#not pictured is checking to see that the stove that wasn’t turned on is in fact still off

[certainwizardlady]

Day 7: Overbearing

Huck is our resident overly anxious tiny. Luckily it has some pay off when he’s helping Henry get out the door for work 😅

[eviesaurusrex]

May I request any touch starved prompt between Bucky and reader? Thank you in advance!

summary: after a two week mission away from home and with barely any contact, Bucky craves touch and comfort from his girlfriend above anything else

word count: 1.4k

warnings: pure fluff, mentions of exhaustion, mentions of anxiety when you squint, so many pet names, touch-starved!Bucky, short mention of Bucky’s scars and his past insecurities

author’s note: my first (new) request in a while—I’m super excited ^-^ I really hope you like with what I came up with, dear anon! The dividers are made by @strangergraphics <3

Ever since she had gotten her brooding super soldier up to the new tech of this century and successfully explained how to share a location through Find me, YN always knew when he arrived back at the compound and had his personal phone back on him. It helped her breathe a little easier seeing his small icon—a picture she had taken of him during one of their many trips across the East Coast—move across the map again, promising her worry-drenched mind that he was all right and back in one piece.

So, it wasn’t surprising or unusual for YN to sit at home and wait for her boyfriend to return while the sun slowly set behind the windows of their quaint, cozy apartment in a historic brownstone. She threw a quick glance at the opened app on her phone and watched Bucky’s smiling face speed down the FDR Drive along the East River, and being content with knowing he’d be home in a matter of minutes, YN rose to check up on dinner, softly sizzling in the kitchen and boiling another pot of tea. They had their small rituals after each and every mission or a particular horrifying day at work, and she wanted to be prepared when Bucky finally got up the stairs, and she would hear the thud of his boots.

Giggling softly along the episode of Golden Girls that played on the TV in the background, she stirred the pasta in the pan, adding a sprinkle of pepper and a handful of basil leaves into the bubbling sauce when a pair of strong arms enveloped her waist from behind, making her shriek. For a second, she went entirely still, muscles locking and the bamboo spoon ready to be used as a weapon until her mind caught up. The sensation of those arms was utterly familiar, the scent surrounding her now loved beyond measure, and the warmth seeping into her back a constant reminder of who was finally back home.

“Sorry, doll,” Bucky whispered, his face immediately nuzzling the crook of her neck, his warm breath fanning across her sensitive skin. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” YN smiled at that, and after putting the spoon back onto the cutting board next to the stove, she turned in his arms and cupped his face, foreheads touching softly. “Hi,” she smiled up at him, both thumbs caressing his cheeks. The soldier let out a deep sigh, shoulders immediately relaxing, and the tension dissipating from his body. “Hi,” he mumbled in return, eyes bright but heavy-lidded from the exhaustion living inside him after two weeks away, kissing her lips softly in greeting. “Smells delicious, sweetheart.“ YN grinned at that, and her cheeks turned warm at the praise. “It’s almost ready if you’re hungry, love.”

Bucky’s eyes looked over her shoulder and observed the bubbling pasta sauce, the sizzling chicken, and decided his basic human needs had to wait for a while. She picked up on it when his hand turned off the stove and placed the lids on both pans before he gathered YN easily in his arms and walked them to the couch. He put her down gently, as if she was made out of glass and would easily break if not handled with the utmost love and care, and without having second thoughts, the buff super soldier and former Winter Soldier dropped between her parted legs stomach first, and resting his head heavily on her chest, right above her beating heart.

“I gather food has to wait?” YN smiled softly at the brunet in her arms, her fingers starting to comb through his soft strands she had cut for him in their bathroom a few months ago, scratching his scalp just the way he liked it, eliciting a moaning sigh out of him. “Just need you close, honey, s’all,” Bucky whispered into the fabric of her daisy-sprinkled shirt, and his eyes closed in utter contentment and blissful relaxation, soaking in how she made him feel every day since they ran into one another. “Whatever you want, James.” She would have an eye on the time and would feed him if she had to before they’d wander into bed, knowing the man on top of her well enough to suspect that he had lived on protein bars and oatmeal since the team’s departure to Mexico fifteen days ago.

Bucky hummed softly when YN started caressing his neck, slowly kneading the tension and strain out of his muscles there, nuzzling his face closer to her neck after pressing a kiss atop her beating heart. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. Always dreamed of you and coming back home.” Her heart clenched in the best possible way at his whispered confession, at the showcase of his vulnerability, he only ever allowed to come out in her presence, knowing she would never judge him for it or think less of him. YN kissed his forehead lovingly with her eyes closed to revel in his soothing scent that was a mix of cedar, cinnamon, and orange—the three main ingredients of his favorite soap—and something that was just inherently Bucky, it made for something addictive.

He groaned at the feeling and, without missing a beat, nudged her chin with his nose, asking wordlessly for more forehead kisses she was willing to provide. “Missed you too, baby.” It was a whisper ghosting over his skin when she kissed his forehead yet again. “You’re okay, though, right? No injuries?” She had to ask to soothe her anxious mind, trying to let her hands run across his body to check for herself, but Bucky nodded heavy-headed and cuddled closer, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her body and holding her just as closely as she did.

“Not even a scratch, doll,” he reassured her once more. He littered her neck with several feather-light kisses, moaning softly and quietly at the overpowering scent of her fading perfume and the deodorant she had to have used over the course of the day, fogging his mind and pulling him deeper into the relaxing state he only ever could achieve right here within this very walls, in the very arms that held I’m close to the soft and perfect body of his best girl. He could ravage her right this instant, but his body and mind were too exhausted to muster the strength to bring her into their bed, and instead, he cuddled closer, almost trying to crawl into her embrace, into her body.

The soft whirring sound of his vibranium arm was the only sound next to the TV and their soft breathing, and he felt YN’s fingers at his left shoulder where metal met flesh. Once, he had thought he was ugly because of the raised and bumpy flesh that had never formed perfect, even scars, and it had taken a while until Bucky was okay with being shirtless around her, but now? He knew this woman loved him just the way he was—and that was okay. More than that. The scars were part of him, and he had accepted it, knowing that now, he fought for the good in this world. He fought for her. For their future together.

“Want me to help take it off, make yourself more comfortable, love?” Her fingers still lingered on the jarring cut between soft flesh and hard, unyielding vibranium she had grown used to over the time they had shared so far. She had grown to love the intricate scars, always reminding Bucky of his beauty whenever she kissed them one at a time, and even now she bent her head to press a lingering kiss to the mountains and valleys covered by the soft fabric of his black t-shirt. “s’all right, doll. Jus’ wanna stay right where I am if that’s okay with you.” The barely there request was muttered into the skin at her neck, and humming softly in agreement, YN let their legs entangle and pulled the plush blanket they had found at their favorite Target down a couple of blocks over their bodies wrapped around each other, sighing herself at the coziness of it all.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbled with his head now switching sides, and he soon was nuzzled back into the crook of her neck, arms tightening their hold around her as if he might fear she’d slip away. A silly thought, really. As if she would exchange this for anything in the world. Kissing the crown of his head, she smiled into the dark brown strands. “Nothing to thank me for, darling,” she whispered in return, and closing her eyes, YN started to caress his broad back, softly drawing indecipherable shapes and forms into the fabric of his shirt until Bucky’s breathing grew deeper and longer; a soft snoring filling the cozy living room.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog. It would mean the world to me <3

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 5)

Word count: 2700

Warnings: super brief mention of smut

Taglist:@stayevildarling @i-just-cannot @hazey-g @buttercandy16 @320viada @evilangels-stuff @rmaximoff @morganismspam23 @aboutcustardcreams @sasheemo @rigglemethat @walkethisway @mommywandas

A/N: I apologize in advance for this one hehe. Next chapter will be more satisying ;)

When you wake up, you are alone with a pounding headache. You roll over with a grunt and reach a hand out to touch the pillow next to you, see if it still has Agatha’s warmth, but doesn’t. You can’t help but feel stung even though you know you’re being irrational. Of course she wasn’t going to spend the night with you. She probably untangled herself from you the second you’d fallen asleep. 

But you remember the way her body felt curled around yours and you sigh. You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. Her words from the pool last night echo in your head. Last night, they were daring almost, but in the cold light of morning, they are a warning. She is married to your father and twice your age. You can’t be doing this with her, whatever it is. 

You check the time and realize you’ve slept in later than you usually do. You begrudgingly get out of bed and brush your teeth, staring at your pale face in the mirror. Agatha doesn’t want you, you tell yourself. You’re just reading into things. 

More than just a small part of you is disappointed. 

You dig around your closet and are able to find a pair of shorts and a sweater in your closet to throw on. You’re spending the day with Agatha and your dad, still unsure of the plans. 

You check your phone and see five missed calls and 27 texts from Wanda, checking to make sure you were alright. You hadn’t been able to find her before you left the party last night but according to her texts, Rio had seen you get into a car and told Wanda. 

You shoot her a quick text letting her know you’re alive and that you made it home safely. You want to open up to your friend about your night with Agatha but you don’t think Wanda would understand. 

When you go downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs reaches your nose and you see your step-mother at the stove cooking. 

“Good morning,” you say groggily, taking a seat on a stool at the island. The bacon sizzles and you wince at the noise. She turns around and smiles, always the picture of perfection.

“How are you feeling?” 

You moan in response, dropping your head onto the cool countertop. It feels good and dulls the pain in your head just a little. 

“I remember those days,” she says fondly with a chuckle. And then she places a plate down next to you just a bit too loudly for it to be an accident. 

“Heyyy,” you whine, lifting your head slightly to glare at her. 

“Eat up. You’ll feel better.” You grumble and do as you’re told. While you’re eating, she continues talking. “Your father will be home soon. Have you thought about what you want to do today?”

“Is laying on the couch for the next seven hours an option?”

Agatha smirks. “Unfortunately for you, no. But we could watch a movie or something.” She regards the miserable state you’re in. “Do you want me to get you some advil?” You nod pathetically. 

She leaves the kitchen and you hear her footsteps on the stairs. You’re a little hurt that she hasn’t even mentioned last night. Should you bring it up? You scoff at yourself. What would you even say? Why didn’t you stay with me? or Hey, wanna get back in the pool? 

She is obviously trying to set boundaries and you can do that. You can be good. Better for everyone that way. 

And then she comes back in, places two pills in front of you, and casually says, “You talk in your sleep.” 

Your cheeks heat up immediately. “Um, what did I say?” 

She smirks. “Sounded like you were having a good dream.”

“I don’t even remember what I was–” And fuck, your dream comes back to you in flashes. Agatha pushing you against the side of her pool, grinding her thigh up between your legs. Her telling you to hump it like the desperate little girl that you are. Your eyes widen, horrified. Was that the reason she left? You must’ve been moaning, or even worse, did you say her name? You vaguely remember her leg between yours last night before drifting off, were you moving on it? You drop your head into your hands, the flush from your face spreading all down your neck.“I’m so sorry,” you say through your fingers, determined to never look at Agatha ever again. 

She laughs. “Don’t be, it’s not like you could control it. So, who were you thinking about?” You peek up to see her leaning on her elbows over the counter, eyes wide. You definitely don’t notice how her position pushes her breasts up and closer together, giving you a much better look at her cleavage. 

At least you didn’t moan her name in your sleep. 

“Uh-” you say, mind racing to think of literally anyone besides her. Thankfully, that’s the moment you hear the garage open. You’ve never been so excited for your dad to be home. Agatha winks knowingly and takes your empty plate, rinsing it off in the sink.

“My favorite ladies!” Your dad exclaims as he walks into the kitchen. You offer him a tight-lipped smile and Agatha pats his arm when he leans in to kiss her cheek. You tune out when Agatha asks him about his meetings and he starts recounting his trip. You’ve listened to your fair share of boring work stories from him. 

“So, sweet pea, what’s on the agenda today?” He asks, bringing you back to focus.

“Maybe we can watch some Desperate Housewives?” Before the divorce, you and your dad had spent quite a lot of time together watching TV shows, Desperate Housewives being one of your favorites. 

He smiles. “Sounds perfect. Let me go take a shower and then we can start.”

Agatha busies herself by cleaning up the kitchen while you flop onto the couch. Your headache is starting to subside but you still feel gross from the hangover. You close your eyes and float somewhere between consciousness and sleep until your dad finally comes back downstairs. 

“Alright, what season are we watching?” He asks, handing you the remote. Agatha sits down next to you, pulling a blanket over the two of you and he sits on the other side of her. You flick through the episodes, picking one from season 6 at random. 

You had to admit, it is actually nice to sit here with Agatha and your dad. You feel a sense of peace that you usually don’t when you’re at this house. 

And then you remember what episode this is. The one where Katherine realizes that she might have feelings for Robin and has a fantasy about her. A hot fantasy. You swallow and squirm, your leg starting to bounce anxiously. Normally, you wouldn’t be so affected by the scene on the TV, but you’re suddenly hyper aware of the woman sitting next to you. 

Agatha, seemingly having enough of your leg tapping, reaches her hand out underneath the blanket and places it squarely on your thigh. 

You stifle a gasp and freeze. You forget how to breathe when she starts to slowly drag her nails up and down your leg, pausing every time when they reach the juncture between your leg and hip. You can literally feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

She continues doing that for the rest of the episode and you just grow needier and needier with every passing second. So you slowly let your legs fall more open. She glances at you out of the corner of her eye so your dad doesn’t notice, the hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. 

Her hand slides to the inside of your thigh and this time you can’t hold back your sharp intake of air. 

“You okay?” Your dad asks, looking over Agatha to check on you. She squeezes your leg playfully, sending jolts of electricity right to your cunt. 

You nod, not trusting that your voice won’t waver and give your state of arousal away. 

Agatha slowly leans into you, mouth pressing against your ear, hand moving closer to the center of your legs, and whispers, “Good girl.” 

An honest-to-god whimper slips out of your mouth and you cover it up with a cough. “I’m gonna go get some water,” you choke out and practically jump off the couch like you’ve been burned. 

Agatha just smirks. 

In the kitchen, you take deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves. You can’t be imagining it now. Whatever Agatha is doing, it is completely on purpose. You can still feel her heated touch on your thigh and your stomach is still in flames. 

You grab a glass of water and head back to the living room, mentally preparing for more of Agatha’s touches. 

You walk back in the living room and stop dead in your tracks. On the couch, illuminated by the glow of the TV, is Agatha and your dad kissing. 

You drop the glass. It’s the fourth thing you’ve broken in their house in the past two days, if anyone is keeping track. But that’s not what you’re focused on. 

They break apart and whirl toward the sound of the noise. Your dad stands up, apologizing, but you don’t even see him. You’re too busy staring at Agatha, who is chewing on her lip, looking back at you. Her gaze is filled with concern and – fuck, is that pity? 

You scoff. Of course it is. You inwardly curse at letting yourself be so stupid, feelings of betrayal and anger coursing through your veins replacing the desire you had just been feeling. 

You turn on your heel and rush upstairs, throwing your clothes from last night that are folded on your bed into a bag. You pick up your phone and scroll through your contact list, hitting the call button. 

“Please pick up,” you mutter to yourself, pacing back and forth. 

Finally on the third ring, she does. “Hello?” Rio Vidal asks, sounding surprised. 

“Hey, Rio. Do you want to go do something right now?” 

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I’d love to. What do you want to do?” 

“Let’s go to a bar and get older people to buy us drinks,” you say, your stomach already protesting at the thought of consuming more alcohol after last night. 

You can tell she feels the same way by her long groan.

“Okay, fine. We don’t have to drink. But we can still go dance and have fun. Please?” 

“Okay. What time?”

You check your watch. It’s early in the afternoon but you can’t stand to spend another minute in this house. “How about in an hour? I’ll pick you up?” 

She agrees and you hang up. And now for getting out of here. 

Both your dad and Agatha watch you as you walk back down the stairs. “Everything okay?” Your dad asks tentatively. 

“Wanda’s kind of having an emergency right now. Would you be able to take me back to Mom’s house so I can go be with her? My car’s there.” You don’t even look at Agatha but you can feel her eyes locked on you.

Your dad frowns. “How did you get here then?” 

You can’t help but glance at the older woman, your brain trying to think of something quick. 

“I picked her up this morning,” Agatha quickly jumps in. “I just figured it would be easier that way if we went somewhere.” You fight the urge to give her a grateful look, rage still curling around your insides. 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” your dad sighs. “I was kind of hoping we could spend the day together.” 

“Me, too,” you say half-heartedly. “Maybe next weekend though? I’m sorry, Wanda really needs me.” 

“Let me grab my keys,” he says, leaving the room. You walk straight to the front door, ignoring Agatha saying your name. 

The car ride home is filled with awkward conversation about school and work. Nothing out of the usual there, though. He pulls into the driveway and parks the car, turning towards you. You can hardly wait for whatever he’s going to say next. 

“How’s your mother doing?” He used to ask you that all the time when the divorce first happened, but not so much anymore. Not since Agatha. 

“She’s good,” you say softly. He nods like he’s glad to hear it. And then you step out of the car and go into your mom’s house to get ready. 

***

Rio swings open the door almost immediately after your first knock. She’s wearing a cute green dress that pairs nicely with your purple dress. 

“You ready?” You ask and she shuts the door behind her, following you to your car. “How was the rest of the party last night?

She shrugs. “It was fine. I threw up a few times. Nat and Marie won like three more games of beer pong.”

“Of course they did.” The rest of the ride is silent. Rio’s not a big talker and you don’t feel like saying much. 

The Hex is the only 18+ bar in Westview and you’ve been a couple times before. You find it slightly disgusting, but you need to take your mind off Agatha. You were being stupid, you realize that now. 

The line is short, on account of it still being pretty early, and not many people are in the bar. You and Rio find a secluded table to sit at and you order some chips and queso and drinks. The two of you fall into easy conversation now, pointing out things about the other people there. You’re both in the middle of giggling when all of a sudden the music turns on and people start to make their way to the middle of the floor that’s clear. 

“Come on!” You jump up and grab Rio, leading her to the center. She rolls her eyes amusedly but comes willingly. You lose yourself in the music, spinning around with Rio until you see someone with long dark hair. You suddenly stop. The woman turns around and it’s someone you don’t recognize. 

You scowl. 

There’s another brunette dancing with a man, arms around his shoulders. They’re kissing and all you can think about is your dad and Agatha. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Rio shouts over the music. She’s stopped dancing now too and is gently touching your shoulder. Before you can even think, you grasp her cheeks with your hands and pull her into a kiss. 

She kisses you back, her hands flying to your shoulders but you can’t get the thought of Agatha out of your head. Rio’s mouth feels good against yours but you just keep picturing that you’re kissing the older woman. 

“Fuck,” you say in frustration, pulling away, realizing that your eyes are welling up. “I’m sorry.” And then you’re storming off to the bathroom, Rio hot on your heels. 

You’re breathing hard, fists clenching the sink, when the door opens. 

“Hey,” Rio says with uncharacteristic gentleness. She strokes her fingers through your hair, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. You turn around, blinking back tears. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, sniffling. “There’s this woman that I like but she’s with someone else and I thought that she might like me but I’m just an idiot.” Venting about it feels good, even if you can’t tell her the exact details. 

Her face softens. “Well, she’s a fool.” You choke out a laugh, wiping the snot from your nose with the back of your hand. 

“Thank you. For saying that, for coming with me tonight.”

She smiles. “Of course.” 

“Could you, um, could you give me a minute?” You ask and she nods with understanding and slips out the door. You take a shaky breath and look back at yourself in the mirror. You have a cute girl out there who likes you. Stop acting pathetic over a middle-aged woman and get your act together, you tell yourself. 

You straighten yourself up and leave the bathroom. You spot Rio across the bar and you’re making your way over to her when someone grabs your wrist tightly. 

“Hey, ouch!” You exclaim, turning to see who it is. 

Now, this time, it’s a brunette you do know. 

And she looks pissed. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Agatha hisses. 

[22ayla21]

Greetings, may I request a Leona x reader, where it's the reader's birthday, and as a part of the special birthday, Leona insists he can handle breakfast on his own while reader sleep in. But it absolutely turns to disaster. Their child demands pancakes shaped like flowers, the stove almost explodes, and somehow there’s flour in Leona’s mane. So, by the time, reader wakes up, she sees that there's a slightly burnt but very proud plate of food waiting, along with a glass of orange juice. She then looks to her child, sitting on Leona’s shoulders, grinning widely. She chuckles, and even though he scowls, his tail gives him away? I just love Leona, he's my Husband, out of all the Housewardens. Also, this request may be a self-indulgent thing for me, cause my birthday is coming up.

A Royal Breakfast

On his wife’s birthday, Leona decides to make her breakfast himself, but by the time she wakes up, the kitchen has turned into a battlefield.

From Author: Happy birthday to you in advance 🥳

Silence reigned in the bedroom, broken only by the steady breathing of his sleeping wife. Leona carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake her. He glanced at her peaceful face, smiling faintly—that rare, soft, almost shy smile he allowed himself only for her—and, stretching, he habitually yawned, immediately pressing his hand to his mouth. Today was her birthday, and Leon had planned something special in advance. He wasn’t fond of pomp, but for her… For her, he was ready for anything, even to become a kitchen hero, though he knew far less about cooking than about combat spells.

He tiptoed down the corridor, skillfully avoiding creaky floorboards, and entered the kitchen. But there, a much more dangerous person awaited him—their six-year-old daughter with a mop of curls and bright eyes, exactly like his, sitting on a stool and gnawing on an apple.

"Daddyyy," she whined, noticing him. "You didn't forget what kind of pancakes we wanted, did you? Flowers! Like in that picture!"

Her twin brother followed suit, disheveled, with sticking-out ears, his T-shirt inside out, and a plush lion in one hand.

"I want the pancakes with chocolate! And strawberries! And Mommy's face!" he exclaimed, clearly not realizing what culinary chaos he had just proposed.

Leona rolled his eyes but said nothing. His tail twitched nervously. He was sure he could handle it. It was just… breakfast.

He surveyed the kitchen. Frying pan? Check. Flour? Hmm… looks like flour. Or sugar? Alright, he'd figure it out as he went. Eggs? For some reason, they were in the refrigerator door in a chicken-shaped container—he always found it strange, but today he decided that fate demanded sacrifices.

"Alright, little beasts, stand back," he mumbled, rolling up his sleeves and quickly tying his hair into a low ponytail, though a couple of strands still fell into his eyes. "Now Dad will show you how lions do it."

The children, of course, didn't leave. Instead, they settled on the countertop, swinging their legs and making sounds of approval or horror with every step he took. While Leona tried to pour milk without spilling it (which he failed to do), his daughter was already explaining how "Mommy makes flowers from dough." Something about "first a circle, then petals." Having no idea how to do this, Leona simply poured the batter onto the pan in a shape he considered "floral." And… well, it really did resemble a flower. A flower that had clearly survived an explosive encounter.

"It didn't fry; it just acquired a new form of existence," he muttered to himself, seriously flipping the pancakes.

The pan hissed and grumbled, as if offended to be used again. At some point, he flipped too forcefully, and part of the batter stuck to the ceiling. Flour somehow ended up in the air, and then—in his hair, on his nose, and even on his lion ears. His son clapped his hands in delight, and his daughter quietly exhaled:

"He looks like a cake."

Leona grumbled something irritated but didn't give up. He arranged the "best" pancakes—the ones that hadn't burned to cinders—on a plate, generously drizzled them with syrup, added fresh berries, and garnished them with whipped cream. Then he poured orange juice into a tall glass (twice, because he spilled it the first time).

When everything was ready, he exhaled, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and surveyed the battlefield, formerly known as the kitchen. The pancakes stood on a tray, the juice glowed in the glass, and the children were already jostling, fighting for the right to carry Mommy's gift. His daughter, with a joyful squeal, clambered onto his shoulders, leaning down, while his son clung to his pant leg, trying to walk beside him.

She woke up to stomping and… sneezing? Getting up, she saw the bedroom door slowly open, revealing a sight she would probably remember forever.

Leona stood at the threshold—covered in flour, with disheveled hair, a skeptical expression, but a proud fire in his eyes. On his shoulders, like a tiny king, sat their daughter, waving her hand and exclaiming:

"Mommy! We made breakfast! Daddy almost didn't burn down the kitchen!"

"Actually, not almost," Leona grumbled sullenly, "just slightly… melted the spatula."

His son proudly held out a tray, where a mountain of uneven, browned (sometimes a bit more than necessary) pancakes with berries and syrup rose on a plate. Next to it, a glass of juice gleamed, with a crookedly attached paper with childish scribbles: "To Beloved Mommy!"

She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing, but her eyes filled with tears of tenderness. Giggling, she looked at her husband, who was trying his best to look as if nothing special had happened, but his tail twitched impatiently from side to side, betraying his excitement.

"You…" she began, trying to find the word.

"A genius?" Leona prompted, smirking and stepping closer.

"A madman," she said, laughing, and reached out to wipe the flour from his cheek. "But you're my madman. And the best husband and dad in the world."

He merely snorted, but when she kissed him, his tail suddenly wrapped around her leg, as if on its own, as if fearing she might disappear. The children immediately gave a small round of applause, and their daughter loudly declared:

"And now, Daddy, you'll make breakfast every day, okay?"

Leona immediately raised an eyebrow:

"We agreed this was a special day. Once a year."

"We'll think about it," his wife chuckled, taking the tray and sitting on the edge of the bed.

And at that moment, amidst the aroma of slightly burnt pancakes, the giggling of the children, and her husband's tickling hair, she felt that it was mornings like these that truly made life happy.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 44 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: talks of domestic abuse, semi public fingering Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Show your support by leaving a tip, buy Kit a coffee!

It would be about another hour before the roast finished in the oven. The rich scent was already thick in the air, promising a delicious meal. The radio played a calm jazz tune that soothed over your nerves as you hummed along as you sliced the bread. The center was still just warm from its time in the oven. 

To anyone looking from the outside in, it looked like the picture of domestic bliss. That was, as long as you kept your back to them, didn’t move too much and their eyes didn’t have long to linger. 

It was lingering eyes that would catch the twinge of your body, halting movements rising from the pain born from injuries hidden and obvious. The way your shoulder slumped, aching from being yanked around, a repeated trauma hardly ever fully allowed to heal. If you turned to face the viewer, they wouldn’t need to watch for the ever so slight limp, your body still healing from more traumas unseen would pair with the healing bruises littering your skin to show them the horror that lived just under the facade of domestic bliss. 

Your face was healing, as was your neck, but it would take time to erase the marks left by heavy hands. The gash was hidden, black scab softened, covered by the fall of your hair. You allowed your hair to fall forward, obscuring some of your forehead and hiding where the scab extended down. 

Bruises healed slowly, leaving splotchy marks of purple and green. Those would be stolen away by time. In places they already were. Your husband had returned to old habits, focusing his blows on the places that polite society would not see. Having a homebound wife was more trouble than the security of knowing where you were was worth, or so it seemed. 

Laurence had been home to check on you once mid morning and once shortly after lunch, but that was the last you had seen from him. It was a welcome break from the near every other hour check ins he had been just doing earlier this week. 

How he got any work done between interruptions, you didn’t know. You feared he hadn’t. Alastor had said Laurence was late on his payment and that knowledge rattled around your mind, rolling to the front of your thoughts whenever it seemed to shake free from where it you stored it. It seemed reasonable that, along with his uncontrolled use of the tincture, he became undisciplined in his work. 

What did that mean for his family’s business? How would he face his mother if he ruined the family business? How would you look at your mother-in-law? 

A flash outside caught your attention. It was far too close to dinnertime for Alastor to be here, surely? Lingering in the doorway, you looked toward where the front of the house was and back to the apple tree. Surely, you could make it back inside if you heard a car on the street if you ran. 

There was a rustling in the growing darkness. You could only just see it, more so seeing the suggestion of rustling than the bushes rustle themselves and then Alastor was stepping through. 

Long legs carried him across your yard as you ran, heart pounding in both excitement and trepidation at seeing him in the open. There wasn’t enough fear to stop you from wrapping your arms around him, leaning into his embrace the moment you were close enough to touch him. 

“Do you have time?” Alastor asked, “Is there something on the stove that could burn?” 

“I- No, nothing will burn. The roast has a good bit on it but Laurence. He’ll be home any-” 

Alastor kissed you softly, “He won’t be home for another two hours, at least.” 

“What?” He walked backwards, kissing you again and again instead of answering your question until he reached the apple tree- your apple tree- and the cover it provided. 

“Mimzy is holding him up.” 

“Did- Was he able to make your payment?” You asked as he slid down the tree, pulling you with him and urging you to sit with him. 

“He wasn’t-” 

“I’m sor-” You had cut Alastor off only for him to return the favor. 

“I didn’t want him to. I don’t need the money. I need him busy.” Alastor held you tighter in his arms. You could feel him breathing you in as he held you to him. 

“He’s going to take extra runs this week to make up the funds. You’ll have a break from him, finally.” 

“Will he be gone long enough..?”

“For us to be together?” Alastor finished what you were too timid to say. “Yes, we’ll be able to spend some time together. Mimzy is helping him line things up, get things scheduled. She’s going to keep a copy for me, be the intermediary for us.” 

“Bless her,” you whispered, Alastor stealing the words from your lips with a kiss. Sighing into him, you shifted and melted into his arms, clinging to the man your heart beat for. 

“There’s more,” Alastor whispered as he gripped your waist, his train of thought derailed as you yelped in pain. “What?” 

“It’s- it’s nothing,” you said before backtracking, “Just bruised. I, he threw me into the banister again. It’s a bit tender still, that’s all.” 

“My love,” Alastor sighed, thumb rubbing over the still healing bruising around your neck. “Is he still as bad?” 

“No,” you answered quickly. “I’m healing. It’s just slow and when he does hit me… it’s worse because I’m not healed, I think.” 

“I fixed your jewelry box,” Alastor said, the change in topic confusing you. “At least, mostly. The glass still needs to be replaced, and it needs a staining, but I fixed it.” 

“Thank you, Alastor.” You whispered, “I can’t take it back, though. I wouldn’t be able to explain it to Laurence. I had to tell him I threw it out with the trash.” 

“I know,” Alastor kissed you again, “But I can fix this for you too.” 

“I don’t understand?” 

“Cher,” Alastor whispered as he pulled you to straddle his lap, the skirt of your dress bunching around your thighs. It was indecent, having any part of your thighs exposed out in the open, but you said nothing as Alastor wrapped his hand around one, running his fingers over the purple bruise. 

“Alastor?” Your breath caught in your lungs, fear running down your spine. 

“Do you love me?” he asked, whispered words as his head leaned back against the tree, hair messed and setting sun reflected off the rims of his glasses. 

“Of course.” Your heart pounded in your chest, beating wildly at the change of mood. He was solum, serious. The ever-present smile was little more than a ghost on his face. 

“Say it?” he asked, knuckles grazing over your cheek softly as he looked at you as if you had the answers to the world. 

“I love you, Alastor.” The words were whispered for fear if you spoke louder, the words would break apart. “More than life itself.” 

“Truly?” he pressed. “With all of your heart? All of your being?” 

“I do.” It felt like a vow on your lips. “I do, Alastor. I love you with everything.” 

“Would you love me if I were a monster?” he asked, and a new jolt of fear ran down your spine. For a moment, you remembered the man you loved standing in your kitchen with dried blood splattered over him. He had been hunting, that was all. “No matter how dark my heart is?” 

“Always, Alastor.” Your hands ran up his chest, one reaching up to cup his cheek as you pushed that bloodstained memory away, locking it back into the box it belonged in. 

“Would you love me no matter my sins?” he pressed again, fingers caressing your neck as he looked into your eyes, brows furrowed. “Would you always love me?” 

“Always,” you repeated. Tears ran down your face, though you didn’t remember when they had started, nor did you know why they fell. “I will love you until my dying breath. It’s you, Alastor. Always.” 

“Good,” Alastor said, pulling your lips to his in a kiss that stole your breath. “I’ve got a plan to get you out, but we have little time, not tonight. I miss you so much.” 

“Please?” You whispered, bracing yourself against his chest. “If we have enough time, please?” 

Alastor hooked his hands around your thighs and stood, carrying you as he walked behind the tree. It wasn’t perfect privacy, but it was enough for what he needed and for what you wanted. 

It had been too long since he had heard you. You had tortured him in his dreams, sighing his name as you finished again and again in the halls of his mind. Never had he been haunted by such dreams and yet now he hardly gotten a night of peace from them. 

Alastor felt your body press the vial in his pocket into his thigh. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would tell you his plan tomorrow. Right now, he selfishly needed to hear you. He needed to feel you. 

The way you clung to him, arms and legs wrapped around him, pressing your core against him as he pressed your back to the tree, told him how you needed him too. You gasped as his lips caressed the bruises along your neck. 

He pushed his hips into you, giving your core fiction you so badly wanted. You gasped as he ran his hand up your thighs, fingers caressing over stockings until he was touching skin. 

“Alastor, wait-” It was hard to think as his hand gripped your breast before running down your side. His strong body braced you against the tree by your hips as his other inched closer to your core. “You can’t. We- we can’t.” 

“Why not?” Alastor asked, lost in his need to feel you, to hear you. It had been far too long since you had come apart in his hands. 

“I’m-” Flush rose higher in your cheeks as you tried to figure out a delicate way to describe your condition, “It’s my time.” 

Alastor smiled wider as he leaned in, kissing your swollen lips as he ran his thumb along the hem of your panties. He let your legs fall, supporting you until you were standing on your own. His hand didn’t leave your thigh though, keeping your dress bunched around your wrist. 

“I don’t care about that,” Alastor whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe between his lips as he spoke. “What do you think about that?” he teased.

“Alastor,” you protested as his fingers hooked on either side of the band, “It’s unclean.” 

“I’m not scared of some blood,” Alastor said, kissing your jaw. “Let me make you feel good.”

“But,” You struggled to think, shame and desire warring within you. 

“I won’t go inside,” he offered. “It’ll be like the first time. Just your nub, just to give you pleasure.” 

“okay,” you nodded, lip pulled between your teeth, worrying the flesh at the thought..

Alastor kissed you as he sent your panties falling to the ground. You tried to ignore the trail of wetness the towel left on your thighs. He guided you to step out of them, lifting your thigh up, opening you to him. 

His fingers trailed over thighs. With his foot, he scooted your leg out, opening more space. You could hardly think as he kissed you, breathing you in as his lips worked against yours. 

When his fingers grazed over your clit, you gasped. His tongue worked into your mouth, drinking every sigh as he worked his fingers over you. Your hips rocked as he ran his fingers back, gathering the quickly growing bloodstained slick. 

Any shame you had felt was quickly being replaced by need, want. It felt wrong to feel such things in your current state, but you did. It was just one more way you failed to be as pure as a woman should be. 

You didn’t care as Alastor’s fingers worked over you. All you cared about in the moment was chasing the feeling only he could give you. Every attempt to moan his name was swallowed, muffled by his tongue tasting you. 

Your back arched into him, the tree scraping against your scalp as you came closer and closer to your undoing. Alastor’s lips left yours, searing kisses trailing over your jaw, kissing away every healing bruise. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he felt your body tighten under his hands. “I love you just as you are.” 

You were not sure what it was about what he said that sent you over the edge, but it did. Gasping his name, your legs flexed and clinched around him, pulling him tighter against you without control. The action had unintended consequences. His hand was trapped between your body and his, shoved further back as the space close. 

The pad of his middle finger slipped inside your slick opening, though he hadn’t intended to. The feeling of something breaching you as you orgasmed sent a loud moan, lewd and delicious, from your lips. He was eager to swallow the sound as you spasmed around his first knuckle, body fighting to pull it deeper.

He held you tightly, waiting for the twitching and gasps to still. As your body went limp in his arms, he pulled slowly back, letting his finger slip from you. He couldn’t help but run the pads of his fingers over your sensitive folds, ensuring to caress your clit one last time as he let you regain your wits. 

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly as you blinked up at him. “I hadn’t intended to.” 

“It’s,” you sighed, not angry but feeling shame. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” He said as he wiped his hand on the inside of his jacket. “It’s something most women’s bodies do. There’s no reason to withhold pleasure just because it may be a bit… messier than normal.” Alastor kissed you as he helped you into your panties, paying no mind to the rag. 

“How can you be so…?” 

“So, what?” Alastor laughed as he allowed you to slide your clothing back into order. 

“Unflappable?” you settled for saying, “About everything?” 

“I was raised by a lone woman,” Alastor shrugged. “It’s hard to hide the nature of women when there’s no one else. Mother could have, I suppose, but why?” 

“It’s disgusting.” You challenged, “Unclean.” 

“It’s natural and human,” Alastor retorted, kissing you as you opened your mouth to protest again, silencing you. His tongue caressed yours as he pulled you back off the tree. “Don’t be ashamed with me. Never.”

“Okay,” the words were soft, but he was pleased enough with the agreement. 

“I love you,” He caressed your face, tucking hair gone wild at the hands of passion and the tree bark. “Every imperfection. Every mark of humanity. I love you, not some doll or idea of you. It’s you I want.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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[meanderingwistera]

Heaven is here- if you want it

You’re the closest to heaven I will ever get- Iris, The Goo Goo Dolls

Summary - Who knew that picking up that old book from the antique shop would lead to you accidentally summoning a demon? Not you.

Pairing - Demon!Sukuna x reader

Content - Fluff, CRACK, smut, Sukuna’s wonderful personality, talks about religion (briefly), the curse of all archaeologists and historians to accidentally summon things they shouldn’t

Word count - 6.1k

A/N - All demons can be glorified house cats if you try hard enough.

You had known that buying that old tattered book was a bad idea when you could barely read it. It had a dark leather cover and had multiple crosses burned into it, like it was trying to keep something in there. And the pages all were in latin- which you couldn’t read.

Sure you took a semester of Latin but that was the extent of your knowledge. And that had faded over time. But you had resolved to buy it and translate it yourself. It would be a fun challenge for you to do in your free time after your exams.

During exams you had completely forgotten about the book until a week after your last class ended for the summer.

You had been cleaning out your desk when you rediscovered the book in all its hideous glory. With a glass of cheap wine you went through it in a deeper way, looking through it for any semblance of understanding. But all you could come up with was a list of ingredients.

Maybe it was an old cookbook?

The Latin in it was older than what you learned in college. It must be an earlier version of it- maybe even a local strand of it special to a specific town or region. You flip to a random page and decide to try and figure out what it says. The page is burnt at the edges and has a picture of- what you assume- is an oddly specific way to stir the soup?

No, if the Latin translator you found online was right it was a chilli. If this is an actual recipe that you can translate you will be on the fast track of getting recognized by the rest of the Historian community.

Standing up from the couch you walk into your shitty kitchen. You put a pot on the stove and rifle through your spice cabinet for everything you will need. It is both specific and vague, calling for things like thyme and then something that just translates to red.

Half way through the ordiel you end up on the floor, the book in your hands and your old laptop close by. Typing in a word into the translator you see that word that translates to red again. Maybe red food colouring would work. Most people back when you assume this book was written didn’t bother with colouring their food a certain way on a regular basis. But certain plants would have that natural color to change it to red.

You get up and grab your old bottle of red food coloring from the back. This should hopefully work, if it didn’t you were back to square one. Two drops of food coloring enter the pot and it turns a bloody red.

You stir it in the way the book showed, in a star motion.

After that you decide to taste it- which was a bad idea because it tastes awful. You gag and sputter as you get a cup of water. Downing almost the whole thing you heave.

Maybe these people had very different taste buds from you but that was the worst chilli you ever had.

Sitting back on the floor you open the book again. You look at the pages with a frown as the letters don’t make any more sense than ten minutes ago.

A tremor runs through your apartment. The walls shake and you hear glass breaking. You hold onto the counter for dear life, try not to panic and hope the tremor will pass soon.

A minute later you can breathe easy as it passes. Still holding the book you open your phone to check and see what that was. You briefly look up because something black catches your eye that wasn’t there before. A man comes into your view, he stands a few feet away from you.

The man now standing in your kitchen is tall, much taller than any regular human, six-four at the least. He probably has about a head or two on you if you were standing on your toes. But that isn’t the only thing that is off about him. Two horns are on his head and twist back like a ram’s horns.

His red eyes look around your messy kitchen in confusion. He also looks somewhat disappointed and you can’t blame him. You were a poor college student and couldn’t afford a good apartment unless you sold your soul for it. But as he glares at it you feel a little offended. It may be a shitty kitchen, but it was your shitty kitchen.

Eventually his eyes settle on yours.

“What do you want from me?” His voice seems to boom in your kitchen like he was talking into a microphone.

“Who are you and how did you get into my apartment?” You counter his question with one of your own.

“You summoned me.” He tells you like you were stupid.

“I am pretty sure I didn’t-”

The man -demon? you can’t tell- groans and rubs his temples like you were the one inconveniencing him. After a second of you staring at him, he speaks again.

“Sweet lucifer.” He curses and joins you on the floor. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, telling him to continue speaking.

“You summoned a demon, me-” He points to himself, “with this book” then points to the book.

“So this isn’t a cookbook?” You ask him for clarification, you need to know what type of book this is to fully translate it.

“No, this is a grimoire.”

You sigh deeply, “So what happens now? Do I sell you my soul or whatever?”

The demon looks contemplative as he stares at you. His red gaze makes you shift, it was intense and electricfying.

You can’t deny the demon’s attractiveness, his exposed torso is muscled and broad, his face all sharp angles. Even his nonhuman features added to his appeal. You had already noticed the horns but now you see a black pointed tail switching behind him as he thinks.

“Y'know what? I will grant your wish for free.” He says with a smirk that shows his pointed canines.

A free wish- but how far can you go? Do most people wish for money? Or youth? What do you actually want?

You look at him then at the book and then to him again.

“You can read this right?” You ask slowly.

“I can do anything you want.” He says, smirk widening.

“Then I want you to help me translate this book.”

The demon’s red eyes widen in surprise and his smirk drops, “That’s what you want? Not wealth or eternal youth?”

“Neither of those things interest me,” You hold the book up to him, “this does!”

His unconvinced attitude is back in full force as he groans. You wonder if he expected something grand. All things considered you were fine financially and eternal life seems lonely.

“Besides this could help us understand how the people who wrote this lived and where! I couldn’t understand the Latin in it but it may be a old form of it, maybe even the earliest form of it so we can trace it back to where Latin was first used-”

He puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off mid ramble about the Latin language. You blink in confusion as he holds his hand there for a while.

“Do you ever stop talking woman?” He hissed at you.

If you could answer you would tell him no but you can’t at the moment.

“Don’t answer that-” He sighs, “I will grant your wish.”

You light up like a firework. This would be so helpful to your career, you can already imagine the paper you could write about this. The demon on the other hand doesn’t look so happy about this.

Finally he removes his hand from your mouth and you smile at him, not minding him shutting you up anymore.

“Thank you for this!” You go to hug him only to be pushed back by one of his arms.

“Don’t touch me human.” He growls at you.

“What is your name? Or something I can call you?” You ask him.

“Sukuna- let’s get this over with.”

Sukuna has been summoned by humans for thousands of years. He has been asked for so many things that the requests blend together. The most prominent things are youth or wealth, he loves to twist those two wishes.

The most recent man to summon him was a businessman, who had a decent amount of money but Sukuna can always see the gleam of pure greed in people’s eyes. He had wished to become the most wealthy man in the world.

Sukuna had barely suppressed a grin as he granted his wish. The man was so pleased with his wish, watching the zeros extended far then anyone else had. But he was soon arrested for running an illegal underground drug ring. Sukuna had made him wealthy but the man had never specified how he wanted to make him wealthy.

You were an outlier to this. He has seen his far share of scholars but they always ask for fame, which eventually leads to them either being killed by fans or going insane. You had surprised him with your wish.

Sukuna had been sure you would wish for something different from how you had looked at him. The way you looked him over had been not with fear but something much better, want. And he was prepared to give you what you wanted. No one else had wished for him before so he was flattered and even gave you the wish for free.

And now he is stuck being a translator. The second in command to Lucifer, one of the most feared demons in history is a damn translator for the duration of this wish. He would be a laughing stock if anyone found out.

The grimoire you have is long so it will take at least a week if not two before it is done.

You were excited about this and had gathered a notebook and pencil. He just rolls his eyes at your excitement, letting you know about his displeasure at being used this way. You didn’t seem to care about that- which only made him more irritated.

“Okay!” You look at him expectantly and tap your pencil on the paper. “Let's start on this.”

Sukuna grabs the book and begins to read it to you. You scribble down the words on the paper as he reads. Over the course of a few hours you take notes and write down the translation.

Every so often you stop him to ask a question about the words and if they have different meanings in a different context as well as about punctuation

He also meets your cat. The little beast attempts to lay on the papers you are working on and is genuinely a nuisance. At one point you have to hold the cat with one arm and write with the other.

“Alright! Let’s stop for the night.” You say with delight.

He huffs and closes the book. You get up and stretch with a hum. His eyes catch on the sliver of skin that shows as your shirt rides up. He feels his mouth water looking at it. But as soon as he sees it you lower your arms and the skin is covered up again.

“Do demons sleep?” You ask curiosity plain on your face as you look at him as if he were a test subject.

“I don’t have too but I assume you would feel better if I did?” Sukuna says and you turn bashful.

“Only if you want to- let me get you a blanket and pillows so you can take the couch.” You tell him quickly then practically run off to what he assumes is your room.

Maybe this won’t be a total waste of his time.

“Where are you going, human?” Sukuna says to you as you grab your keys from the little cat shaped key ring.

You have spent three days translating the book and are only half way through. Sukuna is a great help if not a little irritated with your questions.

“I have to work so I have a roof over my head.” You explain and slip on your shoes, “also Toffee needs sacrifices.”

Sukuna looks down right offended, “You give that beast sacrifices? It does nothing but bathe and eat all day.”

You can’t help but laugh as the joke flies over his head.

“It was a joke, she hasn’t demanded sacrifices yet but she does demand food.” You explain and wipe the tears out of your eyes from laughing.

He crosses his arms with an unimpressed look that he gives you all too often. You pat his arm in a placating gesture.

“I taught you how to use the remote and Toffee is here to keep you company. I will be back in a few hours.” You tell him with a gentle smile.

Sukuna doesn’t look impressed but turns around to stalk over to the couch. You giggle and walk out the door- he is very interesting in his own grumpy way.

Sukuna doesn’t like being left alone. He feels a deep sense of boredom as he flips through the TV channels. Nothing is interesting to him and you aren’t here to talk to him about your chosen topic. He would prefer that to the pure silence he is now subjected to in your absence.

He tires of flipping through channels quickly and turns the TV off. Toffee looks up at him from her spot in the sunlight shining through the window because of the movement. Her feline eyes are narrowed at him. Raising to the obvious challenge he narrows his eyes right back.

Toffee either is intimidated or doesn’t care because she gets up to wash her ears. He considers this a win and feels rather smug about it. The beast, after deeming her ears clean, saunters over to him. She rubs against him with a meow.

“You have a lot of audacity to touch me, beast.” He grumbles to her. She doesn’t seem to care and continues to rub her head against his calf.

Toffee meows again and paws at his leg for attention. Huffing in irritation he picks her up and brings them eye to eye. She stares at him and Sukuna stares back.

“I don’t like you.” Sukuna tells her.

Toffee looks like she doesn’t believe him.

Work is boring.

After the morning rush at your job the day is filled with boredom and cleaning everything multiple times for something to do. You are cleaning the counter for what feels like when Haibara, your relief, comes in. He is all smiles and you don’t know how he can be so cheerful in the service industry you give him props for it.

“So how was your three days off?” He asks as you take off your apron and clock out.

You pause for just a moment because how do you explain that you accidentally summoned a demon while trying to recreate a recipe and now you have him in your apartment. He would call you crazy, possibly call a psych ward too and you have to finish translating that book before any of that can happen.

“They were great! It was just what I needed.” You say, trying to match his cheerfulness.

The two of you talk long after you are supposed to leave. You tell him about and show him pictures of Toffee. Haibara tells you about his latest date with Kento. Looking up at the clock you realize that you had been talking with Haibara for twenty minutes.

Shit- you need to get home. With a hasty goodbye you practically sprint to your car.

When you get back you find Sukuna on the couch, Toffee laying on his lap as he watches something on the TV. You shut the door softly so you don’t disturb both of them.

Sukuna immediately looks toward the door at your arrival. You give him a small wave and take off your shoes. It feels so good to be home. You can’t help but breathe deeply as you enter the main part of your apartment.

“Please get this beast off me.” Sukuna demands as you walk over to the two of them.

“Poor baby.” You coo at Toffee and scoop her up into your arms. Sukuna rolls his eyes as you baby her.

“She has been terrorising me all morning.” He tells you.

You raise an eyebrow, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I am a trustworthy source.” Sukuna says and stands, using his height on you as an intimidation tactic.

You don’t budge but a blush creeps up the back of your neck. Quickly moving out of the way so you don’t feel so caged in you put Toffee down and retreat to the kitchen.

“So how was your day?” You ask him, trying to defuse the heat in your cheeks.

“Fine.” He says straight to the point, his eyes still on you.

You both don’t really talk after that as you make dinner.

For being a demon he isn’t that bad of a person. You had expected him to trash your apartment or something of that nature. But your apartment was in mint condition and even Toffee was untouched. Maybe demons just get a bad reputation?

“So is the christian belief system real?” You ask as you sit down next to Sukuna with your dinner in hand.

He snorts, “You are speaking with a demon and you are asking whether I am real?”

“Well…” You trail off, embarrassed but still curious. Sukuna catches on quickly.

“You can choose which religion you want to be associated with.” He explains with a annoyed air to his voice, “Then you are judged by that belief system,”

Oh. That actually sounds great and rather inclusive.

The two of you lapse into silence again as you take in that information. You had been raised religious and it had affected your relationship with him. You had been terrified that he was a purely malicious being but he had proved you wrong.

After years of coming to terms with it you had been certain you would be going to hell but maybe there is a chance that you aren’t.

A fluttery feeling makes itself at home in your chest as you look him over.

“Do you want to continue with the book?” You ask, ignoring it.

“Yeah.”

After that day Sukuna and Toffee would be waiting for you on the couch when you come home from work. Sukuna claimed to not like the cat but she was always touching him in some way so you don’t really believe him. He had also taken a liking to cooking shows.

Demons can eat but apparently don’t truly need to eat. Something about the souls they consumed could keep them fed for thousands of years. Sukuna had bragged that he had consumed thousands of souls so food was no longer necessary for him. It was funny to see him watch those shows while denying any food you offer him.

But you were never one to kink shame.

“Why are you staring at me Woman?” He asks you, a brow raised in question.

You smile sweetly, “Just thinking! Also can I touch your horns? They are interesting.”

That earns you a nasty glare from the demon. It was bad for him that you lost your fear for him a few hours into his first day here. You respected his boundaries but that didn’t mean you didn’t poke them some times for a reaction.

“No you may not.” He growls at you and looks away with a huff.

You can’t help but giggle as he acts like a spoiled house cat. You also wonder if all demons are like house cats or are others more violent.

“Stop laughing.” He demands, his gaze returning to yours.

Trying hard to compose yourself you take a deep breath, only to laugh harder.

“Sorry!” You wheeze out as he looks more and more irritated with you.

Sukuna, much to his credit, only rolls his eyes. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. After your laughing fit you follow after him, curiosity in every step.

“What are you doing?” You ask him as he pulls out a few pots and pans.

“What does it look like?” He responds gruffly and you step out of his way so he can get to the stove.

“I thought demons don't need to eat?”

“I don’t need human food but I am bored so I thought I would try it.” He explains before practically pushing you out of your own kitchen.

Demons are weird beings.

A week after you summoned him you are fifty pages away from having it fully translated. There is a new sense of excitement and anticipation in you as the last page gets closer. But something pulls at your chest.

You don’t want Sukuna to go. He is good company, even his grumpiness is endearing in a way. Maybe you are just lonely but the closer the last page gets the more your heart drops into your stomach.

So when Haibara texts you about going out you take it as a way to prolong Sukuna’s stay. You put on the best dress you have, one that hugs you tight but not in an unflattering way.

Sukuna watches as you apply your makeup, it makes a shiver run down your spine to have his attention.

“Why are you staring at me?” You ask him over your shoulder.

He huffs and looks away, “I wasn’t.”

You giggle at his attitude and keep applying your mascara. Once you deem yourself fit to go out you get up. Sukuna watches your every movement and you try not to be too awkward under his gaze.

“Where are you going now?” He asks, his arms crossed and tail flicking with what you assume is irritation, just like a cat.

“Haibara asked me if I wanted to go out and we can finish up the translation tomorrow since I am off all day!” You explain and put on your heels.

His red eyes narrow but he doesn’t speak anymore. The air in the room gets colder somehow. You feel the tension rise in the room as you walk out the door into the hall.

That is new.

You are going out with a man.

Sukuna can feel his irritation rise by the minute. The rage prickles right under his skin. Another man is touching you in the way he should. He had never planned on getting attached to you but he now can’t handle letting you go.

At first it was just attraction, your body drove him wild. You didn’t seem to understand that he was affected by it. Then your laugh began to make his heart feel like it was dying. He was in far too deep to lose you to a stupid mortal man, he can’t please you like he could.

Maybe he should show you how much better he is than that man.

You feel good, the alcohol makes everything light and pleasant. It helps you not think about Sukuna who will be out of your life in a day. You can drink and forget.

“I think you should stop drinking!” Haibara yells over the loud music.

“I am not drunk!” You say and stand up only to wobble. Haibara is beside you in an instant, supporting you as you walk to the door.

“You are going to have the worst headache tomorrow.” He says with disapproval in his tone.

“It’s fine!” You tell him with a drunken giggle.

Haibara calls a cab and helps you into the back seat. You are a complete mess as you sit in the back seat.

He sits next to you as your drunken high turns to a drunken low. Tears prick your eyes as you remember that Sukuna is close to being out of your life. You sob into Haibara’s shoulder as he pats your back.

The cab driver stops the car and Haibara helps you out. You stumble a little but mostly make your way into the door by yourself. He has a hand on your lower back and a hand holding yours for balance.

Not deeming yourself fit for the stairs, Haibara helps you into the elevator. About halfway up to your apartment you realize that Haibara will want to help you into bed. He will see Sukuna and then you don’t know how to explain that to him.

‘Hey Haibara, so this is a demon I accidentally summoned that may or may not be dangerous and by the way I might have a major crush on!’

How do you get out of this situation?

You step out of the elevator and see your door. It feels too close for comfort, your bubbly drunk high is slowly replaced with mounting anxiety as you get closer. Haibara guides you to a stop in front of your door. As he goes to knock the door opens.

“How much did you drink?” Sukuna’s voice curls around your anxiety.

He looks… human. The ram's horns are gone and so is his tail. His eyes are more brown then red now but still have red undertones. The tattoos are still there but less prominent. Bagging jeans and a shirt have replaced the robe he was wearing.

Haibara looks confused between the two of you. Sukuna huffs and takes your left side to guide you into the apartment.

“Thank you for helping my girlfriend home.” He basically growls, Haibara looks even more confused at his comment and glare.

As the door shuts in his face the word ‘girlfriend’ swims around your mostly sober head. You are bright red as he guides you to the couch. He huffs in annoyance as you flop back onto it.

“You are so helpless like this.” He grouses as he kneels down to undo the buckles of your heels.

His hands are warm against your ankles and you are in shock. It's so much more gentle than before. You can still feel the tense air from when you left but as he helps you out of your heels his touch is tender.

His current appearance doesn’t help the images you now have in your head of Sukuna being your boyfriend. You can imagine slow mornings with him on your days off, him learning to like Toffee and being there when you get home.

If he could look like this at will then you could go out together-

“Stop thinking.” Sukuna leans up to flick your forehead and you put a hand to it in reflex.

“Sorry.” You mutter and look away from him.

“Was that the mortal who asked you out to the bar?” Sukuna’s gaze goes dark as he asks you.

“Yes-”

He rests both large hands on the back of the couch, his arms caging you in. Your face is mere inches apart as he looks at you with a mix of jealousy and lust. His red eyes trace your parted lips, then look up to you. Your breath hitches as his nose bumps with yours as he kisses you.

The kiss starts off slow, almost reverent, then his tongue licks your bottom lip. His pace quickens as you open your lips to let him in. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

“Mine.” He growls into your mouth, a hand resting on your thigh.

A heat ignites deep in your bones as he says it. His lips leave heated marks where they trace your skin. You gasp as his fingers ghost under the hem of your dress.

You need this. Ever since you saw him you knew you needed it. You wonder if he knows that because of the smirk on his lips as he kisses you. Sukuna flips your positions so you are straddling his lap, his hands rest on your hips as you adjust.

“You have been teasing me this entire time.” He says and his teeth graze your neck.

His teeth on your neck has you squirming in his lap. He chuckles at your reaction and sinks his teeth into your collar bone, not enough to hurt but enough to feel blood beed on the surface of your skin. As repentance he licks away the blood and kisses the broken skin.

With his hands on your hips he guides you as you grind on him slowly. It’s sinfully slow and you want more, need more.

“I need more!” You whine as his hands run up and down your sides.

“No one makes demands of me.” Sukuna says and reclines back to watch you grind down on his lap.

A languid smirk spreads on his lips.

Sukuna thinks about keeping you like this for all the times you had teased him. He thinks it a fitting punishment for you. It would be fun to watch you grind down on him and get no relief. He wonders if he could bring you to tears this way.

You would look so pretty with tears in your eyes. It would ruin the makeup you had put on for tonight. Your mascara would be running down your flushed cheeks as you beg him for release.

He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. A pleading look on your face and a slight pout to your lips. How could he deny you with that expression on your face?

Dropping the human form it's easier to slip out of his clothes. The robe leaves nothing to the imagination as he grins at you.

Pulling your dress he gets a glimpse of what he has been craving for a week now. Your panties are soaked as you are perched on his lap. And your chest is almost spilling out of your lacey excuse for a bra.

Sukuna runs a hand down your body as you fiddle with the belt to his robe. He hisses as you expose his dick to the cold air of your apartment. It has been a few years since he has had a good fuck so his cock is sensitive to your light touch.

“Ride me, I want to be as deep inside of you as I can get.” He says as you run your hand over his length a few times.

You give him an innocent little smile as you sink down on him.

Sukuna thinks he might have gone to heaven as your tight cunt sucks him in. He grips your hips as you take all of him in. Your cunt might be the closest he will ever get to this pearly gates and he is happy with that. It was much more welcoming than that stuffy place.

You have a slight scrunch in between your brows as you adjust to his size. Soft hands find purchase on his broad shoulders as you steady yourself. After you settle you move.

“That’s it, you’ve got it.” He praises you as you ride him.

Sukuna feels you tighten around him as he says it. You must like praise, he will have to abuse that.

His hands trace up your stomach to the flimsy bra you have on. It doesn’t take long for his hands to rip the bra off of you. You look a little bit upset about that but it is replaced by pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth. There is no complaint out of you after that.

Your movements pick up pace as you reach your high. Sukuna sucking and biting on your chest is driving you closer. Trying to find something else to hold onto your hands snake up into his hair. Your fingertips graze the junction of his horns and his head.

Sukuna lets out a low growl as you touch them lightly, curious about how sensitive they are.

“I told you not to touch those.” He warns you.

“When have I- fuck-” Sukuna thrusts up into you, cutting off your sentence, “ever listened to you about stuff like that?”

“Maybe I will just have to fuck some sense into you.” He suggests and begins to fuck you in ernest.

You keep a firm hold of his horns as he picks up a brutal pace. It is both too much and not enough. Finally he finds your g-spot. Sukuna chuckles low in his chest as you whine and it goes straight to your clit. His deep thrusts become targeted at that spot as your body writhes on his lap.

Then you are over the edge, cumming all over his cock. It feels so good. Your thighs trimble as you milk his dick. He ruts up into you as your orgasm triggers his own. Sukuna’s teeth are at your collar bone as he cums. You pant as his teeth draw blood as he spills out into you. His iron grip on you tightens as he rides his high.

“I needed that.” Sukuna mutters into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles your neck and you let out a little giggle at his sudden clinginess.

“Me too,” You say but are cut off by a yawn, “but I would like to go to bed soon, I am tired.”

“I don’t think that you are in any position to make demands of me.” He looks at you with a self assured smirk.

You raise and eyebrow, “I own this house and I can never fuck you again if you want to be that way.”

He glares but stands up, his arms around you to keep himself in you. It felt intimate to be this close with him. He is warm and surprisingly gentle with you as you move to your bed.

Sukuna lays down on the bed with you buried in his chest.

“I am staying inside you.” He tells you with no room for argument.

“I have no objections.” You laugh and get comfortable.

It is quiet for a while after that as you two drink each other in. You don’t complain as it gives you time to think about what just happened and what will happen after you finish that book.

“Hey,” You say softly, “do you think that if we don’t finish that book you will not be sent back to hell?”

Sukuna blinks down at you in surprise, which smooths out into a smirk.

“I am sure that will work but are you prepared to keep me around?” He asks you.

“More than prepared- are you ready to deal with me?” You challenge him back.

“Always.”

You stand awkwardly against one of the gallery's white walls with a glass of champagne. People walk around looking at the different historical statues, papers and jewellery. Despite being here as a honoured guest it is still not your regular crowd of people.

This is also a little daunting to be here even after your rise to fame. Even with the pages missing the book and translation got the attention of both the historical and archaeological communities. You were shocked at all the recognition that you got from it.

You had expected a few people to notice and maybe a few to reach out to you about it but not fancy galas and snobby rich people thinking that they can just buy the book off of you.

That is how you have gotten into your current predicament.

“How much would you say this grimoire is worth? I have enough to purchase it and even a little more.” The man says with a slimy grin.

You can’t punch this man in the face, you have to accept an award later. So you need a different way out of this situation-

“Found you.”

A pair of strong hands come to rest on your hips. You look back to see Sukuna just behind you, a glare that could kill is pointed at the man talking to you.

“I was wondering when you would get here!” You exclaim and turn around to wrap your arms around his neck.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek he chuckles, “I got stuck in traffic.”

As if on cue the man talking to you practically sprints away. Sukuna looks completely unimpressed with the man as he makes his speedy exit. You laugh at his expression and tug his head down so he looks at you.

“That pretentious asshole doesn’t matter,” You tell him as he grins at you, “now let’s go get this award so I can get out of these heels.”

“I have no objections to that.” Sukuna drawls and lets you take his hand to pull him through the crowd of people.

Maybe opening that old book wasn’t such a bad idea.

tags: @maryhyun254 @yangtze-06

[fashionteahouse]

Can you do a Paul x reader where he’s working out and sending her snapchats the whole time and she’s supposed to be helping Emily make food but keeps getting distracted with his pictures

Had to throw these in there because why is he so fine?!?🫠

think ur trying to kill me 😭 jk jk <33

death of me - paul x reader

Leaning against the counter, you set the pot down on the stove.

A buzz vibrated next to you on the counter space. Glancing at it, you see the words glow up your screen.

Paul sent you a snap !

A finger pressed the screen, you unlock it to see what he could’ve sent. You’re curious to know since you don’t know what he’s up to at the moment.

You hold it down as you replayed his snap. You kept staring at what he sent you. You got another one right after. Grinning a bit, you tilt your head a little as you stared at the next one. You felt spoiled at that moment.

“Y/N.” she says to you. You look up.

“You didn’t turn the eye on.” she says as she turns is on. The bottom of the pot is now heating up and she looks at your hands and puts her own hands on her hips, “You told me you were going to help. You’re just on your phone.”

You set it down face down. But, you couldn’t help but pick it back up. She turns to grab a knife for the vegetables to be cut. You quickly type out.

“You’re going to need help cleaning that sweat off of you.”

You set your phone down just in time as Emily looked to you for assistance. She shakes her head slightly with a grin and says, “Who got you so distracted?”

“Nothing. I just seen a really funny post.” you say as you sliced open the vegetable in your hand.

“I wanna see. Show me.” she says as she looked hopeful.

“I..I lost it.”

“Bull.” she flatly says with a smirk.

You faintly heard the buzz again, but you helped her mince.

Walking over to the sink, you had enough time in that frame to check to see if Paul responded. After drying your hands, you seen that he did respond.

Another picture with a text.

“You sure you don’t want me to make your body drip next?”

Your breath hitched as your face gets hot.

“Okay, we need a large bowl. Y/N can you grab it?”

“Yeah.” you say in a monotonous tone. You didn’t move as your attention was still on your phone. Emily just walks over as she sees that you’re still at the same spot.

“Y/N. Unbelievable.” she says.

You jump a little at the close proximity of her voice and she gives you a knowing look.

“I should’ve known.”

“What?” you say trying to play innocent.

“You’re going back and forth with Paul. Of course you’re distracted.”

You grab the large bowel and follow her to the kitchen island. The phone buzzes again against the hardened material. She looks at you.

“I just want to see what else he sent me.” you say as you hold your phone up.

Emily just shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Let’s just finish this up first, please. Then you can have all the Paul time you want.” she says.

“Alright, alright.” you agree and set the phone down.

You start to mix and the anticipation was killing you. You barely paid attention to what she was saying.

When she wasn’t looking, you slid your phone into your pocket.

“Did you hear me?” she asks as she waits for a response that doesn’t come.

“I have to use the bathroom.” you tell her and you knew that she knew that you didn’t to use it. You still made your way to the bathroom, pulling out your phone as soon as the door was closed.

You click on the snap and sees that he texted you with a video this time.

“Finishing up and I’ll be home after this.”

You sigh a little, texting him your own response.

“You’re going to be the death of me”

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess - Part 8

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You agree to have a DNA test taken. Pouring out your frustration, you experience a more severe hallucination. Chishiya and Niragi meet again as well.

A/N: Getting Niragi into the picture a little more. They're all going a little insane.

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

You were going to have a look on one of the apartments you had been browsing online and had sent an application to. The previous tenant had moved out around a week ago so there was no furniture.

A real estate agent was going to give you a tour and show you around, letting you decide your opinion on whether the apartment was suitable for you or not.

But when you saw who the agent assigned to you was, at first you couldn’t move, heart starting to beat faster and legs locking themselves in their current place.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spat. The man’s eyes widened as well.

“Y/N,” your one-night hookup, Takuro, gasped. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Please don’t tell me you chose me on purpose,” you sighed, ready to turn around.

“I didn’t, I swear,” he hurried to say, lifting his hands in the air as a surrender. “I didn’t even know your last name or other information about you what's included in the papers.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath in.

“Come on, let’s just be professional, okay? I’ll show you the apartment and then we’ll part ways,” Takuro suggested, trying to motion you to get inside.

You let out a sigh, taking a step forward. “Fine.”

He started leading you further in the apartment, going through each room one by one.

“So, this is the kitchen,” he said. “In my opinion it looks smaller than in the images on the website but it can still fit a proper dining table.” He walked closer to the drawers and the stove. “There’s a lot of space for all kinds of utensils and food. The large window brings a lot of sunlight to the apartment too, though making summers quite hot.”

You barely said anything during the tour, except a few comments and common questions here and there once in a while, just let him talk what he had to say. You had to admit that he was a good estate agent and that he was natural at selling things to people, being much more charming than you could personally ever become.

The apartment seemed to have almost everything you wanted from your home. You could imagine yourself living here and already thought of the way you’d arrange furniture. Suddenly you properly realized that you had no furniture left and that you’d have to buy everything again.

Your favorite place here was the bedroom, the window the perfect size – making the room feel open but not too much. The walls had been painted dark red which you didn’t think you’d like but it actually looked amazing, just the right shade.

The balcony could have had a better view, but it didn’t bother you too much.

“So, what do you think?” he asked when he had introduced you to every possible corner of the apartment.

“It’s amazing, I do like it,” you admitted. It wasn’t too pricey either, and it would take only 20 minutes to get to your workplace.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, happy that he could satisfy another customer. “There’s couple of more customers interested in seeing the place, but I could offer it to you right away if you’re interested?”

“Can I think for a while and call you back?” you asked, even though you knew that you wanted this place but couldn’t make any hasty decisions. You looked towards the living room one more time, already imagining Niragi sleeping on a couch there against all your protests.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll reserve it for you for couple of days, so could you call back on Thursday, if not earlier? After that i'll have to let other customers come to check this out.”

“Sure,” you agreed.

After that, both of you fell silent, not knowing what to say to each other.

“Well, if this was all, I better go then.” You turned around and started walking towards the front door, but was interrupted almost right away.

“How have you been doing?” Takuro blurted out before you could open the front door to leave. The time of him acting professional was now finished. He had tried to form the correct words in his mind what to say to you but nothing had felt right.

“I’m alright,” you replied without turning to face him.

“And, um… How’s the baby?” he asked carefully, taking a few careful steps closer to you so that he didn’t have to raise his voice.

You turned around to look at him, raising your eyebrows. “How’s the baby?” you repeated with a mocking tone, crossing your arms against your chest. “Now you care and admit it’s yours, hm?”

“No, I just,” he started, trying to choose his words carefully since you clearly weren’t on his side. “It’s not mine, I already told you that. And I do care about your well-being, Y/N. Yes, even though we don’t know each other well.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled and turned your head away, not really knowing what to say to him. You just wanted to leave but couldn’t get your legs moving towards the front door, knowing you had unfinished business with him that you needed to get solved.

“Please, can you just take a DNA test to prove I’m not the father?” he pleaded, walking now close enough to you to gently put his hand on your shoulder to make you look back at him. You thought you’d flinch from his touch but your body didn’t react to it in any way, as if his hand wasn't there at all. “I can’t stand to know the fact that someone thinks I assaulted her and got her pregnant too. Please.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and closed your eyes, holding your hand against your forehead. You felt frustration spread in your chest and rising up your throat, making you clench your teeth harder together to keep your cool.

“I’m not aware if you’ve slept with other men or not and I don’t care, just cross me out from the list, alright?” he asked with a soft voice.

You let out a laugh, moving your gaze to look him into his eyes now. “There’s no list, you idiot.”

“Take the test,” he asked one more time, by now begging you. “Please? I’ll give you a DNA sample right now or we’ll go to a hospital. I don’t know how it works.”

“Will you then leave me alone?” you asked.

“I will, I promise,” he confirmed. “If you wish to never see me again, I won’t come to talk to you if I see you somewhere. I won’t even look at you, if you wish so. I’ll act like you put a restraining order on me.”

He seemed like such a sweet and kind guy who owned a good heart but you couldn’t get the nagging feeling inside you away that he was the only option to be the baby’s father. Maybe you needed a written proof that he really was the reason you had a new life growing inside your womb. You wished so hard that he wasn’t the dad and didn’t assault you that night, seeing the desperate look in his eyes right now how he looked at you, not wanting you to hate him for the rest of your life.

“Okay,” you agreed.

God, how much you wished you were wrong and he was right. Just because you didn't want to live your life hating someone.

But if he was right, you had no idea what to do next.

♤♡♧◇

Niragi returned to Jae-sung’s apartment, standing in front of the front door and searching for the key in his pockets. When he didn’t find the key anywhere, he started to panic.

You’ve got to be kidding me, he thought, wanting to punch the wall in frustration. Of course he had to forget the key inside. What a fucking dumbass.

Niragi knocked on the door, knowing damn well that Jae-sung was at work and you had gone outside to do whatever you were doing. Jae-sung wouldn’t be back home in another four hours, at least, so he pulled his phone and dialed your number. It rang four times before you answered the phone.

“What?” you asked, not even bothering to greet him first.

“When are you coming back?”

“Miss me already? Are you that bored?” you teased him.

“I just forgot the fucking key inside, okay?” Niragi spat, growing truly annoyed.

“And how is that my problem?” You had no empathy for his own dumb actions.

“Just tell me when you’ll be here,” Niragi gritted between his teeth.

“Not in another couple of hours,” you answered. “Go and bother the neighbors or something, I don’t care.”

“Love you too, sis,” Niragi scoffed and hang up the phone.

For the next 10 minutes, Niragi only sat on the floor by the door and stared at the wall on the opposite side. He had nothing to do except wait. Sure he could go hang out outside before you'd return but he had no idea where he would go.

Until he got one idea how to spend his time for a moment. He pulled a bobby pin from his hair, twisting and bending it into a correct position to start to pick the lock in the door handle.

“Please tell me you live there so I don’t have to involve myself in anything,” a male voice said a few metres behind him, startling him for being so silent.

He looked familiar and after a moment Niragi recognized him to be the same blond guy from the day they woke up in the hospital. The hell was he doing here?

“Forgot the key inside,” Niragi huffed and turned his face back towards the lock, trying to concentrate on getting the door open and ignore the guy’s stare.

“You’re doing it wrong, you know?” Chishiya commented.

“Yeah? Mind your own business,” Niragi mumbled. The guy was probably right though, Niragi had never managed to pick a lock in his life, he had only watched couple of videos about it ages ago when he had been bored.

“Let me have a look,” Chishiya suggested and kneeled down next to Niragi, who was reluctant to accept help just like that from a stranger. Especially a guy who was significantly shorter than him and looked like a girl, but Niragi needed to get inside.

Chishiya had opened locks before, so he knew how it worked. Niragi gave him the bobby pin and took a step away to let him handle it.

Niragi didn't say anything while Chishiya concentrated on getting the door open, eyebrows furrowed. He just leaned against the wall, arms crossed on his chest.

It took a while but eventually Chishiya got the door open, actually managing to surprise Niragi.

“You have a habit to forget your key inside too or what?” Niragi asked, then narrowing his eyes. “Unless you’re a burglar, huh?”

“Nah, just felt like a useful skill to learn,” Chishiya shrugged as he stood up and returned the twisted bobby pin to Niragi. “Not that I’d need it often. Breaking into other people’s houses isn’t one of my spare time hobbies, even though I think I’d make a good burglar if i wanted to”

Chishiya wasn’t sure why he cared to help him. Because he was your brother and you’d appreciate Chishiya for helping him? No, of course that wasn’t it. Normally Chishiya would just walk past and not give it another thought if he knew the apartment belonged to the person trying to break in. He didn't do charity to strangers.

“Do I owe you a favor now, huh?” Niragi asked, mostly joking.

One more game, Niragi’s voice continued inside Chishiya’s mind.

“What game?” Chishiya asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Game?” Niragi repeated, as confused as Chishiya was right now. “You want to play a game?”

Suddenly, Niragi heard a loud gunshot, making him jump a little. He looked around him, trying to find the source of the shot but there was nothing which would have caused the sound. It was too loud to be just a traffic crash outside or something. It happened in this corridor.

Niragi turned his face back to Chishiya, whose white shirt was now slowly being dyed red on his ribs, as if he had been shot for real a second ago. Niragi’s eyes widened.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Niragi shouted in slight panic.

“What?” Chishiya asked with the same calm voice he had talked in before, confused of Niragi's behavior.

Niragi shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, Chishiya’s shirt was back being completely white. No red anywhere in sight on him.

“Are you feeling alright?” Chishiya asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I need to lay down,” Niragi mumbled, suddenly feeling sick and went inside the apartment. “Thanks for the help.” Then, he closed the door behind him, letting Chishiya continue his way wherever he was going.

But Chishiya didn’t move from his spot right away, only kept staring at the closed door for a moment. What a strange man, he thought. Chishiya could see a clear resemblance between him and his sister, which was you, even though half of Niragi’s face was severely scarred at the moment due to the accident.

Eventually Chishiya walked towards the stairs, trying to brush the moment with Niragi out of his head.

Niragi leaned against the door for a few minutes, trying to process the previous moment he experienced. He knew what a gunshot sounded like, and the noise had sounded exactly like one. His ear was still ringing a bit by the loud sound, as if it had been real and the gun had been almost right beside his ear. And Chishiya’s shirt too? That was blood, but then there wasn’t blood at all anymore.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Niragi mumbled under his breath and rubbed his scarred face, then hitting himself on his left temple. “You’re going insane, get it together.”

When Chishiya arrived outside and was simply walking down the street, he felt some kind of presence staring at him. He couldn't explain the feeling but something felt off.

Chishiya was waiting at traffic lights to be able to cross the road and as he looked directly towards the street on the other side, he saw a tall man in a black cloak stare at him. At least Chishiya thought he looked at his way, he couldn't exactly see the man's face under the hood.

But he was carrying a massive rifle with him, and none of the other people around paid any attention on the man.

Then, a bus drove past, hiding the man behind it. When the bus was gone, so was the man, as if he had jumped on the bus without it stopping to pick up more passengers.

Chishiya didn't get scared easily, there wasn't many things he feared but that man? He managed to make Chishiya extremely uncomfortable and wake up feelings he hadn't felt in a long time.

Right after, Chishiya felt something hard hit his ankle, and when he looked down, he saw a grenade which would blow up any second.

Immediately he jumped out of the way, falling on his back and hearing a loud explosion but when he looked around him, absolutely nothing was damaged and nobody seemed to be hurt.

"Sir? Are you alright?" an older woman asked, looking down at Chishiya who was lying on the ground, breathing rapidly, eyes wide. "Do you need a doctor?"

"I'm, i'm alright," Chishiya mumbled and got up, his head feeling heavy.

He had physically felt the grenade hit his ankle so there was no way he had just imagined it.

♤♡♧◇

A few days passed, and you were anxiously waiting for the result of the DNA test. You tried to figure out other things to do which would make your mind to concentrate on other things than the test but the thought and stress of it wouldn’t leave your mind. You were so desperate to find things to do that you started even learning a new language online – French, which you would give up with after a few days.

You also started to get ready to return to your work soon, it wouldn’t be long anymore to get back to your regular routine you had been used to for the past few years. Sitting at home and forcing yourself to find things to do was making you go crazy because you were running out of ideas.

As you were watching TV with Jae-sung in the living room, you got a notification on your phone. Your heart started racing faster and faster in your chest, panic rising inside you. It was an email from the hospital, and you were more than sure that it held the answer of the DNA test. The answer whether Takuro was the father or not. He had to be, of course it had to be him.

Your stomach dropped and heart skipped a few beats when you read the result. You had to read those few words several times to believe what it actually said. Looking at each letter on one of the words.

Negative. It was negative, he wasn’t the father of your baby.

“What is it?” Jae-sung asked, furrowing his eyebrows when he saw the shocked look on your face. He had said something to you but you hadn’t heard what, you were completely ignoring him like he didn't exist at all.

“I think I need to go,” you mumbled, hands shaking.

You locked yourself inside the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat and holding your head in your hands. You had read the email several times now, that one word so many times it was losing its meaning.

Negative. Negative. Negative.

You leaned back and held your stomach, looking down at the slight bump which was there but not extremely visible yet.

“What are you?”

♤♡♧◇

Some hours later and after the thought had properly sank into your mind, you had left the house to go to the place where you always went to pour out all the frustration and anger. You could be there in peace, nobody bothering you.

You were throwing knives on the wall one by one, aiming at a few targets you had set up. The headphones against your ears were blasting music into your head, attempting to muffle any thoughts lingering in your mind.

You had owned a large knife collection in your home and was more than upset that the meteorite had destroyed them as well. Well, you didn’t know if they were actually destroyed, but you hadn’t been able to visit your former home which was now in ruins. These two you had now were the only ones you had left at the moment, so you had to constantly walk back and forth to pull the knives out of the wall, usually you had five with you.

You were feeling so many emotions at once and didn't know how to deal with them. So you put all that frustration in stabbing the wall with the blades.

Why couldn't things just be easy for once? Too much going on and only one Y/N left to deal with all the thoughts and problems storming inside your mind and body. You were tired and just wanted to give all these things bothering you to someone else who would be able to deal with them better.

You took the water bottle on the side table, taking a few large gulps down your throat and taking a quick break before you’d go pick up the knives back again.

As you started walking towards the place where your knives were sticking out, you froze on your place, terrified of the scene you were now facing. You instantly ripped the headphones off your head, throwing them on the floor.

A man was suddenly standing about ten metres in front of you, leaning against the wall against the spot where you had aimed the knife on. He was wearing something what looked like a bulletproof vest.

But your knife wasn't on the wall – it was sticking in the man's neck.

Your eyes widened and a horrified scream escaped your lips as you looked at him holding his neck with his hand, blood pouring between his fingers. The man slowly turned his body towards you, lifting something you hadn't at first noticed he was holding in his hand.

With a murderous glare in his eyes, he pointed a gun directly at you, ready to aim and pull the trigger.

You tried to jump out of the way and shut your eyes, but there was no gunshot. In fact, there was no sound at all coming from him.

When you opened your eyes, you were all alone again, nobody else in sight. After standing still for a while, body and mind filled with fear, you walked slowly towards the wall where your knife was sticking out like usual. Not a single drop of blood in any surface. Not on the floor, wall or even the blade you had sharpened before you arrived here.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest so hard you felt like you were going to vomit, faint or experience another panic attack but the horrified feeling inside you didn't evolve as far.

You had never seen that man before in your life, even though there was a slight familiar feeling of him. The look he had stared at you with was the scariest look anyone had ever made at you, sending shivers down your spine. The look alone would have been able to kill if he stared at you long enough.

The door suddenly opened, breaking the eerie silence in pieces and making you jump back and let out another automatic scream. You were now holding one of the knives in your hand, gripping on the handle so tightly that your knuckles had turned white. You didn't even first realize how much your hand was shaking at that moment and it was extremely close that you didn't throw the knife towards the person coming inside the room.

As you recognized the person approaching you, your shoulders relaxed a little and a deep breath slipped between your lips, but you still wouldn't loosen your hold on the knife. You looked at the clock on the wall, it was starting to be the time Niragi had told you he'd come and pick you up.

"Y/N? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Niragi asked, seeing the shocked and horrified expression on your face. He looked at your hand, which was still trembling and holding the knife. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

Niragi held your shoulders and looked at you in your eyes.

"Niragi," you whispered, throat dry even though you had just drank water. "I think i'm starting to go insane and lose my mind."

"What do you mean?" Niragi asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I'm seeing things," you said quietly, almost choking on your own words. "I think i'm going to need some psychiatric help."

"What kind of things?"

A smile suddenly spread on your lips, as if it had a mind of its own.

"I just stabbed a man," you laughed. You weren't meant to laugh, but you couldn't help it. There was nothing funny about it but you were feeling so nervous you could barely control it. "I just fucking stabbed a person and then he disappeared. Poof. Gone. Into thin air."

You kept laughing so hard your stomach started hurting and tears forming in your eyes. You couldn’t control it.

Niragi did look at you like you had finally lost it. You couldn't stop laughing but soon it turned into crying. The knife in your grip dropped on the floor by your feet, and your body was about to drop down as well, legs betraying you, but Niragi caught you and held you against his chest. He rubbed your back as you continued crying.

"It'll be alright, Y/N," he whispered, pressing your head against his chest as you both sat down on the floor. "I'm here for you, alright?"

"I'm so tired," you sobbed.

Niragi didn't remember the last time you had cried in front of him, it had been several years, and he knew it must be something serious. Something really bad.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Niragi suggested, eager to hear anything that was bothering your mind. Wanting to help you because seeing and hearing you cry was breaking his heart in pieces.

"I don't know where to start," you mumbled.

You didn’t want to tell him about the fact that you didn’t know whose child you were carrying. That the father wasn’t the person you thought it would be. The only person who it could have been. No, you’d leave him out of it. But all the other shit going on in your head?

"That's okay," Niragi comforted, his voice softer than usual. God, you didn't want to be a sobbing mess in front of him. "It doesn't have to make sense."

You pulled your head away from his chest, now putting a little more space between your bodies.

"Have you seen any, like, weird flashes or dreams after the accident? Or voices, like someone was speaking to you but you couldn't locate origin of it?" you took the courage to ask him. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he understood the question correctly. "Like, i don't know. Something that felt more like a memory than a dream."

Niragi was almost about to say 'no' but as he thought about it, he fell silent for a moment.

"Well, there's been couple of odd dreams i got but dreams are just dreams, right?" Niragi just shrugged.

You sat up a little straighter now, furrowing your brows.

"What kind of dreams?"

"Nah, it's stupid. They didn't mean anything."

"Niragi," you gritted between your teeth. "I'm going insane here so you better start explaining me what you've dreamed of."

He didn't believe his dreams had any meaning but you were looking at him in a way that you were going to squeeze them out of him with force.

“Well, um. I saw one where we were at a pool, there were lots of other people there too. You as well. And I was carrying a rifle,” he explained. The dream was blurry, but Niragi saw proper dreams extremely rarely and none of the dreams before had felt real. Somehow in that dream he could feel the weight of the rifle on his shoulder, even after waking up the feeling still lingered there for a moment, something pulling him down a little, until the feeling disappeared as he had gotten up.

“You were carrying a rifle at a pool party?” you scoffed. “What were you, a pool guard or something?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m just saying what I saw. I said it was stupid,” Niragi snapped.

“Fine, what else?”

“Hm. I remember some man in a black cloak with a gun shooting people,” Niragi explained.

Niragi also thought about the moment in the corridor with Chishiya. Should he tell about it to you? How would he even explain it so that it made sense? So, there was a gunshot in our building and that hospital guy was bleeding out but then he wasn’t bleeding anymore. Was schizophrenia a side effect from a meteorite attack? Nah, that made no sense.

You had fallen silent, frozen on your spot, just staring at Niragi with wide eyes. He turned his face to you now that you hadn’t answered anything to the dream he shared to you.

“What?” Niragi asked, confused of the shocked expression on your face.

“A man in a black cloak shooting people? With a gun?” you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

“Well, yeah. So?”

“I’ve seen him too,” you admitted. “When we, uh, that night when we played cards with Jae-sung. I, I held the King of Spades in my hand and a man in a black cloak just appeared into my head.”

Niragi remembered you acting strange and getting migraine in the middle of the game.

“King of Spades, huh?” Niragi repeated, getting more familiarity to the dream as well. Like being able to give a name for someone.

“I think I should see a doctor,” you said quietly, voice trembling a little. After the stabbing incident, which hadn’t been real, you were genuinely getting worried of something being seriously wrong with your brain.

Niragi didn’t want doctors to start picking on his brain, and he knew you’d insist on taking him to the hospital as well if he admitted what he had seen in the corridor with your neighbor. Niragi wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t worry about whatever hallucinations you had experienced but he knew it wasn’t normal at all. He just didn’t want to accept that there was something wrong with you.

With both of you.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Obviously Niragi's going crazy too. Maybe i'll just lock all three in a mental hospital <3

Tags:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@aemondsb1tch

@queenofviolenceandnerds

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

@kimsrie

[nanivinsmoke]

Sneaking Around.

Geto x blackF!Reader

please this is such an odd scenario but yet i sorta like it

summary ~ things that aren’t yours are so much fun to use.

warnings ~ secret sex, revenge sex, ass eating, pussy eating, cream pies, etc…

ah, the day everyone loves. be it the food or being around family, everyone loved this holiday. but, she didn’t. she loved her family like no other, but she hated her family when her sister was around. her sister would tease her and would one up her whenever she got the chance, and this holiday would not end up like that. and to top it off, her family would treat her older sister like a queen, catering to her every needs and praising her like one. and whenever y/n was around, the treated her like a maid; also making her cater to her sister’s every need.

however, that all changed when she got older and moved out. she matured and began to stick up for herself, rarely visiting her parents when her sister was in town; only seeing her on holidays. y/n was in her parent’s bedroom, checking herself out in the mirror; taking pictures, when she heard he sister’s annoying voice echo throughout the house. with the sigh and one last look at her outfit, before heading downstairs to greet her sister.

“you look like you’re about to pop! i can’t wait to meet my grandchild. y/n come greet your sister” their mother spoke, moving out the way so her pregnant sister could be in view. sucking in her breath and pushing away her emotions, she spoke “hello sister. you look beautiful.” her older sister smiled and rubbed her belly, “thank you. you look a little plump there. don’t tell me you’re pregnant too?” her parents chuckled and y/n fake smiled, but before she could say something in response, her sister’s fiancé walked into the house.

“it’s so good to see you again geto! you look as handsome as ever. it’s nice to see one of our children with someone” their mother took another jab at y/n, which resulted in an eye roll from her. “im gonna finish the food. wouldn’t want you burning it like last time” y/n faked another smile, walking away without a response. from the corner of her eye she could see geto looking at her, before she looked away.

once she entered the huge kitchen she quickly turned on their oven, warming up the meats, the mac and cheese and the yams. as she turned on the stove to heat up the collard greens, she felt a pair of hands around her waist and the smell of his cologne entered her nostrils. “geto, someone could walk in and see you—oh I’ve missed you too~” she felt his boner poking her butt and she smiled. the two have been sneaking around her sister’s back, fooling around with each other whenever she wasn’t around. they never fucked, only giving each other head, but this time y/n had something else in mind.

“you know what, let them catch us. i don’t mind, just fuck me” y/n pressed her ass against him, rotating her hips to tease his boner. she didn’t care about ruining her relationship with her sister, she hardly liked her anyway’s. in reality she really wanted to be fucked, hard, and she knew he was going to do that. geto wasted no time and hiked up her orange knit dress, revealing her plump ass to his face. her black thong was being swallowed by her cheeks and the sight made his dick harden even more. sliding the thin fabric aside, geto grabbed her hips and pushed his face in between her cheeks; slobbering down on her wet cunt, earning a moan from her lips.

to stop the moans from her lips becoming too loud, she bit her lips and continued to heat up her greens. “A shame you aren’t married yet, your cooking is amazing. One of your redeeming qualities” Her mother’s voice startled her, causing her to look from the pot and her over to the older woman standing behind the island. Her eyes widened and she tried to push Geto away, but he stayed in between her legs; not caring if they get caught. “Th-thanks m-mom…I’m going to put the cornbread in the oven, dinner should be ready soon” As she tried her best to speak to her mom, Geto swirled his tongue around her clit, sending her in a frenzy.

before y/n’s mother got the chance to ask any questions, her husband’s voice gained her attention; something about their grandbaby kicking. once the coast was clear, y/n bent down slightly and let out as moan and creamed all over his fingers and lips; which geto was happy to lick up. “stick it in, hurry up!” she begged him, no longer interested in foreplay; she wanted the real deal.

he stood up and pulled his cock through his zipper hole, his thickness standing at attention before he pushed his mushroom tip at her slick entrance. using one hand to brace her self and the other to muffle her moans. he bit his bottom lip and furrowed his brows as the sensation, she was nothing like his fiancé.

he wanted nothing to do with y/n’s sister. he only stayed with her because of their unborn child, in reality the woman he wanted was the one whom he was inside right now. “shit, you’re so tight for me ma” he had been around y/n so much he was evening picking up her vocab, some might say he was in love with her. but did she feel the same?

he was so deep into a trance that he didn’t even notice his soon to be mother-standing a few feet away from the kitchen’s island, until her voice startled him. “geto? what are you doing there? did that good for nothing y/n leave you here to finish this dinner?” her mother started to move towards the entrance, but he quickly stopped her while slowing down his strokes. “she went to the restroom for a bit, she asked me to watch the food while she was gone” his infamous smile was very convincing towards the older woman and she smiled right back at him. ‘such a handsome young man’ she thought before waving goodbye to him and heading back to her pregnant daughter.

looking back down at what he was doing, his dick got harder at the sight of her fat ass smothering his dick. “shit~! this wet ass pussy gonna get us in trouble ma’. let’s wrap this up before they catch on” geto grabbed one of her cheeks and put his other hand on her waist and proceeded to give her some long and deep strokes; which she hoped they didn’t hear.

her wetness creating friction against his pelvis was like music to his ears, which cause him to go deeper inside of her wet cunt. his tip was kissing her cervix with each stroke and y/n couldn’t take it anymore, she needed him to fill her up. “fuck geto~ cum inside me please. I want to be full of your cum!” he smirked and licked his lips, he planned on doing that from the beginning. as the two of them climaxed, y/n’s mother voice rang throughout their ears.

“oh my god! her water broke! im going to be a grandma! geto and y/n meet us at the hospital.” her voice trailed out as the door slammed behind them, which signified they all had left. when the coast was clear, he pulled out of her, his thick load pooling out of her cunt.

“go see your baby be born and when thats finished, stop by my place so we can finish what we started” she reached around and dipped her fingers into her slippery cunt, before pulling them out and licking her cream coated fingers.

who knew sneaking around would be so much fun?

[ninthfeather]

the future, perfect in theory, is crumbling in overload

Fandom: To Be Hero X Summary: Nice signs his contract with Treeman Agency, and his life unravels as a result. (also on AO3)

Title from Amalee’s translyrics for "Gravity Wall" by Sawano Hiroyuki. Thank you to FabHawk for getting me into TBHx and for beta-reading!

Warnings for an abusive/ableist/homophobic workplace, including one extremely ableist statement from a named character (it's Miss Jie and imo that's in character for her), a very depressed POV character, and the general horror undertones of TBHX's trust system.

When the two of them signed their contracts, the recruiter made it clear: the agency wanted total control of their public images.They were young, after all, without any experience in PR, so they would need some help in that regard. They just had to trust in their manager and everything would work out fine.

After well over a year in the industry, Treeman Agency Hero Nice stared at the ceiling of his nearly-empty apartment and despaired.

The agency set his boyfriend up as his designated supervillain. They couldn’t even go on dates anymore, because Nice got too much media attention and if someone put together his boyfriend’s appearance with Wreck’s, Treeman would have to choose between thousands in hush money or just dropping both of them. He’d noticed that Miss Jie tended to keep the schedule full after his fights with Wreck, and he suspected it was on purpose. Worse, she kept showing him pictures of women Treeman represented and asking him how he’d like working with them. Nice was almost certain that she wanted to put together a fake marriage for him.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, Nice couldn’t even go to therapy for his OCD.

He had medications, yes, but those didn’t handle everything. And his image as a “perfect” hero, and the Trust that generated--it both magnified his condition and directed his compulsions. 

Before all of this, his worst compulsion was double-checking that he’d turned off appliances and locked doors. He and his therapist had worked hard at helping him figure out how to feel safe without having to individually inspect every device in his apartment every time he left.

That wasn’t how it worked anymore.

Nice was “perfect,” so now everything around him had to be perfect. He used to be fine walking around in rumpled clothes, but now everything had to be straight and even and completely clean. All of his furniture had to be laid out just so, and every part of his place setting had a position it belonged in. Over time, the knowledge that something was out of place would grow from something small and annoying, like a bug crawling across his back, to an overwhelming tide that threatened to swallow him up.

The stress wasn’t helping. He knew it wasn’t helping. A lot of hero work was smoke and mirrors and agency-affiliated villains, but there were also real threats out there and now that Nice was in the top hundred he was expected to deal with them. Sometimes when he went to work, his actions were the difference between people living and dying. Even someone with no history of compulsive behavior might end up doing the occasional superstitious ritual in those circumstances.

But Nice did have that history, and now it was manifesting itself in the desire to spend hours double-checking that everything in the apartment was lined up perfectly--furniture parallel to walls, place settings centered on the table, and so on. Because now, instead of worrying that he’d leave on the stove and burn his house down, his brain had decided that if his forks weren’t lined up properly, the people he wanted to rescue would die.

And still, Miss Jie wouldn’t let him go to a therapist.

“I can pick up meds for you, if you’d like, but seeing someone is too much of a security risk,” she said. “Even online visits can be tracked. The medication is only possible because we’re using a pseudonym to fill it.”

Nice wasn’t sure that was legal. To be fair, he wasn’t sure how much of any of this was legal. It didn’t seem like it should be allowed for his employer to interfere in his relationships and his healthcare and his apartment like this, but Miss Jie just told him it was all in the contract.

Back when he’d signed, he’d flipped through it a little, just in case his boyfriend was watching, because he didn’t want to look like the kind of rube who signed a contract without reading it, but he hadn’t actually read any of it.

Now he was paying for it.

When he was with his boyfriend, it was easier. He got it, and he would listen to Nice complain and do what he could to help and wouldn’t stop him from completing a ritual unless Nice asked him to or he was actively hurting himself. 

But now, in Hero Tower, with an apartment that Miss Jie had the key to, he couldn’t have his boyfriend over without getting an earful about it, and agency personnel were willing to drag him out the door if he was taking too long to leave.

None of them got it. Miss Jie actually said the line about “everyone’s a little OCD” to his face when he complained about how long he’d spent trying to realign the furniture the previous night. The one time he tried to bring his mental health up on a talk show, she muted his mike remotely and then lied to the host about it being a technical issue. 

He missed his therapist. He missed having a door that only he had the key to. He missed his boyfriend.

He’d gotten rid of most of the furniture the agency gave him. He’d kept the statue, because when he’d first shown it to his boyfriend, he’d laughed so hard he pulled a muscle. But pretty much everything nonessential went away. Miss Jie made him keep the couches because she needed somewhere to meet with him, but if he’d had his way, the only furniture would have been the bed, the kitchen table, and a few cushions on the floor for when he needed them. 

He knew he was getting worse. The anxiety was pretty much constant, and he’d started dissociating his way through meetings with Miss Jie. It was getting harder to remember to text his boyfriend back, when all he wanted to do was either sleep or double-check that all of the cups were lined up properly in the cupboard.

Miss Jie kept talking about getting him a girlfriend, and Nice kept saying no, but he knew he couldn’t keep it up forever. She’d figured out how to get to him, now. She was moving around his china and “accidentally” spilling coffee on his white furniture and suggesting that he’d have more time to himself to “clean, or whatever it is you like to do” if he just said yes to the girlfriend.

It would devastate his boyfriend, even if he knew it was fake. He’d always been the jealous type.

But Nice was running out of strength.

[lookingfts]

Where does Say My Name Kate keep the photos Anthony took of her? Does she ever look at them? Does Anthony?

*sexy snippet below*

Kate knew it was reckless to keep the photos in her purse, exactly where Anthony had left them. There was just something right about it, keeping them so close to her. The final token that had convinced Kate to make the best decision of her life, and give Anthony Bridgerton a real chance at loving her.

There was also something a little naughty and thrilling about it, besides. Kate was hardly a prude, but she still blushed when she caught a glimpse of herself posed so intimately. Her legs spread, her cunt exposed, Anthony’s release filling her. It was too easy to get wet all over again at the memories. Too easy to get sentimental as Kate mused on how far they had come since then. That girl had been so scared, fighting his every attempt to show her that he genuinely cared about her.

And now she knew the truth. Anthony loved her harder than she could have ever dared to imagine, and she was safe to love him just as much.

So the Polaroids stayed. Until the day that Eddie needed to borrow a phone charger and Kate, distracted by her sauce on the stove, had offhandedly said, “Check my purse.”

There was the sound of zipping, and Kate realized her mistake a second before it rang across the house. “Oh my fucking god!”

Kate turned down the heat and raced into the other room, snatching the photos from Edwina’s hand. But the damage was done, judging by the shell-shocked look on her sister’s face.

“That’s not what it looks like,” she insisted, her cheeks flaming bright red.

“That’s not…” Eddie said faintly, then snorted. “Didi, I literally don’t think that could be anything except what it looks like.”

Shoving the photos back into her purse, Kate pulled out the charger and pushed it into Edwina’s hand. She supposed it was a good sign that her sister’s surprise had faded and now she looked endlessly amused rather than angry.

“You little slut,” she said, but her voice was teasing. “You let my ex-boyfriend take nasty photos of you, didn’t you?”

Kate rolled her eyes. Eddie loved to call Anthony her ex, and while technically correct, Kate knew she meant it more as a joke than anything else. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

She supposed there was no need to tell Edwina the whole sordid tale of how Anthony had taken pictures of her after she had just made him come for the first time, on her knees and trying to get even after her own intense orgasm. Of how he’d given them to her as a gift, a promise that he wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

Might as well let her think they were more recent, a fun little experiment in a solid relationship.

“You look great,” Eddie said, waving her hand toward the photos. “Have you ever considered porn?”

“Edwina!”

-----

So, maybe her purse wasn’t the best spot. Kate took them out when she got home, bringing them upstairs with her. It was late, and Anthony was already in bed, shirtless and reading a book. Truly beautiful sight to come home to, each and every time.

She flopped onto the bed, and Anthony quirked an eyebrow when he saw the photos in her hand. “I haven’t seen those in a while.”

“Edwina found them in my bag,” Kate said, wincing. “She was fine, but it was…awkward, to say the least.”

Anthony pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh. “But she was okay?”

“Yeah. She said I should do porn.”

“You do look incredible naked,” he said with a straight face. “But I must admit, I like being the only one to see you that way.”

“I know,” Kate sighed, snuggling in closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Anthony put his book aside, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I must have known when I let you take these. I believed you when you said you wouldn’t show anyone else.”

She felt his deep breath against her body, his grip tightening around her. “I know you didn’t have much reason to trust me back then, but I would never do that to you, Kate.”

“I’m well aware,” she assured him, twisting to press a kiss to his collarbone. “It was a little scary, but it also turned me on. I realized I liked the idea of you laying in bed, touching yourself to my photos. Wanting me even after our one night was over.”

Anthony tensed slightly, his breathing going a little shallower. “That was…inevitable.”

“I know that now too.” Kate flipped to the next Polaroid, a close-up of her cunt with his seed leaking out. Right after that ridiculous phone call with Tom and before Anthony had cleaned her up with his tongue. “If you didn’t take them for yourself, why did you take them?” she asked quietly.

“They were for me. At first. If that night was all I had with you, I wanted to remember it. And when you let me take them, I realized…there was a part of you that trusted me. Maybe it was buried deep down, but it was there. And I wanted to show you that I could deserve that trust. I wanted you to know that you owned me, not the other way around.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. Maybe the way Anthony showed love didn’t make sense to everyone, but it was perfect for her. He was perfect for her.

“Hey, baby?” she asked. Anthony hummed. “Do you know where your camera is?”

“It’s in my office. Why?”

“I think we should take some more photos.”

[goddesstrolls]

Ankiro heard the key turn in the lock, and gave a small groan.

Phiroe was the only one with a key, besides himself. It had been a while, but Phiroe liked to drop by unexpectedly. He’d barely interacted with his ancestor since Kasora had reamed him, and he would’ve liked that to continue for at least a while longer.

Ankiro continued cooking his dinner as the front door opened, jabbing at the eggs in the pan and wondering if he could try to escape the coming conversation. 

He paused. That heavy step did not belong to Phiroe.

He shifted the pan from the stove, turned off the flame, and stepped past the kitchen partition to see a hulking troll standing in the entrance hall.

The troll wore heavy layers in various states of disrepair and thick fur. His face and hands were weathered with age and heavily scarred. His mis-matched teal gaze flicked to Ankiro, and Ankiro realized he had seen this stranger before.

An old, faded picture of him sat on the mantle, taken many sweeps ago. The troll in the photo looked much older now.

“...Evening, sir.” Ankiro said.

“Evening, boy.” The old troll shuffled past him with a mild greeting. “What’s your name?”

“Ankiro, sir.” Ankiro watched as the troll eased himself into the armchair, his gaze flickering around the hive. 

The layout had barely changed in Ankiro’s lifetime, and he suspected that Phiroe had not bothered moving the furniture either, making it likely the old place looked much the same as it had for his predecessor.

“Akeros. Though I’m sure you knew as much.” The old troll’s gaze landed on the fencing foils mounted above the piano. “Those aren’t Phiroe’s,” he said. “Yours?”

“Yes, sir, those are mine. And, no, Phiroe didn’t mention you much.”

Akeros gave a low, somewhat bad-tempered hum, and nestled comfortably in the armchair. “Hare-brained fool. He still around?”

“Last I checked. Which wasn’t that long ago.” Ankiro relaxed slightly, already getting a more favorable picture of his ancestor. Er, great-ancestor? “I take it you two didn’t get along well.”

“Mm. Not particularly. He was always off, chasing clouds…” Akeros heaved a sigh, and then pushed the thought aside. “What do you do with yourself, Ankiro?”

“Uh, I run an animal sanctuary. Can I get you some tea, sir?” This was halfway an excuse to return to cooking his meal.

“Tea will do. Anything warm. Gods know it’s been too damn long…” Akeros heaved another sigh. “What’s this animal sanctuary about?”

Ankiro returned to the kitchen, filling up the kettle and setting it to boil on one of the burners, while he turned on another to finish his dinner.

“Well, I take in larger and more dangerous animals that otherwise would just be killed. Monsters, often. Accidentally had a werewolf in last week…” He added under his breath, and Akeros snorted.

“Well, that’s an improvement to whatever the hell Phiroe was off doing.” Akeros said.

“You’re a monster hunter, as I understand it, sir?”

“Mhm. Was. Retired as of tonight.”

Ankiro fell silent for a moment, uncertain of what to say. It didn’t sound that Akeros was particularly fond of the route to ecology his descendants had taken.

“I’d be willing to teach you what I know, and give you a hand with this sanctuary of yours. If you’ll hear it.”

“I’d be honored, sir, but, uh…” Ankiro glanced out of the kitchen at Akeros, who was staring off into the fireplace. “...Well, I prefer not to kill beasts if it can be helped.”

“I’d like to see you relocate a raging ten-ton wyrm.”

“I’ve held worse than that at the sanctuary.” Ankiro said. “There are strong tranquilizers now, and machines that can carry beasts that big. Raging, though..? Normally a wyrm wouldn’t act that aggressive unless…”

“-Her eggs were stolen.” Akeros said, sounding amused. “Seems you know your stuff, boy. Apologies for doubting you.”

“It’s understandable, sir. I expect our… Non-violent approach appears soft, to you.”

“No, it’s noble. A good hunter knows that every beast has its place. But any hunter can kill.”

Ankiro paused in his dinner to bring Akeros a cup of tea, and the old troll gratefully accepted. “Thank you. Bring me out to the sanctuary sometime, I’d like to see it.”

“I head out there almost every night. So, tomorrow, if you’d rather relax tonight…”

“Please.”

[bakingtherapy]

Genshin Inspired Recipes #3 Eula: Custard

Hello, every birdie. Today we are going to be making a dish inspired by a character named Eula. 

Eula - She is a Cyro character from Mondsadt. She has a heavy burden over her, regard to her family. She is part of the Lawerence clan and thinks that everyone doesn’t like her because of it. And no matter what happens to her she acts with “vengeance.”

She was my second 5-star character in the game. 

Every nation in Genshin is based on a specific country in the world. 

Mondsadt is Germany. 

Liyue is China

Inazuma is Japan

Sumeru is India 

Fontaine - French

Natlan - Philippines or Africa

For today’s recipe, we are going to be looking at a German recipe. This cookbook was gifted to me by my German grandma (adopted. We adopted each other as grandmother and granddaughter.). Like she lived in Germany until she was 7 years old.  So this cookbook will always have a place in my heart. 

I do have to have google open with this cookbook though. Because there is terminology that I don’t know and had to look up. 

Okay, onto the recipe. We are going to be following a recipe called “GUSTIN - pudding with Fruit.”

The recipe and the measurements will be down below. Feel free to look at it. 

The ingredients you will need are:

GUSTIN (corn starch powder)

Sugar 

Oetker Vanillin Sugar (if you don’t have this, which I didn’t. I added about 1 -2 tsp of vanilla extract to the same amount of granulated sugar.) (Edit from future Robby - Wegman's & Walmart both have this for about $2.00. I just didn't know that at the time.)

1 egg separated 

Milk or water

Milk 

Fresh fruit 

In a bowl, you are going to mix together your GUSTIN, which is your corn starch. Your sugar, and vanilla, the egg yolk with 6 Tablespoons of cold milk or water. 

In a pot on the stove, you are going to bring together a pint which is 2 cups of milk to a boil. I doubled this recipe because I was feeding 7 adults. And it didn’t look like that much. So always go with your gut feeling on the quantity you need. And yes, sometimes your gut feeling will not be correct. 

Once your milk is at a boil, remove it from the heat, and stir in the corn starch mixture. Trust me when I say that you want to turn the mixture off the heat. There have been many times when I burnt the pudding because I added the cornstarch or thickening agent when the mixture was on heat. 

When all of your dry ingredients are incorporated, you are going to bring it back to the stove and bring it to a boil, yet again. 

You are going to whisk your egg white until stiff peaks. If you have a hard time with a meringue there are a few tips that I have learned along the way from my mom. 

Put your equipment in the freezer about 10-30 minutes before you are going to use it. 

Use a metal bowl. It holds the coldness longer. 

Never try to do a meringue by hand. You will be tired at the end of it, and you will not have stiff peaks that are generally needed. 

Make sure to constantly stir your pudding mixture. Nobody likes burnt pudding, it just sits there unpleasantly at the back of your throat, just reminding you that you made a mistake. So don’t do like I have done in the past. 

Once the mixture comes to a boil, you are going to take it off the heat. And fold in your egg whites. While it is still hot, thus you cook your egg white. And you are not eating raw egg whites. 

(Gotta love the mess in the picture. I couldn't even be bothered to clean up the table. Geez. 😂)

When you serve the pudding, you can add the fruit to it however you like. I made it into like a trifle-like thing. It tasted really good, and it wasn’t a heavy dessert either. I am finding that as I get older, I like baking with fruits and veggies more than anything else. 

I hope that you liked this recipe. Feel free to check it out down below. See you in the next recipes. Thank you. 

Show the original author some 💖💖💖 Robby's Cookbook Collection

Here is a printable version of this recipe: on the blog

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Seven.

Second update is here, besties! This is basically shaping up to be a novel, the 20th chapter just begun in the writing and I am loving every last second of creating their story! Just to note, too, the song Picses that is mentioned is a real song, by the band Jinjer, the musical claim for Jade's voice and Seventh Gate on a whole. Give it a listen, it's beautiful.

Big thanks to my tiny audience for your commitment to reading. I see a few of you liking it but remaining quiet. I would so love to hear from you, if you'd be so kind to drop a little comment, and even better, add a reblog to help me get a bit more exposure. Thanks guys :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,047

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Ahh, he has arrived. Dogs, come on. This show of frenzy is not becoming of you.”  

Patrick Brody; he could never just greet someone with a simple hello, letting his son into the house on Christmas morning. He at least gave Adrien a big hug while he was being dived all over by two very excitable Pit Bull terriers, though.  

“Merry Christmas, pop,” he spoke with affection, his dad nodding and smiling. 

“Same extended in return. Now, your mother is in the kitchen, if you will excuse me, I am slowly working myself through what’s left of my Tanqueray while I ruminate on Keats and a little Joy Division. It’s great to see you, though. I’ll be out when the food is done.”  

Ahh, he was in one of his moods, chasing a slither of melancholy. Why he’d chosen Christmas morning to do such was beyond Adrien, but he was used to the strange habits of his fiercely intellectual father. The last time he’d visited, it was Sangria paired with The Rolling Stones and a book on the art of John Williams Waterhouse.  

Truly, there was nobody like his father. Or his mother.  

“Is that my boy?”  

“Sure is,” Adrien called, placing the large bag of gifts he’d brought beneath the tree in the lounge, walking down to the kitchen to see her emerge, her arms held wide. “Merry Christmas, ma.” 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she spoke, pulling him into a hug. “Is your father still absconding?” 

“He is,” he confirmed, giving the dogs a little more attention before following her down the hall. 

“You know, I thought he’d get out of that whole tortured artist bit when he hit thirty,” Lois voiced, hurrying back into the kitchen to check on the gaggle of pots occupying the stove. “Never damned well happened!” Turning the burners down, she glided to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of wine with raised eyebrows. “I got this or beer? Up to you.”  

“I’ll take a beer, but let me, mom. You have enough to do, or I can stir something?” He made a move off the high stool, watching his mother race towards him, waving her hands. 

“You will stay away from the cooker, Adrien Nicholas Brody!” she warned, unscrewing the top and handing him the bottle. “You’re a liability.” 

His face was a picture of affronted. “Says the woman who’s set fire to her own hair how many times?”  

Pointing at him, she waved her finger, starting to laugh softly in spite of herself. “Fucking smart ass, is what you are.”  

“I get it from you, ma,” he teased, reaching for Ginsberg’s giant head when the dog made it clear he required further petting, Bukowski pottering around in the hallway, shaking the hell out of a brand-new chew toy. Moving over to the balcony, he turned the key and slid the door, letting himself out into the cold Christmas morning, lighting up a cigarette. 

“Still smoking, huh?” his mother observed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Don’t start bitching. Not with how many you used to chain a day,” he warned, raising an eyebrow.  

Picking up her wine, she felt confident to leave the food for five minutes, joining him out on the balcony. “Wasn’t going to. I could do with one. Gimme.” Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled the pack out, Lois taking one and leaning to the light he offered, the smell of the lighter fluid mixing pleasantly with the tobacco. Taking a long drag, she immediately looked more blissful.  

“Oh, full tar. Good boy,” she sighed, kissing his shoulder as she rubbed his arm. 

“Not my choice, I stole them from my girlfriend,” he confessed, watching her eyes widen. 

“Excuse me, son of mine?” Her exclamation was coupled with the usual wild gesticulating, arms flying expressively. “Girlfriend, you just drop that in there casually, that there’s a girlfriend on the scene now?”  

He laughed softly through his nose, looking out across the white landscape below. “Yeah, there’s a girlfriend. It’s been three and a half months now.”  

Lois wound her hand expectantly. “And? Name, age, what does she do? Please don’t tell me it’s another bullshit model who doesn’t know shit from Shinola. I can’t bear the idea of you bringing another pretty dullard into my goddamned house!” 

“You liked Sofia,” he protested. 

“Sofia was well read, she was interested in other cultures, she’d travelled. She was an anomaly. Anyway, we don’t talk about her any longer! Tell me about the girl,” she demanded, her eyes full of excitement. 

“Her name is Jade, she’s thirty-one, and she’s the vocalist for a band called Seventh Gate. And she acts as well.”  

Lois paused, her wine glass almost reaching her mouth, her other hand moving to grip, and then softly shake his forearm. “You’re dating Jade Burton?” 

Wait. How did his mother even know who she was? “Hold on, you know who she is?” 

Her finger thrust towards the kitchen, her entire arm waving. “That new canvas I have out in the hallway? I painted that listening to Black Electric Wasteland.”  

Their second album, but how... how did his mother know that? “Who are you, and what have you done with Lois?” 

“Oh, come on! You know I listen to rock! I’ve got Sabbath and Def Leopard albums in my collection,” she exclaimed, taking another drag on her cigarette. 

“Yeah, but Seventh Gate is way heavier than that. It’s the musical equivalent of having a safe dropped on your head.”  

She snorted into her wine glass. “And how the hell do you know? You only listen to music made by fellas with gold teeth who wear jeans nine sizes too big!”  

He couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that. “Because that’s how I met her. I got talked to going to the Rock and Iron festival with Lewis while I was in LA. The first time I met Jade was when she jumped onto the barrier and screamed about in an inch from my face.” That particular revelation delighted his mother, imagining it. He went on to explain a little more, how he’d met her properly backstage, thought she was incredible and swiftly decided in a moment of madness to join the tour for a week.  

“Good for you, god! You didn’t do anything like this in your teens, you were always so focused. Why not in your thirties? And look what came of it, you’re dating a legend! Oh, mother of pearl, that girl’s voice!” Flicking her finished cigarette over the rail, she bustled back inside, locating her phone and swiping around, putting it in the dock and pressing play. “I love this song. Pisces. Please tell me you’ve heard it?” 

He had, since it had been in their setlist on tour. They stood silently as they listened to the opening bars, Lois softly singing along to the melodic opening, clasping a hand to her chest. “I adore her! All of them, such talented girls!” 

Adrien was still stuck in the realms of huge surprise that his mother had not only heard of Seventh Gate, but was a fan, too, when the kitchen door opened, his father walking in.  

“Interesting harmonies, and the chord progression is stunning work. Who is this?” 

“Adrien’s girlfriend and her band. They’re the girls whose music inspired my painting!” Lois replied with enthusiasm, continuing to softly sing as her husband topped up his gin. “You’ll never believe what he did, Patrick. Meets her at a show and then, he just hops on a tour bus with her for a week. Just like that!” 

His father paused, eyebrows raised. “You and five women absconded to a bus for a week,” he mused, sipping his gin. “A lesser man might make a joke about such setting tongues wagging, but it feels a little too low brow.” Another sip of gin was taken. “How is your tongue, by the way?” 

Patrick Brody; he was a man entirely too witty for his own good.  

Adrien closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. “You’re fucking terrible.” 

“I’m an effervescent delight. And you? You’ve now officially cemented yourself as a groupie.” Closing the fridge, he stood for a moment, tapping his foot as he continued to listen. “Yes. I like it, mmhmm.” 

Adrien couldn’t help but grin. “Just wait for the chorus.”  

His dad looked curious for all of five seconds, before the tempo changed drastically, both musically and vocally. “What in the?” he exclaimed, wide eyed, scratching his chin. “That’s a woman?”  

“Yep,” Adrien confirmed, “that’s my girl.” 

He listened a little longer, sipping his drink. “Does she need a priest? It sounds like she has a demon.” 

Immediately, Lois pointed at the door. “Get out of my kitchen at once, you lousy philistine!” Their little double act had their only child laughing quietly, thinking his dad truly wasn’t all too wrong. After all, he’d likened that ripsaw roar to something hell had spat up too upon first hearing it. “When can I meet her?” 

He knew he’d have that question directed at him sooner rather than later. “I’ll arrange something with her and get back to you. I have five weeks before I’m away again, we can come over one afternoon, or meet you guys in the city?”  

“I’d love that, yes. So, tell me more about her, then,” she requested, her eyes lighting up. She could see it so clearly, how smitten her son was. “She’s British, isn’t she?” 

“British-Sicilian. She was born in Palermo. Arrived three months earlier than expected while her mom was over there visiting family, backpacking with her dad.” 

“Oh!” she cried, resting a hand to her chest. “She was a little preemie baby? How dear.” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “almost didn’t make it, weighed about three pounds when she was born. I like to think she defied all the odds stacked against her, though.” He smiled, thinking of her fortitude, her toughness to do the job that she did, and at the standard she did it. “She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

Lois studied him for a moment, beginning to nod. Finally, he’d met the one who she sensed wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry. “I’m going to love her, aren’t I?”  

Watching that sly smile, he looked away for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Yeah. You really, really are.” She left all talk of the new girl there, going back to the cooker and inquiring over how everything else was in her son’s life as she stirred and tinkered.  

Meanwhile, over in Harlem, Jade found herself in a similar surrounding. Except in her family, you pitched in, or you got the hell out of the way. 

“Steven!” Gemma yelled, her husband jumping a foot in the air. “If I have told you once, I have told you a million times, stop stealing the turkey skin!” 

“Why? You don’t like it, Rachel is a fussy vegan, Jade doesn’t care, and Marco isn’t even here. Allow a man to have his simple pleasures, my little snap dragon,” he teased, winking when his daughters began to laugh, Jade making a snappy motion with her hand towards the back of her mother’s head. It was very weird, for her brother not to be there, this year staying in LA with his new boyfriend, Jack and his family.  

“Your parents like it, and I finally have the skin nice and crisp, so it’ll give your mother one less thing to complain about,” she replied, physically hip bumping Jade down a little as she poured cream into the potatoes, ready to mash into a pulp.  

“Go, go on, out of my way!” 

“You called me in to carve the bird, Gemma,” he reminded her, taking the large knife the younger of his daughter’s passed over to him.  

“Well then do it instead of standing there slowly making a start on eating it!” 

Jade quickly finished her potato-based endeavours, reaching for the bottle of scotch on the side, topping up her mother’s glass and adding ice from the fridge dispenser. “Mum, drink that before you give yourself a heart attack and thus make dad have to work on his day off.”  

“Open heart surgery on the tiles with a carving knife,” he chimed, examining the blade. “I think I could make do.”  

The family all paused to laugh, Gemma taking the drink passed to her gratefully, wrapping her arm around her daughter’s waist. “Thanks, buba.” Taking a sip, she then widened her eyes. “Rachel!” Check what time we’re on. I need to put the beans on at the very last minute, so they don’t overcook.”  

“Can’t, mama. My phone is in the lounge.” 

“Check mine,” Jade spoke, “It’s on the counter.”  

Illuminating the screen, Rachel took in the time, as well as something else notable. “It’s two twenty-one, and sis, why do you have a picture of Adrien Brody as your screen lock? Are you fangirling?” 

“No,” she beamed, “but I am dating him. That’s the news I had to share before I got wrapped up in the Christmas chaos.”  

Immediately, her right eardrum was almost blown out. “What the utter bloody hell, Jade Lucia? You’re... and... seriously? Adrien Brody, really?” 

“Mum, you’re making it sound like he has two heads, or like I have. I’m not sure which is worse,” she chirped, reaching for her wine and taking a big gulp.  

Gemma nudged her with a soft elbow. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it! So, come on. Tell us everything!” 

“Not everything,” her dad mumbled, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I wanna know everything,” Rachel piped up, nodding towards the door. “Get out, dad. I wanna hear if he’s good in bed or not.”  

He instantly looked mildly mortified, scrunching his eyes tightly shut. “Pretending I didn’t hear that,” he sang, shaking his head, “wishing you were still two and six instead of these grown women who let penises near you.”  

Jade almost choked on her wine for her laughter, Steven finishing his very neat and precise carving, nothing less than anybody expected for a surgeon to accomplish. “I am leaving you to your women’s talk. I shall be in the lounge, eating my nougat.”  

As soon as he was gone, two sets of eyes turned to her. “Tell us everything!” they both spoke at once, Gemma especially excited as she bounced on her heels a little. Her darling mother still had that silliness of youth about her, a very young fifty. With preparations all done for the moment, they stood and listened as Jade regaled them with the story, even grabbing her phone to show them the picture taken literally at the exact moment they’d first met, Jade bellowing a scream right in his face.  

“What, so he just blew off his commitments and got on a bus with you?” her mother cried, sipping her drink, looking absolutely delighted. 

“He did, and yeah. We fell in love,” she confessed, beaming as they cooed, Rachel moving to hug her. 

“That’s about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard! Aww!” she spoke, kissing her sister’s cheek fondly. “You’re keeping it quiet, I gotta say. Haven’t seen any pictures of you guys together in the press or anything.” 

“Well, we haven’t been out together much,” she admitted, fiddling with her necklace, one he bought for her three days previously when he came back into the city. “There have been a couple, though.” A little lament sounded in her sigh, knowing of course it would happen sooner or later, being that she was relatively well known, and Adrien of course very famous. “Thank fuck there wasn’t any after what happened with Jen. Nobody got pictures of him there, which I’m glad of. I don’t want anything like that possibly impacting him negatively.” 

Gemma’s eyes widened. “He was there when it happened?” 

Gulping at the memory of that terrifying day, she fortified herself with a mouthful of wine. “He was. He’s the one who found her. He saved her life.”  

The eldest of the Burton women let out a little gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “God above, I can’t imagine how I’d react.” 

“Horrible as it was for him, he was probably the best person to find her,” she admitted, “he’s very steady and pragmatic, very calm. He doesn’t get flustered easily at all. I doubt any of us would have thought to check for her stash, Jess’s weed too and get rid of it so nobody got arrested and made an already nightmarish situation a thousand times worse.” 

“What a good guy, wow. And how is my beautiful Jen now?” Gemma asked. Jen had always been her favourite, looking at the kitchen table and being able to picture her there, drumming upon the surface with a couple of pencils as a gawky, fifteen-year-old kid with bright pink hair. That very brownstone was where Seventh Gate had begun, their rehearsals confined to the basement, the girls all coming over after school every day to practice for hours. 

Jade smiled, remembering her last phone call with her. “She’s doing okay. The first week withdrawing was hell, but better than it could have been since she wasn’t a long-term, substantial user. She’s doing the twenty-eight-day program but is open to staying longer if she feels like she needs to.”  

Feeling a little teary, she took a breath, stilling the little emotional vortex that began to swirl. Of course, true to her nature, she only let herself feel it momentarily before she hardened herself. “I’m so proud of her. She was just like, ‘I have a problem and I need to get help in fixing it, because I ain’t going out like that, I’m not scaring you guys that bad ever again’, so checked herself into Urban Recovery in Brooklyn as soon as she got back to the city.” 

She remembered how small and broken she’d looked the day after her overdose, seeing here there in hospital, trying to remain upbeat. Jen never cried, the epitome of a tough New York girl, but as soon as she’d seen Adrien, she’d burst into tears, apologising for putting him through something like that and thanking him over and over for saving her life.  

Speaking of the man himself, after they had both spent the day with their families, they met up again that evening at Jade’s apartment in the West Village, Adrien flecked with a sprinkling of snow as he arrived. Christmas in New York was her favourite time of the year, loving watching it tumble from the sky through the two floor to ceiling windows in her living room.  

The space was airy and light, yet sumptuously cozy, candles dotted around lighting every surface, a very big but tastefully decorated tree in the corner of the apartment, the warm white lights twinkling beautifully against the minimal ornaments. They shared a bottle of red wine while exchanging gifts, Jade buying him a whole heap of things she knew he liked, his favourite perhaps being a little crochet doll of a bald, bespectacled man in an orange robe on a bicycle. It took him a good five minutes to stop laughing. 

“His holiness on a bicycle, oh god, I love it!” he hissed, reaching for the last gift in the pile.  

“Now this one has had me riddled with anxiety over whether you’ll like it or not, and I just have to hope to hell that you do!” she spoke, Adrien opening the paper with curiosity, pulling out a white label record from within.  

“The boy from Queens?” he spoke, looking at the title written on there with a Sharpie, nothing else denoting anything. “Who’s it by?” 

Pointing at her record player in the corner, she smiled. “It’s an original collaboration. Put it on and find out.” Heaving himself off the couch, he walked over and did exactly that, placing the vinyl down atop the player and switching it on, carefully lining the needle up. As soon as he heard the opening beats, he spun to stare at her.  

“What did you do, Burtie?” he spoke, his smile beginning to spread. His mouth then fell open completely, hearing the vocal intro that was Method Man himself, dropping rhymes over his beats.  

Burtie. She loved that particular cute little nickname, breathing a huge sigh of relief at his reaction. “I played him some samples of those beat tracks you sent me, shared a few lyrical ideas to tailor it, added to it, and we recorded it upstairs after you’d left last week. You do not even want to know how much it cost me to get it pressed at such short notice as a one off, but you’re worth every cent, my darling.” 

Standing there listening, the clever lyrics all relating to him, he was floored. Utterly stunned. “This is the best gift anyone has ever gotten me!” he spoke, nodding his head, “damn, that’s so sick! Baby, thank you so much. Seriously, this is the best.”  

“Isn’t it, though? And you’re welcome,” she beamed, elated that he was enjoying something she’d worked so hard on collaboratively. It was always great to hang out with her friend, having Clifford there for nineteen hours straight working on it. Getting to work with him on something so personal up in her little recording space had been an unforgettable experience, though.  

Once the track had finished, he came back over to her, lifting up the large gift he’d brought for her, giving her a kiss before sitting down beside where she was comfortably resting in her gigantic bean bag. “Here, I’d say I hope you’ll like it, but I know you definitely will.”  

Taking it from him, she propped it back against her large coffee table, picking at the corner before gently tearing the paper. The squeak that bubbled in her throat as she clasped a hand over her mouth made his stomach prickle with joy, watching her so excited.  

“Oh my life!” More of the canvas was revealed, Jade flapping her hands as she bounced a little, eyes widening. “Oh my fucking god, Adrien!”  

“And I’m deaf. Again,” he joked, pushing a finger against his ear and giving it a little wiggle to stop the ringing her scream had evoked.  

Her mouth hung open, looking between him and the painting, more noises of approval sounding. “You bought me a Beksinski original?” 

Zdzislaw Beksinski was her favourite artist, the Polish painter and photographer whose medium was dark and macabre, the original painting discovered by Adrien after scouring the internet, finding it for sale through a private collector. It had been worth every single ounce of hassle in getting it shipped over from Germany, the insurance, the customs debacle, the mild heart attack he’d suffered at hearing it might not arrive in time for Christmas, just to see the look of such pure, unfiltered happiness on her face.  

“He... he touched this,” she whispered, her fingers gently gliding over the ridges of the oil paint, every swirl and groove, shaking her head in amazement. “Baby, I love it. Thank you! Come here, my handsome mans.” Pulling him into her arms, she showered him with kisses, utterly delighted to have received such a thoughtful gift. She shuddered to think what he must have shelled out for it. Beksinski’s work went for tens of thousands.  

Admiring it as she leaned back against his chest, she honestly couldn’t remember the last Christmas she’d felt quite as elated as she did in that moment, in the arms of her love, cozy and warm as outside, the snow continued to cover Manhattan in a thick blanket of glistening white.  

“I got you something else, too.” Picking up a small package, he handed it to her, Jade feeling something she instantly recognised within. Pulling it out, there in her hand lay a looped up, long coil of dark blue bondage rope, her grin widening so much, he couldn’t help but laugh softly.  

“Put your hand in my bra right now and check out what just seeing this has done to my nipples.” He obliged, giving the left one a little stroke. It was like a bullet. “Okay we’re going to bed right now.”  

It was the exact reaction he’d been looking for. 

[haileyb444]

Hidden in the Spotlight

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Luna Moon (oc)

Summary: Jungkook and Luna Moon share a quiet, hidden marriage, away from the prying eyes of the world. Their love is their sanctuary, but when a single slip-up during a livestream exposes Luna to BTS’s global fanbase, everything changes.

Jungkook leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Luna as she pulled her long platinum blonde hair into a loose braid. Her pale skin seemed to glow under the soft light, and her icy blue eyes caught his for a moment before she turned back to the stove.

“You know, I think you get more beautiful every day,” Jungkook said, his voice warm and playful.

Luna shot him a skeptical look. “You’re just buttering me up so I won’t complain about you leaving your socks everywhere.”

He laughed, crossing the small space to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. “Okay, maybe a little. But I mean it.” He kissed her cheek softly, his dark eyes filled with affection. “I still can’t believe I get to call you my wife.”

Luna relaxed into his embrace, the corners of her lips curving into a small smile. “You better keep me a secret, Mr. Worldwide Handsome. I’m not ready to have the world judging my cooking skills yet.”

He chuckled, spinning her around to face him. “The world can wait. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Keeping their relationship hidden had been Jungkook’s idea, though Luna wholeheartedly agreed. They’d gotten married in a quiet ceremony with only their closest family members present, and for the past two years, they’d lived in the in-between—a life shared in private while the rest of the world knew nothing.

Even BTS, Jungkook’s second family, had only recently found out. The revelation had come one night during a group dinner when Jungkook, after a few drinks and Namjoon’s probing questions, had blurted out, “I’m married, okay?”

The room had gone silent, all six pairs of eyes locking onto him. Luna, who had been seated quietly in the corner of the restaurant, froze in her seat.

“You’re what?!” Taehyung exclaimed, his chopsticks clattering to the table.

Jungkook had scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Married. For, like, two years.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to,” Jungkook had explained quickly. “I just… wanted to protect her.”

The group had turned to Luna, who was trying not to sink into her chair. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater as she offered them a small, awkward smile. “Hi.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable. But then Jimin, always the peacekeeper, grinned and said, “Well, it’s about time we met her. Welcome to the family, Luna.”

That broke the ice, and soon enough, Luna found herself surrounded by questions, jokes, and genuine warmth. Jin had insisted she call him “oppa” (“I’m older, so it’s my right!”), Namjoon had asked about her work as a biochemical engineer, and Taehyung had declared her “too pretty” to stay hidden forever.

By the end of the night, Luna felt like she’d gained six older brothers, each as protective and loving as Jungkook himself.

But secrets have a way of slipping out, especially in the world of social media. Jungkook had always been careful during his livestreams, keeping their apartment’s personal touches out of frame. But one evening, after hours of working on a song, he decided to go live without double-checking the room.

He was sitting at his desk, casually chatting with ARMYs about his day, when he leaned back to grab his water bottle. The movement shifted the camera slightly, revealing a small picture frame on the bookshelf behind him.

It wasn’t just any picture—it was of him and Luna on their wedding day. Her long platinum blonde hair flowed down her back as Jungkook held her close, both of them beaming with happiness.

The comments exploded almost immediately.

“Wait, who’s that???”

“Is that… a wedding photo?!”

“JUNGKOOK EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW.”

“ARMY, ARE WE SEEING THIS?”

Jungkook froze, his wide eyes darting to the chat as the realization hit him. He quickly adjusted the camera angle, but it was too late. The picture had been seen, screenshotted, and shared across the internet in mere seconds.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “I think I just messed up.”

The chat flooded with questions, but Jungkook took a deep breath, his voice steady as he said, “Okay, ARMY, I guess it’s time to tell you the truth. I… I’m married.”

The chat went wild, a mix of shock, excitement, and disbelief.

“Her name’s Luna,” he continued, his voice softening as he spoke about her. “She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. We’ve been married for two years, and I kept it private because I wanted to protect her. But… I guess you know now.”

The news spread like wildfire. Within hours, Luna’s name was trending worldwide. While most fans were supportive, sending messages of love and congratulations, others weren’t as kind.

Luna tried to stay offline, but the weight of the world’s attention was hard to ignore. She worried about how it would affect Jungkook, about whether she was ready for this kind of scrutiny. But when Jungkook came home that evening, he found her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting beside her. “You okay?”

She looked up at him, her icy blue eyes filled with uncertainty. “I didn’t want this for us. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Jungkook took her hands in his, his gaze steady and full of love. “You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here, Luna. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you.”

Her lips trembled, but she managed a small smile. “You really mean that?”

“Always,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You’re my wife, and I’m proud of you. Proud of us. Let them say whatever they want. At the end of the day, it’s just you and me.”

And it was. Even as the world buzzed with their story, Luna and Jungkook found strength in each other. Their love, hidden for so long, now stood in the spotlight—but it was as unshakable as ever.

[freedomforthewin]

Do You Want to Build a Snowman? (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Content Warning: Betrayal by a best friend, sexual harassment, and implications of sexual coercion.

———————Four Years Later———————

“Guess what?” John asked excitedly as he came up to his mom, his hands holding both sides of a large sheet of paper.

“What?” she asked, smiling at him.

“I got an A+ on my amusement park design!” he said, showing her the design he drew, which also had the grade written on it.

“That’s great, honey!” She took the picture and held it with one hand and put her other arm around him, pulling him into a side hug as she looked at the drawing. “This is really good, John.”

“Thanks. I’m going to show it to Katarina,” he said happily. He took the picture and turned to head to his sister’s room.

“Wait, honey,” Mrs. Egan called out. John looked back at her.

“Katarina isn’t doing too well right now,” Mrs. Egan said, her voice quietening.

“Why? What happened?”

“She and Drake stopped being friends,” Mrs. Egan said solemnly.

“What?!?! But…why?”

“He wasn’t a real friend. He was just pretending to care about her.”

John stared at her, appalled. “Why would he do that?”

Mrs. Egan hesitated before carefully saying, “Some people are just like that.” She hoped he wouldn’t press for more. He was a bit young to know the details.

“That’s not a good enough reason,” John grumbled, angry at Drake.

“I know, sweetie. I know.

“Just leave her alone for now. I think she just needs some space to deal with this. You’ll see her at dinner. You can tell her about your amusement park project then.”

“Okay.” He calmed down and thought for a moment. “Can you help me make some sugar cookies to help her feel better? Those are her favorite.”

Mrs. Egan smiled warmly at her loving son and agreed. It was Friday after all; he didn’t have school the next day.

They went to the kitchen and set out the ingredients and supplies. Mrs. Egan preheated the stove as John greased the cookie tray. Then John poured and mixed the ingredients as his mom supervised. A few minutes later, Mrs. Egan stepped in to mix, knead, and roll out the dough. Then they took glass cups to use as round cookie cutters. After they put the tray of cookie dough in the oven, John wiped up the counter as his mom did the dishes. When he was finished, she had him go continue working on his homework, and she finished the rest of the dishes. When the cookies were ready, she took them out of the oven to let them cool, and then she left the kitchen.

John came back a little later to check on the cookies. When he saw they were ready, he put enough cookies for Katarina and himself on a plate, got another plate for himself, picked up some napkins, and headed to Katarina’s room.

———————————————————————

Katarina had her textbook for her Scene Design class open and was trying to focus on what she was reading, but her mind kept drifting back to Drake.

How could he do this to me? We were friends for so long. We had cared so much about each other. I did at least; I though he did, too.

Her breath hitched, and she placed her hand over her mouth. Her eyes narrowed in pain.

We had been there for each other. I thought surely there was no way he would do this to me. No way would he end up being one of those guys. No way would he do this to his best friend.

Her eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, and then she reread the text from her friend Louisa.

Oh my God! I hate him. Guys are just…ugh…Seriously, how pathetic is it that when guys get older they need to be taught to see girls as people instead of objects? It’s not a hard concept to understand! I’m so sorry Drake tricked you into believing he was different but then did this to you. It would have been bad enough for him to do this to any woman but to do that to his own best friend? That’s beyond messed up.

Her message brought a sad smile to Katarina’s face.

———————————————————————

John knocked on the door.

“Cassie?” he called, referring to Katarina by her nickname. “It’s Bucky.”

“Do you need something?” he heard Cassie ask. Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“Mom told me about Drake,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“This isn’t really a good time, Bucky.”

“I know you’re upset, Cassie,” Bucky said. “I’m here to help you feel better. Please let me in.”

She didn’t answer.

“Please?” Bucky pleaded.

That did it. He had abandonment problems from the Gale situation. She didn’t want to worsen them by refusing to let him in, too.

“Okay, you can come in.”

Bucky opened the door and saw his sister at her desk, turned away from him, her head bowed. He heard her take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Bucky closed the door and walked to her.

He set the plates and napkins he was holding onto the desk and placed his hand on Cassie’s shoulder. Cassie let out a hitched breath, and after a few moments, her sad eyes met his solemn ones. Bucky gently pulled her to the bed, and they sat down on it. He wrapped his arms around her, and she clutched him, a sob escaping her lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She sniffled and took a few shaky breaths.

“What did, what did Mom tell you?” she asked, a slight tremble in her voice.

He told her, and she confirmed it.

“I don’t understand,” she said brokenly, a tear falling down her face. “He had always seemed like he cared. I don’t understand how he could do this to m-me.”

John pulled her closer to him, holding her tightly as she cried. He rubbed her back as she sobbed, his heart breaking from her pain.

How could Drake do this to her? John thought, upset. He was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to care about her.

He just comforted his devastated sister and didn’t let go of her until she eventually calmed down.

“I can’t believe it took him years to tell you he didn’t care about you,” John muttered.

“He didn’t actually tell me. I figured it out.”

“How did you figure it out?” John asked.

“He kept pressuring me to give him something he wanted. Something inappropriate. I said no, but he still kept asking. Over. And over. Again. I realized he wasn’t treating me with respect and wasn’t going to, so I ended the friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” John said morosely. She gave him a sad smile.

“What was it that he wanted so badly from you?” he asked quietly.

“He,” Katarina started before she let out a harrowing laugh and shook her head, realizing how this was going to sound to her little brother, “he wanted me to send him pictures of me without any clothes on.”

“What?!?!” John was horrified.

“Yeah.”

“He’s weird!” John muttered in contempt, his 10-year-old face in a pout, which made Katarina burst out laughing.

She decided to play into it.

“Yeah! He is weird.” She smiled at John.

“Why would he want that?”

“A lot of guys get like that when they get older,” she said, her smile fading. “These thoughts start to come into their heads, and they start wanting to see girls like that.”

John made a disgusted face. “I hope I don’t want to see that when I get older.”

Cassie smiled at him before looking down. She thought about telling him it’s normal for a lot of guys to like stuff like that and that that’s not wrong, but she decided against it. He was only 10; he was too young to understand that.

“Either way, forcing and guilting girls into showing you pictures of themselves naked is bad,” she said quietly.

“I’d never do that.”

Katarina smiled gratefully at her brother. “I know. And not all guys would do that.” She paused before sorrowfully saying, “There are, however, a lot who do pressure girls into doing inappropriate things and don’t take “no” for an answer. And treat girls like girls are objects instead of people. And mistreat girls.”

“But why?” he asked worriedly.

She shook her head. “They choose to become like that.”

“That many guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I doomed to become like that?” he asked, scared.

Katarina thought carefully before saying, “Only if you choose to.”

John was silent at first before he nodded firmly. “I won’t.”

She nodded back in acknowledgment.

“You always have a choice in deciding who you want to be. Sometimes there might be…obstacles…that make it harder to be who you want to be, but that’s all they do: make it harder. They don’t eliminate your ability to do better. They don’t eliminate your ability to be who you decide you want to be. You still have a choice. And if you need help to do better, you can choose to get help.”

“Okay.”

Katarina smiled at him and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back.

The naked picture thing is enough, she thought. He doesn’t need to know about the other thing Drake kept pressuring me to do. John’s too young to know. Oh God, I probably shouldn’t have told him about the picture thing in the first place!

Alright. It’s okay. It’s okay. What’s done is done. He saw me upset; of course he’d want to know why. And I was too upset to keep it in. It’s okay. What’s done is done.

Now it’s about keeping things real but age appropriate. This obviously wasn’t enough of a puberty and sex talk, but I think this might be okay for now. He’s only 10.

She tightened her arms around Bucky, and he did the same to her. She rested her head against his shoulder.

All the tricks of the trade that Drake pulled to try to get me to do it with him…I hate him.

I wish all guys chose to do better. Too many choose to be slaves to their desires. That’s so weak of them! How could they choose to be so freaking weak?!?!

She stayed in her brother’s arms a little longer. After she pulled out of the hug, she looked at the cookies her brother brought. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Mom made sugar cookies?”

“Both of us. I know they’re your favorite, and I wanted to help you feel better, so I asked if we could make them.”

Katarina was touched.

“Thank you so much, Bucky. That was really nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. I brought some extra ones so that I could have some, too.”

“Okay.”

“And Katarina?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t deserve what he did. You deserve better than him.”

The older sister smiled appreciatively at him.

“Thank you, John,” she said softly.

He smiled back.

They started eating the sugar cookies as they talked about school. Katarina showed John a painting she had made for her Scene Design class, and John thought it was really good. John then told her about the A+ he got on his amusement park drawing. She congratulated him and asked to see the design. He went to go retrieve it and then happily showed it to her. She was impressed with it.

They continued to talk about school and funny moments that had happened in their classes, some of the little things in life that made it worth living.

When Katarina seemed like she was better, John got ready to go. He took their plates and napkins and then kissed his sister on the cheek before leaving.

———————————————————————

John was on his way back to his room when he saw Gale’s closed door. He paused, staring at it.

It had been a while since they had last spoken. Since he had even seen Gale. After that last day, John had just stopped trying with him.

Gale’s silence when John had asked him if he wanted to play anything with John had stung. They had been best friends. John hadn’t done anything to Gale; there was no reason why Gale should have wanted to avoid him like that.

John kind of wanted to just walk by the door, like he had done the past four years, and say nothing. Gale had made no effort to see him, so clearly Gale was fine without him.

Right?

But maybe…just maybe…ugh. John didn’t know.

Then he thought of something. John had wanted to play with Gale when they were younger, but playing with Gale meant Gale would have had to leave the room. Maybe, for some reason, Gale had just not wanted to leave the room.

Maybe John could try something else. Maybe he could try talking with Gale. Talking about anything. Maybe he shouldn’t ask Gale about leaving the room or ask what was going on though. That might get him to push John away again. But maybe, if John just talked to him like normal…

It was worth a try. As upset as he had been, he still had been missing Gale.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Who is it?” he heard a voice call.

“It’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Gale went closer to the door, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know how you are doing.”

“Oh…I’m…I’m doing fine…How are you?”

“I’m okay now,” Bucky said, settling himself on the carpeted floor, his back against the door. “It was hard earlier. Cassie was crying.”

“Why? What happened?” Both boys were fond of her.

“Her best friend kept pressuring her to do something inappropriate. He wouldn’t stop, so she ended the friendship.”

Gale groaned. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. She was really upset.”

“I’m sorry that happened to her.”

“I am, too.”

“What did he pressure her to do?”

“As crazy as this is going to sound, he wanted her to send him pictures of herself naked.”

“What?!?!”

“Yeah!”

“He’s weird,” Gale muttered.

“I know, right???”

They continued to talk, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Bucky was so glad to finally be able to interact with him without getting pushed away.

“I have to go,” Bucky said after some time, regretfully. “It was good to talk to you, Buck.”

“It was good to talk to you, too, Bucky.” A hint of longing crept into Buck’s voice, though he tried to keep it at bay. Bucky heard it though.

He wanted to ask Buck what was going on, why he wouldn’t come out. But Buck had just started interacting with him. He didn’t want to do something that might make Buck push him away again. So, as hard as it was, John held his tongue.

Meanwhile, Buck bit his lip, trying to keep himself composed.

He had missed Bucky so much. He badly wanted to tell his best friend what was going on. But he couldn’t.

God, this was so hard.

Bucky laid his palm against the door. Buck, feeling that, laid his palm in the same spot on the opposite side of the door. The two of them stayed like that for some time, separated by a door but together in heart.

“Bye, Buck,” John then said softly.

“Bye, Bucky,” Gale answered back, trying, but failing, to keep the pain out of his voice.

John closed his eyes sorrowfully and stayed in place for a few more seconds. Then he took his palm away, looked at the door for a few more moments, and then walked away.

Gale kept his palm there just a little longer before he lowered it.