally preparing to skin Gin.

"Good to see one of you is an adult." Zaraki chuffed, taking one of the oranges and handing it to Kaname, who pointed his face at it blankly. "You don't mind if I take the other? I sprinted here from North 69 on an empty stomach."

Tousen shook his head, still silent.

"Good man, you'll be alright. Ta." Zaraki said, taking the second orange from Aizen with a nod of gratitude.

... and then casually bit halfway into it like an apple and chewed, rind and all.

Aizen stood there, dial tone echoing between his ears. Gradually he became aware his left eye was twitching.

"Did. Did you just bite straight into that orange?" Kaname frowned.

Zaraki, to Aizen's horror, swallowed. "Yeh, what's wrong with that?"

"...Nothing at all." Aizen smiled, checking out of this scene. "Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced my lieutenant..." he mumbled, turning on his heel and wandering away from them.

---

Kaname felt Zaraki arch his back slightly, watching Aizen go.

"...Uh-huh." he said, smirk audible. "Alright lads, you got marchin' orders."

The other two men snapped to attention.

"Yumichika- There's a woman, beautiful and terrible as the dawn, with a coat like this 'cept it's got a four on the back. Go tell her Kaname's had a turn and whatever she says you say 'Yes Sir' and do it." he said, tugging on Kaname's haori.

"Sure, that's definitely a description I can follo- oh. Nevermind, I see what you mean!" Yumichika said, catching sight of Unohana. "On it, Boss."

"Er, It might help if I'm there to make Introductions..." Kyoraku offered, jogging after Yumichika.

"Ikkaku." he spoke as soon as Yumichika was out of earshot. "There's a man who's older than dirt who looks like he could set you on fire just lookin' at you, 'cos he can. He's got the Employee Handbook, can you go grab that?"

"...What Employee Handbook?" Ikkaku frowned. "Don't tell me you're quittin' the house? Madame won't like that."

"Madame sent me here today on purpose." Zaraki waved. "-But seein' as I just did a homicide right in front of everybody, the old man offered me a choice. Take Kiganjo's old job runnin' the 11th, or get burnt to ash right there, and I can't take care'a Yachiru if I'm charcoal."

"So... you're a shinigami Captain now?" Ikkaku asked, sounding more intrigued than anything.

"Seems so." Zaraki shrugged. "Funny thing- the Lieutenant and Third-in-command's seats are up for grabs too."

Ikkaku cackled. "Be right back, Captain!" he grinned and took off towards the center of the city.

"Oh, shit-!" Ukitake muttered, looking up from where he had been transfixed by the sight of Yachiru devouring the bag of candy. "Er- Yama-Ji can be a bit tetchy with strangers, I should probably go with him..." he winced, sprinting after apparently-Lieutenant Madarame.

Zaraki chuckled, weight shifting and turning his attention back to Kaname. "...You want some help with that, Little bat?"

Kaname nodded, too dazed to protest as Zaraki took the orange from him.

"That Aizen's a creep, ain't he?" he asked.

"Yeah! Kaname-kun told me to stay away from him, even more than I needed to stay away from Kiganjo!" Yachiru nodded, mouth still full of candy.

"Thought so." Zaraki hummed, fiddling with the orange. "You know what's great about first Impressions?"

Kaname shook his head, just relieved Zaraki was here to keep him from collapsing straight onto the pavement.

"They Stick." Zaraki said voice low and conspiratorial. "-No matter what Aizen sees me do from now on, no matter what anyone tells him, he will believe, at his core, that I'm an idiot."

-And with that, he pressed a perfectly peeled and clean segment of orange into Kaname's hand.

Kaname blinked a few times, turning the fruit over in his hands as he sluggishly connected the dots and, despite everything, slowly broke into a genuine smile.

"Kakiyo always said you were a clever bastard." Zaraki grinned, "Eat yer orange."

---

Aizen finally located Gin, hiding under the narrow gap under one of the stone storehouses in the less-used section of the 11th.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Aizen hissed at him.

"That thing ain't human." Gin whimpered. "I dunno what it is, but it ain't right."

"I agree he looks like a carcass that's too stupid to know it's dead but that's because he's a MORON." Aizen groaned, reaching under the porch and pulling the boy out by the scruff of his neck. "You should see how he eats oranges."

"I'm not kidding!" Gin pleaded, grabbing Aizen's sleeve. "He's got- I don't know, but when he looked at us? It was like he could see right through me!"

"Yes, yes-" Aizen waved. "-but even if he could, I promise, he hasn't got the brains to understand what he's seeing."

"He's gonna eat me." Gin muttered, hiding behind Aizen, peering out behind him in the general direction of courtyard.

"What's gotten into you?" Aizen huffed. "You've never been spooked before-?"

"I'm telling you!" Gin pleaded up at him, eyes very nearly open with alarm. "There's something deeply fucked up about that guy! He's dangerous! He's gonna find me and grab me and eat me!"

Aizen sighed, put his hand on Gin's shoulder, glanced around for witnesses, and finding them alone, backhanded Gin as hard as he could.

"Get ahold of yourself!" he snarled, and Gin flinched. He softened his voice, fingertips under Gin's chin, tipping his head up. "I'm sorry- it's easy to forget you're just a boy sometimes- but we can't lose our heads now, not when we've come so far. I'll deal with Zaraki, alright? I need you to keep Tousen in line- I've gotten him to shut up for now, but it's VITAL that he not speak to that brute until I've gotten him and his two clowns under The Illusion, got it?"

Gin nodded, sniffling, cheekbone turning slightly pink.

"Good boy." Aizen smirked. "I'll leave it to you then."

Gin vanished with a flash to carry out his orders, and Aizen sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them.

"-How do these things constantly get filthy?" he muttered.

"Most of the filth on glasses is the grease from the skin of the wearer. If they're constantly filthy, it may be that you're just slime." someone spoke up behind him and Aizen yelped, nearly dropping his glasses as he fumbled them onto his face.

"-Good heavens! How DO you do that?" He laughed nervously to suddenly be in close proximity to the massive frame of Yamamoto's pet third seat that he'd just assigned to the Seventh Division. No saftey pins needed to keep the Lieutenant's badge on the tree-trunk arms of Sajin Komamura.

The narrow gap in the helmet stared impassively down at him, and for the second time that morning, Aizen was struck by the feeling he was nearly being seen through.

"I didn't quite catch all that, but I did hear the sound of someone being slapped before I see you, holding your lieutenant like that, and he sprints away with a fresh bruise on his face." Komamura rumbled ominously.

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean." Aizen glared back.

"I'm glad to hear that. I should hope that I merely misunderstood what I saw, and that there's no cause for alarm." Komamura leaned forward, and Aizen thought there was the briefest flash of the same yellow as Zaraki's working eye in there. "-There are very few deviances the captain-general won't tolerate, but the lines in the sand do very much exist."

"Sajin-" Aizen scoffed, turning away from the menacing hulk of a shinigami. "You may be Yamamoto's Golden Boy, but you ought to mind what you go sticking your nose into, lest somebody cut it off."

There was no reply.

"Glad you underst- really?" Aizen groaned at the empty corner of the 11th Division. "How the HELL does he do that? It's like being stalked by an animal... Whatever, it's fine- Sajin still has his uses, and he'll forget it by tomorrow morning, won't he?" Aizen smirked, affectionately rubbing Suigetsu's hilt, the Zanpakuto purring at the attention.

"Now, let's go deal with that orange-mangling moron." he smiled as he stalked back into the remains of the 11th's courtyard.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #4K under the cut #sosuke aizen #kenpachi zaraki #kaname tosen #gin ichimaru #sajin komamura #Zaraki Is much better if he is impulsive and manic and a bit of a dunce but also CUNNING as hell

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