#five days till threads

[antaripirate]

delilah bard:

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ imagine life with lumberjack logan . 18+ gn!reader

♡ life with lumberjack logan is peaceful and calm, your love nestled away deep within the woods. no one can bother you here, just you and your man. and he likes it that way, having you all to himself in this safe space he calls home. those wooden walls surrounding you may house you, but he finds his true sanctuary in your arms.

♡ logan wakes five minutes before he knows he has to leave, sometimes ten minutes, long enough to savour your scent and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his. his thick, strong arms wrap around you, grumbling into the back of your neck as he presses soft kisses along your skin. early mornings never bothered him, until it meant leaving you behind.

♡ at work, his thoughts drift to you. wiping the sweat from his brow, he can't help but imagine your sweet smile in the back of his mind. it causes a smile of his own to grow, dampening it before the boys inevitably tease him. they know how whipped he is for you, how he adores you, but logan doesn't mind. though he's quiet in nature, he wants his love for you to be loud.

♡ when he returns home, he catches your scent and like a dog with a bone, he finds you. he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face into your shoulder before stealing your lips in a heated kiss. a kiss that tells you how much he's thought of you all day, how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

♡ and it's not long till his thick cock is twitching against you through his jeans, causing you to gasp. he's got you up on the counter in seconds, yet taking his sweet time to remove the material barriers between you. he wants to show you how much he cherishes you, no matter how long it takes.

♡ when he's fucking you? christ, it's like nothing else you've ever felt. so tender yet so rough at the same time, taking you like you're his, because you are his. his cock makes light work of your tight hole, your body remembering his thickness and craving it each time. you call his name as he fucks you hard against the counter, pressing sloppy wet kisses along your neck, and he swears. . . nothing is better than this.

♡ the soft moments are soft, too. he really knows how to take care of you, you're his everything after all. bathing together is one of his favourite activities, slotting you in front of him as he carefully washes your hair, those big paws of his threading through your strands. and sometimes, when he's feeling a little vulnerable - nightmares piercing through the perfect life he has with you, he allows you to wash his hair too. you're slow with him, lathering the soap into his silky strands as he groans and melts against you like the big bear he is.

♡ quiet moments in the night are stolen by the two of you, swaying slowly in the kitchen under the dim orange light projected by the lamp in the corner of the room. his calloused hands are on your hips, your back pressed close to his chest as you feel him smile against your ear. it's so. . . peaceful, domestic, two things logan thought this life would never be kind enough to offer him. and they felt alien, at first. but after years of existing with you, he's come to relax, and perhaps. . . he's beginning to accept that he might just deserve a happy ending after all.

ੈ♡˳ logan promptober day 29 - origins

[eraserbread]

satoru gojo is a pervert.

he knows it, you know it, and suguru definitely knows. in fact, they feed off of their perversions and fantasies but have become much more modest in their early forties.

what gojo loves seeing the most, is the pictures suguru sends him throughout the day. he'll be in the middle of a lecture, laughing alone to some joke he made that his students didn't appreciate when a string of texts light up his phone.

now, satoru doesn't give a fuck. he opens them every single time, just clearing his throat and stepping to the side so he can glance at whatever his husband deemed appropriate enough to send in the middle of work.

this time, it's a string of pictures of you.

you with suguru's fingers in your mouth, kneeling at his desk as he has an at-home meeting. you didn't have classes today, and geto only had one meeting, so of course you had to be under his skin all day. if only he would leave the meeting and touch you, you wouldn't have to bruise your knees on his wooden office floor. but, you'd gag yourself on his fingers any day. you love his salty aftertaste.

from: sugu geto how am i ever supposed to get work done? come collect your horny girl

gojo gives the text thread a little sideways glance, apologizes for the interruption and slides back in his chair to text his husband back.

to: sugu geto so fucking hot. tell her to pull her shirt up so I can see the goods blue nails look so good on you my baby ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) so hot when she's drooling on them

it takes you and suguru two minutes to respond with a picture of his hand up your shirt, stretching the collar as his wrist peeks through. he’s holding you in a gentle choke, loving the way his hand swallows the entirety of your neck.

gojo knows he's being teased right now, it's why he ignores the image and stands back up, going on about chemistry science bullshit.

though he's going on and on about chemical makeups, he can't shake the image of you and geto from his mind. suguru knew what he was doing when he pressed send. thank god this lecture only had eight minutes left — gojo couldn’t confront his students with a flushed face.

to: sugu geto don’t piss me off … take it off! pleaseeeeeeee you can't see me currently, but I'm giving you the puppy eyes.

"alright." satoru tucks his phone at his side, leaning back in his black leather chair to finally do his job and address his pupils. most of them have already taken to talking amongst themselves, knowing the tendencies of their professor. "I'm done talking your head off and there's..." he checks his watch, "five minutes left. head out or stay, do you."

scattrered 'okays' and goodbye's render satoru's job finished. the first thing he does is shrug off to his cell, long fingers shaking as he slides up on the screen, ready to curse geto out for not giving him what he wanted. no -- needed.

to: sugu geto you think you're so fucking lucky right now just wait till i get my hands on you.

gojo is a fuming cloud of angst as he types feverishly into his phone. his light eyebrows are knitted together, legs crossed to try and push down his growing erection. it'd be impossible to stand and leave in the state he's in, and campus is crawling with colleagues and students right now. he'd have to get a hold of himself.

he's about to cuss his husband out further when a single attachment pops up in their message thread. the image is dark, but fucking unmistakable.

suguru has you over his lap, buried three fingers inside of you. he's got you hooked like a live catch, body bending and bowing to try and control the deafening ache. satoru could only imagine what you two were getting up to, right now, and the thought turns his hard-on into a boner.

little did satoru know, suguru has you at home screaming his name -- begging for mercy and three orgasms deep. it'll be a nice surprise to come home to if he could control himself enough to stand up and get there.

all he has to do is control himself...

read u and suguru's pov

older married!satosugu part 1, 2, 3, 4

<3

[celeste-clearwater-06]

The Kitchen Window (pt. 6 - the epilogue)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (Raph has to make his intentions clear to you and to whatever it is that you two are)

warnings - none

word count - 2.5k

READ PREVIOUS PARTS BEFORE THIS

“I look stupid, Mike.”

“Nah, bro you look great!” Raph’s younger brother is looking his outfit up and down, trying to perfect any wrinkles or stray threads, “She’s gonna love it, trust me.”

Raph scuffs his new air force’s on the cement, while the other turtle straightens the collar of the graphic tee up around his neck. Maybe he could lend his fashionable little brother a bit of slack. Mikey knew a lot more about this stuff.

It’s early August. Summer’s fleeting, to warm days and cooler nights, which are perfect for this exact occasion.

Raph has been a mess of fluttering nerves all week trying to set this date up, with the help of his brothers and April. Every little detail, meticulously planned.

At first he was gonna do it on his own, in secret. Come to your door, trip over his words and fumble the bag, because lord knows he’s not good with expressing his feelings.

Thank god for April and his siblings, though it hurt his ego a little to come to them and admit he didn’t know how to set up a lousy dinner. Of course they were happy to help. Mikey and April especially.

So now, the five of them were on the roof of your apartment complex and pulling together all of their different tastes and ideas to create this adorable little date for him and his girl.

Raphael didn’t know what the two of you were. After that bizarre (albeit fantastic) first kiss, his visits to you were so much more frequent. Even if it was quick, he’d make a pit stop to your window for a peck on the cheek that kept his spirits up for a long night's patrol. More often than not, you two would be chatting away in the late night hours. And then of course make out a little, with him hanging on the sill like a fool.

It was so great, and it filled Raph with something he didn’t know he needed. Every second he wasn’t with you, he counted down till the next time he'd meet your gorgeous face again, greeting him with a kind, welcoming smile that made his knees wobble. But that was it.

There wasn’t really a label. Not that he liked those anyway.

He just needed some clarity. Some sort of outwardly spoken agreement that you guys weren’t just really good friends who kissed and held hands and tried to hold in your laughter in the dark, trying not to disturb the peace of your neighbors.

“Oh this looks great.”

Raph watches the way April appreciates her work of a cute little vase of flowers on the center of a table, hands settled on her hips. Well, it’s less of a table than it is a large wooden crate with a nice-ish tablecloth, but it serves just the same. It’s not too extravagant, not too drab. Just right. It suits the mix of your different lives. Little, dollar store candles light the area with a warm haze, next to the tin containers filled with the meal you’d taught him to make months ago. He’s hoping it tastes as good as it did when you make it. Raph hasn’t told you how often he whips it up at the lair when he’s missing you.

“How’s lookout, Leo?”

The blue-banded turtle looks over his shoulder, where he’s crouched on the ledge right next to the fire escape ladder.

“All clear.”

Thankfully, everything seems to be coming together just as Raph wanted it to. It settles some of the butterflies that rage in his stomach. The time for one of his brother’s to go and fetch you from your apartment is growing closer and closer while Donnie is scooting the plastic folding chairs next to the crate.

He’s so not ready for this. A little voice is nagging in the back of his head to just back out now.

Raph knows you’ll at least like it. Just how you like everything else he does for you. He has no clue why this is so damn difficult.

“Alright, Raph.”

April clasps her hands together and looks up to him for approval.

“What do we think?”

He thinks it looks great. Raphael loves the gentle little glow everything gives against the dim light pollution that stretches out over the city. Will you?

“You’re a lifesaver, O’Niel.”

“Don’t forget it.”

He snorts.

“I guess it’s showtime then!”

Mikey attacks his older brother with a hug from behind.

“Aw come on Mike!” Raph’s trying to swat him off his shell, but not before his two other siblings, and April crowd him with an embrace, that eases the nerves running rampant. He rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back the grateful grin that breaks through his annoyance. Their words are encouraging and warm, fueling the confidence he’s so desperately been trying to grasp for all this time.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“Trust us, she is gonna love it.”

Leo’s hand ruffles over Raph’s red bandanna.

“Go get em’, tiger.”

Ouf, what a cornball.

“Alright, alright!” They all break away from the group hug with excited smiles. This is home to Raphael. All his favorite people- well, most - in his corner of the ring and hyping his happy-ass up to romance a cute girl.

“Leo?”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your apartment is warm. Over the weeks, the walls are filled with picture frames and cute decor that April and the boys have been bringing you. Polaroids of you and the boys are littered on your bedside table and posted on the fridge with little paw print magnets. Most of them are with or of Raph. Him sleeping with an open mouth, or being dog-piled on by Mike and Donnie. Your favorite is the one where you’re sitting on his shoulders, laughing, while he’s grinning into the camera flash. April took it, down in the lair, where he was parading you around after everyone had a few-too-many drinks. The once empty living space is now full of life and love and sooo, so many cat toys.

You’re on the livingroom floor now, playing with sweet Vannie to distract you from the lack of texts from your best friend. It’s been worrying you all day, that Raph hasn’t responded to any of your messages, even the funny memes, like the others you send him daily.

You’d given up on the last message, a little over an hour ago, though it doesn’t keep you from repeatedly glancing at your phone while your cat darts after the laser pointer across the carpet and onto the sofa. The little bell on her collar tinks quickly with each movement. She sees someone through your window before you. Two taps against the glass make your head whip around excitedly.

It’s not who you’re expecting, but Leo’s visit is still a nice surprise.

“Hey Lee!” You hide the disappointment with a happy smile that he returns.

“How’s it going?”

“Good! Good,” he doesn’t miss the way you’re trying to peek over his shoulder, “Have you heard from Raph at all? I couldn’t get a hold of him today.”

“Actually yeah.”

This perks your attention right back up, locking with his eyes that carry a mischievous glow.

“Oh! How’s he doing? He didn’t get hurt on patrol, did he?”

Leo chuckles.

“Nah. He’s been busy.”

Busy? Weird. Even if Raphael were kicking sorry ass, he’d text you back in a heartbeat. Something fishy was going on.

“Oh. Huh.”

“You wanna see him?”

That, you couldn’t say no to.

“Is he here?”

Leo knows, with the way you two talk about each other, that it’s love. He knows more than both of you. It's so funny how his younger brother and you will spend hours at a time just sitting in silence or talking about life, and then when you’re apart, all that one of you can think or say has something to do with the other.

“He’s up top,” his head gestures back up the fire escape. You’re already climbing out the window, while he and Vannie stare. Lee takes a hold of your arm when your foot reaches that first step. You look back at him with a puzzled stare.

“You gotta close your eyes.”

“What?”

It’s a surprise. That makes you nervous.

“Just trust me. I’ll take you up there, you just can’t look.”

Uh oh. You’re hesitant to follow his instructions, but his hand is already blinding your vision, and he’s scooping you of your feet. You shout in surprise.

“Leo, what’s going on?”

The only reply you recieve is his heavy footfall on the metal stairs. He has to take his hand away, but you keep your eyes clenched shut, partially to obey his order, but the other is so you don’t have to see how far up you might be from the ground below.

“This is freaking me out Lee,”

“I’m not gonna drop you.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Oh, he knows. He’s just great at keeping secrets.

The final, thudding footstep lands on concrete, and he sets you on the ground, steadying you onto your feet. Your breath is nervous, heart racing, senses heightened. You can hear the buzz of the city off in the distance. A cool breeze brush through your hair. The concrete scraping on your wooly socks.

“Alright, take a look.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your eyes blink open. Then again. Your brain isn’t processing whatever is in front of you, until he speaks.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

Raph’s hands are shoved into the front pockets of jeans you’ve never seen him in. They’re new. So are his shoes, and the black, long sleeve tee that’s perfectly tailored to fit, and let his shell still breathe from the back. The casual clothes are incredibly flattering on him. You can still see the faint lines of his toned muscles under the cotton, catching in soft light. He’s so handsome, it hurts. And cute. GOD was he cute.

Shifting his weight, subtly from one foot to the other and smiling, anxious and bashful, while you stare at him in bafflement. Behind him is an adorable, candle lit dinner and your favorite flowers in a glass vase, all tuned with the ambient sounds of New York.

“Oh, Raph.”

His name comes out in a sigh, incredulous, full of shock and wonder. You take a few steps forward to better take in the effort he’s thrown into all of this. You’re nearly speechless, breathless, and trying to swallow the lump in your throat. He set up a date. A date! For you!

“You like it?”

His eyes are hesitant, but full of a childlike hope when they meet yours.

“Raph, this is… you did this?”

“Well, I had help. I ain’t this creative.” Raph chuckles nervously, nodding to where Leo was standing, now gone without a trace, “But… yeah.”

“For… me?”

You’re still so surprised at the sweetness of it all.

“Well, I’d hate to be up here eatin chicken and rice by myself all night, so yeah.”

He’s easing up, gentle grin mirroring yours.

“Raph this is so great!”

Like a kid, you all but skip over to look closer at the make-shift table and chicken and rice in their bowls, stream rolling off in the tepid air, while your fingers over the tablecloth. He’s laughing at your stupidly huge smile.

“I was hoping you might think so.”

You look up at him, face glowing in the candlelight.

“I know I haven’t been texting you back. Been a nervous wreck all day.”

His expression contorted into a soft gout of admiration, a soft smile, and even softer, green eyes. Your heart leaps. You know what that look is. You’ve seen it so many times in Raph’s face and now you’re putting it all together while he stands just feet from you. He’s so perfect.

You stride back over to him and let him take your hands in his. He’s nervous again, taking a deep breath.

“Look,” he begins, “I just… I figured if we’re a thing and all…Well, I wanna do this the right way. I hope it’s alright with you. I know it’s nothin’ fancy but…”

He groans, slapping hand over his face. You giggle at how he trips over his sentence.

“I had a whole, stupid speech for this shit. Now I just look like a fuckin’ idiot.”

Those fumbling, nervous words speak novels to you. He doesn’t have to say much for you to just get exactly what Raph is trying to say.

“I think… that sounds great,” your voice is soft, “And I also think I’m in love with you and I have had no idea what to do with myself, since the first day we met.“ you exhale the words like they’ve been trying to claw their way from your throat.

This catches him completely off guard. Raph’s eyes are as wide as they were the first night you kissed him. His nostrils flare. Before you think you’ve fucked yourself up royally, he pulls you up towards him in a soul-snatching kiss that depletes the air from your lungs, feet nearly leaving the ground. You’re desperately grabbing at the collar of his shirt to deepen it, but he pulls away, and lifts you completely from the ground in a tight embrace, leaving you both gasping for your breaths.

“Jesus, you have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that,” Raph sighs next to your ear. “I love ya. A lot.”

His arms tighten further around you and you smell a nice cologne in the crook of his neck, where your head is buried.

He sets you back to your feet and lifts your chin with his finger for a much more gentle, passionate kiss, that you accept happily. His hand rests gently on your hip.

“You’re the best thing that coulda ever happened to a weirdo like me,” Raph’s forehead is pressed down against yours, with closed eyes.

“You’re better,” you counter. He gives your hip a squeeze, “Let’s be something. Even if it’s hard.”

He chuckles.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, Sunshine.”

You’re both right where you belong, centimeters away from each other, smiling like idiots, and finally off that steep cliff that’s been taunting you for months. Raph is your home, and you’re his, far out of that little kitchen window.

A Polaroid click behind you just makes you shake your head with a flustered grin.

“Mikey, are you shittin me right now?”

You can hear his little brother shuffle back into whatever shadow he came from, laughing along with the rest of the party that's hidden away.

“Fuckin idiot.”

fin <3

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Oh no, wait...

What's this?

A gift for my dear readers?

Take a listen 🤭😝

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I GOT YOUUU

I'VE BEEN SLAVING AWAY AT THIS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE FIRST CHAPTER, JUST TO GET TO THIS POINT MUAHAHAHA

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING (AND LISTENING!!) AS MUCH AS I DID CREATING THIS FUN LITTLE STORY!!!

The Kitchen Window was SUCH A FUN PROJECT, and I'm so glad I've been receiving all of your guys' support, interaction, and kind words 😭😭 as a token of gratitude, I decided to make that little audio clip that has been the death of me to create 🫠

Thank you all again SO FUCKIN MUCH

This concludes the 6 part story, The Kitchen Window 🩷💓💕

Please, LIKE, REBLOG, AND ASK TO BE A PART OF MY TAG LIST SO YOU DONT MISS OUT ON MORE WRITINGS LIKE THIS ONE

Till next time!

LOVE YA BABESSSS 💕💓🩷🌸🧼🫧

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[puckingeccedentesiast]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[smileysuh]

nerd TEASER

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, use of dragon knotted dildo toy, use of vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, dirty talk, slight power play/humiliation, clit sucking, overstimulation, pussy stretching, reader rides the toy then Wonwoo uses the toy to make her cum again, talking reader through it, mutual masturbation, Wonwoo strokes himself off to the reader using her toys, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) puppy

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, gamer!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know this is on the shorter side, it’s pwp, but I’ve been reading shorter things lately, and I’ve been insanely busy, so I figured a short and sweet fic couldn’t hurt after last month's near 20k meanie fic :)

“I guess I didn’t really have the energy to take care of you last night,” Wonwoo admits, leaning forward to press his lips to the spot above your navel.

You let go of his hand in favour of threading your fingers through his curls, his hair teasing your sensitive skin as he presses kisses up toward your rib cage. He cups the back of your thighs, tugging you closer.

Wonwoo reaches your breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at the underside of your boob, eyes gazing up at you.

“How about a compromise?” he suggests, breath hot on your sensitive skin.

“A compromise?” Your words come out shaky as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

He hums against the sensitive bud, one hand lifting to massage your ass. Then, he pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with a grin. “I just wanna finish your character first.”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head at Wonwoo. You step away from him, but he grabs at your hand. “Kiss,” he instructs, and you begrudgingly lean down to press a chaste peck to his lips. His fingers thread through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep your mouth on his for a few moments longer, then he releases you. 

“Should only take five or ten minutes,” he tells you. “And I need you here to model.” 

“One second,” you groan, heading to your closet.

If he doesn’t want to fuck you right away, if he wants to prioritize his video game, that’s just fine. You can start without him.

READ IT NOW

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[hephaestiions]

It stands to reason that Harry’s holding groceries when he runs into Draco Malfoy for the first time in twenty years.

Well— doesn’t run into, exactly. No, more like peers through a shop window like a right barmy bastard, bits of overspilling lettuce brushing his arm and passers-by on Diagon shooting him strange looks.

Of course Malfoy has to look up from the till— because, yes, Draco Malfoy is a shopkeeper on Diagon Alley apparently— and see him goggling. So, of course, Harry has to step inside, as though he meant to make a stop at— right, yeah, Narcissus Needlework Studio— all along, holding brown paper packages of vegetables.

Malfoy’s frowning when Harry makes his way over to the till.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says. “I’ve registered the shop, everything’s perfectly within regulation—“

“Trouble?” Harry blinks. “Oh, no. I’m not an Auror. Anymore.”

“I know that,” Malfoy says unhappily. “The whole Wizarding World all over Europe knows that. Only you’ve never left well enough alone, have you, Potter?”

Harry’s forty next month. He’s lived twenty years seeing hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy, and he’s never gone looking. Well, except for that one time when he was twenty one and went to the Manor as a trainee Auror for a— well, it was a routine check, really. And that other time when he was twenty five and thought he saw a man at a club who looked just like Malfoy from the back and was convinced for four months Malfoy was back in London and must be up to something if no one knew about it. And that time when he was thirty two— and, oh, alright, Harry hasn’t ever left well enough alone, not when it comes to Malfoy, at least.

This time, though, Harry really didn’t go looking. And it’s definitely Malfoy.

“I just wanted some— thread,” Harry says. A needlework studio should have some of that, shouldn’t it?

“Thread,” says Malfoy. He looks down, deliberately, at Harry’s lettuce.

“For Molly,” Harry says. “As a, um, birthday present. New shop on Diagon, thought I’d pop by. Seemed the place, you know. Didn’t know it was yours.”

Molly’s birthday, Malfoy doesn’t need to know, is in December. It’s June.

Malfoy continues to stare at him, until Harry’s unsure whether to get indignant about it all or turn tail and flee.

“Well,” says Malfoy before he can make a choice. “Embroidery yarn for you, then, Potter. Come along.”

-

“I’ll see you again, I assume,” Malfoy says at the end of what transpires to be a surprisingly smooth purchase.

Harry nods.

He only realises after he leaves that there’s no reason for him to come back. He’s seen it for himself— what Draco Malfoy’s up to these days. Nothing nefarious or suspicious, just yarn and needles and tapestries on Diagon.

Except, well, he’s committed now, hasn’t he? And Harry Potter’s a man of his word. He said yes, when Malfoy asked— Malfoy asked!— so he’ll be back.

And really, if he has to invent Hermione’s sudden new and passionate interest in needlework— well. That’s between Harry and his lettuce.

written for @drarrymicrofic’s prompt “sewing”. i just personally think harry james potter could be seventy five and still rapidly become obsessed with draco malfoy at any given moment.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Belonging with them

Day 3: Belonging.

Summary: He knew where he belonged now.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1150

Warnings: azzie continues being jelly of kaden lolll

A/n: i love hazel sm yall dont get it 🥺 this fic is based on a short i saw on yt and the dad is like the biggest hunk and gave such cassian vibes and he genuinely cried 🥺 i was gonna write this fic for cassian but then i decided to give this to azzie cus he deserves to cry hehe

(if you dont know hazel and kaden, theyre from my mini series overprotective bat. it was a 2 part series which can be found on my azriel masterlist. all the fic in this week will be revolving around these two cuties hehe)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore."

"I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries and I’m not sure of that, either."

The day he had said those words to Feyre seemed like a lifetime away, as if experienced in a dream centuries ago when he was younger and could not differentiate between reality and what his brain had conjured up. But he knew, it had merely been five years.

The five years he had cherished the most in his life.

He loved his family. He adored the way Rhys and Cassian bickered during their annual snowball fight, the way Amren found a way to slide in a snide remark at every dinner, the way Mor would always be ready to go partying. Above all, he adored how all his family including the Archeron sisters would be ready to help him and be there for him any day. Even in the middle of the night when he did not want to wake up his wife but knew he needed someone to help him with his crying daughter.

But… they did not complete him. He loved them to bits and would readily give his life for them… before he met his now wife and decided she was the one he would spend his life with, mating bond be damned. He had lost all hopes of finding his mate back then after waiting for five centuries.

Imagine his shock when on their wedding day, he felt another thread of gold tying him to his wife.

Now as he sat watching his daughter pet a purring Nuts lounging on the low table in front of him while explaining to him how tea was made, he smiled.

He had found his place of belonging. And it was with his wife and daughter.

Of course, there had to be that boy trying to take his daughter away from him. What was his name? Kade? Kaden? Azriel thought bitterly.

He knew he was being dramatic. His daughter was barely four years at this point, no four year old was going to steal her away.

Hazel turned to Azriel, making him focus all his attention on her. He offered her a smile when she handed him a small pink cup.

"What is this?" He asked, bringing the empty toy to his lips.

She shot him an incredulous look. "It’s the tea you ordered daddy."

"Oh, yeah sorry, I was thinking about something."

She shook her head. "Stop thinking and focus, daddy. Kaden always pays attention."

Azriel stilled.

I am being compared to a four year old boy now? What has life come to.

He sighed, mumbling out an apology even though all he wanted to do was tell her to stay away from that boy.

He did not want to be forced to go apologise again.

She began fumbling with the littered toys on the desk once more, completely ignoring Azriel in favour of mumbling instructions to Nuts, as if teaching him how to cook.

As he watched her move over to the huge armchair and place a cup on it, conversing with what Azriel could only hope was not spirits of the deceased, his curiosity peaked.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he needed to make sure that she was not getting overly friendly with Kaden.

"Hazel, this tea is amazing." He waited till she giggled before continuing. "By the way, how’s school?"

It was daycare to help her get accustomed to going to school next year, but Hazel insisted she was a big girl and attended big girl school.

"It’s fine. Miss Black gave me a gold star yesterday because I helped her." Hazel was focused on the air she was stirring in her red pot as she talked, lips pursed slightly in concentration.

"Hmm. Who’s your best friend?"

Please don’t say Kaden. Not Kaden. Please.

She turned around to glare at him, and he wondered if by any chance he had said the words aloud. But he knew he hadn’t. Azriel wouldn’t let himself speak without permission from himself.

Her brows bunched up, lips pouting and eyes narrowed, she looked as offended as an old grandma being told her grandchild was full and did not want more food.

"Daddy, it’s you. You’re my best friend." She rolled her eyes.

Azriel watched. He simply watched her return back to stirring her pot.

Cassian had been the one to teach her the eye rolling. Azriel had been amused. Seeing a child barely reaching his knees roll her eyes at him like she had lived five lives was nothing short of funny.

But right now, it felt anything but.

It’s you daddy.

His eyes were prickling, that was his first conscious thought after long moments of silence in his head. His vision was getting blurry, throat clogging. Tell tale signs of a sob session oncoming. But he could not bring himself to care as he stared at this little faeling, who did not even realise what she had done.

You’re my best friend.

Azriel simply sat back against the couch, the cushions pressing against his bare back, and let the tears have their way on his skin.

I’m her best friend.

Even despite the emotions Hazel had brought forth, somewhere in the back of his mind Azriel was rejoicing that her best friend was not Kaden.

Guess I’m never beating the territorial illyrian accusations.

The shadows settled down on his shoulders, swirling softly against his skin as they too watched Hazel play and pet Nuts occasionally. They did not inform him of his wife’s arrival in the living room. They did not have to. He simply felt when her presence was near. The all consuming feeling of love growing stronger in his chest being another indicator.

"Hazel, it’s bath time baby. Let’s go."

Hazel huffed as if what Y/n had said was the most outrageous thing ever. "Mommy, I can’t leave yet. There are customers."

Azriel practically felt his wife’s eyes narrow. "Daddy can attend to your customers."

Hazel turned to look at Azriel pleadingly, her eyes wide and placating before they filled with shock. "Daddy why are you crying!"

Y/n drew closer. "Azzie?"

Azriel blinked, smiling up at his wife before picking up his daughter. "It’s nothing. Just some dust."

Hazel turned to scowl at Nuts. "I told you to clean up properly. Now see, because of you my daddy is crying."

Azriel huffed out a laugh, pressing his lips to her round cheek.

"Let’s go shower baby. I’ll even get your toys, yeah?"

Azriel’s gaze swung to Y/n at the end of his sentence. She gave him a knowing smile.

"Can Nuts come too? Please daddy, mommy!"

"Fine, but no splashing." Y/n pointed a finger at the father-daughter duo, eyebrows raised.

Hazel had begun to whine, but even she knew not to argue when mommy was serious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[sinsdaycorp]

I know for a fact that Wednesday bites Enid randomly.

Fluffy (in my opinion?) Drabble. WenClair. Ft some nightshades.

Tw: biting ? (Brief mention of sex easily but skippable)

P.S idk what happened. I literally only had a brief flicker of the idea for biting to happen and I spiralled. I’m sorry.

They’re holding hands, Enid’s chattering away to the nightshades, her arms over Wednesdays shoulder, one of Wednesdays threaded through it, allowing the show of affection around Enid’s… their friends… except, Wednesday was bored. Enid had been happy enough to fill all conversational and comfortable silences with chatter. Wednesday turned her head, stroking her thumb along Enid’s in warning of her attention wavering on their talk, and the music so loud around them as the students danced and sang along.

Enid stiffened as Wednesdays lips brushed along the knuckle of her thumb, bracing herself for the bite she knew was coming when- Wednesday pressed a kiss to the thumb and curled closer to Enid as the blonde sighed in relief, figuring Wednesday was just tired after a long day, hiding her face in the blondes neck.

“Silence-“ Wednesday blindly pointed at Yoko before she could say anything about her becoming soft. She stuck her middle finger up and the fang chuckled before continuing on with their conversation.

Wednesday tightened Enid’s arm around her and nuzzled, brushing her nose along Enid’s collarbone. Enid shivered, nails pressing into Wednesdays waist, a warning of her own to her raven.

Wednesday pressed up on her toes, mouth opening and teeth latching into the exposed skin of her shoulder, clamping down.

Enid yelped and pulled away quickly, Wednesday unlatching at the first motion of the shove. “Bored now,” she drawled with a boredom filled tone.

“Alright, fuck,” Enid huffed and pointed to the stairs. “Yoko, we’ll talk later. I have to go this demon some food and a nap before hangry becomes rage demon.”

Yoko just nodded with a chuckle, shaking her head as she waved to Wednesday and watched them leave. “They’re so fucking gay,” she said as Bianca brought over a drink for the fang. “How long was your bet on them marrying after school?”

Bianca thought for a moment. “Engaged by graduation, married the second Wednesday turns eighteen was my bet. That would be romantic for the Addams clan, I’m sure. The only legal tie up would be them not being eighteen because Enid’s mum is a donk-“

Yoko nodded. “I see that, and because Enid would already be eighteen cause she’s older… damn, I should have gone in on that too. I guessed engaged by eighteen and married like a month later.”

“How many days till graduation?” Divina asked from the other side of Bianca, Yoko sighed.

“Six months.”

“So my bet still has time.”

Yoko raised an eyebrow.

The siren grinned. “Enid’s almost eighteen. No doubt there’ll be a ring on her finger by midnight on her birthday, and married by the midnight Wednesdays eighteen.”

— —

The early morning hours after the dance, Enid’s body pleasantly bruised and sore, the goth straddling her lap as she pressed her hands to Enid’s chest to hold herself up, staring down at the black tungsten band around her left ring finger.

“You’re staring again,” Enid chuckled, swatting her hand against Wednesdays thigh. “You said you could go six rounds before sunup, you’re halfway through five.”

Wednesday shivered as Enid demanded she keep moving, her thighs shaking. “I think you may win this bet, my love. I don’t think I can move.”

Enid flipped them, pinning Wednesday to the bed. “I think you should just let me take care of you,” Enid whispered, kissing her fiancé sweetly before rolling her hips forwards.

— —

Yoko’s jaw dropped at the sight of Wednesday’s hand with a ring on it. The nightshades sharing looks as Yoko spoke up. “Who had bets on them getting engaged after the Raven?”

Ajax held a hand up. Grinning. “First half, for me! Hey, ‘Nid? Wed her by graduation, yeah?”

Enid grinned. “A fall wedding, my Raven?”

“How miserable, I’ll contact mother to start planning… we are marrying on home soil, right?”

Enid pressed a kiss to Wednesdays forehead. “The vision is yours for creating. I’ll put input wherever you need it, but I know for a fact your family has the best party planners. I trust you to make how you know I’ll love it.”

Wednesday leaned against the blonde.

Ajax grinned as the group slapped money into his hand at the fact he’d win for sure with the couple loving his idea.

He then turned to the couple and held the money out, a nice stack of cash from a group of the richest kids on campus. “Here, put this into your planning as my wedding gift or whatever.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow as Enid took the money and patted her ex on the shoulder. “Thanks, Ajax. That’s very cool of you, bud.”

Wednesday tucked the money into her zip-up pocket at Enid’s insistence and pressed a kiss to Enid’s lips before turning in her embrace and leaning back against the taller teen.

[goobygnarp]

one day my grandma took me to a thrift store. It sat in the corner of a strip shop with big bold red letters that just read simple.

THRIFT STORE.

It hung under the arch protected by sun, rain, snow or whatever weather we decided to travel there for, and greeted us all the same like that day she took me.

i can't remember what we went there for, my grandma never was one to follow in her original plans. the kind who is on the highway when she assures you she's down the street. the one who says she's going to one place five stores later.

what we went there for would most likely be no different. At least not to her. for me, it was the same ol same ol. Surely we'd go there for clothes and spend hours sifting through clothes or searching for the signs hanging on the ceiling that would tell us what deals they have that day.

That is till I walked near the section where they have holiday themed items for sale. old decor made to coax elderly eyes with dull colors, floral designs and antiques. But some of these items would be plushies, dolls and toys for the kiddos.

And I was kiddo.

there sitting with her legs hung over the ledge, her fat feet weighed down, hands right at her side, ears drapped behind her head that covered a good portion of her back that once picked up, you'd see a nubby tail turning her around.

her head resembled that of an egg shape, two glass like eyes that had a brown ring. her nose threaded into a triangle with a line that trailed down into a smile when you tilted her head up.

her pink was washed out but still enough to catch my attention. her arms and legs dangled heavily from the beads that resided inside, sitting with ease with the same beads in her body.

She was adorable. not like the other stuff bears and bunnies that were shadowed by her greatness. I loved her and everything about her. showing her to my grandma who just simply plucked her from my hands and placed her onto the checkout counter without second thought. i guess my love for her was mine and mine alone.

Once we got home, she was my show and tell project. many of my cousins or aunts and even my sibling got to meet her. She was all our toys' best friend. even when love got to her, where change became known when her eye fell out. my sibling super glued it back in and she was still loved all the same.

my love for her was mine and mine alone.

such love became potent and spread to my younger cousin, who at the time drove me up the entire state building. any moment she could, she'd have that bunny in her arms, causing fights between herself and I just to let my plush go.

but age won in my cousin's favor. she was younger and treated with ease as i would be told to let her play with it. even so much as allowing said little cousin to leave the house with her when going to a store.

My love to her was mine and mine alone. I thought.

any moment she'd return back to me, I'd make sure to keep her with me till she had to join the rest of the toys in a dark closet ready for the next kid who decided to play with her.

Unfortunately, details of a move have been lost in time, as now in a new house, i only recall the last time I saw her. she sat the same way I found her.

her legs dangled over the shelf ledge , arms at her side and ears drapped behind her. although accompanied by fake plants and picture frames, she looked a little squished. still cute. still loved.

and never seen again.

i can't remember how i lost her. i had this idea that my little cousin stole her in secret , making it so any time i'd visit said cousin, id sneak a look in their toybox in search for my plushie.

but she was not there. she wasn't anywhere. and in the years that's passed, she's somewhere still being adorable and hopefully loved.

her love was mine and mine alone.

Her name was panini. She had a lot of friends and loved to wear dresses and make friends.

if i find her again.

her love will be mine and mine alone.

[fiveredlights]

happy 202-five 🥳🥂 (sorry i think i’m hilarious)

as it is new year’s day, it only felt fitting to write a little snippet of glitter on the floor max and daniel celebrating new year’s alone—or so they thought. (1.2k, G)

“I feel like we’ve forgotten something,” Daniel says as Max passes a flute of champagne to him. Below them, the hoards of people wanting to catch a glimpse of the fireworks over Port of Monaco grow louder, as the clock ticks down till midnight. “Or someone.”

Matilda’s stuck in London after her flight was delayed. Lucia’s out with Andie and their friends at some Michelin star restaurant somewhere. Gary and Steve are probably destroying the new chair they got after they destroyed the last one. Molly is sleeping soundly on the sim chair in their office. Daniel’s next to him on their balcony, curled up on the sofa with two blankets and a puffer jacket on him.

(Two blankets because Daniel still refuses to wear shorts even when he’s cold.)

“I think this is the first year in a long time we’re spending New Year’s alone,” Max responds, tucking himself between the couch armrest and Daniel. “So maybe that is why it feels so weird.”

“Yeah, the house is so quiet without the kids. Reminds me of when we first started dating,” Daniel says, balancing the champagne flute on the armrest next to him. “Could do whatever we wanted without two children bickering in the background,” he murmurs, turning to face Max and sliding his frozen hands underneath his shirt.

He nudges a knee between Max’s legs and slots himself on top of him, swinging a leg over his thigh and placing his weight on it. Max reaches up and threads his hands through Daniel’s hair, pulling him down into a kiss but it’s hard to take him seriously when his puffer jacket squeaks at every movement.

“Daniel,” Max murmurs in between their kisses. “Daniel, your jacket.” He tugs on the zipper, trying to get his husband to temporarily part with it when Daniel pulls back.

“Daniel,” he says again. “Your jacket. It makes that sound that you know I do not like.”

“Aw. But I like this jacket,” Daniel pouts, like he doesn’t know that Max has been trying to get rid of it for the past twenty years. Every time it’s in the donation pile it mysteriously finds its way back into their closet, front and centre.

From behind them, there’s a big slam from the front door, before a voice yells down, “I’m fine!”

Max is about to chalk it down to one of their neighbours being drunk and confusing the apartments for one another, when the voice comes echoing down the apartment again, with three knocks on the door.

“Papa! Dad! Can you open the door? I think I broke the lock.” Max and Daniel take one look at each other, before pushing themselves off the couch and making their way down.

Lucia is standing there with a sheepish look on her face, a box of pizza in her hand. Andie’s next to her with a nervous smile. “I tried the code and it wasn’t working, and I left the keys at Andie’s place. Sorry.”

Daniel waves them in, hugging them as they walk past. “All good Luce. Thought you two would stay out longer?”

Gary and Steve immediately saunter down the hallway, tails up in the air and weaving between them. Gary lets out a long perfunctory meow at Andie, who picks him into her arms, bouncing him like a baby. He can hear his purring, even from a distance.

“I just don’t think we’re fine dining people,” Andie explains. She has a finger underneath Gary’s chin, scratching him to his heart’s content. “Plus the restaurant doesn’t have Sir Gaga, does it?”

Lucia pulls a face. “Absolutely not. Sir Gaga is worse than Gazza. I am not letting you name our future children, your track record of names is terrible.”

“Don’t listen to her Sir Gaga,” Andie gasps in mock outrage, walking past her and out to the balcony. “You have a wonderful name, Lucia’s just jealous.”

Molly comes trotting out of the office, sitting herself right in front of Lucia. She shakes her head fondly, following Andie with Molly in tow. “At least you have a normal-ish nickname, don’t you Mozzarella?”

Daniel takes a moment to process Molly’s nickname. “Mozzarella?”

“You named birds, Daniel,” Max says bluntly. “So I am not sure you can talk.”

They’re about to move back to their outdoor couch when the sound of keys jingling in the lock plays. Max opens the door to find Matilda on the other side, two suitcases behind her and slightly frazzled.

“Did you know they wouldn’t let me into the street until I proved I lived at the apartment? And of course none of my ID showed this address—why would it show my parents address—and this cop was such a dick to me,” Matilda rants, yanking her suitcases inside.

“Oh my god, I am never travelling on New Year’s Eve again, that was horrible.” Matilda looks at the door behind her. “Did you change the code?”

Max waves his hand around. “Lucia timed it out. We’ll fix it in the morning.”

The broken door lock offender sticks her head out of the balcony door, pointing at her sister with the pizza box in hand. “Why are you here? I thought you were stuck with Riley in London,” she asks, using air quotes for her back half of the last sentence.

“No, I was actually stuck in London, don’t do the air quotes,” Matilda shoots back. “Why are you here, I thought you and Andie were at that fancy restaurant or whatever with your friends?”

“We got hungry, so we left,” Lucia explains.

“At a restaurant?”

“The portions were really tiny—look, shut up. Maybe I just wanted to eat pizza with my fiancée at home instead of wondering if I was using the right fork or not,” Lucia says pointedly, shaking the box. “Do you want the pizza or are you still judging my restaurant choices?”

Matilda practically vaults over all the living room furniture and snatches the box from Lucia, almost planting herself on top of Andie when she jumps over the back of the outdoor couch.

Andie slides a soft drink across the coffee table towards Matilda, who downs a quarter of the can in one sip.

“What?” Matilda looks around at them. “I refuse to pay for bad airport food, this isn’t a new thing about me.”

“Where’s Riley?” Andie asks instead, passing another soft drink across in preparation. “I thought you two were going to visit his parents in Colorado?”

“Left him in London,” Matilda mumbles through a mouthful of pizza.

“Matilda!” Daniel chastises. “Are you serious?”

“I did ask if he wanted to come, but apparently staying in a hotel overnight was more appealing than flying back here, so.” Matilda shrugs in a way that definitely tells him she’s annoyed at him over it. “Would rather spend the new year with you guys than in some random hotel.”

There’s a silent pact between them to not push too many questions about Riley on Matilda. Max could barely keep up with the way they were bouncing around each other at the very beginning.

They’re all saved from accidentally saying the wrong thing when the fireworks start. Daniel startles with the loud bangs echoing across the sky, scrambling to get his jacket off the floor and pulling the hood over his ears.

“Pretty cool fireworks, right?” Matilda asks, looking over at them. Max stretches his arm over Daniel, pulling them all closer.

Daniel slides his hand into Max’s underneath the blanket, squeezing it three times. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Pretty cool fireworks.”

[physics-of-one-piece]

Okay, I wanna get sth off my chest.

It's about Discord, and why I can't join any OP fandom Discord (yet). I will one day. For now, I think I'd be a bit overwhelmed if I do join.

First thing I want all my mutuals, followers and everyone to know is that everyone here is amazing. Genuinely. You all are awesome.

I can't join Discord for OP fandom yet because of the bad experiences in another Discord in another fandom. They weren't FULL BLOWN bad experiences, but damn, did they make me annoyed.

In short, my friends from that fandom watch One Piece. And they were great and supportive, and we have a thread for One Piece in that Discord server for ourselves. Those friends did not spoil anything for me.

And then I got to Dressrosa, and I typed a lot about Doflamingo cus I loved him more and more.

But my friends... They hate him. Okay, that's fine, I can ignore that. Surely if I respect that they hate him, they can respect that I like him?

(the answer to them for that was no)

They were like "just wait till you see Law's backstory with him, you'll hate him then" etc etc. And that was fine, okay.

Saw Dressrosa Takeover, saw Law's backstory. I mean, yeah, that shit is dark, but what do you expect? It's Doflamingo.

They wanted me to hate him. And after that, after I didn't hate him, but liked him even more, with every damn time I wrote something I consider awesome from Doflamingo, they switched to insulting the character I like.

I never go insulting characters they like, but god they kept doing it for Doflamingo. I got tired of it and just stopped talking about One Piece overall with them. Even with fics I wrote in the "writing thread" they nitpicked them, said "that wouldn't work like that, etc etc" and just... Killing the fun of it? Like... What the fuck.

I want to make clear, these were individuals. Other people were cool with it and ENCOURAGED it.

And of course every time I go "I love Doffy" these individuals come up with an insult for him. So yeah, I dipped. They couldn't respect my like for a character and not be at least considerate enough not to talk shit about him. At first, fine, but it started getting overbearing and fckn annoying. Like, a lot.

I hate plenty OP characters but I would never, EVER think of if I see someone enjoy that character of bashing that character, little less on their thread/Discord/tumblr blog. It would NEVER even cross my mind. Why the hell would I want to do that to someone? Hell, I'd ENCOURAGE them to continue enjoying what they enjoy. Bcs if a character makes you happy, and makes it fun, then why tf would I ever try to ruin that for someone?

It just makes me sick how these individuals (who I still consider friends, I don't think they genuinely meant it to come off as them trying to police me or anything, they said it was getting annoying but like he's one of my fav characters of course I'll talk about him a lot that's what you do with favourite characters they don't go on a rant if I rave about Luffy or Law or Cora) were actively commenting how I shouldn't like this character like it would make me like him less?

Sorry I like interesting, evil, demonic character with an iconic laugh and who is one of the top five antagonists in the most popular manga and was in Top 20 characters in the popularity poll? Like... Wtf.

Anyway, yeah... That's the reason I made this blog (there were 100% other reasons like being a nerd and calculating One Piece things 🤣). I needed a safe space to simp over Doflamingo, the Donquixote Family, Dressrosa and everything. And I'm genuinely so happy to have met fellow Doffy fans on here.

You all are great. Thank you for making this a safe space for me and for enjoying and encouraging my Doffy insanity, and for writing and drawing such amazing fics and art of Doffy and everyone else from Dressrosa.

I feel weightless on this blog, free to enjoy the Heavenly Demon and simp for him and discuss him as much as I want with everyone giving their thoughts and encouraging it.

I'm FREE.

I'll join those Discords one day. Thank you all for keeping the invites open.

[doc-pickles]

hat trick | sidney crosby

summary: sidney goes three for three on and off the ice.

warnings: mentions of sex, kids, pregnancy, morning sickness, breeding kink if you squint

a/n: this is my first hockey fic! I missed writing so this was a fun little intro back into it. enjoy!

xoxo nina

one.

You sighed as you settled onto the couch, watching as the Penguins skated off the ice. They’d just been eliminated in the first round of playoffs after a tough five game series. You knew Sidney would be devastated when he came home the next day.

What you weren’t expecting was Sidney coming home before 6 AM. You were still fast asleep when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“Mmm Sid? You’re not to supposed to be back till noon,” you mumbled as Sidney’s hand trailed under your sleep shirt.

“Missed my favorite girl,” Sidney’s words were muffled as his lips pressed to your neck, eliciting a low moan from you.

You rolled onto your back and looked up at Sidney whose lips were trailing over your skin, “As much as I love you, the sun isn’t even up yet. Did you even change before you jumped in bed?”

“No, I’m on a mission,” Sidney’s lips were still pressed to your skin as he spoke, his hands trailing up your sides to brush at the curve of your breasts. “I’m gonna win the Cup next year.”

You giggled as Sidney stripped off your shirt and his before his lips met yours in a hot kiss. You pulled back, meeting his eyes, “Which is a great goal babe, but I don’t see how us having sex has anything to do with that.”

“Our baby is gonna sit in the Stanley Cup next year,” Sidney grinned down at you.

“What baby?”

“The baby I’m going to put into you,” Sidney’s voice was low and thick as his fingers reached down and slipped under the lace of your panties, coaxing a low gasp from your lips. “Gotta start now, there’s no time to waste babe.”

“Sid-“

Your words were cut off as Sidney kissed you once more, his fingers slowly sliding into you. You’d talked about kids before, but you always thought he was the more hesitant one. His eagerness to start trying right away made you smile as his teeth gently sunk into the delicate skin of your neck.

“Fuck baby,” Sidney groaned as he leaned away to look at you. “Can’t wait to fill you up, see you growing with my baby.”

You blinked up at Sidney as he waited for you to answer the question hanging between you. With a small grin you reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair, leaning your forehead against his.

“Well what are you waiting for? Put a baby in me Captain.”

-

The excitement in the arena was contagious as Sid skated across the ice, the Stanley Cup held high above his head. Your husband had never looked so happy, his grin threatening to overtake his face as he skated over to you.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” you grinned as Sidney pulled you in and gave you a passionate kiss. “So freaking proud.”

“I love you,” Sidney grinned before extending his arms towards his mom who was standing behind you. “Hand her over, I’ve been waiting far too long for this.”

Trina grinned as Sidney kissed her cheek and then took the baby in her arms. Your daughter Sophie was only three months old but she wore a bright smile as her dad brought her against his chest. Tears threatened to run down your cheeks as Sidney leaned down to place her in the top of the Stanley Cup, cameras flashing all around you.

“C’mere,” Sidney gestured to you and you quickly pressed yourself into his hold. “Wouldn’t be here without you. I love you baby.”

“I love you too Sid.”

two.

“Babe! I’m home!”

You groaned as your head rested against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl, your stomach churning as you took deep breaths. You could hear Sidney come into the house, dropping his bag and ducking into Sophie’s room before heading towards your bedroom.

“Babe?”

You went to answer but your stomach decided to roll unpleasantly and you’re bent over the toilet again as you gagged.

A warm hand rested on your back as you groaned, your body lurching forward again. Sidney pulled your hair back from your face.

“You need me to go get anything for you,” Sidney asked as you finally stopped puking, your head resting on his chest. “Meds or some soup and crackers?”

You shook your head as you groaned, “No I’m fine. I just wanna nap.”

“You sure you don’t need anything? I love you but you look awful,” Sidney pushed your hair away from your face as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I’m fine,” you sighed as you leaned further into his hold. “Your demon spawn is just trying to take over my body.”

“What the hell does that… Wait,” Sidney leaned back and looked you over. “You’re pregnant?”

You let a small grin take over your face, “Don’t sound so shocked, you’re the one that insisted we celebrate the Cup win everyday for two weeks. Multiple times. I’m pretty sure this baby is a result of a shit ton of champagne and the time you dragged me into the broom closet during that gala.”

“Hey! This baby was not conceived in a broom closet,” Sidney grinned as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I love you. And I’m excited for another little one to chase around.”

“I’m excited to, but I’d love to stop puking up my guts,” you smirked as Sid squeezed your shoulders.

three.

“Sophie! Stop running, you know I can’t keep up with you!”

You groaned as your four year old raced ahead of you through the crowds of the arena. While Sophie had grown up within the walls of the PPG Paints Arena seeing her sprint through the halls still made your heart flip. Thankfully Taylor took off after her, scooping the little girl into her arms.

“Oh sweetheart, you need a nap,” Trina Crosby settled her hand on your shoulder as she sidled up next to you. “Running after two babies is hard work enough, throw in another one on the way. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You smiled and hoisted Violet higher on to your hip. Trina and Taylor had both offered to carry her but the little girl was glued to your side, even with your nine month baby bump in the way.

“I’m okay for now. Besides, this could be Sid’s last time winning the Cup, I’m not going to miss it for anything,” you grinned and settled a hand in your bump. Your third baby was giving you a hard time today but you tried to silently convey to them that this game was important. “Plus Taylor has Sophie covered and all Vi wants is cuddles.”

Troy chuckled as he joined your group, placing a hand on your shoulder, “And what will you do if this next one is a spitfire boy like Sid?”

“Hand him off to his dad,” you grinned as Trina and Troy both laughed. You headed into the suite behind them, settling into a chair as Violet scrambled toward Troy who gladly hoisted her up.

Game seven of the Stanley Cup finals was eventful, everyone in the suite cheering loudly as Sidney scored his first and second goal of the night. Sophie was bouncing excitedly between Taylor and Trina while Troy was trying to explain the game to Violet who simply kept yelling ‘penguin!’ any chance she got.

“C’mon boys! You got this,” you yelled as you watched the Penguins battling it out on the ice. “Let’s go Sid!”

You watched with bated breath as the tied game ticked down to its final seconds, Sidney commandeering the puck and shooting it into the goal for win and a complete hat trick.

Trina, Troy, Taylor, and you cheered loudly as Sidney and his teammates celebrated their victory. Sophie and Violet cheered as well, not quite knowing what was happening but excited none the less.

You and the Crosby’s headed down to the ice to congratulate Sidney on another win. Your hand floated down to your bump as a sharp kick from your third child hit you, “I know, you’re excited too. But can we settle down a bit please?”

“Baby giving you trouble?” You grinned widely as Sidney skated up to you, placing a hand across your bump as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Congrats baby,” you smiled as you placed your hand on Sidney’s chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Sidney mumbled into your hair as he pulled you close. “You and the girls and this little one mean more to me than the Cup.”

“But the Cup is sure nice,” you giggled as Sid looked over your shoulder at the Stanley Cup.

“Sure is,” Sidney laughed just as the baby produced a harsh kick against his hand. “Hey there buddy, you excited about the win too? Once you get here I’ll sit you in the Cup, promise.”

Sophie ran up behind you, looping herself around Sidney’s legs. “Daddy! You won again!”

Sidney hoisted Sophie up, Violet reaching for you from Troy’s arms. With both girls between you and your husband, you smiled as the Penguins media team snapped photos of your family. You were notoriously private about your kids but today was a celebration for Sidney so you didn’t mind sharing your family moment with the world.

“You’re missing this Cap,” Kris skated over with the Stanley Cup, settling it in front of you and Sidney. “Honorary family member.”

“I think it’s Vi’s turn to sit in the cup,” Sidney grinned as Violet smiled up at him. “C’mere pretty girl. Crosby tradition, littlest one sits on top.”

Sophie wiggled out of Sidney’s arms as he took Violet from you, the 18 month old smiling widely as her father placed her in the top of the silver cup. You smiled for a few more photos before the celebration continued. You stayed glued to Sidney’s side as he accepted congratulations from everyone, his hand rested against your bump as he held you close.

“Mommy! You peed your pants,” Sophie gasped as she pointed at your leggings that were now sporting a dark stain. You could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric just as a sharp pain radiated through your stomach.

“Sid we might need to take this celebration elsewhere,” you looked up and met your husbands wide eyes. “Looks like the baby really was excited to celebrate.”

Excitement buzzed around you as everyone scrambled to get you and Sidney out of the arena as quickly as possible. You let Trina fawn over you, checking to be sure you had everything and assuring you they’d take care of the girls.

Once you and Sidney were settled in your car with an escort out of the crowded parking lot you turned to him with a grin, “Going for the double hat trick?”

Sid’s brows furrowed as he glanced over at you, “Double?”

“Yeah baby number three means you’ve officially achieved the dad hat trick,” you grinned and Sidney chuckled as his hand gripped yours. “I’m so proud of you Sid. You were amazing tonight.”

“Thanks baby,” Sidney smiled and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

[strawberrymochin]

I will be back soon~

Genre- fluff, angst...umm yeah whatever synopsis- kento's baby fever (sorry)

Kento Nanami having a baby fever was sort of unexpected. Ever since you had known him from his emo canon phase, till his enlightenment of every job in world being shitty, he's a person to get straight to the point. Speak his mind without any barriers of people's opinions.

when you first saw him, among the busy crowds of the station along with bunch of people in similar uniform like him, you chuckled a bit to yourself noting his golden bangs. He looked at you once with a glare as you drop your head down, embarrassed, trying not to make the fact that you were staring at him obvious.

You never saw him after that day of rush hour in 2006.

As time went by, this encounter of you with the sullen guy with blonde side swept bangs had dust fallen over till the memory of it blurred completely from your vision.

Up until 2016, where in a buisness trip back to Tokyo led you to a person, striking a sense of familiarity. 'The Emo Blondie' you recognised from ten years ago.

"Is something wrong, miss? You've been staring at me for past five minutes." He said maintaining a calm demeanor, as blood rushed to your cheeks, ears red burning with embarrassment. "Oh no, I'm fine.....I was ah kinda zoned out." You say blocking your face from his view with the flies you held in your hand.

Insignificant. The memory was totally insignificant— however the evocation came out vividly crisp. As if the picture of that past encounter was engraved in your mind and this meeting with him blew gust of wind, blowing off the dust accumulated over it.

He has always been straight to the point. As mentioned earlier, he even voiced out whenever you got flustered working with him; when he bends down to your desk, hands caging you from both sides as he uses one to show you what changes shall you make in the proposal; his breath would brush on the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, "I think you should focus on the proposal, rather than shying away."

"Huh?"

He would simply walk away. And what annoyed you the most was his same neutral calm expression. Does his manner never falters? He drives you in such embarrassing situations that you would effing wish to die on that moment. Such a menace.

Better start to avoid him. That was your initial plan, which you put to use, ignoring nanami and cutting out any situation where you have to face each other; going for help to other employees rather than the one you're assisted to— 'kento nanami' ofcourse; refusing on lunch together with the group whenever he used to join; avoiding even to look at him.

You thought you were doing good. There were no more embarrassing situations, now that you keep your distance from the so called past emo guy. You were happy life was back in track again.

That night you were working overtime. Finishing it you strech yourself, gathering your bag to go back home, humming to a tune, walking up to the elevator.

The gate opened and your smile dropped. Inside standing was kento nanami— same expression. The air went awkward, tension rising, he kept staring at you with a frown.

"Are you getting in or not?"

"Ah— I am." You give in, actions suddenly involuntary. The doors closed. None of you spoke for a while, till his velvet voice broke the threads of stillness tangling around.

"Are you purposely ignoring me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, as your eyes widen to look at him. Oh no— you're going red again. I mean how the fuck you're not supposed to, if he's leaning on the elevator walls, with that tight shirt, two buttons open from the collar with a loose tie looped around showing off his pretty collar bones.

"Wha— no" you blatantly lie.

"Lie," he comes closer, dangerously closer till your back touches the cold surface of the elevator, "you obviously seem to avoid my presence."

"Th— that's not the c-case. You see I ahh" your voice falls as his tongue swipes over his pursed lips. "Mhm? I see what?" You want to answer, but the words won't just come out throat.

"You know what I see? I see you having a crush on me which you are hesitant to act upon...." That's it you were done. You passed out of embarrassment. And the next thing you know, when you regain your consciousness is you laying on a bed with warm blankets draped upon, in an unknown bedroom, which you now recognise as your boyfriend's.

"Dating is shit," He said, "but we can try."

It's been two years now you're dating. Nanami started being a sorcerer again as it suited his tastes and you were happy you won't have to listen him venting "work is shit."

You held your pregnency test, hand shaking, as it showed two lines— positive. Nanami wanted a baby, though he never said it directly, but through these blissful years you have learned to pick up on his unspoken words.

You were not ready for a baby. You weren't even married yet. You still had a career, goals to fulfill. However, tears brimmed up your eyes, of unmatchable joy. You couldn't wait to see the look you on your boyfriend's face as you reveal it to him.

Will he be happy? You were nervous. But indeed there was no doubt he wouldn't. His face would creak up, eyes creasing as lips form a huge smile, grabbing your waist spinning you around with joy. Kissing you telling you're the most beautiful blessing to him.

You remember once he told you about his dream when you asked about it randomly. He said he wanted to settle somewhere in Malaysia, with you. So simple yet so beautiful. Maybe it's time to fulfill it. You and nanami, settling in Malaysia as a mini version of you both joins soon. Have a family.

You couldn't wait to see him in the evening near Shibuya as you had a date night with him after he finishes with something that got him engaged real quick. He kissed your forehead before leaving, "I will be back soon." He said inhaling your scent from the crook of your neck.

You hurried to Shibuya, making sure not to forget the pregnancy test with you— a bow wrapped around it. You chuckle being impatient to see his reaction.

Your eyes scanned around to spot the familiar blonde hair. You don't know why people seemed to be in a rush. Unable to find your boyfriend you tilt your head in confusion.

You stroll around trying to find him. The air smells weird, sort of metalic, like— blood. A unsettling feeling crossed your heart. The station seems oddly quite, you turn your head trying to spot people, till you step on something mushy— a hand. It was a human hand you stepped on.

You stumble back, wanting to scream. Blood is scattered everywhere with sliced dead bodies of people. Dread strikes you—"Please don't be here. Please don't be here. Please nanami." — and among the dead bodies you spot him, standing covered in bruises. Half body burnt as a guy had his hand on his back. A wicked smile on his face.

You stilled as nanami looked at you for a second then looking somewhere else. He didn't recognise you from far. It seemed like he's in a daze.

No— you can't just stand there. You have to go and tell him. Tell him that he's going to be a father. Tell him you guys will be shifting to malaysia. Living his dream life.

You take one step towards him, trying to voice out his name— but it's useless. You couldn't.

Your boyfriend's body burst into pieces— the one you cuddled with every night, his crimson red blood splattered everywhere, just infront of your eyes— and you could do nothing. Nothing but stand.

The guy behind him noticed you, smirking deviously, but decided to ignore and run after a pink haired guy as you fall on your knees.

You crawl upto the bloody mess, of your boyfriend. Tears fell down your face as you hand touches him— his blood— smearing it on your face. He looked beautiful— even when he was half burnt. His blood was the darkest shade of red you've ever seen.

Why does everything has to be like this? You didn't even get to tell him about his baby, growing in your womb. You didn't get to see him smile. You didn't get to start a family with him.

'I will be back soon.' He said before leaving.

"You lied." You manage to let out between sobs.

Years passed after that incident. Nanami left this world, but his baby joined it. Your son has the same hair as him, which you like to style in the emo hairstyle in which you first saw his dad.

You shifted to malaysia after that, protecting your son, the only reason for you to live— living namami's dream, which you made yours.

a/n- sorry | ごめん なさい

[starwarsmum]

Introducing: Mousinette chapter 30 (2 days late)

Marinette let out a breath as the plane landed in Paris, smiling nervously at Damian when he sent her a questioning look. It was the 24th of December, and they had been flying for eight straight hours. She had tried to sleep, but the nervous energy of seeing all of her old friends kept her awake.

It wasn't until a couple of hours later that she stood in front of her parents’ bakery, trying to work up the courage to take Damian inside. She wasn't worried that they wouldn't like him; they knew she was dating someone and that she was happy. But she hadn't seen her parents in person since just after her birthday, and they had always been firmly rooting for Adrien.

“Starling, we should stop blocking the entrance and go inside,” Damian said, breaking her from her internal spiral. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, bracing herself for the din of people trying to get their Christmas Eve orders. Her parents had hired help a while ago, a young man called Phillipe that Marinette greeted on her way past the till.

“Maman, Papa, I'm home!” She called, stepping into the bakery kitchen. Immediately, she was engulfed in her Papa's arms, laughing as he twirled her around. “Papa, put me down! You know it's not safe in the kitchen,” she scolded, although it was undercut by her giggles.

“Nonsense, ma petite chou! Sabine, Marinette is home, and,” he eyed Damian appraisingly, “she has brought her young man! A pleasure to meet you at last, Damian, come here.” 

Marinette laughed again as Damian was swept into a hug as well, seeing his startled face. She made no move to free him, knowing she had warned Damian that this would happen. It was his own fault he hadn't listened to her and now he would suffer the consequences.

“Tom, put the boy down,” her mother said as she came into the kitchen. She gave Marinette a warm hug herself, kissing her on the cheek. “Marinette, it's so good to see you! You look healthy, I take it you've been eating well? But tired, didn't you sleep on the flight, love? Goodness, you look so much older, has it really only been five months?”

“Maman, take a breath,” Marinette laughed, not missing the way Damian looked at her completely deadpan. She pouted back at him before answering Sabine. “Yes, I'm eating fine, no I didn't sleep because I never do and it's actually been maybe a week over five months.”

After a little more chatting, Sabine ushered the other two upstairs, promising that they would be ready when they got back from lunch with Marinette's friends. Marinette moved Damian’s suitcase into her room, showing him around the flat.

“We have over an hour before we need to leave to meet your friends,” Damian said, pulling her to the sofa in the living area. She grumbled but complied, resting her head on his lap as he threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp lightly. “Sleep, I shall wake you with enough time to get ready.”

And he did. When she awoke, she didn't feel fully rested, but she did feel much better. Running around, pulling numerous gifts out of her luggage, she felt unusually prepared. Shrugging into their coats, scarves, gloves and hats, Marinette led Damian back through the bakery, shouting goodbye to her parents as they went.

They strolled along, Damian holding most of the bags after arguing back and forth for several minutes. She held onto his hand, stealing glances at his face only to find him doing the same thing. She grinned at him, a warmth spreading through her chest.

As they approached the Grand Paris Hotel, they were joined by Luka and Kagami, who called out to Marinette as they went. Luka gave Damian a once over before smiling at him in his usual gentle manner. Kagami gave Damian a brisk nod before pulling Marinette into a quick hug.

“Chloe is waiting for us in the conference room,” Kagami confirmed, divesting Marinette of her remaining few bags. “She is anxious to see you, she has been having Marinette withdrawals, so we should head straight to her.”

The room had been done up for a party, a DJ booth in the back. There were tables of food, as well as an open bar and a dance floor. The room was already full of people, most hovering around Alya and Lila. Nino was at the DJ booth, unsurprisingly, and Nathaniel was hanging around the other members of Kitty Section. Luka broke away from them to see his sister and friends.

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe shouted, above the hubbub of all of their old classmates. The noise calmed almost immediately, everyone spinning to see Marinette arriving. She was quickly engulfed in Chloe's arms, laughing as she swayed slightly. “How dare you wait until Christmas Eve to come back to town. Ridiculous-”

“Utterly ridiculous,” Marinette and Kagami chimed in, giggling at Chloe's annoyed look. Marinette reintroduced Damian when he returned from dropping the presents off with the wait staff, and Chloe teased her again for attracting another rich kid.

“Tt, Marinette attracts many different types of people, those of us with money are just more capable of making ourselves seen by her,” Damian said, making Marinette blush again. “Starling, you have been turning down admirers since you arrived in Gotham, I dread to think how many suitors you have had to reject in Paris.”

“Oh, you wouldn't believe how popular our Mari is,” came an amused voice, and Alya appeared, dragging Lila and Adrien along with her. “Hey girl, who's your friend? I didn't know you were bringing someone!”

“Als, I told you I was inviting my boyfriend,” Marinette replied, trying to sound amused rather than annoyed. By the eye roll the other girl gave Lila, she hadn't succeeded. Damian tensed beside her and she tried to smooth it over. “Alya, this is Damian. We go to GU together, but I met him through my friend Babs. You remember, the one who sent me the bouquet last Valentine's Day? Damian, this is my friend Alya, Jon met her in October.”

“Ah, the reporter,” Damian said, nodding sharply towards her. He didn't make any move to greet her further, snaking an arm around Marinette's waist instead. He turned to Adrien instead, giving a brief nod and slight glower. “Agreste, I hope you have been well.”

“Fine,” was the clipped response from Adrien and Marinette winced, looking down. His voice seemed to soften slightly before continuing. “Mari, you look great. We should try and catch up while we're both in town.”

“Sounds good,” she said, smiling tentatively. She knew he was still upset with her, but she was glad he seemed to be doing better. “I'm only here until the 30th, Damian invited me to his family's new year's party. Since he came here for Christmas, it seems fair.”

“Oh, that's so cute!” Lila cooed, although Marinette could hear a false note in her voice. “That sounds nice and low-key for you, Marinette. I've had an invitation from my good friends in Gotham and I would invite you both to join me, but the party is very exclusive. I could maybe swing one extra invite, but two would be rude.”

“Tt, I doubt my brothers will allow the party to end at a reasonable time. I have already told Marinette that I would rather spend New Year's Eve in a quieter space, but Grayson would not hear of it.”

“It's your own fault for thinking they wouldn't be mad at you for skipping out on Christmas,” Marinette chided, giggling when he squeezed her hip. “But next year we'll swap; Christmas with your family and new year's over here.”

“Wow, already making plans for next year,” Alya remarked, an eyebrow raised sceptically. “Marinette, you should come with me to see Nino! Don't worry, I'm sure Damian will still be here when you get back.”

Alya didn't allow for any protests, pulling Marinette away from the group. She shot Damian a reassuring look when he made to follow her and he settled back, looking disgruntled. When they were out of earshot, Alya started talking again.

“Marinette, you know you didn't need to ask a guy to come with you just to try and make Adrien jealous, right? It's not fair on either guy and it won't help you get over him,” Alya said, sounding disappointed. Marinette made a noise of protest but was quickly spoken over. “No, I know you and you wouldn't be able to get a word out around this guy if you were as into him as you're making out.”

“Alya, I'm not trying to make anyone jealous, and I don't want Adrien back,” Marinette said through gritted teeth. She was hurt and frustrated with her friend. “I told you I was dating Damian back in October, you just didn't believe me apparently. It doesn't seem to matter that Jon backed me up, or that I literally brought Damian with me. I really, truly want to be with him and we're working things out as we go. For Christ's sake, Adrien met him in early September.”

“Whatever you say, girl. But I also think it's a pretty big coincidence that you just so happen to have met another ‘Damian’, just like Lila. I know you don't like the girl but you should stop trying to prove she's a liar when she isn't. Like, I love you, Mari, but this needs to stop.”

“Alya, I don't know why you won't believe me that I'm not doing anything to try and prove Lila a liar right now. I'm literally just trying to introduce my boyfriend to my friends and visit for Christmas. Not everything is about her,” Marinette said heatedly, pulling her arm out of Alya's grasp. “You keep saying you love me but then you call me jealous, or crazy, or suspicious. You don't even try to see things differently, which is not how you want to go into journalism. But I'm done trying to explain things to you if you won't listen. Hey Nino, love the tunes! I'm going to go back to the others now.”

“Mari, wait,” Alya said, fumbling to catch up with her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come down on you like that. I'm just worried about you, because you have a tendency to go at things like a dog with a bone. And Lila is something that you've never tried to accept, even though you have no reason to be suspicious. And you say that you're not jealous over Adrien, but you kept messaging him even after you broke up.”

“And he messaged back, because we decided to stay friends!” Marinette was trying to keep her temper but her voice was rising, drawing the attention of Kitty Section nearby. Luka looked concerned, stepping forward to come and settle things but Marinette pressed forward. “Alya, I haven't been jealous of Lila since that first day, when she lied about things that I couldn't prove, just to get the attention of the boy I liked at the time.

“You seem to forget that I have my own connections to people, that I am perfectly capable of being friends with my exes, like Luka and Adrien, even if things had ended badly, which they didn't! You're making me out to be some obsessed fan of Adrien, even though I don't feel like that about him anymore,” Marinette finished, taking a shuddering breath. She span on her heel, shooting away from everyone and making a break for the bathroom.

_ _ _

When Marinette went with her friend, Damian watched her make her way across the room. She looked tense, something that happened often when she did not like what she was going to be doing. He was interrupted from his analysis of her posture when Agreste snorted sarcastically.

“She’s not going to vanish into thin air,” he said grouchily, meeting Damian’s glare with one of his own. “Hey, I'm just trying to give you a friendly warning, Mari can fight her own battles. I thought she was making you aware of that the last time I saw her?”

“I am well aware that she is capable of keeping herself safe,” Damian agreed, a haughty tone in his voice. “She is brilliant mentally, and physically she is capable of taking down people twice her size. That does not mean my worry for her is unwarranted, it merely means that I will let her deal with things until she cannot.”

“You know you can bring down the whole protective warrior bullshit, she's not even here. Not that I care, but things won't last if you can't get over yourself, Mari hates it when people hover over her.”

“Tt, I do not hover,” Damian retorted, eyes still following Marinette's progress. He could see her arguing, hands starting to fly agitatedly as she made a point. “And one would think that you were rooting for her to end things, given your own attachment to my girlfriend.”

“It's so strange to see people get riled up over little old Marinette,” Rossi tittered suddenly, reminding Damian that Agreste was not the only enemy in the vicinity. “Adrien, you know she was only with you because of your father, isn't that why she ended things as soon as he was no longer available?”

“Lila, you really need to learn to read a room,” Bourgeois said, cackling. “Besides, Dupain-Cheng has connections coming out of her petite rear end that you couldn't dream of. One day, and I feel like it's going to be soon, your little kingdom is going to come crumbling down.”

“Chloe, I don't know what you're talking about! I just worry about the boys Marinette manages to hoodwink into thinking she's interested in more than their connections. I mean, how else would such a young lady from humble beginnings have so many connections?”

“Tt, Marinette is talented, intelligent, compassionate and beautiful. She hardly needs to lie to gain admiration from those around her,” Damian said coldly. He glared openly at the young woman, hostility rampaging through him. “Bourgeois is correct, you do need to learn to read a room, because you will not turn me against her with the pitiful lies you are attempting.”

A wounded look fabricated on Rossi's face, and he was sure she would say more but the ruckus from across the room distracted them all. Damian was just in time to see Marinette escape from the room. He disregarded the group he was with and followed her, catching up to her just outside of the room.

“Marinette, love, wait,” he said, catching her up into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, shaking but not yet crying. “What happened, Starling?” He whispered, pulling back to look her in the face. He cupped her face with one hand, tilting her chin so he could look her in the eyes.

“It's nothing, I'm sorry,” she said, voice catching as she apologised. “I just- why doesn't she ever listen to me? And why can't I just let it go, if I could just stop trying to prove that I'm right-”

“You do it because you care,” Damian interrupted, loosening his hold on her slightly. “You are wonderful and you want your friends to listen to you because you are right. They would rather listen to a fanciful tale than the truth, and that will hurt them in the future. You are merely trying to save them that pain, which is commendable.”

“Alright, put her down, loverboy,” Bourgeois said, appearing behind them. Marinette jumped guiltily, blushing and apologising again. “Can it, Dupain-Cheng, you're long overdue a freakout. And they shouldn't keep pushing you to accept the liar just because they want what she says to be true. Now, go clean yourself up, I'll take your boy back to the party to smooth things over.”

Tsurugi stepped forward and escorted Marinette to the restrooms, smiling at Bourgeois encouragingly as she went. Once they were gone, the blonde woman blew out a noisy breath before shooing Damian back to the party.

“Alright, listen up losers,” she said imperiously, managing to quiet the room. “Dupain-Cheng is tired and overwhelmed right now, I've managed to get her to stay but let's get something straight: everyone needs to lay off the whole Lila/Adrien thing. Seriously, she hasn't been interested in Adrien for, like, two years. Sorry Adri-kins, I know you wanted things to work out, but she's happy with her new guy.

“Cesaire, that means you need to get a hold of yourself. You're in love with Rossi, we get it, but stop trying to force it down her throat. She's not hurting anyone by not believing her, but you're ruining your friendship. And that's coming from me, you know I'm not exactly great at-”

“Oh, I shouldn't have come,” Rossi interrupted, making Bourgeois bristle visibly. “I'm causing problems, I should have accepted the invitation to spend Christmas with my friends Tim and Damian, I just really wanted to see you all before I went there for new year's eve!”

“Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, I presume you are talking about?” Damian said, an almost bored feeling stealing over him. He was so laser focused on the liar that he didn't notice Marinette and Tsurugi re-entering the room. When Rossi nodded tearfully, he scoffed. “I would appreciate it if you would stop lying about knowing me and my family, Miss Rossi.”

“What?” Cesaire’s head whipped over to Marinette, looking for confirmation, or discomfort at a lie. Bourgeois let out a bark of laughter and Agreste seemed to be agitated. “Are you trying to say that you are Damian Wayne? Yeah, right, sure thing. You realise you just proved my point about Marinette trying to prove Lila a liar, even though she has no proof?”

“Why would I lie about something so easy to prove?” Damian said, glaring at the woman. He pulled up photos he had saved of articles about his older brothers. The first one was of Grayson, a picture of him next to their father at a gala, and he flashed it to the crowd. “This is my eldest brother, Richard Grayson. Whilst I do not have photographs of myself at these events, due to my age and reluctance to be in the spotlight, Grayson is well documented.

“And here is a more recent video, sent to my own phone from Marinette's,” he continued, flipping the phone back around to show a video of Grayson and Damian arguing over an inconsequential board game at their last family game night. He could hear Marinette's giggle as the two argued over whether you had to pay if the person missed it during Monopoly. “If that is not sufficient, I assume you would not object to searching for Timothy Drake-Wayne’s picture on the Wayne Enterprises website?”

Cesaire immediately whipped her phone out, finding a picture of Drake fairly quickly. When she confirmed that she had it, Damian initiated a video call, waiting for him to answer. They had discussed this as a possibility so he was not worried about the call not connecting. 

“What do you want, Demon?” Came the annoyed voice from Damian's phone. He was in his home office, brightly lit and he could be seen clearly by everyone who had crowded around the phone. “You do realise it's 7am here, right? Where's Marinette? She would have reminded you not to make calls home at such an unreasonable time.”

“Tt, Marinette is busy due to the things we discussed before I left,” he said, scowling as he indicated their audience. “I am trying to contain the Rossi issue before there are any further negative consequences.”

“Fine, you get three questions, and I promise to answer honestly,” Drake said, as they had discussed before Damian had come to Paris. “But you owe me, big time.”

“Fine, do you recognise anyone in this room?” Damian asked, flipping the camera and slowly moving across the crowd. He didn't hold on anyone in particular, although he was surprised to see Marinette standing in the doorway. 

“I can see Adrien Agreste, who visited in September, Marinette who, for some unfathomable reason, is dating you and also works in our fashion department, and isn't that Kagami Tsurugi? That fencer you basically stalked on the internet a couple of years ago?”

“Tt, that is Tsurugi, although I did not stalk her.” Damian's face felt warm and his scowl deepened. “But there is nobody else in the room that you know? No family friends that you failed to inform me of?”

“I already said no, stop wasting my time, D. I have a lot of work to do, not all of us get to take off to France for a week of smooching our partners.” 

“I will forgive your tone as I know you likely did not bother to sleep last night,” Damian sniped, still scowling. “Fine, that leaves two questions, would anyone like to ask something?”

“I will,” Bourgeois said, glee written across her features. “You recently hired a famous French designer, sometime in July. Could you tell us something about them? It doesn't have to be personal, anything you can think of would be fine.”

“Oh, MDC, right. Well, she was a family friend before we hired her, although that's not why we did. Hmmm, what can I tell you without compromising her privacy?” While he was thinking, Damian saw Cesaire's eyes go wide, darting a look at Rossi who was looking increasingly grey. “Oh, I guess this one isn't very well known but still isn't enough to identify her - she's a bit of an insomniac, tends to work herself into the ground if we don't make her take breaks. Creative types, you know?”

“Did you just say ‘she’? MDC’s a woman?” Cesaire's voice was slightly hushed, as though she wasn't sure she wanted to be heard. “But- Lila said-” her eyes sought out the young woman who was watching her kingdom crumble in front of her. “You said you could get me an interview with ‘him’.”

“Oh, I suppose I already gave away a little more than I was meant to. Whoops?” Drake's eyes darted guiltily to Marinette, but the others in the room were staring at Rossi and Cesaire so didn't make the connection. “Um, that leaves one more question, I guess.”

“I've got one,” Agreste said, and Damian bristled again, watching the blond man closely. “A confirmation really - you said Marinette works at Wayne Enterprises, could you just confirm the department again? In case anyone missed it.”

“The fashion department, obviously,” Drake said, looking confused for a moment before shaking it away. “Alright, I've already been on this call longer than I wanted to be. Demon, don't bother me again unless it's life or death. Mari, you can call tomorrow if you want, so you can say ‘Merry Christmas’ to everyone. I'm pretty sure Dick would be devastated if you didn't.”

And then the call was finished and silence spread through the room. Marinette shook herself, looking around at her old school friends. Alya looked almost murderous, her confusion giving way to anger. Lila was looking anywhere but at Alya, probably hoping an escape would become evident.

“Was anything you ever told us true? God, what am I saying, of course it wasn't. That's why Mari has always hated being around you, isn't it? None of the jealousy bullshit that you fed us, she knew you were lying and refused to go along with you. I cannot believe how stupid I am, I could have ruined my life! As it is, I'm going to have to work twice as hard to get anywhere, because now I have to go and retract at least half of my blogging history!”

Damian materialised at Marinette's side, looking smug. She raised an eyebrow at him, sighing in exasperation when he only shrugged back. The noise around them raised significantly when Lila tried to defend herself; apparently the others were not going to let this slide.

“Merry Christmas, Starling,” Damian murmured in her ear, pulling her back against his chest. His lips brushed just behind her ear, making her shiver pleasantly. “I know you did not wish to expose her yourself, but I hope you are not offended that I took the liberty of revealing the truth.”

“I think I'll live,” she snorted, turning to face him. He looked at her tenderly, making her breath catch and heart race. “But it wouldn't hurt for you to garner some goodwill, handsome,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

_ _ _ 

Chloe prided herself on being calm and ruthless for her loved ones. She also knew that most of the others from her old class thought she was still the immature, bratty piece of work who had vanished to New York for a couple of years. She didn't overly care, Kagami knew she was a better person and loved her in spite of her flaws.

And Marinette had forgiven her, which often made Chloe want to cry. She had been horrific towards the girl, taking her own insecurities and shortcomings out on her. The friendship that had grown between the pair was tense to begin with, before blossoming into something Chloe would fight tooth and nail for.

So when Damian freaking Wayne, Marinette's latest boyfriend who seemed like he was going to actually go the distance, called her up to ask for her help taking down the liar that was making Marinette's life hell? She didn't so much as blink before swearing she would do almost anything to help.

So whilst Damian was eviscerating Lila Rossi by way of phone call, Chloe was setting up the projector with the slideshow she had created with the different evidence Damian and his family had sent to her. The moment he had slunk over to Marinette to get the praise he, rightly in Chloe's mind, deserved, she blasted a short foghorn recording through the room, making people turn to glare at her.

“Well, now that I have your attention,” she said snootily, giving them all a little finger wave. “Wayne isn't the only one with a little show and tell to do. Gather round peasants while Queen Chloe reminds you just how utterly ridiculous you've been in believing some of the outrageous claims made by one Liar Rossi.”

First, she cued the video of Jagged and Penny, who were positively vibrating with rage. It was shot almost immediately after the phone call with Barbara Gordon, Marinette's other mysterious American friend that Chloe had only discovered by accident.

“Is it already rolling, Pen? Right, first up, let's make one thing clear, mates: I don't know a bloody Lila whatever and I've never had a child save any pets for me. Also, a kitten? Not since I was a kid, and even then it was really my folks’ cat. Second, I've never introduced my designer to anyone because she doesn't want anyone to know who she bloody is! It really pisses me off that people think I don't have integrity - very un-rock and roll.”

“Yes, so we'll be putting in a formal request for the removal of a slanderous video from the Ladyblog in the new year, as well as posting our own counter video to explain our side of the story. Please let this serve as a reminder of the importance of fact checking - especially as this was easily proven from multiple sources close to you,” Penny added severely. 

Chloe enjoyed watching the flush that spread across Alya's face, a vicious pleasure at knocking the hack down a peg. Marinette might not think her friends were bad people for being horrendously gullible, but Chloe was glad that the reporter was feeling the weight of her own actions.

“Well, that puts one lie to rest, shall we move on?” Chloe said smugly into the silence, allowing the room to turn and glare at the liar before continuing. One by one, she worked down the surprisingly thorough list of lies that had been disproven, watching Rose get tearful when Prince Ali denied working with anyone on environmental charities and Max look dismayed when they disproved her connections to big tech companies.

And when she saw Marinette look brighter and brighter with every slide, she felt satisfied, almost proud, of all that she had helped achieve.

[cowboy-heart]

'If god Exists'

escapril day 26! prompt used was my own 'dancing on a wednesday', and was inspired by @/moonannwrites (instagram) poem 'The Anatomy of a Dyke'!

Ko-Fi Instagram

(ID in read more) do not repost without credit

[ID: an original prose poem titled 'If god Exists'. either side of the title are lavender sprigs, and the poem is in paragraphs. poem begins:

She pulls you in / threads you around her teeth / giving you hot rush / and the chill of enticement / a tongue that licks teeth like just dessert / her body not a desert / lush with hair and tattoo and acne / to be lost in / hair that sticks up like lightning / to be left on your pillowcase / a stomach that folds and cascades galaxies / puts a chain around your throat and acts the innocent / though there’s no weakness in her blood / looks at you under eyelids like undressing / a wound to be drank / and how you will drink / the night away.

Her fingers reach into roots / tracing the lines of lesbianism back decades / her rolling eyes reminiscent of dyke bar lights / her short nails reminiscent of a brick throw / her boots reminiscent of marching blisters / her thick hands reminiscent of tending the dying on wards / both abandoned yet / hostage / scars like ageing an oak / following the history of / bathroom haircuts and blowjobs / closet hiding and burning / yelling mothers and terrified lovers / disgusted friends and soaked sheets / unending nights and binge drinking / bingeing every chance at touch / at reality / she could get / to tide her over / until the tide took her over / when she needed sea-salt in every corner of her life / threw away the shaver and the boyfriend / got a lesbian one instead / kisses her at the bus stop / chases the man who called you a dyke / for a whole block till he’s weeping / stands outside the bathroom stall / to make sure you’re given no shit / shoulders folding into wings / that she now lets fill the sky with light / gathers faggots / dykes / bisexuals / tgirls / holding all in warm embrace / and sickly sweet blood / jeans stained from it / knuckles from beating / lips from wine and kissing / lets her eyelashes stick to each other / knows she looks hot as all hell / in joggers and hangover / she gives you eternity / and every wish and yearn you ever had / the impossible on her tongue / then takes you dancing on a Wednesday / takes you / takes all of you / every damn way.

Wears just boxers and sagging tits / hickies like islands / says to you over burning pancakes / here’s what catholics are afraid to admit / if god exists they’re a Dyke / only a Dyke could build the world in five days / with only stubbornness, toolbelt, forearms and sweat / you remind her that / they technically ended the world too / in a flood or whatever / she says / yeah? Have you ever seen a Lesbian breakup? / you say / wow / god’s kind of toxic / and ask / where are they now? / we’re in need of fire and brimstone more than ever / especially for a certain subpar children’s author / she shrugs / fucked if I know / probably off having sweaty Dyke sex on mars / you nod / good on them / she flips a blackened pancake / tilts her head like she has / no idea how it happened / WAIT, NO / VENUS!

end poem. in the bottom right corner, the writer is credited as 'Ren H.' end ID].