#i am tipsy admittedly

[defiledtomb]

I have some time to kill before my friend arrives and I want to celebrate pride here too, SO, first to comment a gay ouroboros pairing gets a short drabble, posted within the hour!

GO!

[macbethsymphony]

Dearest characters,

For the love of plot consistency, could you please stick to the fucking plan? I didn't outline this thing for your improv practice — just follow the damned instructions already!

Kindly,

A very tired fanfic writer 💕

[wewouldgobackintime]

the fact that it's 3 am and i'm not home yet is a crime against humanity and quite frankly homophobic

[cupid-styles]

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

[planet-marz1]

Our Little Sheep

Summary: You and Joel celebrate christmas with your many children Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Word Count: ~4.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, implied age gap(not specified), reader is able to get pregnant, jackson!joel, peepaw!joel(really peepaw), mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of childbirth (nothing graphic), brief mentions of breastfeeding (again, nothing graphic) Lots of fluff & cuteness, Joel being a cute girl dad™, this seems like it should be a crackfic, but I promise It's so wholesome

A/N: Ok so this fic idea was born out of my cold medicine induced haze, so bear with me here guys. It's just a silly little fic, not meant to be taken seriously at all, and It's the most fun I've had writing in a bit, so I hope you enjoy reading! Just a little clarity here, the kids' ages range from 0 to 9. I know it gets all confusing here, so I am welcome to provide any further clarity if anyone needs it! A huge thank you to @catchallfangirl for helping with the naming of all of these gremlins & with the constant encouragement ❤️ Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading!

lovely dividers by @pamasaur

| main masterlist | ao3 link | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

You open your eyes slightly, squinting them. Joel sleeps peacefully next to you, his breaths even and steady. Burrowing yourself further under the blankets, you scoot closer to him, your head on his chest and intertwining your legs with his. You run your fingers through the curls of his now, fully gray hair.

Slight whines start to fill the room, and you lift your head up and glance over your shoulder to peek into the bassinet next to your side of the bed. Joel had been up with the baby all night after you two had finished wrapping up the gifts for the other kids. So, you groggily sit up in bed, reaching over to pick up the tiny little infant.

“Shhh, It’s alright, little one.” You whisper quietly, trying to calm him. After a few attempts to shush him, it’s still not working. He’s probably hungry, you figure. Lifting your shirt, you help him latch onto your breast, and he finally calms. You sigh quietly with relief. It’s all a part of the process, you try to remind yourself. Little baby Joelseph had only been born a few weeks ago. No, his name isn’t actually Joelseph. Simply a nickname given to him by his many older sisters when you had been pregnant with him. It started as a cute joke, but sure enough he came into the world, and no one was able to call him by his proper name. Named after his father, but considering the chaos of your family, the nickname is simply just another thing that you don’t bother to fight to keep the peace in the house.

The early hours of the morning are usually the small period of time when the house is completely silent. Every other waking minute is filled with the sounds of the kids, either giggling, or fighting with each other over something. Though, silence isn’t always a good thing. You’ll never forget the time the kids got into the kitchen cupboards and practically wreaked havoc in the kitchen while you were outside tending to the sheep.

Sure enough, you hear the trampling of footsteps coming down the hallway. No matter how chaotic it may be, this is your favorite part of the day. Getting to start each day greeted by all of your beautiful children, reminding you of why you are so lucky. You softly graze your fingers over the baby’s hair.

“I think your sisters are here, little guy,” You chuckle softly. The doorknob jiggles a bit. Before all of your daughters begin to spill into your bedroom, all eleven of them. Yes, eleven. You and Joel had, admittedly, gotten out of control in that department.

You and Joel had met when he had returned to Jackson in the spring with Ellie in tow. It had been an immediate connection, quite literally. Hooking up one night in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison, which is what led to your firstborn, Emilie. The pregnancy had come as a shock, but you and Joel were excited nonetheless.

A chorus of variations of “Mom,” or “Mommy,” begin to fill the room, and you try to shush the girls, reminding them of their little brother. “Ok, girls, I know that you’re excited to get downstairs to all of your gifts, but you’ve got to settle down a bit, alright?” You whisper gently. Finally, they all nod in understanding. The calm is short-lived, though. Jane and Jules, the cutest, but menacing pair of instigators, hop on to your bed, shaking Joel’s shoulder, trying to wake their father.

They were your fourth pregnancy, which was by far the most difficult one you had ever experienced. Constant discomfort, and sleepless nights from the relentless kicking and movement from them. It wasn’t the first time you had been pregnant with twins, but It had gone nothing like you had expected it to.

Joel, though typically a light sleeper, is particularly hard to wake after a night with no sleep, hence why you’d opted on letting him sleep in. The two of them, each on one side of him, lean in close to his face, leaving little room for personal space. “Daddy.” Jules says quietly, Jane keeping a close watch.

Joel peeks one eye open, a bit startled at first at the heavy breathing from the two girls so close to his face, but the confused expression on his face is quickly replaced by a tired grin. As soon as all the girls spot that their father has woken up, they all pile onto your bed, excitedly squealing and giggling. Luckily, little baby Joelseph had already been lulled into a deep sleep after he finished nursing. Even if he hadn’t, you're pretty sure the few short weeks he’s been in the world, he’s already used to the constant noise and chaos from his older sisters.

Joel sits up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and tries to wrap his arm as many of them as humanly possible.

“When can we open our presents, daddy?” Tiny little Aurora questions impatiently. This is the first year she’s been able to fully understand the concept of Christmas, and all the gift giving. So, understandably, she is ecstatic for all the festivities of the day. She crawls into his lap, after attempting to clamber over all of her sisters in the way. Joel scratches at the scruff of his beard, and lifts her into his lap.

“How about we all eat breakfast first, sweetheart, then you all can tear into your gifts.” He says lowly, his voice still laced with sleep. “Sound like a plan?” He asks. The girls all nod in agreement.

You slowly stand up from the bed, still cradling baby Joelseph in your arms. Walking towards the door, you gesture for the girls to do the same. They all climb off of the bed, and without fail, the house is once again filled with chaos. All eleven of them racing out of your bedroom, and down the staircase to the kitchen.

Joel meets you by the doorway, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” You tease him. “Sleep well?”

“Just like usual, darling.” He kisses you again, this time placing kisses all over your face, and down your neck, before you place your hand gently on his chest stopping him from going any further.

“Not so fast, old man.” you chuckle softly. “We don’t need another one of these.” you say, gesturing down to the baby bundled up in your arms.

“One more wouldn’t hurt, huh?” He teases, and you just shake your head. 

“You say that because you aren’t the one who has to push them out.”

“We should probably get downstairs before they get into stuff that they shouldn’t be” You murmur, and Joel quietly nods in agreement.

The warmth of the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you make your way into the dining room. Joel follows you, his hand brushing against the small of your back.

You and Joel enter the dining room, and expectedly the room is already filled with screaming and chaos. Alive with the energy of your daughters, and the two mischievous kittens, Ginny and Joel, weaving in and out of the chaos. 

Emilie, your oldest, is trying to settle an argument between Lacy and Lily, your first set of twins. Nothing new in your household, nearly every morning, no matter how many times you have to tell them that every seat is the same, the kids insist on fighting on who sits where, who sits next to whom. It’s exhausting, but you can’t help but smile at the chaos unfolding before you-it’s simply the routine of your everyday life.

Emilie, with her stern expression, finally manages to resolve the seating dispute between Lacy and Lily. You glance at Joel, and he chuckles, a knowing look passing between you. The girls quickly settle into their chairs, the anticipation of Christmas morning evident in their sparkling eyes. As you take your seat at the head of the table, Joel sits beside you, and the cacophony gradually subsides. Little Aurora, perched on Joel’s lap, swings her legs excitedly, eager to dive into the festivities.

“Alright, everyone, let’s dig in!” you announce with a smile, and the room erupts in cheers. The aroma of the freshly cooked breakfast wafts through the air as the kids eagerly serve themselves.

Emilie diligently helps the younger ones with their breakfast. She occasionally steals glances at the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

Lacy and Lily are engaged in animated conversation, their excitement palpable. Daisy can’t stop giggling at something Theo whispered in her ear. The second set of twins, Jane and Jules, sit side by side, already plotting mischief as they eye the presents.

Willow, with her big curious eyes, is inspecting her plate with utmost concentration, trying to decide which part of her breakfast to tackle first.

In the midst of the laughter and chatter, you catch Joel’s eye. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent acknowledgement of the beautiful chaos that is your family. His gaze is filled with gratitude, and you can’t help but feel the same.

As the kids enjoy their breakfast, you steal a moment with Joel. “Can you believe how fast they're growing?” you murmur, your eyes dancing with a mixture of love and exhaustion.

Joel leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking around the Tipsy Bison.”

You laugh, the memory of that fateful night vivid in your mind. “Look where it led us.”

Kylie babbles incoherently as she attempts to mimic her older siblings. Aurora still sits on Joel’s lap, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the festive scene, and Joel aids her with her breakfast.

Maggie sits contentedly in her high chair, fingers sticky with syrup, as she munches on a piece of a pancake you’ve carefully cut up into small pieces for her.

The kids, fueled by excitement and sugar, chatter animatedly about their plans for the day. You and Joel exchange glances, both silently reveling in the joy of parenthood. The journey hasn’t been easy, but moments like these make it all worthwhile.

As breakfast winds down, you glance at Joel, both of you silently agreeing it’s time for the much-anticipated event of the morning.

The living room is now adorned with brightly wrapped gifts, a colorful display of the love and thoughtfulness you and Joel put into each one. The kids finish their breakfast, their eyes darting eagerly between the tree and the presents.

“Alright, kiddos, let the unwrapping begin!” Joel declares, and the room explodes with excitement. Each of their little faces lighting up with joy. 

“Okay, kiddos, let’s see what Santa brought us this year!” Joel exclaims, and the room erupts in cheers. The kids, now fueled by excitement from their furry friends and a hearty breakfast, rush to the tree, each claiming a spot around the mountain of gifts.

Emily takes charge, distributing gifts to each of her siblings with precision. Paper tears and laughter fill the air as each child discovers the treasures hidden beneath the wrapping.

Lacy and Lily eagerly tear into their presents, sharing excited glances when they unveil matching toys. Daisy clutches a doll close to her heart, and Jane and Jules giggle in delight at the surprise in their packages.

Theo, wide-eyed, unwraps a superhero action figure, and Willow discovers a fluffy stuffed animal that instantly becomes her new best friend. Kylie is overjoyed with a set of building blocks, her imagination already running wild.

Aurora claps her hands in glee as she unwraps a musical toy, and Maggie, though more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual gifts, coos happily.

Daisy twirls with a new dress, her face glowing with delight. “I’m going to wear this everyday!”

Aurora, surrounded by a pile of toys, claps her hands and points excitedly. “Look, Daddy, Mommy, so many toys!” Maggie, with a new plush toy in her tiny hands, giggles with joy. The room is filled with laughter and chatter as the kids excitedly showcase their new treasures.

Jane and Jules squeal in delight as they discover Joel curled up in the tangle of discarded wrapping paper, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Willow, with her big curious eyes, watches the kittens in fascination, occasionally reaching out to stroke their fur. Kylie bursts into giggles as Ginny playfully bats at a shiny ribbon. Aurora claps her hands in delight at the sight of the playful duo. Maggie points with chubby fingers, her face lighting up with a smile as Joel gracefully leaps onto the back of the couch.

Joel catches your eye, and you share a moment of warmth as you witness the joy on your children’s faces.

“Looks like our little fur balls are the stars of the show today.” He chuckles.

Watching as the kittens continue their playful antics. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of excitement, and the crinkling of wrapping paper.

As the chaos subsides, you lean into Joel, watching the kids with a contented smile. “Merry Christmas, Joel.” He whispers back the same sentiment, wrapping his arm around you, anchoring you in the midst of the joyful storm that is your family.

The room buzzes with the joyous laughter of your children, the kittens weaving throughout the living room. As the kids continue to show off their presents, Ginny and Joel curiously inspect the colorful array of toys and trinkets scattered across the room.

Emilie, your eldest, sits by your side, flipping through her new sketchbook. “Mom, look at this! It’s perfect for my drawings. Thank you, Santa!”

Lacy and Lily, wearing their matching necklaces, approach Joel with enthusiasm. “Dad, Dad! Can Joel play with us too?” they ask, extending an invitation for the adventurous kitten to join in on their imaginative play.

Daisy twirls around in her new dress, and with a dramatic flair, she curtsies. “I’m a princess, just like in the stories!”

Jane and Jules, holding their new board game, insist on a family game night. Jules, gives you a confused look, glancing from the box, and then back up at you. “What is Boggle anyway?” 

“It’s just a word game, sweetheart, definitely an easy game to beat your dad at.” you laugh softly, shooting Joel a teasing grin.

Willow proudly shows you the fluffy stuffed animal she received. “Look Mom, It’s Fluffy! Daddy, feel how soft!” She grabs his hand to place it on the stuffed animal, and Joel enthusiastically plays along with her.

Kylie, engrossed in building her tower with the new blocks, beams with accomplishment. “It’s bigger than me, Mommy!” You smile at her gently, and give her compliments on her tower building skills.

Maggie, in her own little world, squeezes her plush toy and gurgles happily. The kittens, sensing the playful atmosphere, join in on the fun, batting at the discarded ribbons and chasing each other around the room.

Joel, still basking in the warmth of the family scene, leans over to you. “Seems like Santa knew exactly what they wanted.”

You nod, a content smile playing on your lips, ‘And the best part is seeing their faces light up with joy.”

The room is filled with laughter, the sound of wrapping paper being crinkled, and the occasional meow from Ginny and Joel. The chaos is harmonious, a melody of love and togetherness that defines your family.

The kids, their excitement undeterred, start brainstorming plans for the day–games to play, stories to tell, and perhaps a snowball fight if the weather permits. As the festivities continue, you can’t help but feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your home–a treasure more precious than any gift under the tree.

As the kids reveled in the excitement of unwrapping their Christmas gifts, their attention turned to the chalkboard on the mantle–a poignant memorial to their older sister, Sarah. The room hushed momentarily as the children exchanged thoughtful glances, understanding the significance of the chalkboard.

The kids had put together some artwork and drawings the night before. They gather around the chalkboard, placing their artwork in front of it, creating a beautiful display of love and remembrance. The room, now adorned with their heartfelt tributes, felt infused with a sense of warmth and connection to Sarah’s memory.

Joel, watching from a distance, can't help but be moved by the sincerity and creativity of his children. The simple act of setting their drawings in front of the chalkboard transformed the mantle into a gallery of love—a tangible expression of the enduring impact Sarah's memory had on their hearts.

As the morning continued, the drawings stood as cherished tokens—a beautiful reminder that, even in the midst of joyous celebrations, the love for their sister would always hold a special place in the family's heart.

You nudge Joel gently, catching his attention. “Any Idea when Ellie, Dina, and JJ are planning to arrive?”

Joel looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes scanning the room to make sure all the kids are engaged in their newfound treasures. “They’re aiming to get here just in time for lunch. Should be any moment now.”

Excitement lights up on your face at the news. “The kids are going to be over the moon to see them again, and It wouldn’t be Christmas without them.”

Joel nods in agreement, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Ellie’s always been good at timing. They’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a gentle knock at the door catches your attention. You glance at Joel, both of you sharing a knowing smile. The anticipation in the room heightens as the kids, sensing something special, look toward the door with wide eyes. Moments later, the front door bursts open, and the lively chatter of Ellie and Dina fills the air. The children squeal in delight, dropping their toys and rushing toward the doorway. Ellie enters first, holding JJ’s hand, Dina follows closely behind with a warm grin on her face.

The kids shout at them in unison, enveloping the new arrivals in a sea of hugs and excitement. You and Joel stand back, watching the heartwarming reunion unfold.

Ellie, catching your eye, gives you a knowing nod. “Merry Christmas!” she says as she greets you and Joel. You welcome them with open arms, a surge of joy filling your heart. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

As the laughter and joyful chaos continue to fill the room, you can’t help but marvel at the beautiful tapestry of your family, woven together by love, shared moments, and the bonds that withstand the test of time.

Amidst the joyful commotion, you navigate through the sea of excited children, still cradling little Joelseph in your arms. Joel joins you, and together you watch as Ellie, Dina, and JJ immerse themselves in the holiday cheer.

Ellie, after receiving an enthusiastic welcome from the kids, approaches you with a playful grin.

“How’s the newest little troublemaker doing?” she asks, casting an affectionate glance at Joelseph.

You chuckle, gently rocking the sleeping baby in your arms. “He’s been an angel all morning, surprisingly.” you yawn, tiredly.

Dina joins the conversation, “He’s gotten so big since we last saw him. Mind if we steal him for a bit?”

You nod with a smile, carefully passing Joelseph over to Dina. The little one stirs for a moment, but settles back into a peaceful slumber in Dina’s arms. “He’s all yours.’

The room continues to buzz with giggles and Ellie, Dina, and JJ become a seamless part of the festivities. The kids eagerly show them their new toys, and soon, the kittens, Ginny and Joel join the playful parade.

As the day unfolds, the house becomes a vibrant canvas, painted with the hues of love and togetherness. Joel, now with Aurora on his shoulders, navigates through the lively crowd. You find a quiet moment with Ellie, who is holding Joelseph with a tender smile.

“He’s adorable,” Ellie remarks, her eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and affection. “Feels like just yesterday you were dealing with my teenage antics.”

You laugh, remembering those not-so-distant days. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Now look at us, and you, with a little family of your own.”

Ellie glances around the room, the sparkle of the holiday lights reflecting in her eyes. “Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend Christmas. And look at Joel, still being the heart and soul of this chaos.”

You follow her gaze to Joel, who is now surrounded by a group of kids, listening intently to one of Jane and Jules’ stories. The love in his eyes is evident as he shares in their laughter and mischief.

Ellie looks back at you, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You both did an amazing job. I’m proud to be part of this.”

And in that moment, as the laughter and warmth of your family envelop you, you couldn’t agree more. This Christmas, with all its magic, has woven another chapter into the rich tapestry of your lives–a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the cherished moments that make your family truly extraordinary.

As the festivities continue, Ellie, still cradling Joelseph, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Joel. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she approaches Joel, who’s now attempting to disentangle himself from a knot of kids.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie quips, giving Joel a playful nudge. “You holding up okay with all these little rascals running around?”

Joel chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in check. You’ll find out soon enough, Ellie. Parenthood’s no joke.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Joelseph. “You’re the expert now, huh? It took you guys long enough to figure out the secret recipe for a baby boy.”

Joel grumbles and feigns offense. “Well, it’s not like we had a manual.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Says the guy who needed a football team's worth of daughters before finally getting a son.”

You join in on the banter, giving Joel an amused smile. “Took a bit of trial and error, but look at our charming little Joelseph now.”

Ellie leans in, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. “Not bad for an old guy, huh, kiddo?” she cooed, earning a content gurgle from the baby.

As the day of joyful chaos begin to wind down, the once lively house now settles into a more serene atmosphere. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a gentle glow over the living room as the laughter of the children gradually transforms into quiet giggles and yawns.

You and Joel, tired but content, herd the kids upstairs for their bedtime routine. The kittens, Ginny and Joel, follow along, their playful antics slowing down as they, too, sensing the impending calm.

“Alright kiddos, time for bed.” Joel announces, his tone gentle but firm as he ushers the kids into their respective rooms.

The procession of bedtime rituals unfold–one by one, teeth are brushed, pajamas are put on, and stories are read. The younger ones nestle into their beds, eyelids growing heavy with the sweet fatigue of a day filled with excitement.

As you check on each child, offering goodnight kisses and tucking them in, Joel moves gracefully through the house, turning off the twinkling lights and closing curtains. The house seems to exhale, the echoes of joyous laughter replaced by the hushed whispers of bedtime.

In the quiet moments between putting the kids to bed, you found Joel in the hallway, sharing a look of satisfaction passing between you. The day had been a whirlwind of love and joy, and now the peaceful hush settles over the house like a comforting blanket.

“Another Christmas for the books,” Joel remarks, his voice low.

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “And many more to come, I hope.”

The two of you continue the nightly routine, gently closing doors and ensuring the house was ready for the calm of night. The soft glow of the light spilling from your bedroom illuminates your path as you and Joel make your way into the room, where little Joelseph lay sleeping in his bassinet.

Joel pauses by the doorway, his eyes fondly watching the baby. “He’s been the best gift, hasn’t he?”

You nod, a warmth settling in your heart. “The best, indeed.”

The day had been a symphony of chaos and joy, a beautiful crescendo that had now found its resolution in the quietude of the evening. As you and Joel retire to your room, you can’t help but reflect on the blessings of family, love, and the precious moments that make Christmas truly magical.

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[tkaulitzlvr]

Hii! Could you please maybe do one of where the reader and Tom are like on a break from each other, and the reader and him end up being at the same party and he gets all touchy with this girl and the reader gets jealous and she ends up making out with this guy out in the crowd and Tom sees and gets jealous and ends up beating the guy up and the reader and him get into a heated argument in the car on the way to his place and he ends up doing yk as soon as they get there but in a angry way 👀

(sry Im really bad at explaining. And if you cant do it I totally understand, plus your writing is AMAZING, like seriously I appreciate all the time and effort you put into your writing I could never 😭)

BELONG TO YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom had decided to take a break from your relationship a few weeks back, and you hadn’t seen him until now, at some random party, flirting with another girl. you want payback, but tom notices straight away, acting on his jealousy.

content: angst & smut

a/n: this is such a good idea omgg these types of fics are my fav to read and write. this took me three days omg i made this like unnecessarily long & detailed sorry about that.😭 thank you so much for the request and ur kind words anon!! 💞 also this clip is so hot like hello rail me pls.

my eyes burn into his figure from across the room, fingers clutching the plastic cup in my hand so hard that the material begins to crumple, though i don’t care. i am far too immersed in the interaction taking place in front of my eyes, watching the way he places a hand on her thigh, whispering things into her ear with that same playful smirk i had seen too many times, completely oblivious to the fact that i am here, seething with rage at the sight. god knows how long i had been watching the pair for, time had seemed to stop altogether the second my eyes landed on him, all i know is that i am getting closer and closer to losing my sanity.

it didn’t matter that i was a considerable distance away. i noticed everything - the way his tongue poked out of his mouth and repeatedly brushed against his lip piercing, the lingering touches which, though failing to reach the cleavage spilling out of her tight dress, were pretty close to getting there - too close. not that it matters too much that his hands hadn’t reached the most intimate parts yet: his eyes were already doing the work for him, staring so intently at her overtly prominent chest that he should’ve made physical contact with them and put me out of my misery, tearing away the only remnant of hope i had left - hope that he wouldn’t stoop so low and give himself to the first girl that he saw.

though i know that my expectations are way too high for someone like tom. he hadn’t cheated whilst we were in the relationship, but outside of it, he couldn’t help himself. and, even though we hadn’t actually broken up, ‘giving each other some space’ as he called it, it seems that his morals haven’t at all changed, and i am the last thing on his mind - my chest heaving up and down in utter rage as his hand travels suggestively further and further upwards, fingers dipping underneath her dress slightly. that was it. admittedly tipsy, i strut toward him, stopping just a few feet away from him, now in front of a semi-attractive guy who seems to avert his gaze to me almost instantly. i don’t even have to look in tom’s direction to know that he has spotted me, i can feel his eyes on me, burning intently into my figure.

indirectly aiming to maintain tom’s attention as i soak it all in, i go that extra step further, whispering a small ‘hi’ in the boy’s ear, making sure to flutter my eyelashes, noticing the way a subtle smirk etches upon his soft lips. my hands trail aimlessly up and down his chest, his own slipping to rest comfortably against my lower back, the words ‘you’re cute’ falling from my lips, smooth as silk. it didn’t matter if i meant them or not, i am not looking for a conversation, and i think he knows that too, our intentions pretty much mutual. tom doesn’t have to know that though.

all he has to know is that two can play at whatever game he thinks he has started. though the second he spotted me with whoever had his hands roaming my body, he had stopped playing, no longer finding the small blonde beside him as interesting as he did five minutes ago. i am more than willing to carry it on, messily colliding my lips with the stranger’s, the kiss sloppy and heated - everything that i want it to be. my tongue finds its way inside his mouth, deepening the kiss even more, my hand moving to the back of his neck, fingers raking through his soft brunette curls. his own hands travel further downwards, cupping my ass and using it to bring our bodies closer together, the kiss soon becoming more heated than it was before, fuelled by the alcohol in my system and the jealousy i felt, somehow trading it all in for intense anger, eager for tom to feel the way i had just a few moments ago.

‘you wanna get out of here gorgeous?’

his voice is low as it vibrates through my lips, his words slightly muffled, thanks to both the almost deafening music reverberating through my ears, and the close proximity between us. knowing that i wouldn’t think of doing anything more with this guy, i still nod my head slowly, purely to intensify tom’s jealousy, sensing his presence slightly closer than it was before, somehow easily identifiable through the crowd.

the guy smiles against my lips, kissing me roughly once again, though this one is much shorter than the last - not because either of us want it to be. he is harshly pushed away from me, my eyes opening in a mix of confusion and shock, frantically scanning the room for any clue on what had just happened, the answer becoming crystal clear as i spot tom inches away from him, hands balled into fists against the stranger’s chest.

a small crowd begins to accumulate, my hands pushing through desperately, scrambling my way to the front, the entire thing escalating impossibly fast, tom’s fist colliding with the boy’s cheek with such force he stumbles backward, body slamming against the wall harshly. but that isn’t enough for tom. he continues to land strong punches to his face, the guy finding some strength to fight back, though they are completely pointless, having little effect on tom. after a few harsh blows, the boy is defenceless, lip swollen with blood trickling just below it, a large red mark printed across his cheek.

my fast steps make their way over to tom, who is clearly just as angry as he was before he had beat the shit out of that poor guy, his cold expression failing to waver even when i grab his shoulder, turning him to face me in one swift motion.

“what the fuck? have you lost your fucking mind?” i shout over the loud music, noticing that the people seeking entertainment from the ordeal had returned back to their own company, all immersed in random conversations, or making out with someone they had never met before - not that i was in any position to judge, i had done the exact same thing moments ago.

“have you?” he shoots back, voice a level louder than mine, oozing with rage, carrying thousands of harsh words yet to be spoken.

“take a look at the guy with the fucked up face thanks to you, then think about asking me that question again! what the fuck is wrong with you?” i question, eyebrows knitting together, wondering how he can dare to turn this on me, ignoring the fact that he has just left someone with a bloody nose, seemingly unfazed by it. his eyes scan mine, narrowed slightly, a few wrinkles lining along his forehead as he does so. i hadn’t seen those eyes in so long and, despite the indisputable fury within them, it is impossible to deny how much i had missed them, regardless of the circumstances.

“we aren’t doing this here, not in front of this crowd.” he shakes his head forcefully, grabbing my hand and attempting to lead me away from it all, my body hesitant to do so.

“why? i’m not leaving.” i state confidently. he tilts his head to the side, mouth falling open slightly, his eyes squeezing shut as he appears to be in a fight with his own mind, clearly contemplating something, the decision seemingly difficult to make.

“well i am.” he replies, shaking his head slowly, turning around to walk away.

“what the fuck? are you serious?” i ramble, chasing after him shamelessly, not yet aware of how humiliating it is that he has me wrapped around his finger. my hands clutch at his jacket, wrapping firmly around the material as i pull him backwards, just before his hand reaches to clasp the door handle.

“you don’t seem to care about us anymore.” he shrugs, expression fixed, though despite the hostility it shows upfront, i can sense the sadness behind it. “so why the fuck should i?”

he shakes his head at my silence, looking for something, anything, that hints to a response, no matter how small and totally ridiculous. i stay quiet, in total disbelief of his ability to manipulate this whole situation, somehow attempting to put me at fault, as if he hadn’t had his hands all over that girl. he doesn’t seem to care about his own mistakes, focusing purely on my actions, choosing to act as a saint despite knowing deep down he is far from being one. it is this realisation that prompts him to turn around once again, his back to me as he tugs the door open, walking through it without looking back. yet i refuse to let it end like that, hurriedly following him, not considering the consequences.

“what are you talking about? seriously, instead of being such a pussy and walking away, fucking talk to me!” i demand as he momentarily stops in his tracks, eyes glued on my own, his jaw clenched. i no longer need to raise my voice, the music drowning itself out, but that doesn’t stop me, the volume of my words far louder than they need to be.

he reaches his car, hands moving into the pocket of his baggy jeans as they scramble for his keys, pulling them out without a word, though i still have plenty to say. “i’m talking to you!”

finally, he turns to face me, expression still harsh; not giving away anything that he truly wants to say. for some strange reason, he seems to hold back, restraining his mouth from acting out ahead of his mind, this unexpected, especially considering just minutes ago he hadn’t restricted himself from making particularly rash decisions, the smear of blood on his knuckle concrete proof of this.

“what, are you deaf, hm? my words not registering up there? i’m speaking to you, answer me!” i know exactly what buttons to press, exactly how to make him crack, and, once again, i do so with some success. he briefly hesitates, letting out a heavy sigh, seemingly reaching his breaking point as his mouth opens, ready to pour out the thousands of emotions he has kept in thus far.

“some fucking break this is.” he mutters, shaking his head slowly, his hand clutching the car keys with such strength his knuckles begin to turn white. “i say that we need some space and then catch you with some random guy’s tongue down your fucking throat. really seems like you missed me.”

not waiting for me to respond, he opens the car door, climbing into the driver’s seat hurriedly. i don’t know what compels me to follow him, perhaps it is my desire to find answers, possibly i am eager to continue this argument, or maybe i just missed him: his voice, his presence, everything about him somehow being exactly what i need. whatever it is, i am far too lost within him to care, my body acting ahead of my mind as i enter the passenger side, tom’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he doesn’t object though, clearly needing me as much as i do him, a brief look of relief taking over his expression, silently wishing that i would give in since the argument began despite his initial standoffish-ness, thankful that i have.

“don’t act like you’re all fucking innocent! the only reason i did all that was because i saw you with that slut! you clearly don’t love me anymore, not with the way you looked at her!” each word pierces him right in the chest, the daunting realisation of what he has done hitting him faster than ever. but it is the confession that i think his love for me has diminished that strikes him the most, his face softening when i utter those words. despite this, his voice is still harsh, volume meeting my own.

“don’t be ridiculous. you know she meant nothing.” he states, this apparently sufficient reassurance for his actions, the car silent for a moment as he starts it, hands on the steering wheel. i don’t know where he is going, far too frustrated to even care, wanting nothing more than to carry on this argument, in no position to let him off the hook.

“do i?” i scoff, face harshly turning to him. “i don’t see you for two weeks, and when i do, your hands are all up on some girl. the fuck am i supposed to do with that?”

his hands forcefully clutching the wheel, jaw clenched as he looks ahead, i know that he hears every word i say, processing them with ease, yet he stays quiet for a second, an uncomfortable silence in place of the harshness of my utterance, making the words ten times harder to digest. he knows that i am right, that it would be hypocritical for him to be mad at me right now, but that doesn’t stop him from being angry. in fact, his stubbornness only increases despite the realisation that he is just as guilty as i am, if not more.

“what was i supposed to do, hm? i didn’t have you, i just-” he trails off, a heavy sigh leaving his parted lips, head moving backwards to rest against the back of the seat, one hand coming upward to rest on the bridge of his nose. though the hesitation suggests otherwise, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to utter the phrase, perhaps out of shame, or reluctance to admit how he truly feels. whatever it is that holds him back, i am no longer interested in his skepticism, wanting clear answers, not the mixed signals that i am receiving.

“what? you just what? stop being so fucking weird and just talk.” i order, turning in his direction, eyes burning into his features regardless of his hesitance to do so, strangely scared to look in my eyes.

“fuck…” he begins, exhaling shakily, almost preparing himself for the effect that his words are bound to have. “i missed you, okay? i missed you, and i didn’t know what else to fucking do.”

“don’t be stupid. i know that’s bullshit, and so do you. be honest with me, have you fucked someone else? since we went on whatever you want to call this weird distance between us.” i know that i shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question, the answer bound to disappoint me. for some strange reason, i want to hear him say the words, to make me realise that i’m not as important to him as i thought, that in reality, he can find someone prettier within a heartbeat. because the false hope that i continue to hold onto doesn’t seem to fade, even after watching him with his hands all over another girl.

“of course i fucking haven’t.” he scoffs, shaking his head as his face twists in anger, shocked that i would even ask such a question, the thought completely unheard of, apparently. “what, you really think i care that little? your expectations of me really that low?”

“you expect them to be high after i see you acting like that with her? you’re unbelievable.” i state, briefly looking over at him, his eyes fixated on the road, though i notice the quick glances he throws my way, assessing my expression, not giving the impression that he is going to apologise anytime soon.

“you know what? pull over, this was a mistake. we should’ve just stayed away from each other.” i say, turning to look at him, my hand moving to the door handle, desperate to get out of the situation, soon realising that we are never going to come to a solution, instead the back and fourth of our arguing will only continue until it becomes out of hand, unless i put a stop to it now.

he refuses to stop, the pressure his foot applies to the gas only seeming to increase, the speed of the car getting faster, making it pretty clear that he doesn’t plan on letting me leave.

“i’m not letting you go, not when it’s this dark out. you should know that i care about you too much to do that. i want to talk about this.” he replies, his voice assertive yet calm, the desperation behind it more evident than ever. the surroundings soon become familiar, having travelled along this road thousands of times, it would be impossible to not recognise it. countless times i had seen the same houses, same trees, same buildings either side of the road, each small detail reminding me of how much i had become used to this area, able to distinguish it much easier than i realise. the familiar house comes into view, it’s four walls holding more memories than any place i had ever been. thousands of nights of passion, mornings of lazy affection, afternoons spent simply enjoying each other’s company spent here, each one unforgettable - to me, at least.

but the comfort it brings me isn’t enough to make me forget about the situation, instead it makes me resent it even more. “why am i here? you want to ridicule me even more, yell at me for kissing that guy some more, rub it in my face that you had your hands on her-”

“you’re here because i want to you be. please can we talk about this? instead of being so fucking stubborn, just let me talk, for once.” he interrupts, confessing his feelings as they spill freely from his lips, eyes finally brave enough to look into my own.

“why should i?” i scoff, stepping out of the car as he does the same, hurriedly catching up to me, my steps towards the front door heavy and fast. his hands fumble with the keys, swiftly unlocking the door and opening it for me to step inside, all whilst i continue to ramble on, a mix of upset and anger sounding from my lips. “you have your hands all over her, and when i do the same thing, you don’t like it? and then you say you did it because you miss me? you’re the most frustrating person i’ve ever met, you know that? nothing is ever simple with you. you mess with my fucking head, and you don’t even care! why? why do you have to make me so-”

as much as i want to continue the sudden burst of rage, eager to show tom the frustration i feel right now, my words are abruptly cut off by a soft pair of lips, the harshness of them mirroring the venom within my tone, silencing my rushed speech in a way too tempting for me to dream of refusing. without thinking, i quickly kiss back, soon reflecting the hunger that tom displays as his lips move against mine, hands moving to my waist to pull me closer, my own behind his neck, his black braids tangled between my fingers.

“you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?” he breathes out between kisses, my mind too lost within the moment to even respond, his words barely registering. “so stubborn, but fuck, i need you, can’t live without you...”

i moan against his lips in response, deciding that actions speak far louder than words, channeling all the built up frustration into the kiss, parting my lips to allow his tongue to slip inside my mouth, my own entering his. the process of his arms hoisting me upwards, legs wrapping around his torso roughly and walking sloppily into the living room, our lips never parting is all a blur, my back ending up flat against the couch, tom’s body situated in between my legs, hovering over me. it didn’t matter that five minutes ago i could’ve punched his face. truthfully, i could do the same right now. however i decide to exercise my anger in the most pleasurable way possible, figuring that if he is trying to apologise, this is a pretty damn good way of earning my forgiveness - the silent promise of feeling him inside me meaning i’d probably accept whatever half-hearted attempt he put together to make amends, if it meant that we could get to the point faster.

my hair is disheveled, lipstick smudged, traces of the deep red now present on tom’s lips, proving just how desperate the both of us are - whether i am willing to admit it or not. his hand travels upwards, fingers grazing the soft skin covered by my hair, eventually making contact with the zipper of my dress and carefully tugging it downwards, despite his kisses being anything but. it is so wrong, knowing that he has entertained someone else not even an hour ago and he is touching me now, but it feels so right, against all of my morals, every part of me willing to make my body his and his only. my mind silently thanks whatever higher presence up there for gracing me with tom, though the things that we are doing forbid us from ever reaching heaven, not that it matters, because the feeling of his lips against mine is pretty damn close to it.

“fuck- i love you so much baby, so much…” he trails off, pulling away momentarily to allow his hands to take my dress, sliding the material down my body, exposing it all inch by inch until the soft cotton is bunched at my knees. his lips are curved into a small smirk, so subtle it is almost unnoticeable, though once his eyes flick between my face and now bare figure, i know that it is real - his being in some sort of trance as it rests above me, giving away his silent admiration. eyes twinkling as they take in my curves, perfectly defined, adorned with smooth skin, begging to be touched by his calloused hands which now reach outwards from his sides, giving into the temptation.

he is careful, despite the look on his face suggesting that he wants to be everything but. he desperately tries to hold on to the gentleness, hesitant to spoil moment of passionate bliss that resumes as his hands continue to run along my stomach, moving further and further upward. but deep down, he wants to ruin me, to give up the sweet act that he is putting on, and i want it just as bad - each second that he continues to be tender, his actions restricted and mild, slowly tortures me.

“why are you holding back?” i breathe out, eyes locked on his hands as they finally make contact with my breasts, moulding the flesh into his palms. i can sense the way he pauses slightly, refraining from applying any pressure, instead maintaining his steady movements, gaze locked on my breasts as he drinks in the view, mesmerised by the sight as if he hadn’t seen it a hundred times over.

“we don’t have to rush, i want to be gentle-” he speaks, voice slow and soft, though i have passed the point of caring about taking our time, the concept of it long gone. because i could spend an eternity like this, completely connected with him, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“be gentle tomorrow.” i interrupt him, eyes flickering to his lips, wanting nothing more than to feel them against my own once again, tired of his accidental teasing.

his eyes meet my own, the lust within them taking over, my words barely considered as he acknowledges them immediately, capturing my lips in a kiss. it is rough, lacking that hesitance he showed moments ago, because now he has my permission, he no longer cares about being gentle, able to act out on his desires the way he needs to.

with a simple tug, he takes down his jeans, discarding the denim somewhere on the floor, far too focused on my exposed body in front of him to care where. if his demeanour didn’t give away his desperation, the bulge in his boxers said enough, his length brushing against my leg through the material as his head dips downward once again, reconnecting our lips in another heated kiss. i shift my hips slightly, mouth falling open once his dick brushes against my clit through my panties, the sensation, though only slight, enough to restrain my ability to kiss back.

he quickly senses this, hands moving to my panties, fingers hooking under the material, slowly raking them downwards, letting the lace pool at my feet. his arms lift upwards once my fingers make contact with the hem of his t-shirt, making it easier for me to remove the heavy fabric. i sit upwards, face inches away from his own, lips ghosting over each other’s whilst i pull the t-shirt upwards and over his head, releasing it onto the floor.

within seconds, his boxers are lost somewhere on the floor, joining the piles of clothes scattered around the room. his dick presses against his lower abdomen, the sight only making the aching between my thighs intensify, just about ready to get on my knees and beg, if he doesn’t put me out of my misery in the next few seconds.

and he does - just not in the way that i want him to. instead, his lips move downward at an agonisingly slow pace, eyes never leaving my own, even when he begins to place open-mouthed kisses along my stomach, his teeth grazing over the skin ever so slightly, though the sensation is enough for small whines to leave my lips, hands reaching for his head, fingers running over the rough bumps of his braids.

“shit- you’re so beautiful, so pretty schatz…” he praises between kisses, hands coming upward to pry my legs apart as they instinctively clench together at the pleasure. if it weren’t for his body in between them, they probably would’ve closed completely, not that tom would ever complain about being in such a position - especially not now when he had been without it for so long.

“please…” i whine, back arching slightly off of the couch, his teasing movements no longer enough. i need one thing, and he knows exactly what that is, his desires mirroring my own.

“shhhh. i know baby, i know.” he coos, head finally moving from my stomach as his whole body shifts upward, his forehead now resting against my own, lips placing small kisses all over my face, attempting to distract me from the feeling of his tip aligning with my entrance. he is foolish to think that anything could divert my attention from this sensation - i have been waiting for it for so long that it is the only thing on my mind, mouth falling open once it finally becomes a reality.

his lips curve into a smug smile at my reaction, watching the way my face contorts when he pushes inside of me, his length stretching out my walls as they clench around him. my mind is hazy, tuning out everything else around me, nothing else seeming to matter once i have gotten what i want. sure, thirty minutes ago i resented him, wanting nothing more than to hurl words of irritation at him until my throat turned hoarse, but it seems that i’ll be reaching the same conclusion anyways - the way his cock slowly thrusts in and out of me eliciting moans from me that are bound to leave my vocal chords sore. this doesn’t stop me from vocalising my pleasure though, inaudible whines not far from screams leaving my parted lips once he speeds up his pace a little.

“that’s it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds. show me how much you missed me, mhm?” he grunts, his own mouth hanging open a little as his hips continue to grind against my own, knowing exactly how to move, paying close attention to when my noises would become particularly loud, angling himself to elicit those same sounds from my lips, eyes squeezing shut whenever i do so.

somehow he hadn’t reprimanded me for when i would squirm a little, back arching ever so slightly, legs closing tighter and tighter around him. instead, his eyebrows would furrow when i do so, my movements drawing him deeper inside of me, so deep that i swear i can feel him in my stomach. even if he had scolded me, reminding me to be good, to behave myself as this is what i wanted, he knows that his words won’t stop me from acting out, especially when i know he is too lost in his own pleasure to even consider halting his movements - my climax guaranteed regardless of how much i irritate him so, why not misbehave a little?

“fuck- stay still.” he finally orders once i squeeze my legs around his waist one too many times, my hips lifting instinctively from the couch. his hands firmly place them downwards, fingers digging into the skin ever so slightly, providing just the right amount of pain to make me go close to insane, a moaning mess beneath him. he starts to circle his hips swiftly, his dick moving in and out of me at a different angle, and god, that’s all it takes. that is all i need for my mouth to fall open in a silent scream, quickly acknowledging that his tip no longer brushes weakly against that sensitive spot inside me, it hits the flesh directly.

if i had the ability to speak, i would be encouraging, no, begging him to carry on, to keep his movements going, his cock hitting every spot inside of me that causes me to moan that little bit louder, legs to squeeze around him just a little tighter. but he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on me, knowing the reaction that he elicits out of me is one of unmatched bliss, so he keeps going, much to my relief. through the small part of my vision that isn’t overtaken by the tears that soon begin to cover my eyes, i study tom’s face, his expression causing the already prominent knot in my stomach to tighten even further.

if the pleasure he brings me isn’t enough, the evidence of his own tips me over the edge - his eyebrows knitted together, sweat lining his forehead as he moves in and out of me, mouth open with his tongue occasionally swiping across his bottom lip. he stays relatively quiet, though i know exactly how to elicit small sounds out of him, noticing the way deep groans sound from the back of his throat when i clench around him, almost inaudible words of encouragement that follow his moans prompting me to repeat my actions, noticing the way he twitches inside me as i do so.

“gonna cum, c’mon baby, cum with me.” he prompts, bending downwards to plant quick kisses onto my lips, his thrusts now slow and deep, pushing me over the edge as i manage to nod my head, hands reaching to clutch his biceps. my nails dig into the skin once i feel his hot cum shoot inside of me, an elongated ‘ohhhh’ leaving his lips as he throws his head backward, hips lazily rocking back and forth at an irregular pace, one final thrust being all it takes for the knot in my stomach to quickly unravel.

my eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as a high-pitched moan escapes it, back lifting upward off of the couch once his pointer finger reaches to make contact with my clit, rubbing slow circles over it as my release washes over me. he continues to move in and out of me, fucking his seed further into me, his heavy breathing sounding through the silent room. he collapses on top of me, not bothering to pull out just yet, instead using the little energy he has left to softly run his fingers up and down my arm in an attempt to slow my rapid breathing, taking notice of the way my entire body trembles slightly.

“you okay schatz?” he mutters, his low voice vibrating against my bare skin, lips inches away from my breasts as his head rests in between them, placing a lazy kiss there. i mutter a small ‘mhm’, noticing the strain that the small utterance places on my throat, silently cursing myself for being so vocal, though deep down i know that i don’t really regret it, the sex warranting every sound i let spill from my lips.

“you still angry?” he asks, the soft smile that graces upon his lips telling me that he knows the answer to his question before i even open my mouth. he chuckles lowly, squeezing my waist and moving closer, intertwining our legs together, our bodies tangled as we lay on the couch.

“depends if you plan on touching someone like you did that girl again.” i shrug, honestly still a little frustrated at what i had witnessed, the thought making me seethe with jealousy. even after i had tom inside of me just moments ago, the small amount of satisfaction it brings me isn’t enough, wishing that i could somehow go back in time and stop the entire thing from ever happening, realising that my life would be better without knowing he had entertained someone else, even for a few minutes.

“what girl?” he grins, beginning to place sloppy kisses on my neck, hands running up and down my waist. he knows exactly what i am talking about, continuing to sweet talk me, all whilst his lips continue to work against my neck, tongue running soothingly over the skin after his teeth nip against it. “the only girl i want to touch is you, baby.”

“you know what girl.” i breathe out, trying to continue the conversation, my head tilting backwards to give him more access, failing miserably to maintain my composure as his kisses hold me under his trance, getting me just as worked up as i had been ten minutes ago, before he had pleasured me.

“hmm, i don’t care about her.” he mutters against me, his voice vibrating above my chest, sending chills through my body, the feeling soon soothed when he moves on top of me once again, trailing the suggestive kisses lower and lower, hovering just above my breasts. his eyes are half-lidded, filled with tired lust as they peer innocently at me, the intent behind them crystal clear as they darken just before his mouth opens, his voice low. “why would i? just want you beautiful. need you all to myself…”

tired moans leave his lips as they continue to work against me, leaving no part untouched, his kisses becoming slow and sloppy. though he doesn’t show any intention of stopping, muttering small compliments in between kisses. ‘so beautiful.’ he mumbles, taking the skin between my breasts and slowly sucking on it, teeth digging in momentarily, soon pulling away once he is satisfied with the small bruise left in place of his soft lips. ‘love you so much.’ he whispers just before his tongue swipes over an existing mark, head tilting to the side to press open-mouthed kisses just below it. “shit- so fucking perfect.’ he mutters, lips hovering above my breast for a few seconds, breath fanning over it, watching the way my chest falls up and down, anticipating his touch. ‘meine schatz, all yours.’ he murmurs, taking my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, his free hand kneading the flesh of my thigh, slowly continuing to work against me, noticing the way my whines become lazy and restricted.

he looks upward briefly, my own eyes on the verge of closing, completely exhausted, entire body aching as it manages to calm down, no longer trembling the way it was moments ago. his hands reach upwards, fingers threading through my hair, removing any knots within it. his own eyes struggle to stay open, yet he forces them to, holding back on falling asleep until he knows that i have, instead resuming his fingers’ slow movements through my hair, paying close attention to my breathing pattern, humming in satisfaction once it becomes slow and shallow, signalling that i have finally let exhaustion take over. even when he falls asleep, he refuses to reduce his hold on me, bodies tangled together as we are finally at peace, belonging to each other once again.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt2

Writing this immediately after posting the first one because this brings me so much joy. The dress I had in mind for the wedding was the one worn by Princess Charlotte in 1816 so if you’d like a visual please refer to that

part one

Link to the ring i mention here

You managed to push the appointment with the modiste to a further date, reminding your mother that Sukuna hadn’t even proposed yet.

“Oh but he will!” She countered, giddy as could be. “At the coming ball he will.”

“Did he tell you himself?” Crossing your arms in resignation, it felt like you were the mother and she the child with you trying to quell her excitement over something that hasn’t yet happened.

“He did! Asked your father for permission to propose the day after your first meeting!” That made your jaw drop and any further words you had to say were quelled, the fire inside you dampened for a moment.

On the night of this fateful ball, it was forced upon you to wear Sukuna’s family color, Prussian blue. To have gloves or a purse of the color would have been fine with you but a whole dress was too obvious and put you at risk of embarrassment should he decide not to propose after all. But with your parents too blindsided by this burgeoning royal connection there was no hope of talking them out of it.

“(Y/N)!” Walking into the party, you immediately sought out your friends. A few of them had actually been proposed to already and you marveled at their rings decorated with beauties such as emeralds and rubies.

“You’ll get yours soon enough!” They teased, making butterflies erupt inside you despite your best efforts. A fit of giggles took over you as you thought about what the ring might look like.

“We shall see, girls!” Wiggling your bodies, you made your way to the refreshments table, eager to fill your stomachs before descending upon the dance floor. A few men filled your dance card as you ate and you danced with them gleefully. This felt like your last night of freedom before Sukuna caught you within his grasp.

The party was just about in full swing when the Queen and Sukuna made their entrance, causing everyone to pause for a moment to greet them properly. You were just in the throws of a spirited dance with an older male acquaintance when it all stopped. Out of breath and with a ditzy smile on your face, you curtseyed just as every other woman did, barely paying any attention to Sukuna’s long look in your direction. Once the music started up again, instead of coming to him like he assumed you would, you returned to dancing.

“Jealous?” The Queen quipped with a teasing smirk on her face.

“No. Never.” Quickly fixing his gaze to what was ahead of him, Sukuna shook his head. “Come, let's find our seats.” He ignored the chuckle behind him as he led the way and he staunchly ignored the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach - that was something he would rather die over than confront.

After finally finishing every dance with the men on your card, you were able to slink away and find respite. You were admittedly a little tipsy from the Italian ratafia, the cherries in it slightly addicting and adding to the flavor of the pastries you were becoming so fond of.

“Miss (Y/N), His Highness wishes to see you.” A footman interrupted your period of indulgence and motioned to the perch at the head of the room where Sukuna was standing and waiting.

“Please inform His Highness that I am preoccupied at the moment and shall see him when I’m ready.” Giving the footman a curt smile, you snagged another pastry and drink and walked off into another area of the party where some games were being played.

“What is my wife thinking, denying me an audience?” Not even five minutes later Sukuna had appeared behind you and you could feel his annoyance.

“Wife? Who is that?” Looking down at your empty ring finger, you chuckled to yourself. “It seems I am unfamiliar with her, Your Highness.” You laughed again, this time made louder at someone's display in charades. Sukuna laughed as well so as not to arouse suspicion of any ill will.

“Miss (Y/N), I wish for you to accompany me to the main hall.” He said, coming to properly stand next to you.

“I decline that offer, Your Highness.” You didn’t even turn to look at him, instead keeping your eyes on the game and shouting when another person guessed the right answer.

“I- you cannot be serious.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sukuna sighed shortly. “Please, you know what has to happen right now.”

“It can wait until this game is over.” You pushed back, finally sparing him a glance. “After all, a gentleman listens to a lady when she says no, does he not?” Your question stopped all further argument from Sukuna and he relented, allowing you to finish your refreshments and watch the game.

“There, it is over now.” Huffing, Sukuna let his hand hover near the crook of your elbow. “Now will you please follow me?”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Giving him a big cheeky grin you walked off ahead and once in the main hall, you stood where he wanted you to, just a few feet in front of the Queen. Clearing his throat, Sukuna motioned for the orchestra to stop playing as he drew everyone's attention to the two of you.

“Thank you for your attention everyone.” He started off, giving the room a once over. “I will not keep you long as I know we are all eager to enjoy the night, but I ask that you bear witness to what I am about to do.”

Taking a deep breath, as if on cue a footman stepped forward and handed him a small velvet box. Sukunas eyes were staring straight at you as he bent down to one knee, making everyone in the room hold their breath.

“Miss (Y/N),” he started, making sure he was loud enough for the room to hear, “even though we have only known each other a short time, I feel the chemistry between us. I do not want to waste time and have you possibly stolen from me by another…” You could tell he was faking being nervous by the way he paused and looked around the room. Always one for a show, he is.

“Will you please marry me?” As the words left his lips you heard your mother gasp and out of the corner of your eye you could see her clutch your fathers sleeve. It felt like time stood still as you looked at Sukuna, then the Queen, then the crowd before you. The scale had tipped in your favor, the power was in your hands; you could say no.

“Yes.” The crowd erupted into applause, launching Sukuna to stand and grab your hand.

“I knew you’d say yes.” He teased, slipping the very large ring onto your finger. It was a gorgeous sapphire, the same Prussian blue as his house colors, with a twisted pavé of sparkling diamonds around it and going down the band. “That's a 7 carat sapphire.” Sukuna boasted, turning your hand so it shined in the light.

“Beautiful indeed.” Seeing the ring and feeling the weight on your finger made what was happening all real and coupled with Sukuna holding your hand so gingerly, it made your heart flutter.

Turning to the Queen, you both bowed to her, earning a nod of the head in return. Turning to the crowd, it was only moments before your friends and family crowded around to congratulate you and see the ring. So many were in awe of the size and their jealousy was hardly contained, some looking down to their own rings in disappointment.

It took a while for the party to return to normal but you eventually found yourself being surrounded by your friends again at a table in the other room, sipping on far too many cocktails in the name of celebration.

“To (Y/N)!” They all cried, equally if not more intoxicated than you were. “May Her Highness not forget about us when she resides in the palace!”

“Please!” You laughed at the new title. “As if I could ever forget my dearest friends!” At that, you raised your glasses and polished them off, trying and failing to gently place them on the table.

You all stayed until the end of the party, stumbling out of your seats and finding your respective chaperones once it was time to leave. Unable to find your mother or father, you wandered around the garden and admired the topiary.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” A familiar voice sounded and you didn’t need to turn to see who it was.

“Not at all, Your Highness. I rather enjoy the evening breeze.” In truth you were but the alcohol was dulling your senses.

“Do not call me that anymore, we’re engaged. Call me by my given name.”

“I will do no such thing.” Turning to him, you shook your head a little too hard. “That should be reserved for people in love and we are not in love.” He groaned in annoyance and followed behind you as you walked in the garden. Sukuna felt the urge to demand you call him by his name, force you to bend to his will but he couldn’t find it in him. So instead he walked quietly and said nothing.

“I do like the ring.” You broke the silence, turning to face him once you decided you’d seen enough.

“You do? It's a family heirloom. Belonged to a grandpa's cousin's aunt or something like that.”

“Hm.” You didn’t laugh at his attempt at a joke even if it did amuse you slightly. Swaying on your feet, you held your hand up at eye level, the gold of the ring contrasting with the black velvet gloves you were wearing.

“It’s quite late and everyone is leaving. We should do the same.” The two of you were close enough to the house that no one would be scandalized by your being unchaperoned but Sukuna knew that if you were in your right mind you would be worried.

“Find my mother then.” Your eyes were still fixed on the ring. Sukuna scoffed at you and brought his hand to yours, attempting to grab onto it. “Do not!” You drew back, clutching your hand to your chest.

“Miss, please.” Sukuna was trying to be a gentleman and ensure your safety though truth be told he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. He could have easily just walked off and gotten a footman to keep watch on you as he gathered your parents.

“I thought you wanted to use given names.” Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him curiously.

“I- be quiet.” A light flush rested over his cheeks and that irritated Sukuna. “Just come inside with me at the very least.” He was feeling the cold and he knew it was worse for you in your dress especially since your shawl had been discarded somewhere.

You stared back at him wordlessly as if seeing him for the first time. Squinting your eyes, you took in his attire, his Prussian blue tailcoat with metallic gold thread embroidered throughout and his crisp white waistcoat peeking out from underneath. The cravat he had on was tied intricately like when you had first met him and the ribbon to his pocket watch was also blue, dangling with an ornate cross and the seal of the kingdom. Gone were the boots he had worn previously, opting instead to adopt the shoes other men wore. His hair had been styled, trimmed and slicked back to showcase more of his face.

“Handsome.” You mumbled, taking a step toward Sukuna.

“What?” Your response surprised him but he didn’t move as you came forward and lifted a hand to graze his cheek.

“This is the first time I’m truly looking at you, Your Highness.”

“H-had you not seen me before?” He cursed himself for the stutter in his words but when the back of your hand brushed his cheek it made his tongue heavy. This softness from you was unexpected and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“I suppose not, hm?” It was like you were entranced by him, mesmerized by his beauty. Sukuna couldn’t tell if you were even really looking at him since your eyes had a faraway look to them. Raising his hand, he cupped yours as it dropped to run along his jaw and he could smell the faint perfume you had sprayed on your gloves. Something delicate and subtle, floral perhaps, just like a lady to use.

“Shall we…” Sukuna was going to ask to take you inside once more but you surprised him again by taking another step forward and resting your hand at the base of his throat. Your thumb ran along his Adam's apple, causing him to swallow quite loudly.

“Yes, let's.” You answered his unspoken question, dropping your hand from him entirely and sidestepping him to go inside. Sukuna remained glued to his spot however, his heart beating so hard he worried he was going to die.

“What is going on with me?” He wondered aloud, flexing his hands in front of him and begging his body to settle. Sure he had women flirt with him before but nothing as tender as this and he was positive you had no idea you were even flirting in the first place. You just…saw him, just observed how he looked and made no effort to do anything about it, hardly even complimented him excessively like he was used to.

By the time Sukuna made it back inside you had left with your parents and he was alone, the Queen having left already as well. Riding back to the palace by himself, Sukuna retraced where your hand had been on his face and sighed, recounting the velvet of your glove and the faintness of your perfume. It unsettled him that as he lay down to sleep he still thought of you and even in his dreams you appeared.

The next few weeks were a blur of wedding preparations. The Queen decided you’d be married at the end of the month, putting a time crunch on everything. You now went to a royal tailor instead of your usual modiste, there were what felt like a dozen ladies maids helping making decisions for you and you hardly had time to sleep.

So much happened in that month that you hardly even saw Sukuna at all. The only times you were together were to tour one of the Queens villas where the wedding was to be hosted and when there was a portrait painted of the two of you together to commemorate the wedding and to serve as a gift from the Queen. And both times you were chaperoned and you were too tired to truly make conversation.

The morning of your wedding came much too fast and you were up at dawn being bathed, fed a light meal and taken to the villa to be dressed in the most expensive outfit you would most likely ever wear. There were more layers being put on than you were used to and your corset was tied just a bit tighter.

“(Y/N).” Your parents stood at the doorway as your wedding dress was settled onto you. Looking at them through a mirror, you could only smile at the way they were getting teary; you’d been instructed not to move by the head maid and she was very serious in her request. You were spritzed with perfume and white gloves were slid onto your hands at the same time you were donned with jewelry. The weight of such pieces, on loan from the royal family for such an occasion, made you nervous beyond compare.

“Final touch, Miss.” Looking back at yourself, you watched as a tiara was taken from a velvet box and put atop your head, secured by pins before a beautiful lacy veil was put on top to complete the look.

“Oh, my daughter.” Your mother couldn’t contain herself and turned away, dabbing at her lashline with her handkerchief. Collecting herself quickly, she stepped into the room and let her hand ghost over the veil. “You are…magnificent.” She whispered, finally grasping your hand tightly.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t look away from yourself, everything was done so precisely. Your dress had more jewels and pearls than you’d seen in your life and you were afraid to touch it or even breathe too much in it; it felt as if you were a living work of art, one that must not be disturbed in any manner for any thing.

“Here Miss, to calm your nerves.” The head maid handed you a dainty glass cup filled with a dark liquid and the scent made your nose burn slightly.

“W-what is this?”

“Spiced brandy.”

“But I’m not nervous!”

“Oh trust me Miss, you will be.” She motioned for you to drink and you looked back down at the cup. It was small enough that you could drink it quickly and be done with it, so you steeled yourself and shot it back, almost retching before the maid slapped a hand over your mouth and got you to swallow it.

“O-oh my god.” You coughed, almost dropping the cup. “That was awful.”

“You’ll thank me later, promise.” She said, patting you on the back and then fixing your makeup. The alcohol worked quickly, making your body warm and a bit looser.

“They’re ready, ma’am.” Another maid announced from the doorway, signaling it was time to get going.

“Right this way.” Led out of the dressing room and down the hallway, the further you went the louder the chatter from all the guests became and the piano playing as background music was nearly drowned out by the buzz of excitement. Coming upon the grand hall, a maid rushed out of one of the doors and for a brief moment you saw just how many people - how many royal people - had attended.

“Thank you for that drink.” You swiftly turned to the head maid who nodded knowingly at you.

“Miss (Y/N) is ready.” She spoke to a footman instead who knocked on the large wooden doors in front of you three times, and through them you heard another gather the attention of the crowd.

As the doors opened, your mother and eldest brother went first and your hand gripped the arm your father had hooked into yours. Your whole life has led up to this moment, this exact time. This was what everyone wanted from you and you were providing as you should, but you couldn’t stop shaking.

“Father.” You turned to him before you stepped into the light from the doorway. “I-I’m nervous, what if I mess up?”

“My love.” He spoke kindly to you, softer than he ever had before. “You could fail a thousand times in a thousand ways and you would still be perfect.” Brushing over your veil, he took a deep breath himself. “Besides, you are not the only one that’s nervous.”

You chuckled breathlessly as he said that and then it was time to walk forward into the light of the venue, into what was fast becoming your new life. Swallowing thickly, you followed him as your father led you to stand in the doorway.

Walking down the aisle was something you’d spoken about, hell even practiced with your siblings and friends as a joke throughout the years, but doing the actual deed was much different. Your eyes roamed over all the guests standing at attention and drinking you in. There was no way to miss all their eyes on you and the way they followed as you walked down. No one said a word, no one dared even breathe too loud as you moved closer and closer to Sukuna.

Sukuna, who was dressed in the most formal attire you’d ever seen him in: a full dress royal military uniform complete with silky white gloves, an Order of the Garter sash, gold aiguillettes and a few medals you didn’t know the meaning of. His military hat was being held by a groomsman behind him and you dared to briefly look down and see his shoes were shined to perfection and he had a full dress sword with a golden tassel hanging from it.

The walk was over before you knew it and soon your father was unwinding his arm from yours to shake Sukunas hand. Giving you a brief kiss on the cheek, you heard him sniffle before he turned away and took his seat with your family.

Standing for a moment, Sukuna looked awestruck as he stared at you. His eyes were a tad wider than they usually were and for a second you thought you saw his eyes get glassy. Holding out his hand, Sukuna helped you up the three small steps onto the altar before letting go and standing at attention before the archbishop.

He wanted desperately to say something to you before the vows started, wanted to say how stunning you were and how happy he was to see you walk down the aisle. But none of that came to him; you had quite truly taken his breath away. So instead, he hyper-focused on the archbishop's words and made sure he said the right things at the right times.

After the last ‘I do’, Sukuna turned to you and lifted your veil almost too slowly, too carefully, as if he was afraid that with any wrong move you would shatter into thousands of pieces. Once he had lifted the veil and folded it away, he stared at you for what felt like ages before he forced air into his chest and leaned forward.

To your relief the kiss didn’t last too long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take being stared at like this. Both of yours’ lips trembled upon touching and while he did put a little force behind it, Sukuna still made sure to be gentle.

“Shall we?” He whispered once he pulled away, offering his hand and motioning back down the aisle. You couldn’t find the words, so you just nodded your head and allowed him to lead you down. The sound of the guests cheering surprised you and you looked around at all who attended. There were royals from different countries that were here in their traditional dress, all of whom you’d only read about and never thought you’d ever see. All of your friends were there and half the ton, something that brought you great comfort. There was still a sense of familiarity in all of this.

Once the two of you had left the room, it was a mad dash with the servants to fix your makeup and get the two of you into the next room to start receiving guests. Going to the reception hall, you smiled at the inclusion of your favorite flowers and colors along with Sukunas Prussian blue.

Sitting down on an ornate chaise lounge, you thanked the servants that fluffed out your dress and settled your veil over the rest of the seat, letting the full length of it be on display. You weren’t sitting side by side with Sukuna, moreover he sat straight on whereas you were at a slight angle facing him with your dress brushing his knee every so often.

“You look…” He finally spoke, fixing his hat and gloves nervously.

“Yes?” You urged, trying to meet his eyes. It was unlike him to be coy like this.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” The words were a whisper on his lips and he glanced at you as he said them, eager to look back down at his gloved fingers.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I am. You’re my wife.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna grabbed your hand and held it on his thigh. “Let them in!” He called to the footman and the doors were opened, with the first people ushered in being the Queen, followed by your family. Following Sukuna’s lead, you did not stand when she entered which had you twitching anxiously.

“To the happy new couple.” She said, giving a small clap. “I hope you enjoy the honeymoon I’ll provide to you.”

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty!” Your mouth dropped in shock, you forgot about the honeymoon. And with a honeymoon came consummating the marriage and you could feel your face begin to burn at the idea.

“(Y/N)!” All your siblings cried, rushing in once the Queen had made her exit. The younger ones leapt onto you while a sister right behind you in age ran her fingers over your veil. There was so much they were saying, how beautiful you looked and how ready they were for cake and it had you tearing up.

“Why are you crying?” Your mother asked, immediately grabbing a handkerchief to stem your tears.

“I-I’m going to miss you all, so so much!” Releasing Sukuna’s hand, you allowed your mother to clutch both of them.

“Listen to me, (Y/N)! You’ll see us again! It’s not as if you’re going on some great journey for five years, it’s just to the neighboring kingdom! Why, we can even come visit you if you’d like!” With your mother comforting you like a child, it was up to Sukuna to entertain your siblings and he was not prepared for the ordeal.

“Be careful with that sword!” Somehow two younger brothers managed to begin to unsheathe his sword with the intention of playing with it.

“Your Highness, since you’re our new brother can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Why is your hair pink?”

“Everyone, please!” The look of exasperation quickly growing on Sukuna’s face pulled you out of your misery and a light laugh came out. “Let him rest, we have other guests to greet.”

“Yes, say goodbye to your sister and let us go out to the garden.”

“Bye!” Nearly smothered in a thousand hugs, they all eventually left. Before the next guests were brought in, a maid touched up your makeup at your mothers request.

“You’ll see them again, I promise.” Sukuna said, fixing his coat and a medal that had gone askew. “After our honeymoon we can bring them to the country estate.” Looking at Sukuna’s face you could tell he meant it and that made you smile.

“Thank you.”

As guest after guest came through, your knowledge of politics was put to the test. There was the Emperor Satoru Gojo who you knew Sukuna had a sometimes-not-so-friendly rivalry with. Archduke Nanami Kento whose people were renowned for their knowledge of cooking. King Getou Suguru hailed from a mountainous region with a high monkey population. All of them were kind to you, wishing you well and offering to host you in their country should you ever want to visit.

“Stay still.” Sukuna said abruptly as the next guests came in. The mood immediately shifted upon their entrance and you felt the air leave the room as a group of three filed in. They were clearly aristocrats or royalty Sukuna knew with the way he jumped up out of his seat.

“Your Highness!” There was one in the front who was clearly the leader, his yellow blonde hair contrasted with its dark tips. He had a few black metal piercings on each ear and the way he spoke made you bristle. “What a beautiful wedding!” Walking further into the room, the man locked eyes with you. “And an even more gorgeous wife.”

“Do not speak to her.” Sukuna stepped into his line of sight, effectively cutting you off. Looking at the rest of the group, there was a horrendously scarred woman staring at the floor and a man with inky black hair and a scar at the edge of his mouth. “What business do you have here?”

“Relax, we’re just here to pay our respects!” The blonde man began to waltz around the room with his arms open. “Why, a wedding truly has a way of bringing people together, does it not?” Returning to his previous position in the room, the man motioned to you. “Now, will you introduce us or do we have to do it ourselves?”

“You will not speak to her, you will not look at her.” Sukuna was irate, you could see it in the way his body had puffed up and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

“Nonsense!” The man dared to take a step further and Sukuna gripped his sword, causing the woman to go into motion and move the cape she’d been wearing to the side, revealing a jagged looking blade tucked against her. You heard a few maids stifle terrified noises and you moved without thinking.

“M-my name is (Y/N)!” You shot up out of your seat, making everyone turn to you. The look in Sukuna’s eyes as he turned was white hot and scalding, forcing you to look away. “Her Highness, Crown Princess Ryomen (Y/N).” It was hard to say the entirety of your new title without stuttering but somehow you managed.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman!” Sidestepping Sukuna, the blonde man held out his hand for you and you followed suit, playing whatever game he wanted and resting your hand in his, letting him kiss the back of it. “I am Tsar Zenin, Naoya Zenin.”

Your brow furrowed as you thought back to your schooling. There had been no mention of a Naoya Zenin anywhere in your books or in the newspapers and bulletins your father read. The Zenin family name was vague to you at best; but there was no time to dwell on it further as Naoya flicked his head and the man with the scarred lip came forward and pulled out a wooden box.

“Your Highness, allow me to give you a gift!” The top of the wooden box was removed with flair and inside was a thick suede headband, adorned with large circular diamonds forming a floral pattern with a few other colored gems dotting the empty spaces. There was also a pair of matching earrings that looked much too big for your ears.

“What do you think?” Naoya asked quietly.

“It’s- they’re very beautiful, thank you.” His expression was making you uncomfortable and you glanced at Sukuna. He had gone completely still as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“I hope to see you wearing them when you visit my country. Many women wear this style and I think it would suit you.”

“She will do no such thing.” Sukunas voice broke the buzzing tension in the air, ripping Naoya away from you and scoffing at the gift he gave. “I would never have my wife go anywhere near a country where a prince kills his whole family just to be in power.”

You gasped, nearly stumbling back at the news. Naoya’s eyes flicked to you and his smile faltered; he didn’t want you to know that part about him and moreover if you did come to know, he wanted to be the one to tell you and control the narrative you heard.

“Princess, don-”

“Do not speak to her!” Sukuna grabbed Naoya roughly by the collar and they locked eyes. Naoyas lackeys stood poised and ready should a fight break out but Naoya seemed perfectly content with the situation.

“I see the groom has had enough of us. We shall take our leave.” Raising his hands in surrender, Naoya slowly backed away with a cocky grin on his face. Turning to you, he put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Princess, I hope we meet again soon. I wish to bask in your beauty even longer next time.” With no other words, Naoya and his group left the way they came, making sure to leave the wooden box on a credenza by the door.

As soon as they left, Sukuna was in front of you, inspecting you with his eyes. His body was still painfully tense and you could see the way his teeth ground together every so often.

“Are you mad at me?” You were afraid he would start yelling at you at any moment, reprimand you for speaking to Naoya and not letting him handle the situation. Sukuna didn’t react to your question, instead picking up the hand that Naoya touched and wiping it off on his jacket.

“How are you?” He asked instead.

“I’m fine. I apologize for-”

“No. Stop.” Shaking his head, Sukuna bit back a sigh. “I am not mad at you. I am mad at myself for not expecting that a potential enemy to the kingdom would use this day as an opportunity to try and do something. I…I’m mad that I failed to protect you.” Sukuna shook his head again and looked down at the medals on his jacket. “I’m a godforsaken general afterall.”

After taking a moment to collect yourselves, you received the rest of your guests in quick succession. Seeing your friends helped push your shaken nerves away and so was seeing the rest of the ton. With the reception over, you moved into the main hall to continue the festivities.

“Excuse me.” Once inside, Sukuna made a beeline for a table occupied by a few of the royalty you had met with. They were sharing a few bottles of champagne and Sukuna popped one open and wasted no time drinking almost half of it.

As the wedding went on you were able to forget about Naoya and the seriousness of the situation. You danced with friends and family and even some members of the ton that had been jealous or disapproving of you getting to marry the prince. Everyone was in high spirits and it made you happy to be able to bring everyone together.

With the evening coming to a close, you realized you and Sukuna had hardly seen each other. You saw him dance with a few people, even the Queen, but for the most part he was drinking with his friends and playing yard games. Whenever you caught his eye he would wave, each time getting drunker and drunker.

“Your Highness, I know you’re to start your honeymoon right away as Prince Sukuna requested but he’s in no shape to travel tonight.” A footman gave you the information with a sorry look on his face and you understood why; Sukuna had drank so much he had to retreat from the party early to throw up. Emperor Gojo and King Getou were in no better shape passed out on the lawn and Archduke Nanami was nursing his last drink with a bright flush on his cheeks.

“I understand. Please, see to it that he cleans up and rests for tonight and I will see our guests off.” You pitied the valet’s that would have to wrestle Sukuna into a bathtub. Turning back to the party, it wouldn’t be so bad to finish it alone as a few guests had already taken their leave.

“A shame about your new husband, my dear.” The Queen came to stand at your side, making your back immediately straighten.

“Yes, it is.”

“He told me what happened. With the Tsar.” She spoke quietly, bringing her fan to the front of her face. “Tell me, what do you think of the whole matter?”

“I…” Truth be told, you tried not to think about it. “I do not think we should rush into responding to this…intrusion. I feel as though Naoya is just playing, he wanted to test the Prince's patience; see how far he could go.”

“I agree. The Zenin family has had a bloody climb to power but I know they wouldn’t be stupid enough to rush into any conflict just yet. Their country is on shaky ground as it is, Naoya must secure his right to the throne before he looks elsewhere.” The Queen's words were reassuring and enough to give you peace of mind. She always knew what to say, so confident in her words and actions; you hoped to emulate her one day when Sukuna took the throne.

“My diamond, let’s give your guests a proper farewell. Your honeymoon awaits you.” Putting her fan away, the Queen gently grabbed your hand and squeezed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[silv3rswirls]

Worship me

Warnings: 18+, unedited, yandere au, idol yoongi, stalking, online harassment, mentions/fantasies of sex and masturbation, obsession

Note: I wrote most of this in an hour. No one speak to me, I am unheathily in love with this yoongi. Also, I didn’t have the brainpower to write a like actual story with scenes and stuff, so I’ll probably post the little blurbs and such to go with this.

Until recently, Yoongi never found himself absorbed in his social media. Other than his members, and close personal friends he didn’t find himself scrolling aimlessly or jumping to see anyone’s new posts. That was until he stumbled on your profile. He was bored one night, and couldn’t sleep as he tossed and turned in bed so he went scrolling through his feed to check out what the other members were up to. He huffed as he accidentally clicked on Jin’s likes rather than hearting them. 

He would’ve click off right away like usual, but he stopped at the last second to see your profile nestled towards the top of the list. He tilted his head, why not check out some profiles? It would pass the time and hopefully bore his insomnia away. Maybe it would have worked if he hadn't spent well over an hour just looking at your posts, reading every caption; piecing together some kind of life story to go with your admittedly cute face. He closed Instagram and called it a night, thinking nothing more of you.

Too bad he woke up the next morning, sleep-deprived and cranky; only to open Instagram and scroll. Just for a few minutes to wake up, but eventually, he found himself typing in your username without much of a thought as to if you had posted- you had. He had to stop himself from liking it. What was he thinking? He could only imagine what would come from his official account liking some random girl's post just minutes after she posted it.

No more, he told himself, there was no need to go to your profile to kill boredom. He got ready for the day and headed to the studio to do something far more productive.

Productivity came hard though, as every day his desire to check your profile grew. He couldn’t help it, you were so cute and your posts were addicting- there wasn’t even much special about them, Yoongi told himself one evening, but still he looked. After a week of taking in every selfie and photo, reading your captions closely, and making his way through your older posts; he had completely sunken into the never-ending hole that was stalking your profile. He made note of everything you did, your likes, what you ate that day; it felt weird at first, but every day he found himself caring less and less. He was alone, doing it in his free time. You posted it all for people to see, so didn’t he have a right to look?

Every few minutes he checked for your updates, he hated not being able to follow you. Sometimes the temptation to do so struck him hard, but he held off. He wanted to comment, and tell you how beautiful you were. How much he loved your interests and humor, hated how you interacted with other men in your comments. He wanted to talk to you, this wasn’t fair. Didn’t he deserve to talk to you?

Yoongi was drinking more than usual, why? He couldn’t say. Maybe sipping on liquor and staring at you has become his new favorite pastime. He spent god knows how long locked in his studio doing it, his work neglected as he favored you. He’d get tipsy, get flirty and think about everything he’d say to you. He typed it out sometimes, teasing the idea of sending you a message. 

He wanted to send them, so badly.

He’d get upset, start drinking more and then get sloppy with his messages. They turned from light and flirty to downright awful. Paragraphs filled with how much he wanted you, in every way he wanted you. How he thought about going to that cafe you were always at just to see you, how he wanted to give you everything, how he wanted to touch you; how he wanted to fuck you and never speak to you again, or how he wanted to be with you forever. Use you. Love you.

Sometimes he would get a little too worked up thinking about, staring at pictures as you went out in cute outfits with your friends. Tonight was starting to feel that way, he was leaning back at his desk, eating up your new post about going out to the bar with some old friends. You weren’t that dressed up, inches of your skin weren't on display. You looked how you usually did, but Yoongi found himself shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his cock twitched in his pants. He was growing warm, mouth a bit dry as he m ogled over your pictures. Never had he considered himself to be so needy like this, but he couldn’t help but to slip down his pants and tug at his cock. Just thinking about you did something to him, made him want to whine for you to touch him; be with him.

He stood, one hand keeping him propped up against his desk as his head lulled down, little grunts and half moans filling the dark studio. His eyes fluttered open, looking at the space of the empty desk beneath him. He could imagine you laying there under him. Thrown with care in a rush of passion, his hungry eyes traced your every curve. Sometimes his fantasies felt so real, in the daze of lust he’d reach for you under him only to be reminded that you weren’t there.

He’d wake up the next morning and feign guilt for even thinking to speak to anyone that way, but deep down he knew he had passed guilt a long time again. What he said was true, and he wanted you to know it. He never felt guilt for getting off to the thought of you though. You were always posting such cute photos, didn’t he deserve to do it?

Two months into his insistent stalking a new face started to appear in your posts. Though you always said he was a friend in your captions or comments, Yoongi felt an immense weight of jealousy on his shoulders every time. Sometimes he could barely look at your profile, you posted too much with that damn guy. It pissed him off, unreasonable anger boiling in his as he gripped his phone tighter and rolled his eyes. The way you let other men put their hands on you. His arm was thrown over your shoulder, smiling ear to ear, or how when he held your waist in one. 

He’d get drunk and think about all the nasty things he’d call you, and all the horrible things he’d do to that guy if he ever saw him. 

Call him insane, but he created a fake profile just days after so that his fantasies of talking to you could be true. Still, locked in his dark studio with desire squirming and eating at his insides, he went all in. He couldn’t calm himself down to play it cool- he was damn near begging you to stop posting that guy, to accept his affection and not his. He went on and on about you, how he had been watching your profile- how one day he saw you at your favorite cafe, that he waited for hours hoping you’d come.

You read it but didn’t reply.

Tonight he was fuming, and a bit tipsy as he looked at your new post. He wet his lips, eyes burning as he kept a hard stare on his screen. Whoever that guy you are with was, he looked pathetic. Yoongi could only sneer. If only you knew that he had messaged you, not some random faceless man, but Min Yoongi- the Min Yoongi. Far superior to any random man you would ever post in your feed.

Rather than continued to gravel at the will of your Instagram feed with fucked up fantasies of you, occasionally hoping to see you in public and just look at your beauty. He should be making you chase him. If only you knew, you’d be at his fucking feet in an instant. The image sent a thrill to his head. He didn’t care about keeping his ego in check anymore. He was Min Yoongi; a genius producer, a worldwide superstar. Other men could never compare, you should be at his feet begging for every part of him.

He deserved you, how dare you disrespect him? How dare you not reply to his messages, shouldn’t you be grateful? You post so much, didn’t you deserve this?

He dragged a hand through his hair, his mind clouded with lust as he stared at your story. You were laying in bed with your cat, smiling as it walked over your stomach, the camera panning up to your smile as you giggled. A harmless video was no longer harmless to him, everything set him off. Everything you did made him want you more. He couldn’t recall a time that he had yearned so hard for someone, but it felt so good. He lets out a light sigh, rubbing himself over his jeans as he thinks about how you’d look so much better laying in his bed, or over his desk, or anywhere as long as he was there.

Though, he didn’t whine for you or think about how much he wanted you with him; he thought about how he deserved your presence. You should be here letting him have you, he deserved it. He was Yoongi, you should be here all over him. His eyes passed over his liquor bottles sitting untouched, he had stopped having to get drunk to think about you this way weeks ago. He ignored what that said about him, or how it marked how he was changing every day; falling deeper into a worse person.

He didn’t care anymore, he was Yoongi. He could do what he wanted, he had every right to treat you like this in his head and through the messages you still ignored. He wondered for just a second what the others would think of him if they found out. One day Namjoon had almost seen the messages on his phone, and Yoongi almost challenged him to see them and say something. So confident in his obsessions he was. 

He was Min Yoongi after all, he deserved to have you at his feet worshiping him.

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: Last Friday Night

Cowritten with the lovely @livingtobethevillain, who's idea set us off on this road ;-;

Summary: Damian wasn’t one to go out of his way to cause scandals or to give the masses something to gossip over. He tried to distance himself from his family in that aspect. He liked the way his name was kept out of the papers, unlike his father or siblings. It was something he took pride in.

Or something he did take pride in. Because as the saying goes, love makes you stupid. And well, Jon wanted Damian to have fun. Damian had reasoned that a couple drinks wouldn’t hurt. But once Damian had passed the threshold of ‘a couple drinks’ that's when the trouble really started.

TL;DR Damijon + friends go out and party, Damian gets a bit too drunk and everyone thinks this is hilarious

Anyone who knew Damian would know that being caught by the press doing anything “improper” was simply unheard of for him. 

His brothers and father had hundreds of scandals, memes, audios on the internet but surprisingly, even having been brought up in the spotlight, he’d rarely had any.

But of course, Jon had to change that.

There was an awful lot of truth when people say love makes someone stupid, and as much as Damian was loath to admit it, he was as weak to the emotion as anyone, and it had led to many things he’d come to cringe at.

Although, admittedly there hadn’t been any as…spectacular as this one, though.

It was not a special occasion by any means that led to these events, just a meet-up with some friends at a local bar near Met U. They’d parked a few blocks away and were walking down to the entrance, hands swinging between them.

Damian took a deep breath, letting the warm air slide in and out of his lungs before looking at his husband out of the corner of his eye.

“Jonathan, if you have something you’d like to say you are welcome to say it.” Damian said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement.

“Well-I-I just-” Jon stuttered before clearing his throat and gathering himself. 

“I wanted to ask if-well I couldn’t help but notice that you're always the one in the group that stays sober on the nights we go out and I wanted to ask if this time, would you want to be the one to, y’know, party.” Jon rubbed his neck with the hand not intertwined with Damian’s, the other man raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t like-a scheme to get you drunk by the way, I know how it sounds. I just…I want you to have fun.”

Damian's expression softened. “Thank you, love. But you don’t need to worry, okay? I have plenty of fun even when I am off to the side.”

Jon snorts and Damian scowls playfully. 

“Last time we went out you were so high strung that you nearly drop-kicked a guy ‘cause he bumped into me.” Jon laughs.

“He shouldn't have bumped into you if he didn’t want to face the consequences.” Damian responded dryly. 

“Yeah okay,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “Just-try to let yourself have fun. I'll be the one that plays lookout tonight, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything.” 

Damian hums in acknowledgement. “You feel very strongly about this.” 

“I do.” Jon gives a crooked smile and Damian can’t help but give a small but genuine smile back. 

“Well, we’ll see when we arrive.”

That was neither a yes or a no, but a small victory nonetheless. They weaved through the crowd of college students, staying in a comfortable silence until they reached the inside of the bar. 

They were quickly spotted by Kathy, who dragged them over to where Colin and Maya were sitting, already with drinks in hand.

“Damian!” Colin slung an arm around his neck, not quite drunk but enough alcohol in his system to be rendered tipsy. 

“Wilkes.” Damian ducked under the grasp, momentarily regretting the evening. 

“So, who’s gonna stay sober this evenin’?” Kathy called from where she was hanging off of Jon, much like Colin had Damian a few seconds before. “Y’all can count Colin off the list.”

“Jon is, I believe.” Damian responded, slightly awkward.

Cheers went up, and Maya tipped her glass towards him. “All grown up, aren’t you, little brother? Gonna join the grownups for some fun?”

He scoffed, taking a seat next to her. “Hardly. Just because I did not join the rest of you imbeciles in becoming inebriated doesn’t mean I was less of an adult.”

“Hey!” Jon put a hand to his heart, mock-offended. 

“Not you, of course,” He was quick to remedy the statement, both sharing soft smiles that left their friends gagging. 

“I’m too sober for your disgusting PDA,” Kathy announced, waving a hand to get the attention of the bartender. 

“Amen to that!” Maya sipped from her cup, Damian’s answering unimpressed expression being undermined by the blush that heated up his face at their words. Jon only laughed in response, placing a chaste kiss on Damian’s cheek, before then starting up a conversation to update their friends on recent solo missions, although they were worded to sound like typical civilian jobs to any possibly prying ears.

Kathy brought over a refill for Colin and Maya, as well as Damian’s first drink of the evening. 

“Figures.” Colin snorted, looking over at the glass. “You’ll never grow out of rich boy shit, will you?”

“This is perfectly acceptable.” Damian sniffed, looking mildly insulted. Jon patted his shoulder, nodding along. 

”Whipped.” Kathy muttered into her drink. Jon coughed, the rest of them snickering.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

They went on like this for a good five minutes, Damian on the brink of losing his mind for all of it. It was better to save his grievances until the night was in full swing, as things would only escalate from there, and there was no use in wasting his breath when it wouldn’t be heard over the loud music.

It wasn’t long before the group needed another round of drinks. Jon volunteered to grab them and motioned for Damian to follow. Damian tilted his head in a silent question but followed anyway. The pair made their way through the crowd, their hands naturally linking back up as a way to stay close. 

“Are you alright, Dearest?” Damian asked upon arriving at the main bar area. 

“What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. I actually wanted to check on you again.” Jon admitted sheepishly. 

Damian huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly. “Of course,”  

Jon fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “You know I wasn't trying to pressure you earlier right? You don't have to get balls to the wall wasted-I just-”

Damian squeezed Jon’s hand reassuringly. “Beloved. I know you didn’t mean any harm. I am well aware of my autonomy, believe me. And if I do get ‘balls to the wall wasted’ that is my choice. Okay?”

Jon laughs and his shoulders slump in relief. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Is that-like-the plan then?”

“tt-of course not. Who do you take me for? Richard?” Damian scoffed, his face scrunching up at the mention of his older brother. 

Jon grins. “I mean-”

Damian glares. “Finish that thought, Kent. I dare you.” 

Jon barks out a loud laugh. “Wouldn’t you call me ‘Wayne’? I did take your last name.” 

“You’re an imbecile.” Damian said, the effect was lost of course seeing as the pair’s hands were still connected and there was an unmistakable fond note in his tone. 

It wasn’t much longer before Damian and Jon were able to get the group's desired drinks. Sliding back into their claimed seats, Damian stayed tense, back straight as he sipped on his drink and surveyed the room. He was quickly offset as he felt a light smack hit his shoulder. 

“Relax, Darlin’.” Jon said, looking exasperated. 

Damian sighed, rolled his shoulders and focused on the conversation that was being had at the table. 

“And then, you’ll never believe this, he tried to hit on me!” Kathy waved her drink around, Maya and Colin cackling.

“I was like, excuse me sir, does this look like the face of someone ready to drop their panties? No! I have a knife to your throat.” 

Damian snorted at that, Jon looking over, pleased. As time went on, the music seemed quieter and the lights not as blinding. Damian had already well entered tipsy-zone, onto his fourth drink now, and the world blurring together into a perfect mess.

The rest of their friends were past the safety zone and on their way to an early morning monster hangover. 

“Beloved, have I told you how much I love you today?” Damian had draped himself on top of his husband, looking at him with adoring eyes, caramel skin dusted with a pink flush. 

“Yes.” Jon chuckled, keeping him close. “But I’d love to hear it again.” 

Damian hummed and leaned in close enough that their breaths mingled and Jon could smell the alcohol on his husband's breath. 

“I love you.” Damian said quietly in the very little space between them. His husband leaned forwards to close the distance and place a chaste kiss on his nose.

“Love you too.”

Damian laughed in response and leaned back just enough to breathe, his arms comfortably wrapped around Jons shoulders and one hand propped to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re pretty.” Damian mumbled. 

Jon flushed immediately, ducking his head with a small laugh. “Thank you, darlin’, you’re not half bad yourself.”

Damian tilted his head with an indulgent smile. “I'm absolutely stunning and we both know it.  What’s that one song? The one that’s like-'I'm sexy and I know it’? Yeah, that's me.” 

Jon coughed, unsure whether to burst into laughter or blush harder. “Sure is, D. You've always been the more confident of the two of us.”

Damian groaned. “Well yeah, but do remember-you have every reason to be confident in your appearance as well. I mean-I love you for many reasons but one of them would absolutely be how ethereal you look at all times.”

He went with the ‘blush harder’ option, resisting the urge to duck his head again and instead peppering Damian’s face with little kisses. “You’re so sweet when you’re like this.”

Damian laughed in response to the kisses, lightly pushing Jon away and rolling his eyes. Jon gives a crooked smile and Damian takes another drink from his glass. 

“I'm not sweet, Jonathan,” he scoffed. “I’m simply an honest man. And the truth I'm living is that you're the love of my life.” 

Damian leaned in to steal another kiss from his blushing husband before leaning back again and sipping from his drink. 

This time Jon did hide his face a bit, sure he was burning from the words. Their friends who had previously been on the dance floor returned, Kathy leaning on Maya and Colin stumbling over with a grin on his face.

Damian sat up upon seeing their friends. He downed the rest of the drink he had been drinking and waved them over. 

“Hello peasants.” Damian smirked. “Glad to know none of you are passed out in the bathroom.” 

“If anyones ending this night passed out in the bathroom, it’ll be you. I’ll eat my shoe if I can’t hold my liquor better than you can, assassin training or not.” Colin challenged, leaning over.

“Yeah sure, Wilkes. Whatever you say. I’ll bet you check out before we even get started. What, with how you're leaning off to the side?” Damian scoffed, pointedly ignoring the way he was also leaning a bit too far to the side when he wasn't paying attention. 

Colin called for a round of shots, leaning towards the other side at Damian’s observation. 

“C’mon, how many do you think you can do? Before passing out, of course.”

“More than you, I'm sure.” Damian challenged.

“Bring it, Wayne.” he picked up a shot glass, the rest of them looking on, Kathy and Maya cheering while Jon looked mildly concerned.

Damian patted Jon’s fidgeting hands reassuringly. “Stop looking like that,” he said, picking up his own glass. “Go back to being embarrassed. That was cute.” 

“Hey!” Jon protested, his voice going unheard as the girls counted down.

“1, 2, 3!”

Damian and Colin both swallowed down their shots, both of their faces screwing up for a moment at the strong taste.

“Gonna give up?” Colin grinned, picking up a second one. He tipped it towards the other boy, a challenge clear in the gesture.

Damian scoffed and snatched another shot. “I hope you’re prepared for the hangover you’ll experience tomorrow. I’ve heard blackouts are worse than normal hangovers.”

“You’re gonna eat your words, rich boy.” 

By the fifth shot, both were beyond the bridges of completely wasted, Colin more so then Damian. Jon plucked the 6th glass from both of them, giving them both glasses of water instead. 

“Okay, no one’s getting alcohol poisoning tonight, thanks.” 

“Aw, why not?” Damian pouted, head tilting in amusement. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“Mm, yeah but I'm the one taking you home, and I love you too much to let that happen.”

Damian slid off his chair and leaned into Jon, standing between his legs, chest to chest with his husband. 

“I love you too, beloved.” Damian tilted his head up and caught Jon’s lips with his own. Jon made a surprise noise before melting into the contact. Damian's hands coming up to tangle in Jon’s hair before Damian was pulled away by the collar of his shirt. 

Damian turned and glared at Kathy, while Jon was catching his breath. “Excuse you.” 

Kathy grinned in response and shrugged. “Keep it to the bedroom, lovebirds, I don't wanna see it.” 

Damian muttered a couple unsavory words under his breath but sat back down in his own seat. 

Jon momentarily mourned the loss of his husband, joining Damian in shooting Kathy a less-than-pleased look. 

“Like you haven’t done worse,” He scoffed. “At least you haven’t walked in on us, unlike some people who don’t understand the concept of locked doors.” 

She seemed to have been silenced with that, only snickering a bit as she snuck a sip from Maya’s half-empty glass, sitting abandoned on the table.

From there time flew by, Jon sat in place for a long while, just observing and having lost Damian at some point. Jon exasperatedly looked around throughout the crowd and it was only when Maya stumbled out of a dance circle that he was able to ask where his husband had wandered off to. 

“-eah i don't know, i think he and Colin are dancing somewhere. I know Kathy went to get them some more water.” Maya laughed. “Never thought I'd see the day that Damian Wayne got shitfaced in some random bar but here we are.” 

Jon snorted and let Maya stride over to Kathy. Jon–now with a direction in mind–headed over to find Damian on the dancefloor. 

Jon wasn’t disappointed by what he found. Damian and Colin were each having the time of their lives drunkenly dancing and then proceeding to laugh their asses off at the other at the drop of a hat. Jon’s eyes wandered back to Damian and Jon let out a choked noise upon seeing the man's newest attempt at dancing. This time he moved his hips and let his hands drift up his sides. The lights above them washed over his handsome features nicely, his dark eyes feeling like something Jon could get lost in. 

Someone bumped into Jon and the spell was broken by another round of laughter from Colin and Damian. Jon strode forward and wrapped an arm around Damians waist. 

“Hey, darlin’. Having fun?” He said fondly. 

Damian twisted in Jon’s hold and pressed close, as he had done multiple times that night. Jon was beginning to sense a pattern.

“I am, thank you for asking, dearest. Me and Colin were dancing.” Damian said, only slightly slurring his words. 

“I think it might be time to head home, hun. It’s late and I can guarantee that tomorrow you're going to want as much sleep as possible.” Jon stated, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Damians back.

Colin whined. “Awe c’mon, night’s barely begun. We’ve been here, what? Two hours?”

Jon laughed. “Try again. We’ve been here for about four and a half.” 

“Damn, alright.” Colin shrugged. “Just make sure to tell Kathy when you leave. You don’t want her losing her mind when she can't find y’all at the end of the night.”

“Will do. C’mon, D.” He led his husband back to where the girls were, Damian doing as much as possible to stay close to Jon, hanging off of him like a baby koala. 

They stopped at the table, Jon being pulled into a seat while Damian unlatched himself and proceeded to sit in his lap instead of the many available seats, arms going around Jon's neck.

“What’re you doing?” He chuckled.

“Is it illegal to take a seat now? Unbelievable.” Damian scoffed.

“I-Okay, we need to get you home.” Jon shook his head fondly, before pulling out his phone and sending a quick message to the group chat.

“There. Now they know that we’re headed home. Are you okay to walk or do I need to carry you?” Jon said, only half joking. 

Damian huffed. “I can walk perfectly fine.” 

Jon raised an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky I'm madly in love with you or else your disrespect would not go unnoticed.” Damian said, sounding fond. 

Jon smiled softly. “I wouldn't have thought that you’d be an affectionate drunk, but here we are.” 

“M’not drunk, I'm just…hm. In a good mood.” Damian insisted. 

“Of course, of course.” Jon rolled his eyes, before sliding Damian off his lap and steadying the both of them. 

“Time to go home, Dames.” 

—--------

The light was much too bright out, Damian decided as he opened his eyes, despite the protests of the hammer going off inside of his skull. The blackout curtains were drawn shut, but the tiny sliver of light coming through them seemed much more like a flashlight shined directly into his face.

With what he’d admit was mild discomfort, he shifted in bed, drawing a small noise from his husband, who was apparently not asleep.

“Good morning.” The words were whispered but sounded like a megaphone, causing Damian to swat at him.

“Speak quieter.”

“I guess the hangover isn’t treating you as well as you’d hoped.” Jon’s voice was much more amused than he would have liked, but at the moment, he hadn’t the energy to comment on it, only grumbling.

“This is all your fault.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” Jon gently pushed back a few loose pieces of hair around his face. “You didn’t have to get as…compromised as you did, but you Bats can never back down from a challenge.”

“And you kryptonians do?” Damian snorted, wincing as the action jostled his body. “Beloved, if you ran from a challenge, i don’t believe we’d be here.” 

Jon hummed in acknowledgement. “So, moral of the story is we’re both stubborn and competitive. Yeah? Me slightly more than you, of course. ‘Cause you’re just a sweet baby angel aren’t ya, honey?”

Damian scoffed and subsequently cringed again, Jon’s previous snark was replaced with soft, exasperated affection.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers and some water. I'll be right back, darlin’.” Jon clambered out of bed and shuffled himself out of the room. 

Damian closed his eyes and willed the headache to go away. 

“Hey, we’re both off today from day jobs so that’s nice–oh and I was planning on calling Bruce and asking about us sitting out of patrol for tonight-” Jon rounded the bed and quickly handed off the aforementioned items. 

“No.” Damian mumbled. 

“You really can’t think you’re alright to patrol tonight-” Jon said slowly.  

Damian glared tiredly and Jon crossed his arms. 

“I’m fine, Jon. Stop coddling.” Damian insisted. 

Jon sighed in response but didn’t push. He crawled back into bed and picked up his phone only for his eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the mass amounts of notifications on his homescreen. Tiktok, instagram, snapchat. Any kind of social media and there was someone mentioning him, or trying to get his attention. It wasn’t too unusual. Not really. Jon always had at least a bit of attention due to marrying one of Gotham’s sweethearts. But even then, this was excessive. Curiously Jon randomly opened one of the Tiktok videos that people had been sending him–and Jon couldn’t help the laugh that shook his body upon watching. 

“Shut up,” Damian uncurled just enough to glare at his husband. 

Jon didn’t even attempt to stifle the chuckles that escaped his mouth. 

“You’re famous, Dami.” Jon snorted. “Again.”

Damian huffed and sat up to snatch Jon’s phone. It took all of five seconds for Damian’s face to flush upon recognizing himself from the night before. 

It was an edit, Damian vaguely remembers himself and Colin dancing with each other and apparently the people had  not only seen but recorded, uploading the clips onto the internet for frivolous purposes like these.

Damian glared at Jon and gestured pointedly with the phone, ignoring the looped music playing from the device. “This is your fault.” 

Jon laughed harder. 

Their ship name was trending again, along with different variations of Damian's name. The rest of the morning was spent with his horrible husband watching various edits and reading posts aloud to him.

Of course, it was all followed up by being doted on the rest of the day, which may or may not have made up for everything.

When the evening came and he slipped on the suit, Jon tried to talk him out of it again. 

“Really, Dami, I think they’d understand, people have called off patrol for less.” He plucked the mask from his husband’s hold, putting out the puppy eyes he knew made the other’s resolve crumble.

“Jonathan.” Damian huffed, reaching up for the mask, eyebrow raising as it was held above his head in a childish gesture. “I will not be brought down by a generally harmless illness and an unfortunately timed headache.”

“A hangover, babe.” Jon kept the mask above his head as if they were bickering preteens and teens all over again. “You never drink enough to get properly wasted, so now that you have, it’s not going to be kind to you.”

“You’re being childish, give it to me.” Damian scolded instead, refusing to lower himself to the grounds where he’d jump. He’d need a running start to reach above Jon’s height, and frankly, he was not in the mood for this, nor willing to waste what little energy he had left.

“Just stay tonight, i’ll stay with you,” He pleaded once more. Damian sighed, looking out of the apartment window at the darkening sky.

“I will end patrol two hours earlier.” He offered, headache thanking him as it thrummed in his skull. 

Jon scrunched up his face, analyzing him, before handing him the mask, resigned. “You shouldn’t even be going out. I’m a horrible husband for condoning this.”

“You were a horrible husband when you let me go viral due to my antics while inebriated, no matter how pure the intentions.”

Jon whined. “You’re so mean.” 

“So I've been told.” Damian snorted.

Jon sighed and handed over the mask, it was quiet for a moment as Damian checked over his gear. 

“You have to admit that the reality of you being a party drunk is pretty damn funny-” Jon said, breaking the silence.

“Jonathan.” 

“I know you’re embarrassed, it's okay honey-'' Jon grinned. 

“I am not embarrassed-” Damian huffed. 

“You totally are!” Jon laughed. 

“You are on thin ice, habibi.” Damian turned away from Jon and made his way out into the night.

“You know you love me.” Jonathan chirped, following close behind. 

“I suppose that’s why I married you, isn’t it?”

—--------

Damian was beginning to wonder if he should have listened to his husband.

The sudden jolt of nausea had caused him to nearly miss a swing from his grappling hook, looking downwards not helping whatsoever. He made it finally to the designated rooftop his siblings had told him to go to. On a normal day, he would have seen where it was going, but at this point, he was much too out of it to care too much.

“Hey Demon.” A voice from behind him caused him to jump and he turned, seeing his second oldest brother grinning at him, helmet under his arm.

“Todd.” he crossed his arms. 

“He got you, didn’t he, Baby Bat?” Tim appeared next, a smirk on his face. “Must be a bit disorienting for you, huh?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re on about, Drake.” Damian sniffed, turning around and silently begging every deity known to man that his siblings wouldn’t mention his…late night escapades. 

Of course, God is dead and Damian could always count on the others to stir the pot even more.  Dick hugged him, and mentioned nothing, thank fuck, but Stephanie was another thing.

“You’re all over the internet, Dami!” Steph cackled, shoving his phone in his face. The brightness was too high for his liking and he batted it away, grumbling.

“Little brother, not in shape for patrol.” Cass said, sounding serious but the mirth was dancing in her eyes.

“Baby’s first awful hangover!” Jason cheered, ruffling his hair. “Surprised your gorgeous husband whom you love so much and is the best person in the world didn’t make you stay.”

Damian cringed at the use of descriptions, just one of the things from when he was drunk off his ass and waxing poetic about his partner going viral on the internet. 

“He attempted it. I am perfectly fine, thank you.”

“You’re too young for this,” Dick wailed. “This is my baby, you guys, this is not right-!”

“Grayson.” Damian grumbled and his oldest brother clung to him. “Stop.”

Jason snorted. “C’mon don’t beat him while he's down. Plus. You’re, what? Ten years old?”

“I am twenty four!” Damian hissed.

“Four?” Tim echoed, shit-eating grin splitting his face open. “Holy shit you guys, he’s still a baby.”

“Drake.” Damian growled as he was held tighter. “Sleep tonight and you will not wake tomorrow.”

“Dami,” Dick whined. “You got drunk-” 

“Yes, we’ve established this.” Damian grumbled. 

“You’d think with all the bitching you’ve done at us, you’d never even touch alcohol.” Steph said, still scrolling on her phone. 

“I am an adult. I am allowed a couple drinks-” said Damian. 

“More than a couple.” Cass shook her head while the rest of their siblings stifled their laughter. 

“Need to go home.” She declared, poking at him affectionately.

“I’m fine.” Damian would never admit to the whine that laced the words, swatting at Cass’s hand.

“Uh-huh,” Jason snorted.

“I blame Jon.” Damian grumbled. 

“How could you say that about the love of your life?!” Steph gasped in mock offense. 

“He’s the one who encouraged me to ‘have fun’. I was merely making him happy and…got carried away.” Damian flushed and elbowed Dick at his responding coo. 

“God, you guys are so gross. Ew, Look you’re practically grinding on him-” Steph flashed her phone in Damian’s eyes again and Damian hissed. 

“He is my husband. Stop being a voyeur, Brown.” Steph’s face screwed up in disgust. “And I swear you turned up the brightness on that vile device just to spite me.” Damian scowled. 

“Maybe I did, what’re you gonna do about it? Stab me? When you can’t even walk in a straight line?” Steph grinned. 

“You’re all dead to me.” Damian deadpanned. “Also that is a gross dramatization. If I was that compromised I wouldn't have come to patrol at all.”  

At the responding looks of skepticism, Damian sighed. At that moment there was a thump and the crunch of gravel as another person joined them. None of the young adults had to look to know it was their dad, or as he was now, Batman. 

The immediate silence weighed over them, louder than the previous conversations. Anticipation hung in the air as he cleared his throat, seemingly waiting for a greeting.

“Father.” Damian glanced at him, seemingly unconcerned over the possibilities this exchange might bring.

“Damian.” Bruce responded stiffly, looking rather uncomfortable. Damian raised a brow, seemingly scandalized.

“Names on the field, Batman.”

“Right, well, how has your day been?” Bruce coughed, much to Damian’s confusion.

“Fine..?” Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you getting at?”

“Last night seemed to have been very eventful for you.” There was a choked wheezing noise from behind him, undoubtedly one of his brothers. 

Damian flushed, crossing his arms and looking much like a petulant child then the adult he was supposed to be. “I’m far past legal age, father. I’m married, I no longer live under your roof, there’s really no need for-”

“I don’t think we really ever had a talk about safe drinking, son.” Bruce cut him off with a seemingly concerned tone of voice.

“Father, we absolutely do not have to-”

“You should always have a limit, and I know that you do, but please remember to have a designated driver, and stay hydrated.” Bruce’s voice was tuned out by Damian’s own fuming thoughts, his siblings barely concealed laughter echoing in his mind.

This was humiliating. Here he was, surrounded by absolute hypocrites, all clowning on him and giving him talks. He was Damian Al Ghul Wayne (Kent), for fuck’s sake! He’d been building up his tolerance since he was a child, granted not that it had been exercised recently past a glass of champagne at a gala, but still. 

“-amian? Damian, are you listening to me?” He snapped out of his thoughts, Tim seemingly doing a dolphin impression next to him, high pitched shrieks and rumbles of barley held back laughter.

“No.” Damian scowled. “You’re all hypocrites, how dare you have the audacity to treat me this way when each of you have had much worse versions of this than I have! At least I didn’t go around trying to flirt with anyone other than the person I am actually with.”

”Pretty sure he just called y’all hoes.” Steph stage-whispered, Tim now in a fetal position on the rooftop and rocking back and forth while Jason cackled loudly.

“Furthermore, yes, while my tolerance isn’t exactly what it used to be, it certainly looks better that I am actually of the correct age for something like this, and everyone seems to have taken it as positive publicity. This was my choice, no matter how other elements may have influenced it.”

He let out a long breath, looking up with annoyed glance. “And besides, I was kept safe by Jonathan, who didn’t let any of us go past a limit, and cared for me and attempted to get me off of patrol.”

”Whipped.” came from somewhere in the crowd, followed by a gagging noise and something that sounded like a dying vacuum. 

“Tt.” Damian turned. “I’ve had enough of you imbeciles. I’m retiring for the night, and you’ll do well to stop gossiping for God’s sake.”

The tips of his ears were dusted pink, betraying his mortification over the events. He moved to shoot his grappling hook, tripping and landing on his face due to the dully pounding headache at the back of his head that was meddling with his senses.

That was the tipping point for his siblings, and the poorly concealed laughter began to scream out near hysterically. 

“What, were you all hit with laughing toxin?” Damian brushed himself off, looking moments away from stomping his foot like a toddler. “You’re insufferable, the lot of you!”

He swooped away, entire body burning in shame. God, he should have just listened to Jon. Not that he’d tell him though.

—----------

Damian was considerably less flustered by the time he entered his home but the tips of his ears still felt warm when he thought back to the mortifying encounter with his family. 

“Of course all of them had to be present to humiliate me. None of them can be bothered to make time for any event of actual importance but oh as soon as there's blood in the water everyone shows up. Sharks, the lot of them.” Damian muttered angrily. 

“So how was patrol?” Damian looked up to see Jon leaning against a doorway nearby. 

“It went well, nothing interesting.” Damian said, lying through his teeth. 

Jon looked amused. “Liar.” 

Damian held back a groan. “And why do you say that, Jonathan.” 

“Aside from the fact that you look more pissed off than usual, you have your tells.” Jon looked fond. 

“What may these tells be, exactly?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

Jon shrugged with a grin and finally made his way over to Damian before wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“You inhale a bit through your nose and deliberately make more eye contact when you lie. I’ve always assumed it was to keep your heart rate controlled and to make what you're saying be taken more seriously because usually you hate direct eye contact.” Jon explained.

Damian did groan aloud at this and Jon laughed quietly. Damian scoffed but couldn’t help the way his eyes softened at the sound and the way he leaned into Jon’s touch. Damian and Jon were again chest to chest but this time they just existed in each other's arms and swayed slightly to the soft sound of a song that only the two of them could hear. 

“Seriously though, are you alright?” Jon pulled away slightly before he finally spoke again after an indiscernible amount of time had passed. His voice was soft and slightly concerned. Damian sighed and pulled out of his arms completely in order to get out of his suit. 

“I’m fine, I promise, habibi. Slightly embarrassed due to my family's idiocy but fine nonetheless.”

Jon hummed. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume they saw the videos online.” 

Damian snorted. “Stephanie made it her mission to scroll through as many as she could.” 

“Of course she did.” Jon rolled his eyes. 

Damian pulled off the last bits of armor and quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants that had been lying around as well as a shirt he didn’t doubt belonged to Jon seeing as it hung a bit loosely off his frame. 

“I would like to go to bed now.” Damian said, coming to lean into his husband’s side once more. 

“Sounds good to me. I did put out some water and painkillers for you if you need them, though.” Jon said. 

 Damian's headache abruptly made itself known now that Damian’s attention was brought back to it. 

“Ah, yes. Water and medication, then sleep.” Damian winced. 

Soon, Damian and Jon were able to fall back into bed and wrap themselves around each other under their duvet. Damian hid his face in the crook of Jon’s neck and Jon tilted his own to the side in order to rest his chin atop the soft strands of Damian's hair. Before long, both were fast asleep and soft snoring filled the room. 

It was quiet, save the soft noises of sleep. And despite the darkness of night, the love that they held for each other was as bright and clear as day. It would continue like that as long as they would stay together, a shining beacon of light through the harder times and lighthearted chaos. For now, though, they were content to stay like that, their bubble of home, warm and soft and full of love.

[bestofmultiverse]

Mastermind ; Milly Alcock x fem!Reader.

A/N: admittedly i didn't reread it in any point so it probably contains many mistakes- also english is not my native language so beware. Ps i gave R a piercing but its honestly not a big deal. Ps2: Idk if I'm gonna give it a part 2 or not so just go with it and let me know if u do want.

Warning: this shitty thirst trap contains (probably bad) smut, so please if you're a minor or generally if its not your gem, take a step back

________________________

"Did someone ordered this?" Milly asked the group as the waitress presented her the drink.

"Did someone ordered this?" Milly asked the group as the waitress presented her the drink.

"I didn't order this" she said kindly to the woman before looking back at her friends, who seemed as clueless as she.

Well, Emily's friends to be exact.

They were celebrating the younger girl birthday and Milly was just one out of a whole lot of people who (rightfully) cherished the girl's presence in their lives.

"It was sent to you specifically by another table" the waitress clarified and milly raised an eyebrow.

(These things happen only in movies, are they not?)

The waitress pointed to a table not too far from theirs, at a pretty looking girl.

Effortless Charming, she seemed.

The girl was engaged in a conversation with her drinking buddies, the two guys seemed to be arguing about something Milly couldn't make, as the pretty girl rolled her eyes fondly at them and took a sip out of her drink.

Painted lips curving an entertained smile as one of the boys put his hand around her shoulder.

"Are you sure its her?" Milly asked the waitress and the woman nodded before turning away.

Milly glanced back at the girl, just so she could catch her gaze.

Y/e/c spark in excitement.

The girl sent her a small smile and raised her drink, holding it as a 'cheers' kind of gesture.

Milly smiled back before doing the same.

____

After half an hour or so, Milly noticed the two guys who shared the table with the beautiful stranger getting up to dance floor, seemed to taking their chances with various different women.

The woman stayed at the table, her eyes glued to her phone, and Milly decided to adress her- and giving Emily and her friends a break.

Emily gave her a an encouraging hand squeeze as she got up before turning back to one of her friends, a girl Milly couldn't name for her life.

"Interesting choice of a drink, you had"

The actress said as she took the unoccupied sit next to the stranger.

The same sit the guy who put his hand on her sat in earlier- which was closer then she probably should've.

But it was a crowded place, full with drunk people and the girl was hot, and milly was a bit tipsy , and maybe a bit horny as well (cant blame a woman for her needs)

"Is that so? I honestly gambled on it. Good to know it worked"

"Didn't say it did" Milly taunted.

The girl's smiled at her knowingly,

"Yet, you're here, aren't you?"

(Yes, i am- milly thought)

"You seem confident enough so imagine my surprise that you only a drink and nothing else. You could've approached me. I do not bite"

"Unfortunately" the strange smirked and milly smirked back.

"I see no reason to bother a person without knowing where I'm standing in the situation."

She admitted "not a coward, but a calculated woman"

"Always the mastermind, I presume?"

"Barely" she chuckled before signaling the waitress.

"So, now that you have my attention. What's next?"

Milly hold up the stranger drink and took a small sip, containing eye contact.

The stranger smirk grew.

"Another drink, if you'd like"

The waitress approached.

"Naturally" milly smirked back before turning to the waitress who had a knowing glint in her eyes.

(Milly wondered if the waitress could see how close milly was to pull the overly confident and attractive woman to the restroom)

The night continues on,

The two flirted a lot and touched each other in ways that could pass as innocent, yet both knew were not,

In one moment milly's hand brushed the girl's hand,

In another the stranger's hand found a home on the actress thigh.

Milly bit her lip, and the girl's gaze linger on it a bit to long to consider innocent.

Milly brushed a piece of hair behind the girl's ear and made her blush slightly.

(It wasn't the alcohol, she knew)

"We should dance" the girl said at some point and and pulled milly to the dance floor.

Milly's eyes catch Emily's from across the room and winked at her. Her friend's laughed at her antics.

Saying milly was stunned will be an understatement,

The girl knew how to move, and made her whole body tinge in anticipation. Her lips linger not far from milly's own as she swayed close to her. Their bodies inches apart.

It was the last straw for the actress, and after a few minutes of this, she decided she might burst at any second.

Especially when she felt the girl's back on her front.

She put her hands on the stranger's waist and titled her face slightly to meet her hungry gaze.

"We're leaving now" she stated and the girl sent her a knowing smile

"Is that a commend, your grace?"

(A mastermind you are)

Milly smirked and pulled her further into herself. Her lips close to the stranger ear. "It is, a commend"

{this is a bit smutty so idk how well thats gonna go}

30 minutes later milly found herself in the girl's flat. Their lips connected and clothed half undone.

Milly's lips on the stranger's collarbone, taking in the flavor of her as the girl shuddered breath quickened.

"The bed-" the girl started to say and milly pulled her further into the room, the girl's legs hitting the bed and she fell on the mattress.

The blonde took no time before pulling her own top off.

Her smirk growing as the girl on the bed pulled her own dress off and showed a perfect skin and no bra.

A few tattoos scattered across the girl's body and a small silver piercing attached to her eight nipple. Her hardened nipple

It was delightful sight and the blonde had to stop herself from attacking the girl's nipple piercing with her tongue, instead she captured the painted lips in her own before pulling herself over the girl- who was now lying on the mattress, panting and turned on.

"Take it off" the girl said and went to pull over milly's Calvin klein's bra.

"Ask nicely" she said and attacked the girl's pulse spot.

The stranger whimpered so delightfully and milly felt her body reacts to it.

"So confident from the outside, but aren't you a good little brat"

The girl whimpered again.

"Please Milly"

Milly's lips trailed down the girl's chest, before stoping on her perky, pierced tits, her hot mouth finding the cold metal piercing, and her tongue delightfully playing with it.

Her left hand finding the girl's other nipple, giving her it well deserved attention and devotion.

She felt the girl's shuddering under her and decided it was time to move further down. But nit before taking her bra off. Exposing her own tits.

The girl's eyes scanned them so fiercely, one might think it was a form of art.

(It kinda was)

Milly's lips trailed to the girl's stomach, kissing every inch of it before pulling herself further down to the girl's thighs.

Milly learned with time how Soft butterfly kisses in the right spots can get a woman into a frantic state, and ph how diving sight it was.

"Please milly" the stranger begged as milly's teeth grazed her soaked panties.

"Please what" the blonde said and pulled herself up, to look at the woman beneath her.

Her blue eyes demanding.

"You know what" the girl said irritated before pulling the blonde into a bruising kiss.

"Don't be a brat" milly said as she pushed the girl's back to the mattress and dominantly cupped her face in her right hand.

"Fuck, please fuck me milly"

No further admission was necessary and milly found herself pulling herself back down, so her teeth could grazed the ruined fabric again.

Moment later with swift motion of her hand it was gone and the girl was bare in front of her, her pussy wet and the numb of nerves pulsing with anticipation.

One look at it and the girl's frantic gaze was enough for milly to know that she cant make anymore teasing, not for now, so she did what the girl was begging her to do from the moment she pulled her into her apartment- or even earlier when she sent her the drink- she attached her lips to the pulse point and flickered her experienced tongue,

The girl was a mess, no more cleaver remarks or confident words, just mumbling and whimpering of milly's name - that sounded oddly like a prayer.

It was so hot milly had to stop herself from pushing her own hand into her own pants, instead she pushed a finger into the girl's wet core, that seemed to take it as it was nothing, stretching and accepting it as if Milly's finger was a part of it anatomy.

a few seconds later another finger was in and the girl's breath became frantic.

"Milly, faster, please"

And she did went faster, her tongue turning and swirling the bud as if it was a candy in her mouth, her taste buds enjoying the taste as well, and her fingers working so fast - as if they were in a race- and winning.

"Cum for me baby"

And that was it, the walls were tightened and her body rose up a few inches in the air as milly's other hand kept her grounded, momentarily later circling her stomach.

Milly's lips found themselves in the delightful task of cleaning up some of the mess she caused before she pulled herself back over the panting, sweaty girl, and gave a kiss.

Her finger's who were still coated with the girl's juices went straight into her mouth as she kept an eye connection.

The girl smirked up at her, turned on by the sight.

"You're so fucking hot" she said and milly stroke her cheek fondly.

"You're the one to be talking"

Milly kissed her nose and she giggled momentarily before pulling milly into another kiss.

"Take your pants off" the stranger commended

Milly raised an eyebrow

"Please"

[enigmatist17]

I am tipsy rn, but I am just hooked on the clone wings au I've seen <3

Jango himself didn't have wings, maybe it skipped a generation

So when he sees the clones are born with them, he totally doesn't cry in his quarters in joy. Boba has wings, and Jango teaches what he can about wing care to the clones as much as he can

No matter what they try, the Kaminoans can't get rid of whatever is causing the wings to be formed, only managing to net a few clones over the years to be born without them

- said wingless clones are snapped up by Alpha-17, who makes sure they don't end up as test subjects or worse. He's missing a wing himself due to a longneck, so they don't bother fighting against the admittedly terrifying clone. Most of them become aquatic soldiers or various troops where wings would be a detriment

-- a lot of the wingless feel left out, but whenever they're around other clones for missions/downtime, they're usually given the honor to help care for the wings, and it's always a battle to see who can get one of them before their other brothers (bc no clone would ever hate another, I don't care what BB says >:(

The armor for the wings was not factored in, so the first Gen cobble together a prototype that is soon refined once it's proven they need the extra protection

the Jedi don't really know what to make of it at first, but the wings don't seem to impede their fighting abilities, so it's just brushed off

in fact, the wings help save more lives (bc a lot of clones die by falling like wtf)

it's considered a right of passage to be invited to help tend to each other's wings in their downtime

Those that are split from their batchmates/lose their squads have their feathers usually matted and tangled until they integrate and find someone they trust, and if they haven't, a medic will step in and force them to be tended to

Kix personally has the highest number of troopers he's had to sedate for wing care, and is quite pleased with himself

When Marshal Commander Cody haphazardly curls a wing around Obi-Wan during a briefing one day, the news spreads within the GAR by the end of the rotation (said commander is embarrassed, and Obi-Wan has to fight to urge to ask him to do it again)

It becomes a game to see who can do the same with their Jetti without their noticing, but the Jedi already know about this "game" and place their own bets on which of their troopers manage

Thoughts <3

And now, Im going to pass out

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I (22 NB) didn't tell my friend's (23M) girlfriends that my friend was cheating on them? I'll refer to my friend as William. William and I use to be in a large friend group for a year until trouble started with his two partners and my boyfriend. William's girlfriends had a lot of control over the group, acting as self-appointed leaders really. They also seemed to dislike my partner also, scapegoating their own mistakes on him. Enough fighting between them and my boyfriend inspired my partner, several other friends, and myself to leave the group entirely. However, knowing that William wasn't really involved in the drama and was being cutoff because of correlation with his girlfriends didn't feel right altogether. So we kept in contact with him. This was fine and great even for a good while, until I got a drunk call one day from Will. He must've still been really tipsy because he had admitted to hooking up with men and women aside from his girlfriends at the club and bar. When I asked how his girlfriends felt about that, I expected him to say something about them knowing at the very least. Instead, it was like he was just realizing he was cheating on them. I can't say I know how polyamorous relationships work since I recognize I am monoamorous, but one thing I feel that I have learned is that communication is essential. What he did is something I would consider lying to his partners, if not cheating. He clearly hadn't told them anything and the relationship is long distance so it's possible he could get away with it. For weeks to months after his drunk confession, he continued expressing how he hated the relationship and I could see how it was unhealthy and borderline abusive. I strongly urged he break up with them. I must have pushed him too hard because he eventually opted for the complete opposite, not telling them anything and staying together. I know I messed up pushing him to do something that was his choice, but I can't help but feel torn between it. I don't like his girlfriends, admittedly, but isn't it wrong to withhold this information and not tell them if I know? Or is it more selfish for them to find out so they can just break up?

A part of me thinks it's not my responsibility to be the one to tell them, but I just don't know the right course of action or if I'm being the good or bad guy here by letting karma run its course. SO TUMBLR! WIBTA if I kept this secret from them?

What are these acronyms?

[anxious-witch]

I have this mental image in my head of Bojan meeting someone who he hates (who most likely hurt one of his friends (an ex or something)) and ends up being protective as fuck annnnddd starting a fist fight.

Or some Jance but its Bojan who's exposing their feelings to one another in a goofy cocky way (and later he's probably being chased by Kris with a newspaper, because he as getting entertained by looking at the two lovebirds being shy and awkward)

Or bottom Bojan with Kris... There's something wrong with me these days

Basically Bojan's stupid cocky shenanigans

Okay so I did the first prompt (and kind of implied the last at the very end), and I apologize, this was written on the phone and nit proofread so. Make of it what you will. I still hope you like it!

TW for fatphobia(from an OC not one of the boys) violence, slight description of blood and alcohol

Bojan was admittedly, a little tipsy. Which meant he had a little less control over his emotions than he'd usually have.

Which in turn, meant that when he saw a man invade Nace's space, despite Nace clearly being uncomfortable, he felt anger immediately shimmer under the surface.

He faintly heard a snippet of their conversation.

"Oh, Nacko, you change so much since we went to school together! Finally lost that weight, huh?"

Oh, no he did not. Bojan saw Nace flinch slightly at the comment. He grit his teeth and made sure to push through the crowd in the club until he was at Nace's side.

"Hello," he said, flashing his teeth in something resembling to a smile, "and who might you be?"

The man looked at Bojan suspiciously. He slightly towered over him, but then again, most men did. It particualrly didn't concern him. He looked skinny. And dumb.

"I am Nace's friend from high school!"

Right. Judging by Nace's face, friend was a generous title. Bojan narrowed his eyes.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Marko. Yours?"

"Bojan."

Marko. Wasn't that the guy Nace mentioned bullying him in high school? Bojan wanted to seethe.

"Right, Bojan, of course! You are the main vocalist. I remember now. Guess you guys got pretty famous, huh?"

Bojan crossed his arms over his chest and stepped forward, making sure to insert himself between Nace and the bully.

"Bojan. Don't," Nace whispered softly, quiet enough for only Bojan to hear.

Which did make him hesitate. He didn't want Nace to be more uncomfortable, after all. So he swallowed his rage and tried to put up a charming facade.

"I guess we did."

"Never thought Nace would be a part of something like that. Do you know what we called him in high school?"

He felt Nace tense behind him. Rage hit Bojan square in the chest, and he forgot about not wanting to make a scene.

"I would recommend not saying it. Ever."

Marko didn't seem to have gotten a message, or detected his tone. He laughed, making a dismissing gesture with his hand.

"Oh, com'on now. It was all in good fun. You seem like you were popular, even back in high school. You know how things work."

What kind of piece of shit would-Bojan took a deep breath. He let his hands fall from where he was crossing them over his chest to his sides. Then he clenched them into fists.

"I do," he said, very calmly, "would you like to see how I dealt with people talking shit about my friends?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He swung at him, as hard as he could, and heard as his fist collided with his nose in a satisfying crack.

Then all hell broke loose.

Nace tried to pull him back, but Marko managed to punch him in the jaw, and Bojan taste blood from a slip lip. He attempted to push against Nace to give another punch, but Nace didn't budge.

Just in time for the bouncers to arrive and very firmly escort them out. Marko swore at them, saying he didn't even start the fight. Which looked ridiculous with their heigh difference. And Bojan did ocassionly use the influence he had to get his way.

"A bit of an obsessive fan, that one. Sorry for the trouble," he whispered to the closest bouncer.

He got a nod of understanding in response and they actually let him go, while they continue escorting Marko out. Bojan made sure to flash a quick grin in his directon.  Which prompted  new wave of swearing, before it got drowned out by the the music.

"What did you do now?" Kris asked sharply just behind him.

Bojan turned around to face his very annoyed boyfriend.

"He was mean to Nace!"

Kris raised an eyebrow. He didn't look very impressed. Bojan did his best not to pout.

"He is telling the truth," Nace said, making Bojan jump.

When did he come around? Hmm. Maybe Bojan was a bit more tipsy than he thought.

Well. That was a thought for later. For now...Bojan threw his hands around Nace, pulling him into a hug.

"I will fight all the bullies for you!"

Nace chuckled and returned the hug. Bojan leaned his head on his chest. He really did give the best hugs.

"As much as I appreciate that, I'd prefer you in one peace. He did get you good with that punch. That's probably gonna bruise."

"Where?"

Bojan groaned at Kris' question and lightly slapped Nace's shoulder.

"Look what you did! He is going to go all mom friend on me now!"

Nace simply rolled his eyes and withdrew from the hug.

"Perhaps that would stop you from getting into fights more often."

Bojan pouted and was about to say something about how much Nace actually appreciated being defended, when Jure yelled Nace's name.

"Nace! Jan is arguing with someone over math problems again!"

Nace sighed.

"I better go, before that turns into a fist fight, too."

Then he left, leaving Bojan at Kris' mercy. Kris, who pulled him to the quieter corner, where there weren't so many people.

"Let me see that bruise."

Kris gently raised his chin so he could look at it. If he could see anything with the club's flashing lights.

"Tehnically, it's unlikely the bruise already formed-"

"Just be quiet for a minute, for the love of god."

Bojan closed his mouth with a click. He knew it was due to the alcohol that his emotions were this unstable, but he suddenly became aware of just how much Kris must be annoyed with him.

"Hey," Kris said, his voice softer, "I didn't mean-you just worried me, that's all. How about we go to my place so I can take a proper look at that?"

Not everyone understood his and Kris' relationship, saying they always bickered. What they didn't understand was that, as much as they bickered, it was never intentionally hurtful. And sure, sometimes some lines were crossed, but they always apologized for it.

Bojan looked up at him and smiled. Colorful lights reflected in Kris' blue eyes and Bojan felt as starstruck as he did everytime he gave himself time to think "Holy shit, this guy is my boyfriend".

"Did I ever tell you that you have very pretty eyes?"

Kris rolled his pretty eyes at him. Rude.

"Yes. On an almost regular basis. Now let's get you home, okay?"

Bojan pouted.

"Don't I at least get a kiss for that?"

Kris shot him a glare, but Bojan could see the softness underneath it. So he got on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around Kris' neck, reaching for his lips. Kris met him halfway.

The kiss started soft and sweet, but quickly turned more passionate as Kris pressed on the cut on his lip. Bojan moaned and pulled him closer.

It was only when Bojan pulled on Kris' hair that the younger broke the kiss and stepped back.

"Let's try not to give everyone a show in the club."

Bojan grinned.

"Does that mean I get a reward for being a good friend when we do get home?"

Kris pressed his lips together and walked towards the door without an answer. Bojan laughed as he ran after him.

Perhaps tonight was a complete waste, after all.

[the1975attheirverybest]

I know its silly and been done before but could you write something short about Matty and the reader having an argument and she leaves his house and he is running after and trying to apologize

Not silly at all! Here’s a little something! Hope you like it :-)

——

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, Matty. You’ve clearly been drinking.” She turned her back to him, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen to get a sip of water.

“Was at a party. Of course I’ve been drinkin.’ Why does that matter, though? What I’m sayin’ still stands!” He puffed his chest, clearly irritated. “Where’ve you gone. We’re havin’ a conversation, come back here.”

She took a sip out of her glass, feeling the water run down her throat and relieve the dryness she’d felt since this ridiculous argument started.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a conversation when you’re steam rolling me and raising your voice. Can we, just, do this later?”

“I don’t wanna do it later. I wanna do this now.” He stomped his foot dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being petulant.”

“I am not. You just have nothin’ of substance to say and you know I’m right. Just admit it!”

“Matty-“

“Admit it! Go on! You know me, I’ll throw my hands up and say ‘I’m wrong; you’re right,’ if you can convince me that I’m actually wrong. I’m not without integrity. But, when I’m right, and you’ve got nothin’ else to say, I’d like the same respect paid to my perspective, as well. Is that such a fuckin’ crime? Hmm?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head repeatedly in shock. “What? What’re you even saying? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth right now? That’s what I mean about steam rolling! Why’re you on about fuckin ‘integrity’ and ‘perspectives.’ That was a shitty thing you did. Just say you’re sorry, don’t make it a thing!”

“You’re not listening to me!” He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the roots and sighing loudly. “Listen- let’s start from the beginning. When I said-“

“No! You’re the one whose not listening! I said I didn’t want to talk about it right now. Not while you’re tipsy and getting aggressive and in my face about it. You know what? Fuck this, I’m out of here.”

She dumped the rest of her glass in the sink, setting it down with a loud thud and walking out of the kitchen.

“Where the fuck are you goin’ now! We’re not finished discussing-“

Matty watched her grab her bag from the hanger by the door, unlock the gate, and sprint right out. Not paying him any attention.

“Babe, wait! It’s late! You can’t-“

The door slammed shut behind her, shutting him the hell up.

The echoes of the door closing died down quickly, complete silence descending on the room in an instant. It made him uncomfortable. There was a finality to it that felt forceful. Mostly because it forced him to replay the whole interaction in his admittedly hazy, unfocused mind.

He walked back into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 13 minutes past midnight. He’d driven her to his place earlier in the day, so he knew she didn’t have her car. Which meant she was probably walking out in the streets alone. In the pitch darkness. He went into his phone log and pulled up her name and contact info, his finger hovering over the “call” button.

“Oh for fucks sakes” he muttered to himself and sprung to his feet, grabbing his keys and rushing out the door to catch up to her.

“Baby! Please wait!! Hold onnnn” he jogged up the street once he’d spotted her.

The sound of his voice startled her. She turned around, stunned. “What the fuck, Matty! Go away.”

“No- wait- fuck!” He was starting to run out of breath. “Hold on. Don’t say shit like that, if someone sees us they’ll think I’m some creep trying to harass you on the street.” He bent forward to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees.

“Baby, please, listen-“

“Matty, all I’ve been doing is listening. I said i wasn’t interested in your-“

He interrupted her with a finger on her lips. “Wait- let me just catch a - a breath. Fuckin hell.” He took a deep breath, his heart rate beginning to even out. “Okay, look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being a dick. It’s not right. Please, okay? You don’t wanna accept my apology right now, that’s okay. I’ll wait and tell you, again, how sorry I am, in the mornin’ once I’m sober. But- please don’t go. Don’t leave like this! And certainly don’t walk alone at night.”

He straightened his posture and extended his hand out to her. “Take my hand? Please? Walk back inside with me?”

She hesitated briefly, watching him with doubtful eyes. She could see, from the look on his face, that he was being genuine. Besides, Matty was never the type to simply apologize just to end an argument. If anything, he was the exact opposite. Sometimes stubbornly refusing to accept his mistake, unless one could prove to him, without a shadow of a doubt, that what he did or said was objectively wrong. She took his hand in hers, relenting to his pleas.

“Thank you! Yes, thank you!” He squealed and kissed her forehead, taking her under his arm protectively. “Never do that again! storm out at night. Scared me shitless, alright?”

She simply giggled and rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t get you out of apologizing in the morning.”

“No, I know. Just- hate thinking I sent you into danger by being an asshole…”

“You do realize you like in a pretty fancy neighborhood.”

“Even so! No walking alone in the dark. Ever!”

“Yes, sir.”

[theharddeck]

california coast in your green eyes || chapter 3/5

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Julie Floyd (OC)

Synopsis: Jake gets Julie home after the dagger crew turns up at The Hard Deck, and when Bob tells Julie he's shipping out, someone surprising intervenes.

Warnings: more drunken flirting but again, zero consequences.

Length: 4.3k

A/N: crossposting from ao3, so if reading on there is easier, here ya go!

Tagging: @wildbornsiren @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite @double-j @javihoney @daggerspare-standingby @glccmreid @gigisimsonmars @ssprayberrythings @anotherr-fine-mess @palepeanutponyshoe if anyone wants (or doesn’t want!) to be on the tag list for this, let me know 💙

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5

Julie pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her hands, crossing her arms across her chest and hugging herself as the wind blew cold off the ocean. 

She knew it was only a block or two from The Hard Deck to her car but she was having a terribly difficult time remembering where she parked, which was odd, because she was normally really good about stuff like this.   

She was, admittedly, normally less tipsy than she was at present.

“You’re sure it’s white?”

She looked over at the question, surprised before she remembered that Natasha and Bradley had taken one of Robbie’s arms over each of their shoulders, and Jake had been tasked with getting her home safely.

Personally, she thought he got the longer end of the stick, if that was the good side.

“Yes,” Julie said, shaking her arms out, before remembering she was cold, and crossing them again. “I am certain that my car that I have had for seven years is still white.”

“Not like a cream,” Jake said, “or a gray or–”

“There it is!!” Julie squeaked, pointing at it. 

And there it was. A little car that looked like every other car on the lane, but that was hers; she could see the Connecticut plates. 

“Alright,” Jake said, and held out his hand.

Julie frowned at it, looking back at him. He opened and closed his fingers quickly, but didn’t put his arm down. Julie’s eyes narrowed at his hand, but she put her hand into his obediently. 

Jake made a weird sound, and when she looked up at him, his face was very carefully not laughing. 

“Keys, Floyd,” he said, “I need your keys.”

“Oh.” Julie pulled her hand back quickly, and tried not to think anything of the fact that when she’d pulled away from him, he’d gone with her for a moment. 

He had long fingers, she noticed, the way someone who also has big hands notices a matching feature on someone else. His palm was wider than hers, and it wasn’t calloused but it was worn; she guessed that was the side effect of pulling a plane through the sky, but with gloves protecting his skin. 

She found her car keys in her purse, pulling them out triumphantly, but then she looked at him.

“You can’t drive,” Julie told him.

“I mean, you’re not driving,” he said, and Julie shook her head.

“It’s a stick shift.”

Jake opened his mouth then shut it, then opened it again. “Why do you think I can’t drive a stick?”

“Can you?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Yes,” he said. “Can I have the keys now?”

She gave him the keys. She walked over to the passenger side, and stopped after a step, Jake nearly running into her. 

“Why are you following me?”

Jake looked up at the sky. “I’m getting the door for you.”

“Oh.” Julie looked down at the car door, still closed. “Are you gonna get it then?”

Jake mumbled something to himself, but he leaned past her and opened the door so she could slide in. 

“Feet,” he said.

Julie looked up at him. “What?”

“Feet–never mind.” He leaned down and picked up her ankles, guiding them into the car. Julie tried not to shiver, they were just ankles, but something about it felt like chivalry. 

He shut the door carefully, then jogged around the front of the car, which Julie thought was sweet, because it wasn’t like she had anywhere to be.

Maybe he does though.

Julie frowned at the thought, studying Jake as he folded himself into her car. He didn’t push the seat back, but did adjust the side mirrors. As he adjusted the rearview mirror, he checked his reflection and pushed a tendril of hair out of his face.

“Okay, Miss Russell,” Julie snickered, louder when Jake looked at her, confused.

“Who?”

“Rosalind Russell,” Julie said. “She’s my mom’s favorite actress; she has this scene in The Women – have you seen The Women ?”

“I have not,” Jake said. “Seatbelt.”

“You should see it,” Julie told him. “It’s from the ‘30s, but the entire cast is women. Like, the entire cast, Jake.”

“I believe you,” he said. “Seatbelt.”

Julie frowned at him. “What do you want?”

He sighed, and leaned over across her to grab the safety belt, and click it around her. Julie threaded her arms and head through it so it sat behind her, and Jake waited exactly zero time before pulling it back across her body, looking at her pointedly.

Julie contemplated readjusting it again, but she figured it’d be more embarrassing to be fixed twice, so she didn’t. 

“Even the dogs were women,” she told him. 

Jake’s mouth twitched, which Julie considered a victory as he sat back in his seat, and turned on the car.

So he can drive stick.

He also did the thing guys do, where they put their hand behind the passenger seat headrest, to check over their shoulder as they pull out of a parking spot, which Julie had never understood why it was attractive when guys did that, but she figured most things Jake did were just vaguely handsome. She watched him as he backed out of the spot, smoothly taking the car between gears as he switched directions, and the expression of focus on his face.

He looked like that a lot.

“What?” he asked, as he pulled the car onto the road, starting towards the highway.

“Nothing,” Julie said. “How do you know where you’re going?”

He looked at her quickly, then back to the road. “You sure you only had the two shots?”

Julie sniffed, wrapping her hands around the seatbelt. “Yes.”

Jake hummed, switching lanes.

“Liz gave me your address,” he said. “Back at The Hard Deck.”

Julie didn’t remember that, but it did make more sense than him just knowing.  

“So was there a point about Rosalin, or…?”

“Rosalind,” Julie enunciated. “And yes. There’s a scene where they’re all primping in front of a mirror and then everyone leaves and Sylvia – that’s Rosalind Russell’s character – runs back to the mirror to check her teeth. George Cukor said there’s two types of grooming; it’s different when you don’t have an audience.”

The car was quiet for a moment. 

“I thought there weren’t men in the movie,” Jake said. 

Julie looked over, and he looked back, briefly, his expression confused.

Bless his heart.

“Cukor was the director,” Julie said. 

“Ah,” Jake said. 

“Anyways,” Julie continued, because it was too late to stop, “you’re Sylvia, only instead of a vanity it’s my rearview mirror and instead of your teeth it’s your Disney Prince hair.”

Jake laughed, a sudden sound, something fresh and quick and Julie knew she shouldn’t stare, but it was a wonderful effect. 

His eyes crinkled up with it, and he had great teeth, he really did, and his laugh made her feel like she’d done something momentous.

“I was not expecting that,” he said, his voice regaining some of its seriousness.

Neither was I.

But Julie shrugged, as best she could behind her seatbelt, looking out the window. “I think I just liked the thought that being with me felt enough like being alone,” she said.

North Island blurred by outside her window, streetlights like sentries next to palm trees lit at their base. Julie tipped her head against the window. She never rode passenger in this car; the window was dirty. 

The lights slowed and the car stopped at the on ramp to the freeway and Julie realized Jake was watching her.

In the streetlamp light, his eyes looked darker than green, or maybe he was just looking harder than she expected him to. But she didn’t look away and he didn’t stop looking and Julie thought maybe they would’ve sat there for a bit longer if a car hadn’t honked its horn behind them to prompt them to go.

Jake cleared his throat as he eased them onto the freeway, and Julie shifted in her seat.

“You’re very intense,” she told him.

“Am I, now?” Jake asked, hands tightening on the steering wheel as a car sped by then, rather than let them onto the 5.

“Yep,” Julie said, and the ‘p’ popped in a very gratifying way. So she said it again, and again, and it felt right to say it in thirds, so she stopped.

“Maybe I’m just focused,” Jake said, after the car sat in silence for a moment.

Julie wrinkled her nose. “No.”

A beat.

“Just ‘no’, that’s all the explanation I get?” Jake said, pulling the car into another lane.

“Mmmhmm,” Julie said, and then she thought that if she was clever enough to figure it out then Jake should definitely know about it.

“I think you try very hard a lot of the time,” she told him. “But I think you don’t want it to look like trying, so you’ve decided to be a bit of a dick about things, and trust that it will cover it up. And it works because you’re a pretty spectacular dick, most of the time…”

Julie snorted.

She hadn’t really anticipated any of tonight, but saying the words “spectacular dick” to a man who took her on a mechanical bull ride was out of left field, even for her.

She forgot what she’d been saying, so she looked sideways at Jake as he drove them.

He had a great profile. 

Nice eyebrows, a nose that’d been broken, a chin dimple like Cary Grant. She liked his eyes, which she supposed wasn’t special; doesn’t everybody love eyes?

But he didn’t look over at her, which was probably wise, as they were on the freeway, and Julie settled back against the window.

She didn’t mean to sleep, but the car hummed in an awfully cajoling way, and her eyelids were heavy and as the 5 took them up to Mission Bay, Julie let her eyes drift shut.

Julie woke up to three missed calls from Robbie. 

Her phone was buzzing on her nightstand and she silenced the ringtone while she listened to the voicemails on speaker, texting Liz, to let her know she got home safe, before she remembered how it was that she’d gotten home.

Rather, how she’d been gotten home. 

Julie looked down at last night’s sweater. 

Shit.

She remembered the shots, the bull, being driven…Jake taking the apartment keys when she struggled with the sticky lock, Jake insisting she take her shoes off before she went inside, Jake waiting in the hallway to hear her lock the door behind him before heading back downstairs to call an uber. 

She hadn’t even been that drunk, as evidenced by the fact that she remembered all that. 

The last voicemail drove any thoughts of last night from her mind, as she looked at the time on her phone, and checked when the message had been left.

She had four hours before her shift, but fifty minutes to get to the base and say goodbye, before Robbie left on this mission, something he’d only been cleared to tell her this morning. 

Julie brushed her teeth while she ripped through her closet, finding an ankle length dress with absolutely zero waistline, but that looked like it was wrinkled intentionally. She pulled it over her head, jammed her hair into a claw clip, and rushed out the door. 

This time the MA at the entry point recognized her, and she was on the list of visitors. 

Julie parked in the lot in front of the rec center, slammed her dress in the car door and considered ripping it free before she unlocked the car, pulled her skirt free, and sprinted across the lot. In front of the mirrored doors she stopped, pulled in a deep breath, twenty-three minutes left on her mental stopwatch.

He doesn’t need me panicked two - three - four, he doesn’t need me making a scene two - three - four. 

She pushed open the door. 

She followed the sounds of conversation to an echoey receiving room, with large windows overlooking the base. There was a kitchen in the corner, where a man was making coffee for a woman, and a child that looked like both of them was perched on the counter. Starched uniforms were all around her, tightly pressed khakis and official caps, and Julie scanned the room until she found wire rimmed glasses. 

Robbie excused himself from the group he was with, and Julie recognized a number of them from last night as he walked over to her. As soon as he was close, she pulled him in to hug her, his face in her shoulder. She could feel his glasses pressing into her collarbone and she felt  a deep breath seep out of him as she held him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you last night,” Robbie mumbled into her shoulder, and Julie shook her head, knowing he’d understand. 

After a moment, he pulled back, and Julie let him go. She smiled as best she could at her brother, tall and mild, sweet and strong.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone for?” she asked.

Robbie looked down, and Julie understood that too. 

“If they let us know when you’re headed back, I’ll see if I can move my shifts, yeah? Then you can tell me the rest,” she said instead, and Robbie nodded a little. 

Julie smoothed his uniform where her hug had wrinkled it, and behind him, she saw Mickey coming over, a couple others behind him that she didn’t recognize. She dropped her arm, smiling as he came up. 

“Lieutenant,” she said. 

“Julie,” he said, and he paused. 

It was a long pause and Julie’s eyes closed. 

“I don’t have twenty minutes,” she said, looking between Mickey and Robbie. “Do I?” Mickey looked truly apologetic. “Mav wants the WSOs to run through something with the lasers before—” he broke off. “Um, we’ll wait over there.”

He nodded at Julie, clapped an arm over Robbie’s elbow, and then walked slowly over to the door. When Julie looked back at Robbie, he held out a hand, and she took it.

“Be safe,” she whispered, and he nodded. 

“Always,” he said. He squeezed her hand, holding it as he followed his teammate to the door, letting go when he stepped out of arm’s reach. 

The room seemed cavernous as he walked away, back straight, step easy, and Julie watched as Mickey held open the door and the other pilots stepped through it, then Robbie. 

The door swung slowly shut, and she wrapped her arms around herself. 

That is not the last time I see him two - three - four. 

She gave herself another minute, and then pushed the anxiety deep enough that she could join a conversation like this was normal, like she was fine. She smoothed her hands over her dress, lifted her chin, and turned around to find careful, dark eyes on her. 

“You okay?” Natasha asked gently, and Julie was struck by the selflessness of the pilot. Not just to go on a mission like this, but to be checking in with someone who was very much staying stateside, to make sure she was okay. 

“Yeah,” Julie sighed, pulling the claw clip out before twisting it into her hair again. “As good as can be expected, you know?”

Natasha nodded, quiet for a beat.

“Selfishly, I’m always glad my folks are hours inland,” she said, “away from the bases I’m at. They usually don’t know until I’m back…”

She trailed off and Julie thought about her words for a moment. A part of her wished she had that ignorance, but the rational part of her knew there was no point following that thought experiment. She was here, she had it, and now she had to think of what to do with it.

Julie looked around the room at the milling conversations, and out the window, at the activity around the base. Servicemen who had people who were waiting on them to come home, and how nothing Julie was feeling was hers alone, but she was just a member of this hopeful, lonely community of waiting.

She looked at Natasha, with her straight posture and tight bun.

Julie had been impressed with her strength that night in the infirmary, and she knew she was good but it was a different reality now, knowing how fully she needed to trust her.

How fully Robbie’s life depended on her. 

Julie cleared her throat. “I was thinking about what you said at the infirmary—” 

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Julie jumped when Jake spoke from right over her shoulder. He looked different in uniform, or maybe it was in daylight, sharp angles and bright eyes. 

He’d phrased it as a question, but his tone brokered it much more as a suggestion, and he was already leaning away from the two of them, like he could pull apart the conversation by changing gravitational orbit.

“Who,” Julie pointed at herself, “me or her?”

“You, obviously,” Jake said, looking at Natasha like it was apparent. 

“Obviously,” Natasha parroted wryly.

“Not obviously,” Julie said. “What, you mean now?” 

“It’ll just take a minute,” Jake said, tipping his head towards the window, away from the group. “Come on.”

Julie looked at Natasha who looked between the two of them, then held up a finger. “One minute,” she said. 

“Thanks, Phoenix,” Jake said, and Julie scowled at his back as Natasha went over to the kitchen. He strode towards the windows, and Julie trailed behind him, stopping when he did. 

“Okay,” she turned to face him. “So, what is it?”

Jake looked at her for a moment, and then he looked out the windows. The sun cast a harsh light on his face, but he just squinted into the brightness.

“Okay,” he blew out a long breath. “Uh, this is definitely out of line…”

Julie crossed her arms across her chest. “Well, we’re here already, so?”

Jake nodded, and he rubbed his chin absently before he put his hands on his hips. “You can’t put that on Phoenix.”

Julie blinked.

She’d barely known what she was going to say, just that she was terrified of someone else being the one to look after Robbie, and that they had to know the severity of it, had to know how precious he was.

“How do you know what I was going to say to her?” she asked. 

“Your face is pretty damn open,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a compliment.

Julie bristled. “I wasn’t putting anything on her, I just wanted to make sure she knew—“

“You think she doesn’t know it already?”

Jake’s interruption was quiet, but his words still stung.

Julie chewed the inside of her cheek.

Okay, Natasha probably didn’t need the reminder, but who was he to tell her? Who was he to decide how much she could or couldn’t care about Robbie’s safety, and that she shouldn’t speak to the pilot who would literally hold his life in her hands?

“You’re right,” she said. “This is way out of line.”

“I didn’t—“

“However that sentence ends, you’re right,” Julie said, keeping her voice low, for the sake of the echoes in the room. “This is my kid brother, who is very good at what he does, but at the mercy of pilots whose priority is the mission, not getting him back to me.”

“Julia—“

Jake reached for her like it was natural, but Julie moved, stepping back and twisting her upper body to keep his hand from her arm. 

The room went quiet.

When Julie looked back at them, everyone was very deliberately not looking in their direction. Which meant, of course, that they were all very carefully watching them, watching her physically retract away from Jake as his arm slowly dropped to his side.

In the kitchen, Natasha cracked an ice cube tray loudly. 

Jake turned slightly, so his back was to the room, and Julie shifted to keep the space between them, her back to the window. Jake winced slightly as he stood directly in front of the light, but hidden from the rest of the group, there was an openness in his expression that she hadn’t seen before.

He opened his mouth, but then he seemed to reconsider the words, working his thumb across the palm of his other hand. Julie frowned as he looked down at his hands, gathering his thoughts as he rubbed the groove in the middle of his palm. 

“Why do you care so much?” she asked, quietly.

He looked back at her as a memory, immediate and vehement, flashed across his face. It was immediately schooled by the normal intensity in Jake’s expression, but it had been there, and Julie knew it. He looked away quickly, back to the base, and when he came back at her, his jaw was tight. 

“Phoenix is going to do everything in her power to keep him safe, and Rooster and Mav and I will do everything in ours to keep her safe. But if, God forbid, something happens, she needs to be thinking about making it out okay, not the promise she made to you because you pushed for it.”

He was perfectly still, that’s what Julie noticed. 

His words carefully chosen, heavy with deliberation, his shoulders and body turned to her and everything in him seemed to be waiting for her to read some implicit signal.

Julie looked away first. 

She felt his eyes on her face, watching her carefully, and she didn’t know what he was hoping to see any more than she knew what she was trying to hide.

“Okay,” she conceded.

His shoulders dropped, and he let out a long breath in through his nose.

“Okay,” he said, after a moment. “Thank you.”

Julie looked back at him. Why was he thanking her, if it was about Natasha?

She tipped her head. “For someone who puts so much energy into making sure everyone thinks you’re a selfish asshole, you care a lot about them.” 

Jake huffed, a sound that might’ve been a laugh if the morning held space for amusement. “Was there a question in there?”

“There wasn’t,” Julie shook her head. She could ask him why, and he wouldn’t tell her; she could ask him if it was true, but she’d already seen it to be.

Jake hummed.

Julie felt a smile pulling at her lips, obstinate man. She pressed her mouth closed and looked over his shoulder at Natasha, giving her a silent nod, that it was okay. 

She didn’t want to go back over yet.

Going would mean saying goodbye to Natasha, walking off base, and starting the waiting, and Julie wasn’t ready for that just yet. 

So she moved away from the window, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jake, looking out into the saturated morning. Afternoon sun was golden, but Julie had always loved the way mornings seemed blue, like the day wasn’t ready to let the dawn go, just yet. The sun was like a magnifying glass, casting white shadows over the base and cool light into the rec center.

Silence was new for her and Jake.

Just to exist next to each other, minds swirling around fears and memories, none of which they’d voice. There were probably four inches between their shoulders, and Julie’s eyes drifted closed as she stood there. Here it was okay to prolong the moment, to not be ready to go back or begin, to wait in the space before goodbyes.

She heard Jake shift slightly, and she could feel him turning towards her, probably thinking what is this weird lizard girl doing, trying to photosynthesize in the middle of the day.

He cleared his throat, and Julie didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes.  

“I shouldn’t kiss you right now, right?”

Julie actually jolted, eyes flying open as she turned to Jake. She couldn’t read his expression, and it wasn’t getting any easier the longer she took to respond.

“What?” she hissed.

Jake lifted an eyebrow, looking back into the sunlight. “Just checking.” 

Julie had to stop herself from sputtering. “What?” she asked again. 

He lifted a shoulder, hands in his pockets in a stance that didn’t look natural but did look deliberate. “You look good like this.”

Julie didn’t know how her jaw wasn’t actively on the rec center floor. “Jake, I look like an hour ago I was sleeping off tequila shots.”

His eyes crinkled. “Were you?”

“Oh my god, what are we even talking about,” Julie muttered. “We’re in the middle of the base, your friends, or teammates, or whatever, are all right over there! Commanding officers too, probably.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up into what could only be described as a smirk. “That’s why not?”

Julie stopped. “Um.”

Of course that wasn’t the reason, there were other reasons. 

Many others.

If only she could think of one. 

Rationally, she knew what he was doing—distraction, plain and simple. Suggesting something outlandish to get her mind off the more nervous reality, but in reality what he’d done was introduce something neither plain nor simple. Something that made her feel like she couldn’t piece two thoughts together, and she did not have the capacity to sort through why that could be. 

Julie wet her lips, shaking her head. “I’m going to go to the hospital and start my shift,” she said. “Three hours early, but it’s fine.”

Jake grinned into the sunlight. “You do that,” he said. 

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “Keep your plane in the sky, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

Julie looked away, back to the kitchen where Natasha was stirring her ice water with a metal straw. She waved, and Natasha waved back and Julie left the rec center, trying her darndest not to question why she knew that green eyes followed her every step of the way.

[hanzajesthanza]

Angouleme for the character bingo

i am so normal about them - did you know that when the guards call her "skittish" in her debut in ttos ch. 5 and fringilla calls her "flighty" in lotl ch. 4, they're actually using the same word, płochy? of which could be translated as "fickle," "thoughtless," "skittish," or "insignificant, trivial" or "unsteady in (her) feelings", or "careless," "untamed," or "reckless" ... isn't that interesting! i just think that's interesting.

i have so many headcanons about them - my entire (planned but not written) fic with her and regis spins around my head... i'm torn on whether to post a plot summary of this on here (basically copying over what i've said in discord messages), or if i want to avoid spoiling any of this and just wait until i've finished it (and who knows when or if i will ever write this)

*projects onto them like a mf* - yes, though admittedly to her detriment, it's a habit i've tried to stop. i find that my excessive editorializing of her spoils her character :p stick to the facts, people! i admit it's difficult if only because we share some similar issues, but the thing that i have to keep in mind is that we have entirely opposite personalities, and even if we feel similarly, her feelings will express themselves differently.

wordless space 1, "i just think she's neat"

everyone else is wrong about them - people just forget about her character, and i'm not only speaking of them forgetting about her existence - that they also do often enough, but they also do not pay attention to her. that's probably my biggest pet peeve regarding her, is that people find her quirky and funny, but do not remember the context around her character... that she nearly escaped the scaffold, and from that nearly the stake, with eyes gouged out and breasts torn by iron-hot pincers? that she genuinely was begging to be hanged when she was introduced as a character, begging for death? or that she has hidden from pursuers in toussaint before? that she has "friends" such as golan drosdeck whom she owed debts to? that she is knowledgeable about the mining operations and the reddishness of the earth, and explains the subject to geralt and cahir? or that she is upset when civilians are afraid of them from killing bandits "because they were evil," so she indeed has a moral compass? that she screams like a banshee when trying to kill nightingale? or that she 'resembled a pretty girl' when given a comb and dress, and that she got tipsy during the october banquet and could be heard throughout the hall? her character actually has so much detail and diversity if you actually pay attention, but hardly anyone remembers her as anything asides from a silly little girl that joined geralt's hanza and provides some laughs for the reader. and then they ask why the female characters are one-dimensional. idk, possibly because it is these reader which made them one-dimensional in their very own minds because they are not strong readers and forget all the detail that's literally written right there on the page... oh, and by the way, it was not a hanza before she joined, because she is the very one which dubs it that in the first place. before angouleme joined, they were just the "company". that is my angouleme rant done 😌

that's a solid design right there - canonically, great: "The girl sniffed again, inclined her head and fixed Geralt with her huge eyes. Nut-brown, not green. Then she shook her untidy mane of light hair, causing it to fall onto her forehead in unruly locks," and personally (if i can compliment the own personal way i see her), i love to give her a silhouette with a short, cropped top and long, flared pants. somewhat like this:

they are so silly - ignore my entire rant above about her being treated like a comic relief character and nothing more... because she is indeed funny and a bright little jester of a girl.

wordless space 2, "squeaky toy"

bastard - literally. she is an illegitimate child born out of wedlock.

character bingo

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