#lucy will make a later appearance in this!

[nephilimsss]

𝗶'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝘆 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. coriolanus snow

PAIRING ➨ coriolanus snow x fem!oc (named brutus) GENRE ➨ fiction SUMMARY ➨ taken after the song brutus by the buttress, it essentially goes lyric by lyric, and the chapters will be based off the lyric i choose that day ! WARNINGS ➨ maybe some smut in later chapters, death, manipulation, the hunger games, friends to enemies, enemies to fake lovers, fake lovers to murderers. SELENE NOTE ➨ first installment ! MAIN MASTERLIST

coriolanus snow was a strange child, no matter what he said against it. he showed little to no emotion, and sometimes he had to look around him to figure out which emotion he had to put forth to make himself look normal. however, coriolanus believed brutus—a girl with a boy's name—to be strange, from the way she picked haphazardly at the frayed edges of her uniform, to how she picked apart her steak sandwich and ate it in three separate pieces. first the bread slices, then the meat that was once in the middle, though she would nibble slightly at it before placing it in her back, wrapped in an expensive silk handkerchief.

if corio did that, his grandma'am would surely be angry with him for dirtying up something that was more than likely older than his father. he did not want to associate with brutus, no ma'am or sir, he was perfectly fine with sitting away from her, halfway across the classroom. she didn't exactly look dirty or poor, since every time she frayed her skirts, they would be immediately repaired or replaced with ones made of a heavier, more expensive material, or how she once complained about how the water had tasted funny when it was coming out of the drinking fountains—which, to be honest, corio did agree with her ramblings—and the next day it was announced that brutus' father had paid for an entirely new purification and fountain system in the academy so his precious daughter didn't have to drink the disgusting water.

nonetheless, when the professor announced that they were to do a group project, coriolanus wanted to team up with one of his friends in the class, however, his wish was not answered when he heard he was paired up with brutus. he was hit with a gust of what he once knew to be the smell of champagne and strawberries.

"hello coriolanus," she stuck out her hand for a shake, the pleasantries that had been drilled into them before the war had not left the younger capitol citizens. the adults, however, were still haunted by the monstrosities they had committed during it, and sometimes struggled with keeping face.

"hello brutus," he grasped her hand in his, shaking it gently before letting it go and grabbing his pencil. something about her was fascinating yet slightly unnerving, whether it was the way her auburn curls fell softly about her shoulders or the fact that her left eye was a bright green while the right a muddy brown. the green seemed to see straight through him, see that he needed the others' emotions to influence him because he did not seem to feel anything other than possessiveness, anger, and a slight need for vengeance after the death of his parents. his father he barely knew, but his mother. . . he was angry at the world for the way it took her from him. . . both her and the unborn sister he was going to have. if it weren't for the districts, he wouldn't be an orphan.

it had taken a while, a few months, to be a little more exact, for coriolanus to think of brutus as a friend. he found out why her name was brutus—her mother had wanted a boy, and was angry to find out that the child she bore was a girl—and why she stored the meat from the steak sandwiches they got at lunch—she wasn't the biggest fan of meat, and she had a pet dog at home that would be happy to eat it.

sometimes brutus was a little strange, but corio did not care for that as long as it did not affect his own image. sometimes she would invite him to her home—much larger than the apartment he shared with the grandma'am and tigris—to play with her dog, which was much larger than what he had imagined (he thought she had gotten a lap dog, which was very much not the case), and would sometimes even spend the night after he called the grandma'am back home to tell her where he was. after he had fallen asleep there a few times, on the ninth sleepover he had, he found out that brutus' mother had begun getting him his own clothing and even an armoire for the things she had bought. brutus's mother would even send him to school with a full belly of eggs, bacon, and a nice toast with some goat's cheese, and he was ever more thankful for her presence in his life.

brutus had broken off their friendship.

years of it in the making and she had broken it off.

corio thought he wasn't a bad friend. in fact, he was the best person that anyone could have in their lives. sure, he used them for his own personal good, but they received some of it back. when he felt like being nice. however, when brutus came to him to break off the friendship, she had been crying for who knows how long before she approached him. the puffiness of her eyes and the ring of red that marred the once-white sclera told him so. "what is it, brutus?" he snapped. "your mother wants me to come over tonight," he tapped his foot impatiently on the ground.

"you're no longer invited," she replied, quiet sobs marring her speech.

"did your mother say so?"

"no," she shakes her head. the curls, once at her shoulders, now hung by her waist, and they flew softly around her. "i say so. you have gotten closer with my mother, and i see that you are now only using me to get closer to her. she has always wanted a son, and now that she has you, she has cast me aside. never come by again." she breathed in, but it was broken by a few unshed tears. "i'll leave your things in a box outside the gates. but after you get them, leave. never come back. go back to that shabby apartment of yours. never talk to my mother ever again. don't contact us any more. and stay away from me."

thank you to @tinfairies for feeding into this illusion! love you will all my heart <33333

[stagefoureddiediaz]

As so many of you are filling my inbox asking about salad and why I found the fact they had two types of salad for dinner in the Buck and Tommy dinner scene so funny, I'm guessing you're new to the 911 fandom - Welcome if so! I am going to give you a very brief rundown of salad and Buck and Eddies various relationships, but @clusterbuck is actually the keeper of salad theory and you can find far more detailed analysis over on her blog than you’re getting from me here!!

I can't find gif of the actual salad moments so have pictures!!

Chris smashed salad bowl that he is making a salad in with his dad in season 4 (in Breaking point) - when he finds out about Ana being the person Eddie is dating.

We have Ana turn up at the firehouse with Chris during the black out in 5x02 with 5 - yes 5 - types of salad When Eddie has his second on screen panic about Ana - when Ravi mistakes her for his wife.

Then in 5x03 just before they break up - Eddie, Chris, and Ana are at the dining table in the Diaz house and they are eating fruit salad

Then in 5x05 we have Taylor with her prepackaged fruit salad breakfast the she has 'made' for Buck when he gets home

she is making a bean salad in 5x09 during the most awkward I love you scene in the history of television!

Then we have a caprese salad in front of Natalia during the Dinner Buck cooked for her in 5x17 - when she finds out about various aspects of Bucks past and present - Taylor on the tv and Kameron turns up

Then in 7x07 - when Eddie is daydreaming of a do over with Shannon during his lunch with Marisol they are eating a salad

then we now have Buck and Tommy eating two different types of salad (a pasta salad and a salad salad) on their dinner date

so basically it's become a bit of a running joke that if salad is involved with Buck or Eddie and one of their dates (especially in their own homes) , the relationship is doomed!

[dostoyevsky-official]

Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”

The case galvanized the British government. The Health Secretary immediately announced an inquiry to examine how Letby’s hospital had failed to protect babies. After Letby refused to attend her sentencing hearing, the Justice Secretary said that he’d work to change the law so that defendants would be required to go to court to be sentenced. Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister, said, “It’s cowardly that people who commit such horrendous crimes do not face their victims.”

The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”

The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison.

[...] The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff.

[...] A woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section. The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.

[...] A team from the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health spent two days interviewing people at the Countess [Letby's hospital]. They found that nursing- and medical-staffing levels were inadequate. They also noted that the increased mortality rate in 2015 was not restricted to the neonatal unit. Stillbirths on the maternity ward were elevated, too. [...] The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.”

[...] In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental. But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty.

[...] “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer [a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science] told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”

[...] Several months into the trial, Richard Gill, an emeritus professor of mathematics at Leiden University, in the Netherlands, began writing online about his concerns regarding the case. Gill was one of the authors of the Royal Statistical Society report, and in 2006 he had testified before a committee tasked with determining whether to reopen the case of Lucia de Berk. England has strict contempt-of-court laws that prevent the publication of any material that could prejudice legal proceedings. Gill posted a link to a Web site, created by Sarrita Adams, a scientific consultant in California, that detailed flaws in the prosecution’s medical evidence. In July, a detective with the Cheshire police sent letters to Gill and Adams ordering them to stop writing about the case. “The publication of this material puts you at risk of ‘serious consequences’ (which include a sentence of imprisonment),” the letters said. “If you come within the jurisdiction of the court, you may be liable to arrest.”

Letby is housed in a privately run prison west of London, the largest correctional facility for women in Europe. Letters to prisoners are screened, and I don’t know if several letters that I sent ever reached her. One of her lawyers, Richard Thomas, who has represented her since early in the case, said that he would tell Letby that I had been in touch with him, but he ignored my request to share a message with her, instead reminding me of the contempt-of-court order. He told me, “I cannot give any comment on why you cannot communicate” with Letby. Lawyers in England can be sanctioned for making remarks that would undermine confidence in the judicial system. I sent Myers, Letby’s barrister, several messages in the course of nine months, and he always responded with some version of an apology—“the brevity of this response is not intended to be rude in any way”—before saying that he could not talk to me.

[...] Michael Hall, the defense expert, had expected to testify at the trial—he was prepared to point to flaws in the prosecution’s theory of air embolism and to undetected signs of illness in the babies—but he was never called. He was troubled that the trial largely excluded evidence about the treatment of the babies’ mothers; their medical care is inextricably linked to the health of their babies. In the past ten years, the U.K. has had four highly publicized maternity scandals, in which failures of care and supervision led to a large number of newborn deaths.

[...] Johnson, the prosecutor, pushed her to come up with her own explanation for each baby’s deterioration. Yet she wasn’t qualified to provide them. “In general, I don’t think a lot of the babies were cared for on the unit properly,” she offered. “I’m not a medical professional to know exactly what should and shouldn’t have happened with those babies.”

“Do you agree that if certain combinations of these children were attacked then unless there was more than one person attacking them, you have to be the attacker?” Johnson asked at one point.

“No.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No. I’ve not attacked any children.”

Johnson continued, “But if the jury conclude that a certain combination of children were actually attacked by someone, then the shift pattern gives us the answer as to who the attacker was, doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t agree.”

“You don’t agree. Why don’t you agree?”

“Because just because I was on shift doesn’t mean that I have done anything.”

[...] After a few days of cross-examination, Letby seemed to shut down; she started frequently giving one-word answers, almost whispering. “I’m finding it quite hard to concentrate,” she said.

Johnson repeatedly accused her of lying. “You are a very calculating woman, aren’t you, Lucy Letby?” he said.

“No,” she replied.

He asked, “The reason you tell lies is to try to get sympathy from people, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You try to get attention from people, don’t you?”

“No.”

“In killing these children, you got quite a lot of attention, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t kill the children.”

[...] Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.

He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. [...] The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict.

[...] The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.

Since the verdicts, there has been almost no room for critical reflection. At the end of September, a little more than a month after the trial ended, the prosecution announced that it would retry Letby on one of the attempted-murder charges, and a new round of reporting restrictions was promptly put in place. The contempt-of-court rules are intended to preserve the integrity of the legal proceedings, but they also have the effect of suppressing commentary that questions the state’s decisions. In October, The BMJ, the country’s leading medical journal, published a comment from a retired British doctor cautioning against a “fixed view of certainty that justice has been done.” In light of the new reporting restrictions, the journal removed the comment from its Web site, “for legal reasons.” At least six other editorials and comments, which did not question Letby’s guilt, remain on the site.

it looks like a british nurse was wrongfully convicted based on poor evidence and the tabloid media environment. this new yorker article is embargoed in the uk!

[huskyweebo]

Kings accidental consort. PT. 1 [ ? ]

Tysm to this blog for inspiring me to make an RadioApple fanfic!

“ So do you Agree on the terms. “ Lucifer affirmed, folding his arms as if saying to not agree. He and Alastor were on the patio; the only quiet place in the now bustling hotel,

“ yes yes, “ The radio demon said somewhat dismissively, “ I would only act as a parent to dear Charlie when you are not here, “ he repeated.

A sudden, odd thought came to Lucifer, “ just like divorced dads, “ he heard in his head, making him snicker slightly, Alastor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “ what seems to be hilarious your Majesty, surely not our agreement “ he proceeded to hold out his hand, Lucifer grasped it.

“ oh nothing, I was just thinking that this deal seems like we act like a sort of divorced couple, and how it would be funny if we were actually, truly married “ they shook hands, around them powerful rays of light signaled a deal being made by an Overlord and King.

Downstairs Charlie and Vaggie were heading to their room after letting Angel handle the new guests for a break. Suddenly, the lights darkened around them and Green light was seen, both girls knew that all too well.

“ I’m sorry but who is making a deal with Alastor? “ Charlie asked. Vaggie raised an eyebrow

“ wait didn’t your dad go up with Alastor a couple minutes ago? … oh shit, “ Vaggie muttered, she grabbed Charlie’s hand and rushed up the stairs leading to the patio where Lucifer had said he will be. The was a lot of commotion behind the closed doors, Charlie kicked it open and ready to fight.

“ -re you shitting me! What is this?! This is your fault sinner ! “ Lucifer yelled once Charlie smashed the door open, her father appeared to be wearing a wedding dress, and blushing profusely. Vaggie burst out laughing.

“ well I wasn’t the one who made a frivolous joke about being married, am I ? “ Alastor said. he seemed frustrated, but he still held his smile. He himself was wearing a black tuxedo and holding a bouquet of flowers.

As they argued, both of their hands flared around. Charlie stayed quiet, not wanting to intervene but suddenly noticed wedding bands on each of their clawed hands, putting two and two together, she gasped loudly. She started squealing making both men stop yelling to look at her,

“ oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Vaggie!! Alastor is officially my Father!! They have Ringsss! “ she said shaking her girlfriend, Tears fell from her eyes.

“ ok easy on the sparkles Hon, “ Vaggie said while being shook, she turned to the males with a questioning look,

“ did you guys seriously get married? “ Charlie ran to hug Alastor, “ NEW DAD ! “ she yelled while sobbing madly,

“ What is this? Dear this isn’t for long, His Highness messed up a deal we were making and ended up like this, “ Charlie was peeled off of his body, and her face told them she was hugely disappointed.

“ what but what kind of deal can you botch that badly to- “

“ WELL TIME TO BREAK THIS MARRIGE “ Lucifer interrupted, snapping his fingers.

The wedding garments disappeared for both, Alastor brushed his clothes, “ There you go, the deal should be of- why do I still have another ring. “ Lucifer stretched out his hand in front of him, on top of his old wedding ring that Lilith gave him, there was still the new one. Alastor looked down, he still had his on aswell.

“ Now this is particularly “ he said off handly, “ I thought you had it covered your majesty, “

“ well I do, give me a second “ Lucifer growled,

20 minutes later and everyone was in the palace with Lucifer running everywhere and looking through all the books he can find, he was muttering under his breath frantically similarly to how Charlie did when she was in a panic,

“ HOW IS THERE NOTHING ABOUT STUPID DEAL BREAKS IN THIS SHITHOLE “ Lucifer yelled out from another room and a book could be seen thrown.

“ hmmm “ Alastor hummed through his smile, he enjoyed the little one running around with tarnish, but he knew the fun couldn’t last. He he assured Charlie then went through his shadow and to where Lucifer was.

“ Your highness what seems to be the problem? “ he asked knowing full well the answer to his own question. Lucifer looked like a complete mess: both his horns and wings were out and he wore a crazed expression,

“ well, funny thing, well um- “ he stammered, then flew up and took another book out of a shelf instead of answering him.

Alastor waited for him to come down, he was like a prissy baby and currently, he knew not that Alastor could hear him from down below. The king cursed him out and his past living self. The book he previously had in his hand fell with a slam right next to Alastor, Lucifer cursed even more and flew higher, deep into the high rise library, Alastor went to pick up the book but immediately dropped it when it burned his skin through his gloves.

It was a holy book, ‘ Deals With The Unholy ‘ it was called. All around Alastor was holy books similar to that.

Finally, Lucifer calmed down slightly and flew back to where Alastor was, he was panting heavily.

“ finally calmed down? “ the Sinner rejoiced, his smiled sickened Lucifer, “ I see you don’t got this handled, “ the King rolled his eyes,

“ looks like apparently once a deal is made it can never be broken until it ends, but we never put a deadline, so it’s not possible… but I swear I had saw something about breaking a deal somewhere! “ he said with a pout, Alastor laughed slightly.

“ well I suggest we go ahead and tell our daughter that becuase she is currently worried about you. “ Alastor said smoothly,

“ she worried about me ? “ Lucifer said excitedly, then clearing his throat embarrassed when he saw Alastors face.

“ what do you mean, ‘ our duaghter ‘ she’s my duaghter not yours “ he growled. Alastor laughed,

“ Well this ring says otherwise, so until we find out a way to break this frivolous deal, we are officially married so she is indeed my duaghter. “ Lucifer narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, “ go along now darling, please tend to OUR daughter “ The short king muttered angerly as he left, not waiting for him.

Alastor waited for him to close the door. The sound of a Wendigo could be heard from him.

he held his hand with his wedding band out, from it, sparks came from it and suddenly a book appeared in his hand. He reading for a brief moment before shutting and burning it.

“ A slight mishap that I could use, maybe being married isn’t such a bad thing “ Alastor started laughing, he continued on as he went through the shadows…

TBC [ ? ]

[animeshotsh]

Devils Touch | Dad!Lucifer x Kid!Reader |

Summary: Being forced to take pills alongside your mother just seems enough to end in hell...

Warnings: Suicide mentions | Death | Canon Violence| Cursing | Lucifer its a softie | SFW | Reader its between 5-7 | Reader takes the form of a sheep/cat mix | Reader's mom sucks tbh | Maybe platonic!yandere Luci? |

When you opened your eyes everytning was red. Screams and insults filled the air, the smell of blood and other things you could not understand filled your nose making you gag.

"Mom?" You asked to no one, no one took note of you. All you could see were strange creatures, some more human and some more animal.

Tears went down your face, you could remember being forced to take some pills. Your mother crying while she did the same.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

"And what do we have here?" A stranger voice said taking you by the collar, you ended up meeting with sharp red eyes, and that look....it did not mean well.

"L-let me go" you screamed trying to get free from this thing. Reacting out you saw your hands were now black with claws, making your mind quick you attacked that thing.

It let you go with a small "fuck". You took of running, not knowing where to go, but you could hear that thing behind you chasing you.

Taking a quick look behind you ended against something. Looking up someone wearing a white suit with a cane and a hat that had a snake looked to you.

"P-please help me" you tried again "I dont know whats happening I want my mom"

The stranger took you by your arms to inspect you.

Lucifer stood there with no emotion seeing the "x" on your neck. Suicide? He thought seeing the mark. But you were just a kid, with fluffy cat hears and a tail, however your hair was not the one from a cat but the one from a sheep...or a lamb. Two little horns did also appear on top of your head.

He cursed inside his mind. Maybe you were killed, or forced to something. You were too small, your soul did not let out any type of malice besides the "sin" of taking your own life.

He soon saw a Demon coming towards him, most likely looking for you, and with no debout their intentions were not good.

Just one flick of his hand the Demon was gone. You were shaking looking at him and then around you.

Fuck, he wished Charlie was here, he knew she would be able to calm you down.

Taking care of sinners was not his job. His job was to rule hell, but he could not just leave you in here. He was sure you would be dead again in seconds.

Or worse.

"Calm down Kid, im going to take care of you" his voice was as soft as he could. Turning around opening a gold portal to his home "whats your name?"

He nodded once he hear your name, carefully petting your head. He passed by many old photos of his family. A maid appear besides him looking at the sinner in his arms.

"Please, prepare a bath and get some clothes " Lucifer requested passing you to her.

Or well, trying to.

"N-no, I dont want to go with her!" Your hands took an iron grip on his suit.

Lucifer almost panicked at your state but tried to remember what he used to do when Charlie was this young.

"Listen, she is someone good. You will be taken care off. We can have lunch later, and some sweets"

"...chocolate?" You asked with pleading eyes

~☆~☆~☆~

After your bath and food you were in a better mood. Lucifer used this time to show you around the house while asking you different questions to try and know why you had ended in here.

He showed you his ducks collection and almost passed out by how much you loved them. You ignored him as you played with the duck, almost burning the wall with one of them.

Lucifer decided to tired you up and then look up for your mothers soul. If you two died together...then the chances of her being down here were high.

~☆~☆~☆

It was harder than he expected. The sugar from the chocolate gave you so much energy you ended checking every room of the house. Lucifer behind you trying to stop you from getting hurt or from breaking something.

"Catch me if you can!" You joked while he tried to balance two statues.

With a swing of his wings he was able to catch you, rolling down the stairs and laughtning with you. You seemed....happy almost forgetting your situation. To you this could be nothing but a bizarre dream.

~☆~☆~

Once you were tired enough, Lucifer took you to one room. His heart made a flip when you took his arm pulling him close.

But he needed to go and see where your mother's soul was. So he made the maid stay outside your room just in case you woke up.

~☆~☆~

"That fucking bastard, son of a bitch, cursed slut" Lucifer screamed almost burning his office. Turns out, your mother was not in hell or heaven, she was alive, whatever she was triying to do failed for her.

He wanted to go there and kill her himself. Not only her but heaven as well, you were just a kid. Sure, you had cursed, and lied sometimes, he had read your record of sins. But that was not enough to make you end down here.

He knew your faith was sealed. Heaven would never admit they made a mistake or listen to him for starters. He had to calm down and think.

And after some minutes he decided the safest option would be for you to stay with him. He was not sure how he would explain to you who he was or what had happened. But he knew a few things, besides him no one would try to hurt you, and also you made him feel happy again. He could raise you, be a better father, be someone you could relay on.

"Its decided" he said to himself, picking up a pen and a paper, he wrote down your name and his last name. This way the other sins and overlords would know not to mess with you.

"Dont worry (y/n) im going to protect you.

~☆~☆~

[danyllura]

Despite Snows focus being on Katniss, I would argue Peeta played a far more of a rebellious role in his part of the “star crossed lover” during their first games than her. From the moment Cinna gets them to hold hands during the opening ceremony their pairing is shrouded in a “touch of rebellion” - we know alliances among district partners is normal/expected but it is also clear that the terms of agreement are temporary and built upon the goal of their individual survival. Peeta is the one that breaches that agreement, by pushing their relationship beyond district partners to that of “star crossed lovers” with the admittance of his crush on Katniss. It is the intent behind why he chooses what to share that is shrouded in rebellion. Early on Peeta is aware of Katniss’ potential as a tribute and beyond that he recognizes that “spark” that can make her “desirable” to others. Yes, he genuinely loves her. But he shares so not to be honest, or to make himself a sympathetic character for the capitol, but to hopefully benefit her in the arena. He pushes this further by his continuous reiterating of his feelings to the audience, during his time with the careers, alone, and then eventually with Katniss. Time and time again he displays that her survival is his ultimate goal in the games, willing to prioritize her victory over his own life. And while yes, Peeta does this because he does truly love and care about Katniss, he is intentional with his actions. He broadcasts his feelings because it benefits her. And every aspect of that goes against what the games are meant to do to people; divide them.

Comparatively, in regards to the “star crossed lovers” Katniss is much more obedient to the rules of the games. She doesn’t initially portray herself to return Peetas feelings. She plays as a solo player, and Katniss quite literally states she appears “heartless” because of this when they watch back over their time in the arena. When it’s only one promised victor and she believes Peeta to be allied with the careers, she drops a nest of tracker jackets over where Peeta is sleeping and showing she views him as any other competitor. Katniss only reciprocates the role of “star crossed lovers” when the capitol has allowed that type of alliance to work within the games. And if anything her later trick with the berries, is a scene of the capitols own making. It is a final act of desperation. Katniss’ knows Peeta is on the brink of death and it’s even a possibility for the Mutts that had just killed Cato to reappear. When she’s handing the berries to Peeta and as she spills them into her mouth, Katniss is not thinking of the significance of her choice or the potential consequences it may illicit. It’s an emotional decision, not a calculated one. In comparison, laying Rue to rest in a bed of flowers was a far more calculated act of rebellion from Katniss.

But despite all this, President Snow almost solely blames Katniss for the oncoming rebellion. And while Katniss does do many things that help initiate that spark, such as volunteering for Prim, singing to Rue, risking her life for Peeta at the feast- it isn’t that he blames, but rather her lying about loving Peeta back. Because Snow is stuck in the past with his belief that Lucy Gray tricked him into loving her. And Katniss, with her singing and her Mockinjays, is such an obvious parallel of Lucy Grays ghost- he misses the fact that Peeta has been a far more calculated player that has actively rebelled from everything the games are meant to turn you into from the moment he was reaped.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

II ║ Threads

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part I: Seams | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: When Joel revisits Main Street Outfitters two weeks later, he finds you on your knees. Again.

Warnings: Very spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: This crept up on me and happened just as I was finishing up edits. I am so grateful, and I hope Threads is a fitting thank you gift to you all 😘 I’m thinking about doing a sleepover celebration, we shall see!

Joel and Pin are back ❤️ They're back because you guys have been so generous with your love, sending me so many ideas and hyping me up - I can't thank you all enough! This chapter is all thanks to Singer machine anon who bravely (affectionate 😉) shared their story of getting stuck under a sewing machine table. I hope you enjoy this one!

A treadle sewing machine is powered mechanically by a foot pedal that is pushed back and forth by the operator's foot. 

If you're not familiar, here is a classic Singer treadle cabinet, which is no way big enough for the purposes of this story, so please exercise your imagination 😉

Joel hovers outside the Jackson Grocer’s, arms crossed, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible in front of the leafy display of butter lettuce heads.

It’s been a few months since he’s settled in, but sometimes he can’t get over how fucking nuts this place is. Looking at the shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables outside, canned food and home goods inside, he could easily be standing outside the 24/7 mart in his old neighbourhood. There are even shopping baskets, for crying out loud - stacked neatly one on top of the other by the door.

A voice pipes up from his left. ‘Didn’t know you ate greens.’

Joel scowls. ‘I don’t.’

‘Why are you loiterin’, then?’ asks Tommy, picking up a couple of apples and examining them with exaggerated care.

‘I’m not loiterin’,’ he spits out the last word as if he’s above it, turning his gaze to the high street. 

Tommy tosses him a cocky grin, head tilted at a knowing angle. ‘Yeah, you are. And now you’re makin’ eyes at Bob. It’s disturbin’.’

Glancing across the main thoroughfare at the welder’s shop, where the said proprietor is cutting up wooden planks on the porch, Joel grumbles sarcastically, ‘That’s right. Bob is just my type.’

At that very moment, right next to Bob's, the door of Main Street Outfitters creaks open, and Joel recognises Lucy instantly as she sneaks out on tiptoes. She skips down the stairs and wanders up the street in what appears to be another impromptu work break.

Joel’s already taken two steps towards the shop before he remembers that he’s not alone. Braking abruptly and bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his neck, he feels Tommy’s eyes on him.

He half-turns, and snaps, ‘What?’

The younger Miller brother shrugs, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘Why are you going to the Outfitters again? Didn’t you just get those new jeans a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Thought I’d get a new shirt for your stupid baby shower.’

‘Joel -’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He throws his hands up in capitulation. ‘Baby showers are not stupid. Especially in the middle of an apocalypse.’

Taking another two steps forward, a thought stops him dead in his tracks again. He can practically feel Tommy smiling smugly at his back.

For fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t turn around this time, jamming his hands into his pockets and asks, ‘Can I bring someone? To the party?’

‘We know Ellie’s comin’.’

Whipping around, he growls, ‘Tommy -’

He laughs. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Joel Miller makin’ friends in town? Maria’s right - you’re fittin’ right in, big brother.’

Rolling his eyes, Joel flips him off and stomps his way across the street.

Tommy calls out at his retreating back. ‘Say hello to Pin and tell her we’d love to have her come over on Sunday!’

When he steps inside, the shop is as empty as it was a fortnight ago. Joel shuts the door firmly, making sure the bell jingles, so his entry doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your voice, though muffled, comes promptly. ‘Lucy! Is that you?’

He heads towards the doorway that leads to the workshop. ‘It’s Joel, actually.’

‘Oh, shit!’

His eyebrows reach for his hairline - you don’t seem to be the type to curse. Concerned, he asks, ‘You alright back there?’

There’s a touch of panic in your reply, ‘Don’t come back here. Did Lucy sneak out again?’

On your instruction, Joel hesitates in the middle of the room, talking to air. ‘Yeah, saw her leave a couple of minutes ago.’

‘Goddamnit, Lucy!’

He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, you sure you’re ok? Should I come back later?’

There’s a resigned sigh, then a pause. ‘Promise you won’t laugh.’

One end of his lips tugs upwards in a smile. ‘Why would I?’

‘Promise.’

At your insistence, he humours you, ‘Alright, I promise, sweetheart.’

‘Come on back.’

When he steps into the workshop, he doesn’t spot you immediately. The space is seemingly empty, everything standing still and in order. He sweeps his eyes across the room, starting with the shelving unit and the desk along the near wall, then trailing over the large timber work table in the middle, where a stack of folded shirts stands neatly.

His throat isn’t the only thing that tightens when he glances at the rug under the skylight -

‘Joel?’

Your voice draws his attention to the far corner of the room, where a sewing station is tucked into a little alcove.

Joel doesn’t know much about sewing machines, but he can recognise a vintage Singer anywhere even without the name blazoned across its elegant body. His grandmother had one in her drawing room by a sunny bay window, and he used to watch her work on it when he visited every other weekend. For a disorienting second, he can almost smell homemade cinnamon rolls and black tea.

Little did he know that things were about to get a lot more disorienting than a pleasant childhood memory.

As he steps around the work table, the rest of the sewing station comes into view, fronted by a big window, the light streaming through the glass glancing off the black sewing machine on top of a classic treadle cabinet. What looks like a half-finished dress lies on the wooden work surface, which stands on quintessential wrought metal legs, and between them - his throat constricts with a slow swallow when he realises what - or rather, who - he’s looking at.

The words barely come out, as if his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, as he makes his presence known. ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’

To be fair, you’re not making things easy by any means. All he can see is your backside hovering in mid-air, the rest of you out of sight under the desk. It has built-in cabinets on each end, the right side of it backed up against the far wall, and a chair is pushed to the side.

Joel stops two measured paces away, staring down at the curve of your ass and the way your top rides up, baring the small of your back. His eyes linger on the soft skin between the shirt’s hem and the waistband of your very tight jeans.

Jesus Christ. Do you always have to be on your fucking knees in this workshop?

Your small voice jolts him from his daze. ‘Well, at least you’re not laughing.’

He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from scoffing. If only you knew how laughing is the furthest thing on his mind right now. ‘What happened?’

‘A spool rolled off and I went down to get it, but I fell on the treadle accidentally - I think my shirt is snagged in the band wheel. I can’t move at all, and this Singer is an antique - I can't risk breaking it.’

Unfamiliar with what you’re talking about, he probes, ‘And where’s the band wheel?’

‘Under the table, on my right.’

You wriggle your hips, perhaps to help him locate where you’re stuck, unaware that you’re not helping. At all. 

He swallows thickly and implores you, ‘Stay still, sweetheart. I’ll take a look.’

It’s been two whole weeks since Joel Miller came into the shop. You’ve caught glimpses of him in between - Jackson is tiny, after all. He catches your eye as he ambles down the high street with Ellie, his gruff Southern accent carrying even in the mid-afternoon bustle, too preoccupied arguing with the teenager to notice you on the other side of the road. He’s in the cafeteria a couple of times when you arrive for a late dinner, nodding at you from a few tables over, while you work up the nerve to smile back.

Every time, he’s wearing the jeans you handpicked for him, which makes your chest swell and constrict at the same time with something like - pride.

You picked out the pair for him. You assured him that he looks good. And by the way he’s wearing his confidence on his sleeve, he’s certainly taken your words to heart. 

Whenever you see other women eyeing him as he struts about town - which is entirely too often - it awakens an ugly possessiveness in you, one that twists your insides into grotesque balloon animals.

Fourteen damn days. Even in the privacy of your workshop, you can’t escape that man. The simple touch of denim provokes a visceral reaction from you, heat chases beneath your skin every time you pick up the tailor’s scissors. It doesn’t help that most of your daily tasks are not exactly cerebral, which gives this man all the more leeway to lay claim to your subconscious.

If you believed in magic, you would've thought you summoned him with the sheer energy you’ve spent thinking about him. But what kind of witchcraft conjured him up at the precise moment you get trapped like the bumbling idiot that you are?

One minute you’re reaching for the stupid thread, the next thing you know, you’re stuck, unable to move without the mechanisms of the antique Singer groaning ominously at your attempts to free yourself.

But maybe, it’s still better than Lucy finding you. She’d take a hammer to the sewing machine to get you out, no question - patience is not her strong suit - and she’d be laughing at you for days.

You hear the floorboards give behind you as Joel moves into the space, which isn’t much - when you’re sat down at the treadle cabinet, the wall is barely two steps behind.

The wooden table creaks above you as he braces one hand on the surface, and you startle at what sounds like the vicious crack of a vertebra.

‘Um - you okay?’

Joel grunts. ‘I’ll live.’

So you wait, thinking absent-mindedly how your elbows are starting to get numb. There’s a scruff of boots and what sounds like a brief struggle, before Joel sighs. ‘Back’s too stiff ‘mfraid. Gotta get on the floor to see underneath.’

Before you can squeak out a reply, there’s a boney click of what you presume is his knees as he crouches down, and an unexpected brush of denim on your left ankle surprises you. Forgetting where you are, you jump in reflex, hitting the underside of the table so hard that you screech in pain.

‘Shit!’ Joel cusses behind you, one warm hand landing on the side of your hip to steady you. ‘You ok?’

Up until this point, you’ve been too consumed with embarrassment by your predicament to even think about the position Joel found you in. But once the warm imprint of his palm registers through the denim, it hits you like one of those interstate trucks that you used to see out of your window.

You’re leaning on your forearms, ass in the air, and now - he’s behind you, getting onto his knees. You can’t decide if the back of your head or your pussy is throbbing harder as you stutter, ‘I’m fine, just - get me out, please.’

‘Alright, hang on, sweetheart.’

You swallow the childish urge to stamp your foot. He has no right going around dropping sweethearts all over the place.

There’s a throaty exhale as Joel lowers himself onto the floor, his knees bracketing yours to shift closer to you. You know he feels the shudder that chases down your spine when soft flannel grazes your bare back, heat spilling from his solid frame as he looms over you.

‘You say you’re stuck in the band wheel?’

Somehow, you manage to answer, ‘Yeah, to my right.’

He clears his throat. ‘I - uh - I’ll have to lean down pretty close to you to take a look, is that ok?’

You feel all the air leave your body, which is probably why your reply comes out far breathier than you intend it to. ‘Yes, Joel.’

And with those two words, Joel has a problem with his jeans. Again.

They’re too tight. Again.

There’s nothing he can do as his mouth goes dry and his cock hardens with a vengeance, his self-control slipping like sand between his fingers.

He was doing so good - well, he was more or less holding it together, as much as he could be expected to while kneeling behind you. And of course, his damn knees hurt, but so does his bottom lip which is caught in his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing when his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. 

He already has one hand on you, and goddamnit, it’s taking him all he’s got to hold back from gripping you with his other, to grasp the swell of your ass between his palms, to trace your curves up to the dip of your exposed waist, to bow his head and run his tongue along the arc of your spine -

And the jeans you’re wearing - fuck, they’re tight. He wonders idly if you wore them for him. His eyes follow the seam that runs down the cleft of your ass, the way the pockets stretch over your backside has his fingers twitching, thinking about how well you will fill his hands, and how the slow rub of denim will burn his skin.

He wants to hook his thumbs into the belt loops and pull you flush against the zipper of his jeans, where his cock is straining against - rub himself on you, grind on you, his thighs plastered to the back of yours -

‘Joel?’

Fuck.

He sways as he snaps out of his stupor, dangerously close to knocking into you, light-headed from the lack of blood to his brain. He chokes out, ‘Yeah, I got you, sweetheart.’

Get it together, you dirty bastard.

He’s careful to leave a couple of inches between his front and your ass when he bends his elbows and ducks so he can peer beneath the desk. His chest pressed flat against your lower back, he can see the bunched fabric of your shirt where it’s caught.

‘Yup, you’re right, your shirt is snagged tight in there.’

‘Can you untangle it?’

‘Think so, but I’ll need both hands.’ He pauses. ‘I’d better get on my back under you.’

You swear you’re going to black out.

‘Pin?’ he prompts when you’ve been quiet a beat too long.

‘I - um, what do you mean by going under me?’

‘If I’m on my back, I can use both my hands, like a mechanic under a car,’ he explains. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I can find another way -’

‘No!’ you blurt out, wincing at the desperation in your tone. ‘I mean - whatever is easiest for you. You’re the one doing me a favour here.’

‘Alright,’ he says, placated by your reassurance. ‘On your hands and knees then, sweetheart.’

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. Oh, come on. Can he hear himself?

Scraping together your last vestiges of control, you push up on your palms to make space underneath you. You have to consciously lock your elbows - your joints suddenly feel like barely set pudding. 

‘Move as far to your right as possible so I can slide in.’

Shuffling on your hands and knees until you’re pressed up against the band wheel, you hear the brush of fabric on wood - must be his back against the floorboards as he slides in. To say it’s a squeeze is an understatement. His broad shoulders brush the front of your thighs as he inches in, and then, his face appears under yours, head between your hands.

His lips quirk. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’

Your breath hitches at his proximity, your wrists brushing the soft red flannel he’s wearing today. ‘Hi.’

‘You ok?’ he asks.

You’re this close to pouting. What does he think? There’s a telltale stickiness between your legs that you’re frantically trying to push to the back of your mind while you mmhmm noncommittally, hoping that he doesn’t smell your want in the tiny, claustrophobic space you’re now both caught in.

You can only assume that he’s none the wiser, since the next thing that comes of his mouth is - 

‘Climb on top of me so I can slide in closer to the band wheel.’

Someone might as well say your last rites. This is the end.

You’re taken aback when your limbs start to move on autopilot, because your faculties have well and truly abandoned ship. One trembling leg attempts to swing itself over the solid breadth of his body, but it wobbles like jelly, and your knee ends up connecting firmly with his stomach instead of landing clear on his other side.

At his grunted oomph, you panic and bang your head on the underside of the table again, which sends your whole weight sprawling onto his front with a yelp.

Joel cradles the back of your scalp with one hand. ‘Shit, you ok, sweetheart?’

The seams of your lashes sting, your head smarting with the impact, and you blink drily as your gaze focuses on Joel under you. He’s so close that you can see flecks of gold in his brown eyes, his breath hitting your face in warm puffs. Your glance at his lips, and with that one little motion, all goes quiet.

He watches you back, neither of you breathing, and in the stillness you realise that you’re fully straddling him, your palms pressing into the hard floor on either side of his ears. Your tits are crushed up against his ribs, his soft tummy warmly cushioned under you. Lower still, where your hips are nestled into the spread of his thick thighs, something stiff and long and insistent presses into you -

Your jaw goes slack when it dawns on you. 

Oh god.

He’s hard.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Joel breaks the silence, a pained frown on his brow as he shakes his head. ‘This is embarrassin’. Couldn’t fuckin’ help it, seein’ you in those jeans -’

Tongue-tied, you can only stare at him, wishing you were brave enough to say something. Tell him that you pulled extra shifts to buy this particular pair of jeans, knowing that they flatter your figure. That you’ve worn them almost every day these two weeks, hoping that he’d swing by again. 

But you can’t. 

So you pray that he can see what you can’t say by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your heart races wildly in your ribcage against his chest.

His voice cracks. ‘I understand if you want me to go -’

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cut in, ‘Don’t.’

His warm eyes widen, something like hopefulness in the way he looks up at you. ‘You don’t want me to go?’

You press your body closer into his, filling in the gaps. ‘No. Please don’t, Joel.’

He leans forward, so close that you can feel the phantom burn of his silvered beard, his palms finding the meat of your legs, blunt nails biting into the denim.

He really should be ashamed of himself, at the way his cock pulses unabashedly, nudged right between your thighs as you stare down at him, lips parted. He’s hard enough that he worries if there’s a wet spot of precum on the front of his jeans - he can feel himself leaking through his boxers. 

The wicked tip of your tongue traces a wet trail on your bottom lip, and he almost chokes on a half-buried groan deep in his chest. He knows that you don’t even know you’re doing it - and in turn, what that does to him.

It would be easy to close the two-inch gap between you. To kiss you, taste you, lick into your sweet mouth. All he needs to do is to cup the back of your head and pull you down, or crane his neck and press his lips to yours -

And Joel is someone who always follows the path of least resistance. 

But - he wants to do right by you. He knows you deserve more than a quick fumble under a table.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Joel steels himself and brushes a chaste thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Let’s get you out of here, and then we can talk, ok?’

It’s almost perverse the way his chest warms at the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you give a reluctant nod, ‘Ok. Please be careful, the Singer’s really delicate.’

It’s hard to focus - his attention keeps drifting to how snugly you fit into his chest, between his arms, and it’s not a stretch to imagine a soft mattress underneath his back. It's funny how quickly his body has adjusted to creature comforts after months of sleeping on the cold winter ground.

Joel’s mindful that an antique sewing machine will be a pain in the ass to repair without the requisite parts, so he moves carefully, gently coaxing the band wheel back and forth to see how he can extract you. It doesn’t take long to loosen the grip of the metal teeth on your shirt, but he has to reach up and untangle the threads snagged into the mechanisms one by one.

He muses idly that this is not his method. These hands of his, with crooked knuckles that never healed right, where many a dagger, knife, gun, rifle have found a home - they break things, people.

When was the last time someone asked gentleness of him? 

He wants to scoff. That’s not what he’s good for.

Despite himself, his throat rumbles with a hum of satisfaction when the band wheel finally lets go of your shirt, the Singer whirring to life as it spins freely. He gives you a lopsided smile. ‘There you go, sweetheart.’

You smile, but don’t seem to be in a hurry to move, which pleases him. He likes looking at you from this angle, relishing in your weight on him. He takes his time running his eyes over your face, his palms coming to rest on your knees.

You duck your head prettily. ‘Thank you, Joel.'

He gives you a playful shrug. ‘Well, I owed you one for these jeans.’

You roll your eyes in good humour. ‘Actually, I told you specifically that you didn’t.’

Joel basks in the lighthearted turn in the conversation, egging you on, ‘Well, in that case, you owe me one for this instead.’

‘That’s hardly fair -’ you chide him, punching him in the shoulder in a half-hearted rebuke.

Taking the opportunity, he grabs you by the wrist, the contact prompting a bodily shudder from you that he doesn’t miss. He smirks, ‘M’fraid I don’t play fair, sweetheart.’

You glare at him in mock sternness, bold enough to demand, ‘Fine - what do you want then, Joel Miller?’

For a split second, he hesitates, woefully out of practice at whatever it is that he’s about to do. Swallowing his self-doubt, he asks, ‘Tommy and Maria are throwing a baby shower on Sunday at their house - do you want to come?’

Your shoulders stiffen. Now, that you were not expecting. Your social anxiety bubbles between your ribs and looms over you like a spector. You sputter, ‘Um, I -’

You start when his fingers draw soothing circles on the top of your knees, as if seeing straight through the source of your apprehension. He reassures you, ‘Lucy is welcome to join too. The more the merrier.’

Your eyes soften. ‘Ok. I’d love to.’

The endearing way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles has you swaying towards him, his nose just brushing the side of yours - when the doorbell rings, cutting through the loaded silence. 

In your haste to sit up, you knock your head against the table for a third time. 

‘Ow!’ you cry. Even Joel flinches at the hard hit.

Lucy calls out, sounding dangerously close. ‘Pin? You ok, hon?’

‘Shit!’ You start scrambling backwards, bent over awkwardly, convinced that you’re one more blow away from a concussion. You’ve barely scrambled onto your feet when Lucy steps into the workshop, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as blood rushes to your brain. 

She watches in amusement as Joel drags himself from under the sewing station, head cocked to one side. ‘Hi again, stranger. You really like our shop, don’t you?’

His shirt is rumpled from where you sat on him, bits of his curls sticking up. He rubs the back of his neck, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I just swung by to, uh, invite you and Pin to the baby shower. Tommy and Maria’s. This Sunday.’

Lucy crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. ‘And it’s a tradition where you’re from to talk about weekend plans under a table?’

You narrow your eyes at her. ‘Luce -’

She winks. ‘You know what? I don’t need to know the gory details - but I’m in. See you Sunday, Miller!’

Joel huffs a chuckle as Lucy disappears into the front of the shop, leaving you two alone. You smile, suddenly shy for no reason, twining your fingers to stop from fidgeting. ‘Thanks again, Joel.’

He shrugs it off, a touch of boldness in the way he stands, hands in pockets, hips cocked. ‘Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.’

Instead of heading in the direction of the door, he takes two long strides towards you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, ‘Wear those jeans for me again on Sunday?’

Stunned, you gape at him as he turns with a crooked grin and walks off, dispatching a two-fingered salute at Lucy as he goes. Pausing by the threshold, Joel gives you one last wink that has your breath stuttering - but you only allow yourself to sag against the wall when the door closes behind him, your knees giving.

Lucy wastes no time skipping back into the workshop, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. ‘Alright, time to raid the party clothes rack, girl!’

You laugh - Sunday can’t come fast enough.

Notes: I had the best time writing this chapter - it was fun to flip the tables on Pin, not that Joel comes out completely unscathed!

I definitely have ✨ideas✨ for these two, but I'm enjoying keeping things loose, so I have no plans to turn this into a full-blown series just yet. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments/reblogs/asks are so so appreciated as always ❤️

[russo-woso]

Will you please do a lia walti x reader where reader gets injured in international duty and Lia is really worried because she saw it happen on tv

I’m sorry I can’t be there | Lia Wälti

Warning injury, mention of blood

(Please pretend Leah was able to play in the December matches. I know she wasn’t in the squad but I realised as I had finished writing it.)

“That’s not Lia again is it?” Leah questioned as she saw you on FaceTime.

“No.” You respond, clearly lying.

“Hi, Lia.” Leah said as she took a place sat next to you.

“Hi Leah. How’s my girl doing?” Lia asked, and Leah fake gagged at the pet name.

“She’s doing fine. Scoring goal after goal in training.” Leah explained, taking the phone off you so she could continue the conversation with Lia.

It was your first England camp and to say you was nervous was an understatement.

You were scared that you weren’t going to be good enough, scared that you’d have no friends there, thinking that the Arsenal girls would go and spend time with their other friends, but you were completely wrong.

Leah had been with you throughout the whole camp, making sure you were settled in, making sure you were never bored or alone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lia had pulled Leah aside and asked her to make sure you were alright and Leah couldn’t say no to her best friend.

And anyway, you and Leah were like sisters so she was obviously going to look after you.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?” You asked Leah, gesturing for her to give you back your phone.

“Bye Lia, see you soon.” Leah waved to the phone, handing you the phone. “I never spend any time with my best friend anymore because of you.” Leah mumbled under her breath as you shook your head at her.

“It was you who introduced us.” You defended, remembering the time when Leah introduced you to Lia on your first day at Arsenal.

“Love, I’m going to go to sleep now but I’ll message in the morning.” Lia said, restricting the bickering between you and Leah to continue.

“Okay, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, liebling.”

“I regret introducing you both. It’s absolutely sickening how in love you two are.” Leah stated, sighing as she recalled all the past times where you and Lia have been sickeningly cute together.

“You’re just jealous because you have no one to be sickeningly in love with.” You pointed out as Leah’s signature frown appeared on her face.

“I can easily talk to Sarina about dropping you from the squad.” Leah threatened, clearly joking with you.

“There is no way we’ll be dropping Y/N from the squad.” Sarina said, walking into the room. “She’s a valuable player, one that we need.”

“Thank you, Sarina.” You spoke before turning back to Leah and sent a smirk to her.

Leah shook her head before walking out.

Letting out a small laugh, you joined into a conversation with Beth and Lucy.

————————

Looking at your phone, good luck I love you xx was displayed on it from Lia.

“You’ll do fine. I know you will.” Your Arsenal teammate, Alessia, said, resting her hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, less.” You responded, hesitantly, not knowing if she was right or not.

“Alessia’s right, mate. Believe in yourself. You’re here for a reason.” Lotte spoke up, as everyone hummed in agreement.

After getting warmed up and ready for the game, Sarina pulled you to the side, explaining that she’d put you on later in the game.

You smiled, happy that you would definitely be debuting for your country.

Remembering Lia’s message earlier, you opened your phone sending a quick text.

Thank you, baby. Sarina said I’d be on in the second half. Good luck on your match x

And with that, you walked out of the tunnel and onto the bench.

————————

After a disappointing first half, the Netherlands scoring two goals, and a dramatic start to the first half, Georgia and Hempo equalising, it was your turn to run onto a sold out Wembley.

It was the 79th minute and from the tactics Sarina had shared with you, you were fairly certain that you could help change the scoreline.

And that’s exactly what you did.

As you received the ball on the left wing, two minutes into injury time, you looked up to see Tooney making a run into the box.

You took a touch before delivering the ball perfectly to Ella’s feet.

However, before you could even see if Ella got it into the goal, you were taken off your feet due to a late tackle.

You fell to the floor, clutching your ankle as you screamed out in pain.

The girls gathered round you, immediately calling for the medics to come over.

It felt like minutes before the medics got to you when actually, it was only a matter of seconds.

In the few seconds it took them to get to you, the Dutch player apologised profusely. She also got a red card, saying sorry a final time before making her way off the pitch.

You were trying to take your mind off the pain, instead trying to focus in on your surroundings, but as the medics took your boot off, a muffled grunt of pain escaped your mouth as you bit down on your shirt.

Leah held your hand, letting you squeeze it as medics slide down your sock to reveal a very broken ankle.

You looked up, which you know now you shouldn’t have done, to be met with a tonne of blood running down your leg and ankle.

You had figured she had gone into the challenge studs first, but what you hadn’t realised was just how impactful it had been, especially so forceful it had made you bleed.

Eventually, the medics called the onsite paramedics to stretcher you into the ambulance.

You couldn’t remember the rest, apart from Leah saying goodbye.

The paramedics gave you strong painkillers that happened to make you really out of it.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, they took you into surgery, placing pins into your ankle before putting it in a cast.

Whilst you were in surgery, some of your teammates made their way to the hospital to check you were alright.

Leah made sure to request that she received frequent updates on you and also requested that you had your own private room.

Which came in handy because when you awoke from surgery and they wheeled you back to your room, you had several missed calls from Lia.

You clicked on her name, calling her back, and within just two seconds she picked up.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” Lia’s voice was barely a whisper, sadness and worry clearly visible in her voice.

“I’m okay, love, I promise. Just a broken ankle. and several months of recovery, but I’ll be okay.” You reassured her, your voice hoarse from not talking for hours.

“It was so scary, baby. At the end of the match, I was told you went down and we turned on the tv on the coach back to the hotel and it was showing your injury. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m sorry I can’t be there now.” Lia explained, small sniffles could be heard between every few words.

“Lia, love, I promise it’s okay that you’re not here. Don’t worry about me please. You go and enjoy the Spanish sun. I’ll be fine.” You repeated your words, making the point clear that you were okay.

“I love you, Y/N.” Lia’s voice broke as she said it, making your heart clench.

“I love you too, Lia. I’ll see you soon. Get some sleep, love.”

————————

After the exhaustion that the drama and injury caused yesterday, it wasn’t a surprise when you woke up close to 1 o’clock in the afternoon the following day.

Your eyes opened, hesitantly due to the light, noticing the big cast on your leg that you got to properly see for the first time in the daylight.

You winced in pain as you pushed yourself up against the bed so you were sitting up.

Looking to your right, you saw a big get well soon balloon on your table with a bouquet of flowers next to it.

Your eyebrows furrowed as a confused look took over your face, clearly confused as to who they were from.

“They’re from me.” A voice said from your left.

You recognised the voice immediately, after all, it was your favourite voice to hear.

“Lia? Baby, what are you doing here?” You questioned as you opened your arms for her to hug you.

“I couldn’t stand not being with you. I felt bad for not being with you when you got injured and I couldn’t not be here for your recovery.” Lia explained, tears welling in her eyes.

“You’re here with me now though.” You pointed out, moving on the bed so Lia could lay down next to you.

“I am. And I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too, love.”

My requests are open :)

[barcaatthemoon]

misunderstanding || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia shuts you out after a loss, failing to notice how pressure you had put on yourself to win.

your team was supposed to have the game in the bag. this was supposed to be an easy win. still, alexia and jonaton had reminded you that it was important to play your best. you weren't sure when, but slowly throughout the game, everybody started to relax a little. it seemed that two goals conceded were no big deal whenever everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before barcelona pulled ahead. unfortunately, that moment never came and the bus was eerily silent as everybody filed on to go home.

alexia sat by herself on the bus. she had placed her bag in the seat that you had planned to take before you even had a chance to get on the bus. you had stared at the spot sadly until lucy and ona pushed you towards the back of the bus. not getting to sit by alexia was bad enough, but the look of disappointment that she had shot you was even worse.

"chin up bebita," mapi told you. like alexia, you had taken a whole seat to yourself. if you couldn't sit next to your girlfriend, you didn't want to sit next to anybody. mapi knew this and respected it, even if she did want to comfort you. she hated seeing you upset, especially when the loss wasn't even really your fault. it had truly been a team effort, and alexia shouldn't have solely looked at you like that as you passed her.

"mapi, just don't," you said softly. everybody around you frowned at the defeated tone in your voice. you put your headphones on and leaned your head against the window as you stared out at the scenery. spain was absolutely beautiful, which was one of the main reasons that you had followed lucy to barcelona whenever she told you about it. photography was one of your other passions, and there was ample opportunity to capture some truly beautiful pictures in the foreign country.

halfway through the ride, you felt someone slip into the seat next to you. a part of you was hopeful that it was alexia, only to be disappointed when you saw your older sister sitting next to you. lucy knew that she wasn't who you wanted, but she couldn't just sit there while you were so upset and do nothing. she slipped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. it took everything for you not to start crying. when the bus arrived at the stadium, you wanted nothing more than to just go home, but it seemed alexia had other plans.

"team meeting in the locker room before anyone leaves," alexia announced. she was the first in, quickly followed by most of the other girls. you contemplated not going in, but you knew that alexia would rip into you if you did. so, you stood by the door, ready to make a quick exit if you got upset.

alexia hadn't even begun talking yet whenever it hit you. all she had to do was look at you before you had bolted out of the locker room with a quick, "no."

"shit, (y/n)!" lucy called out as she chased you out of the locker room. you may not have been at the club as long as her, but you had found out a couple of good hiding spots that most of the team didn't know about. your favorite was the place that alexia had shown you for clearing your head. you could get quite emotional sometimes, and she knew that you didn't want to appear like a crybaby to everybody else.

"what is her problem?" alexia asked as she caught up to lucy. lucy turned towards her captain with a look of barely restrained anger. alexia quickly matched the energy, not caring whether or not it was helpful in the moment. "she wasn't dismissed."

"check yourself before you go to her. if she comes to me later upset because of you, we're going to have problems," lucy threatened. she poked her finger into alexia's chest, causing the captain to scoff. "i'm serious. i don't care if you are the captain, if you hurt my sister, i'll kick your ass."

"whatever," alexia huffed. lucy walked back to the locker room, leaving alexia to stand there. she was still angry, but lucy's words were replaying again and again in the back of her head. alexia found you with ease hiding in one of the empty closets in the gear room. she opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she noticed the sniffling. "did i do this to you?"

"ale, leave me alone," you told her. alexia didn't listen to you, ignoring the glare you sent her as she bent down next to you.

"i'm trying to check on you. what is wrong?" alexia asked you. she tried to put her hand on your shoulder, but you jerked away from her. "(y/n), come on."

"alexia, just go!" you winced at the harshness in your voice. trying again, you softened it as you pleaded with her, "please, just leave me alone."

"how can i leave you here like this? why won't you talk to me?" alexia was trying to fight her frustration, but it was definitely a losing battle. she was angry about the near loss of the game and allowing herself to sit and simmer with her anger did not make anything better. she had put herself in a bad mindset to comfort you, but alexia felt like she owed it to you to try. there was no doubt that you had taken the loss as hard as she had, and alexia knew that you worked so hard to prove that you deserved to get minutes in these games.

"alexia, i can't handle you looking at me like that, so please just leave." you were on the verge of sobbing, glad that alexia couldn't see the tears in the darkened closet. she sighed as she stood up, finally deciding to let you be. she really did need to talk to the rest of the team, and if you were going to be difficult, she wanted to be less angry when she tried talking to you again.

"do you still want to come back with me?" alexia asked you.

"i don't know, ale." alexia felt her heart sink as she walked away from you. the walk back to the locker room wasn't a very long one, but it seemed to be long enough for tears to form in the corners of her eyes. the stares from her teammates triggered something inside of herself and the moment she sat down on the bench, alexia started crying.

"you're all dismissed," alexia said without looking up. the room was tense as the team dispersed, none of them sure of what to do. mapi stared longingly at her best friend with an ache in her heart for the woman's obvious pain. she waited until everybody else was gone before she decided to talk to alexia.

"hey, stop that. don't cry, i hate it when you cry," mapi said lightheartedly. she tapped alexia with her foot, causing the captain to look up and glare at her. "what happened with (y/n)?"

"she just wanted me to leave. i didn't even do anything!" alexia's voice rose as she spoke. mapi sat down next to alexia and started to scratch lightly at her back. "why is she mad at me?"

"she's not mad at you, she's probably just scared. everybody is upset about how today's game went, and she doesn't want you to be disappointed in her. think about what happened between the game and now, and think hard, ale."

"she walked right past me on the bus," alexia said. mapi knew that it wasn't that simple. alexia easily could have moved her bag, but she had it sitting right in your seat before you got there. it was a small and seemingly insignificant detail to alexia that meant everything to you. "she went to the back of the bus."

"there was nowhere for her to sit next to you, and she thought you were upset. think about what you would have done if jenni had done that to you when you were still coming up," mapi said. it was a bit of a low blow, but also the only way that mapi knew to get her point across to alexia. mapi could tell that it worked from the way that alexia's face dropped and she shot up from the bench.

"i have to go!" alexia yelled as she ran back to where she had left you. everything was exactly how she had left it, except now you were getting up to leave. "i think that we had a misunderstanding. i'm not mad at you, not specifically. you did good today, you tried your best. i'm sorry for the bus, i was in my own head."

"alexia, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. i played like shit today," you said. alexia's face dropped as she backed you up against the door. you weren't sure what to expect, but her gently cradling your face to speak to you was not it.

"we are good, but we cannot win every game. sometimes, other teams will pull one over on us. even if i am upset, you can always come to me after. i am sorry for making you think otherwise, i truly am. i was an idiot, and i can't promise that it won't happen again, but i will always try to fix things after. forgive me, please?" alexia said. you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "te amo, mi carina."

"i love you too, ale," you told her. alexia pulled you into a tight hug, one that hurt just a little, but you didn't mind it. "can i drive us back?"

"i'm sorry mi carina, but you are far too pretty of a-," alexia paused as she struggled to remember what lucy and some of the other girls had been teasingly calling you, "-passenger princess."

[feeder86]

Selfish

“Why are you arranging to go out with the boys? You know we’re going up to help my parents with redecorating this weekend!” Lucy complained, standing straight up and looking down at Ryan, laid out on the couch.

“We’re doing what?” Ryan asked, completely perplexed. “We were there last weekend!”

“Yeah, and I told my dad you’d give him a hand with the wallpapering this next weekend as well,” Lucy continued in her whining tone.

“Their entire lounge?” Ryan shot back. “Nobody told me!”

“Well…” Lucy mumbled, suddenly realising that Ryan was right. “I’m telling you now.”

Ryan huffed in frustration. He hadn’t had a night out with the boys in months. He’d thought, when he married Lucy, that he was setting himself up for a good life. She didn’t want kids, she wasn’t crazy about him visiting the gym all the time and she was a fully qualified chef! However, two years in and Ryan had never had so little time for himself, endlessly fixing up their apartment just as Lucy wanted it, then constantly heading out to see her parents; always being signed up for some tedious maintenance tasks now that Lucy’s dad was getting on a bit and living off his retirement income. “Fine,” he sighed, deleting his planned message to the group chat with the boys. “I guess I can see my friends when I’ve got a couple of weeks off next month.”

“Oh, yes!” Lucy nodded, making Ryan instantly regret reminding her about his time off. The cogs in her head clearly rolling into action, imagining all of the jobs he could get done in that time.

“Ryan!” cheered his buddies a full nine weeks later, amazed that he had actually made it out. “We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I’m only here for one of two drinks. I dropped Lucy off in town to do some shopping,” he explained to them, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“You’re not coming to the club?” Adam asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise after giving him the biggest hug.

“No… no. I wish I could, but…” he grumbled, considering the best way to explain how much Lucy was monopolising his time; how frustrating and demanding she had become since they got married. . “...I’ve got commitments,” he simply stated, deciding not to poison his time with his friends by complaining about the person who had kept him away from them for so long. 

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jack jumped in, filling the silent void that was killing the mood. “Life happens.”

“Jack!” Ryan exclaimed, seeing his high school best friend and doing a slight double take. The guy had altered quite a bit since Ryan last saw him. Where had that double chin come from? How was he filling that shirt with all that padding in his stomach? What the hell had happened? “How long has it been, buddy?”

“I saw you at Ginny and Fran’s house warming, about four months ago,” he answered. “I introduced you to my new girlfriend, Michelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remember, Ryan nodded, thinking back to how drunk Lucy had been that night, and how early they had had to leave. But Jack hadn’t looked so overweight back then. They’d tried out their friends’ new swimming pool. Jack had been one of the first ones in. He definitely wasn’t out of shape. Not like he appeared to be now.

As luck would have it, when the guys all went to grab seats, Ryan ended up next to Jack, right on the end of a long, rectangular table. Back in their high school days, the pair of them had been the best of friends, and that old rapport immediately came back every time they met; even after months of separation. Jack had always been the bad influence that Ryan’s parents had never approved of. He’d been banned from hanging out with the guy on multiple occasions when he was growing up and, even now, he still felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, giggling away at the crude jokes that tumbled out of Jack’s mouth with ease. 

“So, things are going well with Michelle?” Ryan asked, spotting that Jack had already referenced her several times in their conversation.

“Things are going great!” Jack beamed. He leaned in a little closer, clearly not wanting the other guys to hear. “We’ve even talked about getting married!”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Married? After four months?” he whispered back, knowing that Jack didn’t want this broadcasting. He remembered how promiscuous his friend had been during his college days. If Ryan had been asked to pick any one of the guys here who was least likely to ever settle down, he would have chosen Jack without a second thought.

“I know!” Jack beamed, leaning back and placing his hands on the top of his stout little paunch, which jutted out into a proper shelf as they sat down. “I’m so ready for it though,” he smiled, seeming to rub his stomach mindlessly. “I’m actually really excited about the idea.”

Round and round Jack’s hands went, rubbing that tight ball of stomach fat, pulling Ryan’s gaze into it. “I’m happy for you,” he mumbled back.

Jack looked around, checking that no one else was listening in, then he turned himself a little more into Ryan, about to divulge even more private information. “Michelle’s super kinky!” he whispered.

Ryan chuckled and leaned in as well. His own sex life was so monotonous these days, he was actually quite ready to hear about someone else having a good time. “Oh yeah? She certainly looked pretty flexible when I met her that one time,” he grinned, settling into dirty ‘guy talk’ with enthusiasm.

“Oh, buddy!” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a huge exhale. “You would not believe it. She has me wrapped around her little finger. Absolutely anything she wants, I do for her.”

“That doesn’t sound too dissimilar to me and Lucy,” Ryan quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

“No, I’m not talking about boring shit, like decorating,” Jack shot back, having heard all about Ryan’s grumblings. “I’m talking about really kinky, submissive stuff.”

“Really?” Ryan smirked. “I never thought she’d be the dominant type.”

“No,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “No one else knows. She hides it really well.”

Ryan had to admit that he was getting a little turned on. “So, what type of stuff does she make you do?” he asked next; his eyes twinkling with boyish interest, just as much as Jack’s were.

“All sorts,” Jack answered, his hands slipping onto his gut again. “When we started going out, I was still trying to act like the playboy I used to be. Michelle was having none of it. She’s put guys like me in their place before. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures!” he smirked.”But her biggest turn on is making sure I overeat and get bigger.”

“Seriously?” Ryan asked, now understanding why Jack kept on holding his stomach. “I thought girls hated it when guys put on weight?”

“It’s an absolute fucking dream!” Jack replied, lowering his voice even further. Just the fact that he had sworn showed Ryan how turned on his friend was, simply by talking about it. “I get home and she’ll sit me in my gaming chair and set everything up for me. Then she brings me endless snacks and beers; a few sodas, cream cakes. Michelle won’t even let me get up. I do nothing around my apartment at all! No washing, no cleaning and certainly no cooking! She gets off on controlling my entire lifestyle when I’m at home. Then rewarding me for it.”

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Ryan had to agree, feeling surprisingly jealous. He’d been up until almost midnight last night, fixing a new shelf for Lucy’s candles, whilst his buddy Jack had been gaming, eating and getting pleasured the entire time.

“You see why I’m so keen to marry her now?” Jack joked back. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living out our dream that we used to talk about in high school.”

Ryan looked a little perplexed, trying to remember what they used to talk about ten years ago.

In turn, Jack seemed a little surprised that Ryan was struggling to recall. “You remember? Mr Hanson was such a bad gym teacher, we used to joke that we would just find some girls who liked fat guys and never have to put on a pair of itchy gym shorts again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan chuckled. “That worked out well for me,” he sighed sarcastically. “I ended up marrying a professional chef, but I’m now ten pounds lighter than I was when we married.”

“Dude, there are other girls out there,” Jack went on enthusiastically. “Believe me! My eyes have been opened in these last few months! If you want the life that I’ve got…” he proclaimed, rubbing his stomach once more, “trust me, you can have it!”

Ryan nodded. No one else had dared to suggest he thought about a life beyond Lucy. Whenever he raised his concerns or annoyances about their marriage, people were keen to stamp them out, reminding him, in their accusatory tones, that marriage was all about compromising. Now, here was Jack, actively encouraging him to imagine being with someone else instead. It was the reason why Jack was, and always would be, Ryan’s very best friend.

Ryan looked at himself in the mirror a couple of weeks later. It was Sunday night. He should have been well rested, and yet he looked nothing but tired. The dirt under his fingernails from digging up Lucy’s parents’ garden all weekend was still visible in places, despite scrubbing for so long in the shower. His ribs were showing in his chest and, although he was built with plenty of muscle, he’d never looked so lanky and slim in his life. He thought of Jack and his life of pleasure and luxury. This… this tiredness and exhaustion was not what he wanted for himself. He looked almost ill.

Life had to change.

Ryan raised his cell phone to the mirror and took a picture of himself. This would be his lowest point, he decided with determination. From now on, things were going to change. He never wanted to see himself like this ever again.

“What’s all this?” Lucy complained, slipping into Ryan’s truck on their way to the supermarket. She held up several pieces of packaging, wrappers from fast food places and sugary snacks. “Is this what you’ve been eating when you’ve been in work this week?”

Ryan nodded without shame. “I feel like I’m too skinny. I’m trying to put on a few pounds.”

“Since when?” Lucy blasted back indignantly. “I’ve never told you you’re too skinny. I like the way you look.”

“I don’t,” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve never liked being skinny. I was always bigger than this growing up. In fact, I was actually quite chubby when I started high school.”

“Well, no. Sorry,” Lucy stated, without compromise. “I’m your wife, and I say no.”

Ryan looked at her in disbelief. “It’s my body,” he declared. “And I want to feel good about it.”

“I said no!” Lucy spat, brushing all the packaging into the footwell and sitting herself down. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”

Ryan got in, sat down and slammed the door shut, neither of them speaking for the entire ride.

‘Fastest ways to gain weight’ Ryan typed into the internet search that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. He quickly skipped through anything that dealt with muscle gains and focused solely on those that promoted increases in fat. He may have married Lucy, but she didn’t own him. In fact, she was the one who needed to learn that more than anyone. This was one ‘no’ that he wasn’t about to cave into.

“You’re looking well,” cried Ryan’s aunt as he stopped over to fix her leaking tap.

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “I feel quite well,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to put some weight back on these last few weeks. I was starting to get far too skinny.”

“I was saying that to your mom, but she didn’t agree with me. You had gone dreadfully skinny.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. He had always been much more on his aunt’s wavelength than anyone else in his family. “I found some recipes online and I buy in these little calorie shakes that seem to work well on me. I’ve put on about 20lbs altogether,” he explained, raising his shirt briefly to show that his stomach was indeed a little thicker. “Lucy isn’t too pleased about it. But she’s never happy these days.”

“Well, you were never skinny growing up, were you?” his aunt nodded. “You always had a sweet tooth, I remember. You used to eat me out of house and home when you came over!”

“That’s why I’m so tall,” Ryan laughed. “I was always so well fed growing up.”

The pair of them laughed and Ryan packed up his things. In the old days, he would have headed straight home to his wife, but now he was feeling the need to be much more selfish, heading istead to the fast food place he had grown quite attached to and determined that he would at last defeat the Mega Monster Meal that had, up until now, eluded him.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” Lucy complained, checking the time as Ryan rushed about after his shower. He’d been late home, getting caught up at a job, sending his wife into a tailspin as she tried to get him ready for her friend’s engagement party. She’d laid his suit out on the bed, his underwear, shoes and socks; knowing exactly how she wanted him to look.

Ryan hated being rushed. So what if they missed the first twenty minutes? Was the world really going to end? It was the side of Lucy he hated most, struggling to pull his socks on as his feet were still so wet.

“Oh,” Ryan mumbled, sucking in his stomach and trying to button up the suit pants. He tugged and pulled, holding his breath as much as he could. “I’m too big for them!” he chuckled with amusement, remembering that he had bought the suit for a wedding less than a year ago, when he was much skinnier. “What a waste of money, these were!” he joked lightheartedly. “I only got to wear them once!”

Lucy stared on in horror. She’d told him again and again to cut down on his eating. Couldn’t he see how bad he looked? Wasn’t he ashamed of how his stomach was starting to develop into a little paunch.

“Relax,” he whispered back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll just pair the jacket with my jeans and then we can head straight out.”

However, Lucy’s face had flushed with anger. “No,” she declared, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going by myself. I’m not being seen with you, looking like this.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t have words, listening as she stormed down the stairs and threw the front door closed. He heard her car start and he peeked out the window as that too stormed off down the street; out of view. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ryan threw himself down onto the bed; still dressed only in his underwear and socks. How had he married someone so fucking unreasonable? She was just so… 

But then a thought came to Ryan, making his brain tingle into life. Had he actually just been given the night to himself? The whole house? Just him? All evening?

He looked down at his thicker stomach and smiled with delight at it. “Thank you!” he laughed aloud, managing to pinch a little and jiggle it in happiness. He felt a twitch in his groin, realising that with the night to himself, he could watch porn or do anything that he wanted. He could order food in. Lots of it! “Yes!”, he nodded, getting more excited and turned on now. This was his night. Free reign to be as selfish as he liked.

Ryan proceeded to indulge himself in every way possible, looking down at his bloated stomach a couple of hours later. Maybe this was it, he thought to himself. Maybe this was the way out of his miserable life with Lucy. He could seize upon her dislike of his weight gain and run with it. Why stop? He’d certainly gone beyond the point of denying himself for the sake of her ideals. There was a path in front of him, the exit sign shining brightly and a new life within his reach. He just needed to have the courage to reach for it.

“A Saturday night to yourself?” Jack laughed, surprised that Ryan had actually followed up on his promises and made it out for a drink. “You must have been a very good boy!” he teased.

Ryan hugged his friend and stood back to admire him slightly. Jack had grown wider since he’d seen him last, his hips and love handles spreading. Teh guy’s face was bigger, cheeks blooming large. And underneath his t-shirt, Ryan could see that the man’s nipples had become pointed, pressing outwards from his puffy former pecs. “I can see that you’ve been having a very good time of things!” he joked, being in the know about how Jack’s kinky sex life worked with his girlfriend.

“I could say the same about you!” Jack smirked back, poking Ryan in his tight little paunch. “Have you and Lucy been having your own kinky fun?” he teased.

“We’re not really talking at the moment, dude,” Ryan explained straight away; keen that he didn’t have to spend the entire night talking about her. “I want out. I’ve reached the end.”

Jack winced sympathetically. “I can’t say that I’m all that surprised after the way you were talking last time. But that still doesn’t explain this,” he pointed back at Ryan’s middle, smirking.

Ryan laughed, having forgottem how quickly Jack could lift his spirits with his cheeky humour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coyly, smiling with just as much mischief.

“Yes you do!” Jack laughed back, patting Ryan’s paunch properly now. “Did you do it on purpose? Is this to piss Lucy off?”

Again, Ryan laughed. He shruged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he nodded in surprise at Jack’s bluntness. There wasn’t anyone else in the world he could imagine himself admitting this to. “I guess I did,” he smiled, resting his hand over his thicker middle like it was his new prized pet.

“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Jack blasted; his face lighting up with all the enthusiasm Ryan remembered when the pair of them used to get up to mischief in high school. “You love it, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like he was dealing with an excitable puppy, but the interest was infectious. “Well, I can’t say I’m against it,” he replied diplomatically.

“Michelle is going to love this when I tell her,” Jack pressed on, ordering them both a couple of beers. “She said at the pool party that you would make a good fatty.”

“She did?” Ryan asked, surprised that Michelle would talk about other guys in that way.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “She said you’re like me; a similar build; perfect for fattening up, apparently.”

“She really is a kinky one, your Michelle, isn’t she?” Ryan chuckled, feeling strangely aroused by the idea of her talking about him like this.

“How far are you planning on taking it?” Jack pressed him.

“The weight gain? Um, well. I’m not really thinking about anything really. I’m just having some fun,” he answered honestly.

“Dude, if you’re ever going to grow a gut in your lifetime, getting a divorce is one of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asked, only half listening now as he tried to work out why there was so much blood pumping into his groin.

“A divorce is like a free pass for so many things. No one will bat an eyelid if you start getting properly fat once you two separate.”

“Well, we’re not quite there yet,” Ryan backtracked, wincing slightly as the word ‘divorce’ came up so casually in their conversation. Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and neither had he to her. 

“Just imagine it though,” Jack encouraged him. “You, sitting in your own apartment somewhere, drinking as much beer and eating as much pizza as you want after work. No Lucy complaining in the background and telling you off. No massive list of jobs to be completed at the weekend.”

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Ryan admitted; his dick now inexplicably full of blood.

“I just can’t wait to tell Michelle,” Jack said again, more delighted than ever as the pair of them settled in to watch the football game on the big screen.

The realities of splitting from his wife were somewhat different from the fantasies that Jack tried to portray, Ryan soon realised. Divorce was quickly turning into the most expensive thing he had ever done. Lucy’s parents, who had been too impoverished to hire a gardener, or a decorator, or a maintenance guy the entire time he had been married to Lucy, suddenly stumped up the cash to pay for the most cut-throat, killer lawyer for their daughter. With his head in his hands, Ryan soon realised that he was going to have to start from scratch: no home, no pensions, not even his truck for work. The only place that he could afford to live was a room in an apartment downtown, sharing with two students from the local college. Twenty nine years old and here he was, right back at the starting line.

Of the two guys he now lived with, Ryan didn’t see much of Paul, the computer science major. He was often out in the library, or hiding out in his bedroom. That worked fine. With his life turned so upside down, Ryan wasn’t exactly wanting to be dragged out to parties midweek when he had work the next morning. No, the only real pain in Ryan’s ass was Ash; the smart-mouthed literature student with a carefree attitude to life that frustrated Ryan to no end.

“You know, when you get a real job, you’re not going to be able to sit up until 3am watching a movie marathon with your waste of space boyfriend,” he complained at the guy one evening, tired from an exhausting day in work, having been constantly woken by the pair of young lovers laughing so hard at the screen.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ash huffed. “I’ve had a stressful day, okay. I don’t need this.”

“Stressful?” Ryan parroted, feeling the rage bubbling up inside him. “You want to know about stress?” he growled. “You’ve been sitting inside all day typing up an assignment on a computer screen. That’s not what real stress looks like. You’re in college - you have absolutely no idea about the real world; about trying to actually earn a living!”

Ash rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. 

Sure, Lucy knew how to press Ryan’s buttons, but this boy was on a whole other level. “You graduate with your masters in nine months!” he blasted. “What the hell do you expect to do then? You’ve got no idea, have you? How can you just wander so aimlessly through life?”

“What does it matter?” Ash sighed. “Things always work out in the end.”

“It matters because, trust me, your twenties will be over in a flash and you need to start getting somewhere in life. Not just watching movies until 3am! And certainly not with someone like Ben! You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and it pisses me off!”

“Like you, you mean?” Ash shot back, visibly annoyed. “You’ve done the whole marriage thing, the house, the cars. Yet, you're back here, sharing a shitty apartment with a couple of students. You did everything right, everything the grown-ups told you, and now look at you! Sometimes life is just like that. So stop taking out your frustrations on me and start focusing on yourself instead!”

Ryan didn’t respond. He stormed off to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Then he took a few breaths and considered what Ash had actually said to him. The guy had been right: he was taking his anger out on him. Ash was young, more academically bright than Ryan had ever been, good looking and full of personality. He had his whole life in front of him without any major mistakes under his belt yet. So why did Ryan feel the need to be such an asshole to him?

Despite not officially apologising, Ryan did make an effort to be nicer to Ash over the coming days. He still didn’t care for Ben, the guy's boyfriend, feeling that Ash could do much better. But he was polite and courteous, never failing to put in his earplugs when he knew they were going to be watching TV until late.

Ryan’s weight had not been a priority for him since he’d moved in. Any erotic fantasies he’d indulged himself in last year were thoroughly dampened by the divorce. Yet, his weight continued to climb, spurred on by the cheap, high carbohydrate diet he fell into whilst living in the apartment.

When he was with Lucy, Ryan had indulged himself in sugary treats and even high calorie supplements that he would now consider an eyewatering drain on his monthly budget. He was having to to work harder than ever to bring in the money and his paunch seemed to lose that fluffy softness of his early gains, solidifying into something firmer and more rounded as it continued to push itself out from under his chest.

New clothes were also a luxury that Ryan could ill-afford. His t-shirts fitted awkwardly around the swell of his stomach and there were many times in work when he felt a cool breeze on his butt crack. Beer was the only luxury he allowed himself in those early days, especially on the weekends, when Paul usually went back to visit his family and Ash was generally out partying with his boyfriend. In those few, blissful hours, he could guzzle down his beers whilst sitting in his underwear in front of the shared TV screen, appreciating exactly why he had given up his marriage. Life was hard, but it wasn’t always awful.

Through word of mouth, Ryan had started picking up more work on some of the other rental properties for students that littered this area of town. Desperate for the work, Ryan had been undercutting people quite dramatically in order to guarantee an income for himself. However, trying to get an early start on these types of properties was never as easy. Students were inherently lazy, he decided, whilst banging on the door of one apartment, trying to get someone to let him in. After a full five minutes, a groggy looking guy crawled to the door wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that was back to front.

“Your landlord sent me to see your air con,” Ryan eventually explained.

Without a word, the exhausted guy simply opened the door further and let Ryan get by. “You’re not going to be noisy are you?” he eventually asked. “My boyfriend is still asleep.”

Ryan looked at his watch. It was almost 10.30 in the morning. Why would anyone still be asleep now?

“It’s okay. I’m getting up anyway,” yawned another guy, waddling sleepily from the bedroom and giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. It was only then that Ryan clocked him. It was Ben, Ash’s obviously cheating boyfriend; the guy’s face suddenly looking considerably more alert as he too recognised Ryan.

“You’re not going to tell Ash, are you?” Ben shouted, having followed Ryan out of the apartment the second he had finished up; safely out of earshot of his second boyfriend.

“Of course I am,” Ryan replied simply, continuing to walk away, without stopping.

“You’re just going to make him miserable,” the guy shot back. “Is that what you want?”

At this, Ryan laughed. Guilty people always seemed to have such a terrific way of turning things back around on the other person. “Trust me,” he sniggered. “He’ll be way better off without someone like you in his life.”

“Do you think it was easy for me with Ash?” Ben started next; his tone shifting to something nastier. “It’s not exactly easy trying to feel special when your boyfriend has a massive crush on the pot-bellied daddy bear he shares an apartment with. How do you think that made me feel?”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan laughed, surprised at how far Ben was going with his bullshit. A daddy bear? He was only six years older than Ash.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Ben snapped back, getting more viscious as he realised that Ryan wasn’t willing to compromise with him. “You’re always there, or strutting about in just your underwear, drinking your beers in the living area and being overly friendly. You’ve been trying to fuck things up for the two of us for ages.”

Now Ryan did stop, turning to face Ben properly. “What planet are you living on?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “I just try to be pleasant. I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Prove it then,” Ben shot back, seizing upon an opportunity. “If you’re really not trying to fuck things up between us, you’ll let this one little indiscretion slide.”

If Ryan hadn’t just had the hardest year of his life, dealing with some of the most despicable, bullying lawyers out there, he may have fallen for Ben’s game. As it was, he wasn’t afraid of standing his ground. “Tell him by the time I get home later. Or I will.”

Ryan crept into the apartment later that evening, finding Paul in the kitchen. “You missed some drama today,” he sighed. “Ash and Ben broke up. I walked in on it all before. It was so awkward.”

“Is Ash okay?” Ryan asked, relieved that Ben had listened to his ultimatum and done the deed himself.

“He’s in his room,” Paul nodded over to the bedroom door. “We’d best leave him be.”

Ryan nodded in complete agreement, deciding to hide out in his room that evening so that Ash didn’t need to see anyone when he would inevitably have to come out for a glass of water, or to use the bathroom.

The evening was slipping away and Ryan had just finished a TV series that he had been charging through for the last two weeks. There was still an hour until he would need to get to sleep; enough time for one last beer, before the inevitable daily grind would start all over again. He strutted out of his bedroom and made for the refrigerator, pausing only briefly to crack the can open and chug a little of it. He burped quietly, finding that the first few mouthfuls of fresh beer always made him the most gassy. Then, suddenly, he heard the door to Ash’s room opening and he stood there, feeling completely caught out.

“Hi,” Ash whispered, not making any pretenses that he was here for any other reason than to see Ryan.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Ryan now regretted coming out of his room without a shirt on; his bloated pot belly on full display. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but Ben’s words had planted an unpleasant seed in his mind that made him question everything he did a little bit more. “I’m sorry to hear about Ben,” he stated straight away. “How are you doing?”

Ash sighed and began to pour his heart out. He knew all about Ryan’s discovery earlier that day and he thanked the guy for doing the right thing.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Ryan nodded, swigging the last of his beer and crushing the can for recycling. He shouldn’t have really had another one. His stomach felt quite painfully bloated and tight after it.

“Oh, and about those things that Ben said to you,” Ash quickly jumped in, seeing that Ryan was heading back to his room. “I hope it’s not going to make things awkward between us.”

Ryan had to think for a second about what Ash was getting at. The crush? Was Ben actually telling the truth about that? “Um, no. Not at all,” he mumbled back, rubbing his hair with a little embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, finally making his escape.

An evening out with Jack was exactly what Ryan needed a couple of weekends later, as Ryan’s divorce was at last finalised. Unlike Ryan’s months of hell, Jack’s appearance was symbolic of a life of sheer indulgence and pleasure. Unlike Ryan, his body was pure softness, with blubber beginning to creep its way into the guy’s neck and upper arms. His stomach had swollen quite considerably and his butt had a surprising width to it that Ryan had not expected.

“Listen, I didn’t want to message you about this. I kind of feel pretty bad asking you in some ways, knowing what you’re going through,” Jack started after Ryan had finished explaining how the divorce had eventually played out. “I wanted you to be my best man.”

Ryan smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” he beamed, getting up to hug his old friend warmly as he stayed sitting in his chair.

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “It’s not going to be a huge wedding. Not everyone approves,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, sensing that Jack needed to offload.

“Well, Michelle’s parents aren’t coming,” he huffed. “They’d watched Michelle do this to her old boyfriend,” he explained, rubbing the quite substantial shelf of belly fat under his sagging nipples. “So when the same thing started happening to me, they told her they wanted no part in it.”

“Bonus!” Ryan joked, trying to remain upbeat. “My marriage certainly would have gone a lot smoother without the in-laws.”

Jack nodded, seeming to be somewhat in agreement. “Michelle’s not too cut up about it,” he whispered. “Then, well, you remember my dad. He still goes out running three times a week. So he’s not been all that in favour of Michelle and her wholesome home cooking..”

“You can’t live your life for your parents,” Ryan jumped in. It was a lesson he had learned somewhat bitterly when his own church-goin parents had taken Lucy’s side in the divorce. It made him think back to how much they had pushed him to get married in the first place, and he began to resent them, quite justifiably in his opinion.

“I know, I know…” Jack nodded. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s it for me, y’know?”

Ryan raised his beer and they drank to that sentiment.

“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Is there someone new you’ve been holding back from me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not at all,” he stated. “Well… I mean…” he hesitated for a moment. “No. No one.”

But Jack’s interest had already been piqued. “Oh, come on. You can’t give me that and then say nothing!” he teased.

Ryan sighed, realising that he had dug himself into a bit of a hole. “It’s nothing,” he huffed at his own stupidity. “It’s just, one of the guys I live with has a bit of a crush on me.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” Jack laughed wickedly.

“Well…” Ryan conceded. “It looks that way, yes. His ex-boyfriend told me off for strutting around the place in just my underwear. He said I had a pot-belly and told me his boyfriend thinks of me as a hot daddy bear!”

Jack chuckled again. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have quite the pot-belly!”

“Isn’t it a bit weird though?” Ryan asked his friend.

“Being referred to as a daddy bear when you’re only twenty nine?” Jack asked, simultaneously nodding in agreement. “But once you put on a bit of extra meat, that’s just the way people see you. It’s much more arousing to lean into it, rather than try to fight it.”

“Lean into it?” Ryan asked. “That’s your best advice?”

“Just enjoy the attention,” Jack smirked. “So what if he’s a twenty-four year old gay guy? You don’t have to be into someone to appreciate their admiration,” he nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this one. You’ll come to see that I’m right.”

With the divorce at last over with and all lawyers paid off, Ryan began to feel the financial strain starting to ease. Lucy hadn’t been quite as successful in getting all that she wanted from him. The worst case scenario was, thankfully, avoided. A few more months of living with the boys and Ryan would soon have saved enough money to rent his own place instead. With the ties that bound him to his ex-wife now finally disappearing, Ryan began to remember why he had fought so long for this freedom.

“I’ll have the Monster Meat bucket,” he declared, walking into a fast food place and not feeling guilty about the cost for the first time in months. He sucked in the smell of all the greasy goodness and knew that this was a freedom he would never again take for granted. Now he could gorge on as much as he desired and never have to explain himself to anyone. He could literally get as fat as he wanted now he was divorced and single, with no one to please but himself.

As he settled down into a seat, Ryan felt the bliss of devoting all his attention just to his epic meal for a full 20 minutes. It was all the stress relief he had ever needed. No one in here was particularly slim and it seemed, in those moments, that he had taken himself out of a world that so frustrated him, and into one that he felt comfortable in. Sure, he could probably join a gym and drop this weight in a relatively short amount of time. He could train his body hard and attract some beautiful girl to make his ex jealous. But Ryan knew that he had moved beyond that now. He didn’t care what his ex thought of him, or anyone else for that matter.

Or was Ryan just kidding himself? Was this really a moment of clarity? Or would he soon go crawling back to a diet plan the second things started getting rough? He was desperate to believe that wouldn’t be the case, but no one could ever be totally certain when it came to the future. It was only the present he could master. And so, armed with that knowledge, he went back to the counter, even though he felt almost too stuffed to even think about food.

“I’ll have the triple burger, please,” he stated, adding another milkshake to go with it. “He felt his hardess start to tingle, like the old days when he used to do this. Back then, he’d assumed it to be some twisted excitement about pissing Lucy off. Now he realised that this was so much more. This was about taking himself to somewhere he had never allowed himself to imagine going..

“Is this for you?” Ash asked, handing Ryan two boxes of pizza. “The delivery guy was coming up the stairs as I got home.”

“About time!” Ryan sighed, taking the boxes from him and settling back into the chair in front of the sofa. Two pizzas were a necessity for the Friday night baseball game and he was already four beers down. It would have been a perfect night but for the sticky humidity that had loomed over the city for the last few days; making him strip to his boxers as soon as he got home. “Do you follow baseball?” he asked Ash politely, nodding to the couch to see if he wanted to join him; knowing that, with Paul gone for the weekend, Ash would be on his own otherwise.

“No. Watching sports is not really my thing,” Ash replied unenthusiastically, despite continuing to linger around.

“Do you mind getting me another beer then?” Ryan asked,deciding to put the guy to work if he was so free to just stand about like this. 

Ash hopped to his task with remarkable speed. “Here you go,” he smiled delightedly, heading straight over and handing it over to him, not seeming to realise that he was blcoking part of the TV screen. “I’ve got some chips and dip if you want some?” he asked next.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, hoping that the guy would at least sit down then and stop getting in the way.

Once again, Ash went to his task, presenting the chips and dip much better than Ryan ever would have. He placed them on the coffee table and then finally sat himself down on the couch. 

“You not having any?” Ryan asked five minutes later, noticing that it was only him actually eating.

“No, thanks,” Ash simply replied, pretending to be interested in the game. “They’re for you. Do you want another beer?”

Ryan felt the remaining liquid in his beer can and nodded, surprised by how diligently he was being looked after. Even when he asked Ash to fetch him the ice cream from the freezer later on, he was surprised that the young guy hopped to it, bouncing off the couch with an enthusiasm he had never seen before.

At the end of the game, Ryan took himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after the seven cans of beer he had ended up consuming. He looked in the mirror and marveled at the reflection he saw within it. Bloated and stuffed, Ryan had never seen his stomach looking so round and tight. Although he had upgraded his underwear a little while back, already these were looking worn and stretched, pulling the waistband down so that a good couple of inches of butt crack were on show. His muscular chest had started to build up with fleshiness in recent weeks and he placed his hand there to feel just how soft it was starting to get under his arms. He pulled the scales out with his foot and wondered just how much he weighed in this overfed state. He stepped on, waiting for the numbers to settle: 256lbs; the biggest number he had ever seen by quite some margin. It was, quite frankly, the cause of an almost instantaneous erection.

“I was wondering, if you’re still hungry, I could make you some pancakes?” Ash asked next as Ryan finally made it out of the bathroom. “I’ve got all the ingredients in.”

Ryan sat himself back down with a grunt and rubbed the shelf of his tight stomach, surprised that Ash was still hanging about the living area. Couldn’t he see how full Ryan was? Was he completely obvious to the heavy breathing and occasional grunt when he had to move, even slightly. He knew that the guy had a little crush, but what on earth was he possibly getting out of all this?

“Go on,” Ash pressed, actually trying to persuade him now. “Just a couple of them; nothing too big.”

Ryan looked up at the guy, already making his way to the kitchen and just waiting for that final nod of approval from him. Out of little more than curiosity, he agreed; watching with interest as he spied Ash settling to his task. Was he really using that much oil to fry the batter mix up? Was he actually rubbing butter into them? Did he really need to pour on that much syrup?

Despite tasting amazing, Ryan knew that every mouthful he was taking was completely and utterly packed full of calories and fat. As if desperate for his approval, Ash had watched him consume every bite of them. A sweat had begun to pour off Ryan’s forehead, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this one was caused by the humidity. “I am absolutely stuffed!” Ryan declared, grunting and rubbing the stretched out ball of stomach fat. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages,” he chuckled. “Not since I was trying to piss off my ex-wife after she told me she liked me being skinny.” “You were putting on weight on purpose?” Ash asked, quite startled by the comment.

“I was going for it, like you wouldn’t believe!” Ryan nodded. “Unless you’ve been through it, it’s hard to comprehend how petty you can be towards the end of a bad marriage,” he grinned, suddenly noticing that his hands were all over his own rounded stomach. “I was even taking this special calorie supplement shake you can buy, just to speed things up,” he laughed, thinking back.

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed knowledgeably, suddenly naming the exact brand .

They both went quiet. What a strange piece of trivia for Ash to just know, thought Ryan. The guy seemed to sense that too, suddenly looking a little sheepish. 

“Do you still take them?” Ash asked next, trying to look a little less interested than his excitable voice made him sound.

“I don’t need to,” Ryan grinned, tapping his fully grown pot belly. I just weighed myself twenty minutes ago. I’ve put on another 40lbs since I moved in here. It seems that I just can’t stop these days!” He yawned, standing up and stretching. “Anyway, buddy. I need to head to sleep,” he declared, seizing upon the fact that his erection from the overeating had at last subsided.

“Do you think there is a way to tell if someone is like your Michelle?” Ryan asked the next time he caught up with Jack at the very hastily organised stag party.

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, only a little worse for wear as he and Ryan gradually fell to the back of the crowd of friends taking them to the next bar.

“You know… Someone who is into the idea of helping someone else gain weight,” Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice fairly low.

Jack chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you’ll spot them!” he nodded. They’re not exactly subtle. “They’ll find ways to ensure you’re eating and they’ll probably want to watch too. If they’re anything like Michelle, they’ll probably try to keep your activity levels low and complement you at the weirdest times; like when you’re bloated from overeating.”

Ryan nodded, taking it all in and finding a striking resemblences to Ash’s more recent behaviours. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jack considered for a moment. “The compliments,” he added next. “They’re totally bizarre. If they’re praising you for overeating, that’s a pretty sure sign. But sometimes they may try to convince you that you look better, or more masculine, or whatever it is they think you want to hear. When the reality is, you just look fat.”

Again, Ryan nodded, keen to match Jack’s thoughts to his own observations of Ash. “You see, I think I might have…”

“Come on!” shouted their drunk friends up ahead. “The night is still young. Stop waddling behind and get your big butts up here!”

Jack and Ryan smirked at each other. Despite Jack’s rather considerable extra weight, Ryan had been lumbered in exactly the same category. The pair of them were, for better or worse, the fat guys on this trip.

“You’re back!” Ash smiled late the next day as an exhausted Ryan made it home. “Did you have a nice time? Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat?”

Ryan looked again at the time. “You’re still up!” he asked with surprise, knowing that Ash always had an early class on Monday mornings.

“Well, I wanted to check that you got home okay,”Ash replied, heading to the kitchen and renewing his offer to make something for his roommate.

Smirking at the fact that he was being fussed over and mothered by a good-looking twenty-four year old, Ryan had been disappointed that he hadn’t had more alone time to discuss this situation he was in, with his buddy, Jack. “Okay,” he nodded, deciding to just let Ash do his thing. “Sure, that would be nice.” He headed for a shower, returning to find an enormous, steaming hot lasagne, glistening with grease and cheese, sitting there on a plate, ready to be eaten. “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked Ash.

Ash nodded. “I remembered you saying that lasagne used to be your favourite dish growing up. I’ve never made it before, but I made a whole bunch of them and portioned them up in the refrigerator for when you get hungry.

Ryan smiled at the effort Ash had clearly gone to for him; a whole new level of care and attention. He opened his mouth to try some and nodded in approval. The lasagne really was delicious, although it was more than obvious just how much oil, cream and several different types of cheeses had gone into it to make it really quite extremely high in calories. If all the beer and fast food hadn’t ensured his pants would be tighter tomorrow, this little calorie bomb sure would.

“How was the weekend, anyway?” Ash asked, sticking around for the show and watching Ryan devour every bite.

“Pretty good,” Ryan nodded. “I had a couple of jibes from some of my old school friends about my weight. But we all turn thirty this year, so the dad-bod is definitely where most of them are at now anyway. I’m just the one who has already graduated from that stage,” he winked at Ash, tapping his gut.

“What did they say?” Ash asked with surprising interest, placing a cushion over his crotch.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan went on, deciding to play up to whatever kinky fantasies he thought his roomate may be having. “Just pointing stuff out to me: telling me how tight my clothes are, how slow I was when we were walking to different places and calling me out on how much I was eating when we went for food.”

“They’re probably just jealous,” Ash shot back straight away.

Ryan smirked. There was no way any of the guys were in the least bit jealous of his sprouting pot belly, making him all but invisible to the many hot girls they bumped into that weekend. This was clearly just another one of those bizarre compliments that Jack had told him to look out for. “Yeah, you’re right,” he lied to Ash, rubbing his bloating gut as he chugged down a few of the sodas Ash had supplied with his late night meal. “I’m sure they are jealous, deep down.”

Stepping on the scale was not something that Ryan did all that often. He could feel his stomach’s rounded shape starting to swell even larger, and he knew, from the fit of his underwear and pants, that his thighs and butt were also bearing the brunt of all that he was consuming each day. Still, as he stepped up, early one Sunday morning, after a particularly gluttonous take-out weekend of having the apartment to himself, Ryan’s eyes widened in shock: 278lbs! “Fuck!” he blasted in shock, before laughing to himself at how fast the latest few pounds had slipped on. He really weighed that much? He didn’t feel that heavy! He strolled over to the mirror inspecting his shape. Sure, his gut was pretty well developed by now and all the extra eating had sure softened his chest up rather a lot. He spun, noting that his butt’s width was quite considerable now, with back fat bulding at his sides and folding under his shoulder blades. Yet, he still didn’t feel like he should weigh 278lbs! Somehow, he had always imagined a guy that size being much bigger than this. What Ryan actually felt as he saw himself there, was very small still; acting as a licence for him to continue to indulge.

Jack’s wedding was fast approaching as the weeks rolled by. After being fitted for their suits, Ryan and Jack headed out for something to eat.

“That tailor seemed pretty pissed off that we left it this late to get ourselves measured for the wedding outfits,” Ryan noted as they sat down and grabbed the menus. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers that they can get those pants in for you in time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack shrugged. “I put on weight every week, so there would have been no point in going any earlier. I would just have outgrown them. “I’m almost 350lbs these days.”

Ryan nodded. Jack did indeed look impressively large, yet he was only 60lbs or so bigger than he was. And Ryan still felt tiny in comparison. “I know what you mean,” Ryan agreed. “I split some pants the other day. I’d only bought them four weeks before.”

“It’s weird, isnt it. When you’re gaining weight, you’re so tuned into how your body feels and looks. Yet, at the same time, you’re completely oblivious to it as well; how tight your clothes are getting, or how large you seem to other people.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. He felt so glad that Jack noticed this as well, sparking a lively conversation between the pair.

“You’ll be getting your own place soon, I take it?” Jack asked. “The two students you're sharing with must be graduating soon?”

“A couple of months,” Ryan nodded, suddenly realising that he had been a little lazy in his hunt for a new apartment. 

“That’ll be nice!” Jack smiled. “Your own space at last!”

“Well, it’s not too bad as it is,” Ryan explained. “Paul is never there at weekends. And now he’s got himself a girlfriend, he’s not there much in the week either.”

“And what about the other one? The one you used to fight with loads?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot, but… we don’t argue so much these days,” he admitted; suddenly feeling the desire to say so much more about kinky little Ash.

“Before I foget,” Jack jumped in. “Michelle wants to know who you’re bringing as your ‘plus one’ to the wedding next week.

“I’ve got a ‘plus one’?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

“Dude!” Jack grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I’ll find someone,” Ryan replied hastily, seeing how stressed Jack was getting.

“What about that girl you were hinting at when we briefly chatted during my stag party?” Jack asked, clearly keen to get a name locked in.

Ryan thought for a moment. Had Jack assumed he had some potential hot chubby chaser girl on the go? He pondered the idea, realising, quite suddenly, that he didn’t really need one. In the most unexpected way, everything that he had yearned for in life had already arrived. “Hey, Jack,” he asked thoughtfully. “How did you know that Michelle was the one for you?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Jack shot back with a sly grin.

“Besides that,” Ryan insisted. “How did you know that you guys were meant to be together?”

Jack sighed. “I guess…” he began softly, “...it was the way she made me feel: so loved and cared for; admired and adored. I’ve never felt that from anyone before.” He seemed moved, just by talking about her. “Plus she dominated me and forced me to pack on over 150lbs of pure fat; which is one of the kinkiest fucking things I could ever have imagined!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan laughed and nodded. He made a crack about how much fatter Jack might be after he got home from his honeymoon, but, really, his mind was elsewhere; with someone else entirely.

Ryan arrived home to see a large crate of beers resting on the kitchen counter tied up with a ginormous red bow. He laughed, seeing that it was his favourite brand and noticing that a large tray of assorted doughnuts lay beside it.

“Do you like your present?” Ash asked, coming out of his bedroom with a huge smile on his face.

“You bought these for me?” Ryan asked, feeling his mouth watering at the sight of the doughnuts, even after how much he had eaten with Jack that afternoon.

As if psychically linked, Ash began unpackaging the doughnuts for him, leaving them open for him to stuff one into his mouth. “They’re to say thank you. I just had my novel manuscript accepted for publishing.”

Ryan nearly spat out his doughnut. “You’ve been writing a novel?” he blasted in shock. “Since when?”

“Since you kept reminding me that I need to do something with my life; back when you first moved in.”

“I was being an asshole,” Ryan confessed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“You gave me the kick up the ass that I needed,” Ash threw back with a smile. “You always told me how clever I was and that I could do anything.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Ryan marvelled. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my life!” For weeks now, he had worried that his behavious around Ash, indulging his little feeder tendencies in subtle ways, had only brought the guy to fetishize him. Their relationship was merely one of a simple exchange: Ryan would enjoy being overfed and catered for by his roommate, and Ash would get to enjoy the subtle art of ensuring a guy that he found attractive, continued to pile on a few pounds. Now, however, every sense felt strangetly heightened in this moment of celebration. He couldn’t believe that Ash had been secretly writing away for months when Ryan had assumed the guy to be inside his bedroom, playing games. Just how blind had he been this entire time?

Ryan took a step forward and Ash did not retreat. He grabbed the much smaller guy’s shoulders and held them firmly. Again, Ash did not stop him. Then, seeing the inviting, warm look on Ash’s face, Ryan took the biggest risk of his life, going in for a kiss and desperately hoping that Ash’s lips would move to meet his.

Unbelievably, Ash was kissing him back, moaning gently, as if luxuriating in something he had never wanted more in his life. The kiss became intense, very quickly. With his shirt lifted off him, Ryan felt the handsome guy’s hands rubbing all over his stomach. Before he knew it, Ryan was being guided into the living space, his sweatpants ripped down and then his body pushed with surprisingly kinky force, back into his usual chair in front of the TV. 

Ryan looked up at Ash with startled arousal. The guy seemed so naturally suited to taking charge. He would have known that this was Ryan’s first gay experience and he led the way with ease, erasing any opportunity for awkward fumblings to slip in. He cracked open one of the chilled beers and fetched the tray of doughnuts from the kitchen counter. Then, when he was sure that Ryan was settled, he plunged his whole mouth down onto the fat guy’s crotch.

Ryan’s whole body twitched.This wasn’t a blow job, he thought to himself, feeling the intense stimulation straight away. He found himself moaning, even when he was trying not to. Was this intense pleasure what it was supposed to have been like all along? Lucy had never made much of an effort with anything in the bedroom, but Ash’s mouth was doing things to him that Ryan could never have dreamed of. He supped on his beer and ate a doughnut, feeling Ash’s hands rubbing the spherical shape of his stomach, clearly getting off on making this moment all about him.

Barely two doughnuts in and Ryan felt his body lurching as it wanted to climax. Ash worked his pace even more, feeling the throbbing in his mouth. Then, when the moment came, he pushed his mouth even deeper, sending Ryan’s hardness all the way down his throat. The pleasure; the orgasm; that intensity. It was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced in his life. 

There was no going back.

Over the following week, Ryan discovered that Ash had a whole arsenal of tactics to please him. Not only did the guy continue to fuss over him with his cooking and snack deliveries, but his tight, energetic little butt seemed determined to outdo every single previous sexual experience that Ryan had ever had. They spoke at length about their attraction to each other and how smitten they both had become. Ryan had no hesitation in inviting Ash to be his date for Jack’s wedding. And, in fact, spending so much time with a now professional writer, really helped Ryan to produce the best speech he could have wished for. Rather than feeling sick with nerves as the big day arrived, he felt excited and pumped, heartily stuffing himself on the big breakfast Ash had so lovingly prepared for him.

“Your friends really aren’t keen on Michelle, are they?” Ash commented later that evening, as the pair of them were reunited after Ryan’s time sitting at the top table and the endless photographs that needed taking.

“Um, no,” Ryan nodded. “Not so much.”

“I had no idea that your friend, Jack, used to be so slim before he met her,” he whispered, fearing that one of their families might overhear. “Your buddies seem to think she’s the devil incarnate!”

Ryan chuckled. He’d heard it all before. “She’s lovely really,” he tried, looking over at the pair of them as Michelle spoonfed her 350lb husband a large piece of their wedding cake. “She just… knows what she wants.”

“I think everyone here can see exactly what it is she wants,” Ash joked back as Jack’s full, swollen belly was patted with approval by his new wife. “It makes me wonder what your friends are going to say about me eventually.”

Ryan pulled Ash into him by holding his slim hips in his chubby hands. They had decided that it was best to go easy on the public displays of affection, considering that this was their first time out together as a couple. However, Ryan simply could not help himself.  “Oh, yes?” he asked keenly.

“I certainly don’t have any plans to put you on a diet,” Ash grinned, fingering the skin between the stretched buttons of Ryan’s beer swollen gut.

Ryan growled in lustful approval. His hands slipped onto Ash’stight, toned butt and pulled the guy in even closer.

“In fact, how come you’re not eating a big slice of wedding cake for me right now?” Ash teased.

Ryan moaned lightly. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew how much scrutiny he was under today. He could feel the judgemental eyes upon him, for his shocking weight gain, the fit of his tight shirt, and the fact that he was dating someone none of them had ever expected. He should have been nervous or self conscious. However, with Ash in his arms, Ryan had never felt more free to be himself. “But won’t that make me even fatter?” he teased back.

Ash smiled. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” he joked, accepting the kiss that Ryan soon bestowed upon him.

Ryan felt Ash’s hands feeling his big, broad butt as they kissed; the pants he had been measured for only a week ago, starting to feel rather uncomfortable after only a week of dating the handsome twenty-four year old. The kiss ended and both of them laughed, realising how ridiculously long it had taken to get to this point. 

“Is this along the lines of what you had in mind for me?” Ryan asked moments later, pushing out his stomach as far as it would go and stretching those buttons even more.

Ash seemed thrilled, looking around the room in surprise that Ryan was making himself look so large in front of everyone that he knew at the wedding. He smiled, rubbing the underside of Ryan’s ball-like gut and then leaned in to whisper. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

Ryan growled in lustful appreciation, then took his boyfriend’s hand and led the way to the wedding cake.

Exactly one year to the day, Ryan and Ash were sitting in that same room, together with Jack and Michelle, celebrating a year since the wedding. They reminisced fondly, thinking about the perfect day it had been and laughing about how shocked everyone had been after Jack came back 30lbs heavier from his two week honeymoon. 

“You can’t be far off the weight I was this time last year,” Jack noted, surveying his buddy’s hefty appearance.

“Possibly,” Ryan nodded, rubbing his large stomach. “I still  don’t feel big yet though,” he replied, as if he was oblivious to the enormous ball-shaped gut and the groaning of the chair, supporting his wide butt and mostrous 347lb body.

“Unless I ask him to do something,” Ash jumped in comically. “Then he always says he’s too fat to do anything!” he joked, making everyone chuckle.

“I’m actually going to be pushing Jack to five hundred pounds this year,” Michelle explained, taking her morbidly obese husband’s hand as if this was an announcement that thay had been planning for some time.

Ryan noticed Jack staring at his face for a reaction; perhaps some surprise that his old school buddy was so ensnared by his beautiful wife that he was willing to take his weight gain to such extremes for her.

“He’s going to be a lot of work for you at that size!” Ash grinned conspiratorily at Michelle. “I hope you’re ready for that?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m counting on it!” Michelle smirked, rubbing the 430lb man’s knee under the table.

“You’re a very lucky guy,” Ryan nodded at his friend in approval.

“There you go, Ash,” Michelle smirked. “It sounds like we may have another willing volunteer to join the five hundred pound club,” she nodded towards a jealous looking Ryan.

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Ryan laughed. “Ash is heading off on his second book tour in March. “I won’t be gaining anything for almost two months whilst he’s gone. I’ll probably just wate away!”

“You liar!” Ash teased him back. “Last time I was away, you pretty much lived on takeout and put on almost twenty pounds in a month,” he chuckled.

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Ryan smiled back; his voice dripping with affection and lust.

Michelle looked at them both, clearly wanting to cut through their mushy meanderings. “So, five hundred pounds?” she asked again, trying to circle the conversation back. “I’m getting the impression that you boys are kinky enough to enjoy seeing that on Ryan,” she pressed; ever the bad influence.

Ryan and Ash looked at each other with a wicked excitement in their eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Ash stated diplomatically. Unlike Michelle, he liked to be a little more discreet about his kinks and fantasies when it came to enjoying Ryan’s large body.

Ryan smirked and winked at his old buddy Jack. He knew exactly how to read between the lines of whatever Ash said. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to get Ryan to that size. And so, just like his high school best pal, Ryan was as good as setting sail for five hundred pounds. How insanely arousing was that?

“Eat up, my friend,” Ryan smiled competitively at Jack. “I’m coming for you, Fat Boy!” 

[another-lost-mc]

imagine some bittersweet angst where MC ends up with someone in the human world because she wasn't able to go back to the devildom, so the brothers look after MC's children and future descendants. Like imagine belphegor appearing in front of mc's daughter who calls him "uncle belphie", or lucifer and "mr Luci,". Basically being the guardian they couldn't be for lillith's descendants

a/n: okay that's a little sad to think about, but it's sort of precious too.

protecting what matters most | the demon brothers [dateables version]

1.2k words | sfw | gn!Reader

content/warnings: family dynamics and slice of life. fluff and angst, mention of character death and passage of time, mentions of raising children, platonic relationships with the demon brothers.

— Living in the Devildom for a year forged bonds with the demon brothers that can't be broken. You don't return, but they keep in touch with you however they can, starting with regularly scheduled phone calls and group chats over text, until eventually they surprise you with a visit to the human world.

— Asmo's the first one to find out that you met someone after you rebuilt your human life. The others didn't believe it until the day you formally introduced them to your partner. They hid their disappointment or anger or jealousy as best they could, but they had to admit that your partner was perfect for you. They'd never seen you so happy.

— Human lives are fleeting moments in time, and it wasn't until you told them about your engagement and upcoming nuptials that they realized your life would pass by in a blur. You'd be gone before they knew it, and they didn't want to take you for granted.

— They came to your wedding and gave you gifts, and they promised that their long-lost sister's future generations would be protected and cherished by them no matter what.

— Years pass and your house fills with family photos of your children's very eccentric uncles.

— Uncle Luci is the nicest. He bonds with your oldest child the most, but he teaches all your children the importance of family and patience and loyalty. Showing emotion and asking for help aren't signs of weakness, but signs of strength. He's also the one who gifted your family a puppy when your children were old enough to help care for it. He's in fewer photographs and videos than the rest of his siblings because he's usually the one volunteering to hold the camera. Watching your family stand intertwined with his fills the aching parts of his heart with love instead of pain and regret, and he wants to capture these special memories to look back on. His study and bedroom in the House of Lamentation are filled with these photographs too.

— Uncle Mammon is good at so many things. He shows them card tricks and he teaches them how to play games, too—Go Fish and Crazy 8's at first and Poker later. He tells them the importance of restraint and responsibility and that sometimes you need to make your own luck. He comes trick-or-treating on Halloween, and he'll even go into the haunted house attraction once they turn their puppy eyes on him. He helps the kids with math homework and science projects, and he helps each of them pick out and learn how to care for their first car. (He's twisted around their fingers the way he's still twisted around yours.)

— Uncle Levi is one of their favourites to invite for slumber parties. He brings lots of costumes and toys to play with, and he likes to watch cartoons and play video games as much as they do. He encourages them to be creative and unique no matter what anyone else thinks (but reminds them to call him or talk to their parents if they get teased or bullied). He takes the kids to opening day showings of the latest superhero movie they want to see, and they all come back with plastic collectible cups from the theater after eating way too much sugar. He gives some of the best gifts on special occasions and their birthdays.

— Uncle Sully fills your house with books. As your children grow older, he replaces their children's books with things more suitable for their ages and reading levels, and he delights when one of yours is as much of a bookworm as he is. He tries to teach them all about the power that comes from knowledge, and how books are not only a glimpse into the past but a hopeful peek into the future. He wants them to explore the world with an open mind and vivid imagination. He teaches them that family gives them strength and love and as long as they have each other, they can do anything.

(They start calling him Uncle Satan when they learn the truth about their beloved uncles. It was only a matter of time and you had years to prepare an explanation, but it still catches you off-guard: your children sitting very seriously at the kitchen table, looking at each other before one of them starts to speak. They ask tough questions about why their uncles don't seem to get any older, and why they can do all these amazing things they learn later is because of magic. Your youngest still calls him Uncle Sully; the others save that nickname for special occasions, just to get a rise out of him.)

— Uncle Asmo is so much fun! He helps you organize birthday parties and graduation parties, and when your children grow into adulthood and begin to live their own lives, weddings and honeymoons and baby showers too. He loves to be involved because he wants them to feel special and celebrated for all their achievements. It's also an excuse for him to spoil your family with clothes and gifts that you know can only be purchased in the Devildom. He helps you navigate their challenging teen years, talking to them about love and sex and healthy relationships. He makes sure they all know that he's there to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or any other support or help they might need. He feels blessed to watch your family grow up because your love for them is so pure and beautiful; your impact on this world will linger long after you're gone.

— Uncle Beel and Uncle Belphie are the ones that take your children on some of their most cherished childhood adventures. They just happen to come by for a visit when traveling carnivals and theme parks open for the summer season. They all eat a ridiculous amount of food and come back with armfuls of souvenirs (which Beel happily pays for and refuses your attempts to pay him back). They suggest camping trips on long holiday weeks or ski vacations during the colder winter months. They like helping your children connect with nature and the stars and each other. Beel and Belphie tell the best stories, even if some of them are a little sad.

(They don't know until they're older that Uncle Belphie used to visit at nighttime and help care for them as babies. Sometimes you'd wake up and check on them to find them fast asleep in his arms while he rocked them in the chair beside their crib. Other nights, he visited when you'd already gotten up, but you always invited him to stay and listen while you hummed a lullaby.)

— Your children grow older and so do you. The demon brothers aren't ready to say goodbye—how could they be? When you're gone, it feels like they lost Lilith all over again. Death haunts them like shadow, but this time it's different because they realize that their family's not broken. It's stronger, and bigger, because you gave them that gift. In return, they promise to protect the descendants of Lilith that bear your name and have the same potential for greatness that you did.

— Your children's homes, and their children's after that, remain filled with photographs of their quirky uncles. The names and faces of the demon brothers are passed down along to each generation with a growing collection of impossible stories. It's your family's precious secret that each child is told when they're old enough to understand, because it's only a matter of time before the uncles arrive to visit them too.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sharks IV

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to Netherlands Camp

"Okay," Mummy says," You be good, okay?"

She adjusts your shark backpack on your back, closing her eyes briefly when she hands you your Goblin and Cookie Cutter. She smiles at you, running a hand over your cheek.

"Are you sure you want to go with Mama? You won't see Peanut if you go with Mama."

You think for a moment. Lucy and Keira's Peanut is your friend and you rarely see her because she lives in Spain with her mummies now. You haven't seen her at camp either because Mummy's had her big knee ouchy and hasn't gone.

But Mama said that you were welcome to come with her to the Netherlands camp so that's what you're doing.

"Can see Peanut later," You tell Mummy and she brushes your hair out of your face and kneels down to lace up your shoes.

"Okay," She says," Do everything Mama tells you. Be nice. Use your manners. We'll have a chat every night before you go to bed. Sound good?"

You nod.

"Hey...I love you."

"Love you too, Mummy!" You give her a nice tight hug before you join Mama at the taxi.

The flight from London to the Netherlands is fairly short and you have to get into another taxi to take you to the training grounds.

You stay in Mama's arms the entire way to your new room but still manage to wave at the social media people when they film you and Mama's arrival.

Netherlands Camp isn't too different to England Camp except Peanut isn't here. That's nice though. Sometimes Peanut is a bit too loud and excitable for you even though she's your bestest friend.

You sit with Mama in her room and play with your sharks. You weren't allowed to bring all of them with you (which is sad because you think a few of them will be lonely all at home by themselves) but you got your most favourite.

Goblin and Cookie Cutter sit up by your pillows as you take your little plastic figures on a trip around Mama's bed.

"It's a...a..." You think for a moment. "An ecosystem!"

"That's a big word," Mama says.

"It's a group of animals working together so they can all live in the same place," You explain as you make your clownfish hide in the sheets to escape one of your sharks.

"You're very smart," Mama replies and your face goes a little red at the praise.

It stays that way until there's a knock at the door. Mama gets up to open it and you distract yourself by making your swordfish eat your squid.

"Well," A familiar voice says," It's nice to see somethings never change."

You whip your head around and drop your toys. "Daan!" You run into her outstretched arms. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" Daan says, swinging you up and spinning around.

You giggle hysterically. "Mama! Look! It's Daan!"

Mama's got a bit of a weird look on her face but she puts on a smile for you and nods. "I can see that."

"Daan! Daan! Look! My sharks!" You pull Daan over to the bed to show her all the new toys you've got since she's been away.

Viv watches as you do so, suddenly struck dumb at the familiarity you greet Daan. She knows (of course she does) that Beth and Daan used to date. She knows that you had some form of a relationship with Daan.

She just never really expected to see it.

You knew your way around Daan, sitting on her lap and explaining happily what was happening in your little ecosystem. You lean into her body and let her scratch at your scalp as you introduce her to your Goblin and Cookie Cutter.

"Mama got them for me!" You say to Daan and it jolts Viv out of her thoughts, a small smile appearing on her face as you turn to look back at her.

"Really?" Daan asks," That's so cool! I'm glad that you still like sharks." She pokes at your belly. "I remember the first shark I got you."

The smile drops from Viv's face. In all honesty, she hadn't ever thought about how you got interested in sharks in the first place. She hadn't ever wondered who got you your first shark toy.

But, somehow, it being Daan left a bad taste in her mouth.

Viv knows that she shouldn't feel that way but she can't help it, like how she can't help but feel a little anger bubble in her gut at the way you so easily fall back into Daan like she had never left.

The feeling persists throughout the day as you stick to Daan like glue, peering up at her with big eyes and a wide smile. You go everywhere with her and insist on eating with her at dinner.

When Viv gets you back, she can't help but hold your hand tight. She has you wave goodbye to Daan and, after your bedtime call with Beth, she sits on your bed with you.

"I missed Daan," You say as her fingers stroke through your hair.

The feeling is back in Viv's stomach as you continue to talk about Daan, about what you missed about her, about how she used to play sharks with you in the bath, about how she used to tuck you into bed and give you kisses on your cheek, forehead and nose before you went to sleep.

"You must have missed her a lot, huh?" Viv asks even though the question tastes sour in her mouth.

Her words make you furrow your brow, like you're stumped about what she said. After a few seconds, you speak," Only when I saw her. Don't really miss her when I can't see her." Your frown gets a bit deeper. "'Cause I've got you and Mummy and my sharks. I don't need Daan because I'm not so little anymore."

Viv smothers her vindictive smile as she kisses both of your cheeks and tucks your blankets up all the way to your chin. You move your toys towards her and Viv kisses your Cookie Cutter and then your Goblin.

When you wake up the next day and Mama finishes her Netherlands training, she takes you to the pool with Vic. It's empty apart from the three of you and Mama helps you change into your swimming costume.

"It's like a shark!" You say excitedly as Mama takes a pool float out of her bag. "It's a dorsal fin!" You turn to explain to Vic. "That's the big fin that sticks up like in movies."

You clap as Mama slips your arms through the straps and tightens them.

"I've got a fin!" You tell Vic, in case she hasn't realised as she slips into the pool.

"That's so cool," Vic says as Mama lowers you into her arms before getting in herself.

"Dorsal fins help the sharks not to roll over when they're swimming," You say because Mummy read that in your bedtime book with you before you left for Netherlands Camp," And they help sharks swim straight!"

"Well," Mama says," Let's hope that it does the same for you. Do you remember what we talked about?"

You think for a moment. "Hands like ice cream scoops! And...And kick my legs hard...and! And turn my head to breath!"

"Very good!" Mama praises," Now I'm going to swim behind you and Vic's going to be up front, okay?"

You nod. "Okay!"

You take a big deep breath and start paddling. You like swimming. Mummy takes you to the pool lots but only when you wear your armbands. Mama says that you're a bit too old for little kiddy armbands now so she was going to teach you the proper way.

You were happy to throw away your dolphin armbands because you don't really like dolphins anyway. You think they're a lot meaner than sharks so you had a little dance party with Mummy and Mama when they got thrown into the pin.

Your armbands being thrown away meant that you got your new shark fin floaty.

"Woo!" Vic cheers as you swim the long length with only a little stopping," Look at you!"

"Mama!" You turn in Vic's arms to look at Mama," Did you see? Did you see? I swam without my armbands!"

"You did!" Mama takes you from Vic. "You did so good! You'll have to keep practising though."

"I will!" You promise, giggling a little when Mama presses ticklish kisses to your cheeks. You turn to look at Vic as she paddles around you. "Mama and Mummy say that if I eat my vegetables and learn to swim really good then one day, when I'm older, I can swim with sharks!"

"That's a long way away," Mama reminds you," Now, how about we do a few more laps and then we can tell Mummy all about it on your bedtime call later?"

You beam. "Okay!"

[weebsinstash]

Kinda obsessed with the idea of a reader pregnant with Lucifer's kid and just he's really into it and wants to get married while the readers there being like damn I just wanted the bragging rights of saying I fucked the king of hell and now I have to be married to him !?!

Reader: ugh oh my god that dick was so fucking good, thanks Lucifer

Lucifer, currently painting sigils with his own blood on your tummy: oh my god, no, I know, right, it was amazing, I had an amazing time

Reader: hey uhhhhhhh by the way, what are you

Lucifer, taking a break from speaking ancient Latin incantations: oh hey, no don't worry about it it's totally cool I'm just, doing a thing here

Reader watching the very foundation of Hell shake around them like an earthquake as all the candles in the room burn higher and the unseen spirits of the damned sing comgratulatory praises for their dark lord: you know this kiiiiiiiiinda feels like you miiiiiight be doing something kinda sinister and magic-y right now

Lucifer, watching his symbol appear on your belly: whaaaaaaaaat, no, that's crazy! It's just a little.... surprise! Nothing to worry about! So hey also completely unrelated but I kind of need to splash some of this goat's blood on you--

I feel like sleeping or even FLIRTING with Lucifer is the ultimate case of fuck around and find out because at the very least you have an all powerful clingy depressed obsessive boyfriend in THE DEVIL and at his very worst you have you know THE DEVIL, treating you as his equal half, wanting all to bow before you, worship you, erecting churches with stained glass telling the Epic Tale of how you two fell in love, wanting you draped in fineries, at his side at all times, having only the best

I just feel like... he's one of those yandere that really could take you 0 to 100. You fuck the guy ONCE as like a drunken one night stand, a real "fuck it why not maybe it'll be fun" kinda romp, and then he's making plans behind your back about marriage because, well, he just loves you so much already that he can't see doing anything else! 🥰 like can you imagine going from getting cream pied to like only a week later some church is getting constructing with like biblical art of "oh how the king of hell met another and fell in love" and it's foretelling some epic saga that hasn't even. Happened yet. Like imagine the whiplash of finding out the guy you casually fucked is dedicating buildings to. A story of. How he impregnated and married you and you guys "lived happily ever after" and you still barely know him

I like the contrasting options of Lucifer intentionally impregnating you vs unintentionally because THE VISUAL of like. He's just nutted and you're laying there amd he looks down and suddenly there's this little glowing moving picture on your skin of a snake twining around, circling, becoming an apple with a heart or some-- this is a real specific genre of fetish I'm discussing here ok we don't need to like exactly describe whatever magical mark of pregnancy the devil gives you fjdnfjf. But the apple appears and he's blinking at it and, finally, it clicks, and he's all "BABY! B-BABY! IT'S A BABY HHHOHHHHH MY GOD" and he's like EXCITED but also just like. Do you think he'd get a little biblical drooling about 'your womb being blessed' or some shit. Your absolute fucking LUCK OR LACK THEFEOF if Lucifer turned out to ACCIDENTALLY BE CORRECT and you kind of WERE created to be his wife or end up with him, like GOD is up there, "yeah Luci I threw you a bone, enjoy it 👍" like SHIT the one time you ARE cosmically fated to have a mate and it's AFTER YOU DIE? It's also LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR???

I feel like, genuinely the only way Lucifer would mistreat the Reader is completely unintentionally, like he has a bout of depression and neglects you a little, or he becomes socially withdrawn and you think he doesn't like you but really he's just feeling sad or working on something that's really important to him. I mean. This is BESIDES the possibility of confinement but that's for your protection and it's not like you're in PRISON. This guy is clearly packed with goofy loving positive energy. He'll be taking you to the circus and to musicals with his daughter like you've always been a member of the family, getting you your own special throne to sit beside his own. He's having audience with like some wretched soul, there are flames, he's being TERRIFYING, telling them how they've betrayed him and he's going to tear their soul to pieces and sentencs them to eternal suffering, and then he turns to you, "I'm sorry am I making it too hot in here shnookums 🥰 I don't wanna make you and our lil hellion uncomfy 🥰" like.... truly, you got yourself a man that can do both

[onsomenewsht]

She may be the song that summer sings

About the time you look at her, she laughs, and you keep literally falling with each other

》 Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

》 word count: +1.2k

》 La guardavo e m'innamoravo

Accepting Barcelona’s deal on a summer day during your vacation is really not that difficult of a choice. 

The tropical island you’re on for the off-season is treating you even better than the season itself - and you managed to win the domestic treble with your club, so saying it was a good year may be an understatement. 

When your agent’s number appears on your phone one morning, too early to be acceptable, you’re tempted to refuse the call altogether and blame the remote resort you’re in. Then you remember you’re out of contract for the first time since you started playing professional football at the impressive age of 16 and the idea of hearing the woman’s voice is suddenly very exciting.

“You know it is barely six in the morning here, right?”

“Yes, but the sun is up in Barcelona”

“You’re in Barcelona?”, you ask, still not functioning enough to realise what she’s implying.

“Not yet”

As the saintly woman she is, despite the time difference and being an entire ocean away from you, your agent manages to wake you up enough to have you on the phone with a Barcelona’s representative just an hour later. 

Cutting your vacation short is not a big deal after that, too eager to be on the first flight to Spain and have an in person conversation about your future. You’re ready to sign without even reading through the contract properly, but thanks to your people’s rational response to your trepidation, you manage to negotiate a deal worth your actual value. 

There was no chance you’d have accepted an offer for any other club anyway.

You meet Aitana that same day on your way out of the club’s offices. 

She radiates pure joy and genuine excitement, greeting you with a hug as you’re long time friends who finally reunite. At that point, you’d count on one hand the previous encounters you two had on and off the pitch.

This is the first time you’re close to her long enough to realise how enchanted by her you are, captivated by her effortless charm.

“I can’t wait to see you in pre-season”, she says with a cute accent around her words and a knowing grin on her face.

“I haven’t sign anything yet”

“You will!”

The Catalan rushes her goodbyes, late for a meeting herself.

“At least try to not drool”, your agent says suddenly, startling you.

You totally forget she’s next to you in the first place.

~

The next time you run into Aitana, you literally run into her. 

Trying to avoid a pissed Lucy Bronze, who you waist no time to tease for the surprisingly low rate of success she has against you when you both played in the WSL, you’re too distracted by her sprint to notice Aitana on your path.

You trample over the midfielder, making sure to soften her landing as you both fall down with a mixture of giggles and legs.

“Could you not threaten the old lady’s knees and the well-being of our Ballon d’Or winner this early in the season?”

You haven’t seen Keira walking beside the Catalan, who is still trying to catch her breath with both her hands on the sides of your head. She has a really beautiful smile.

“You have a two time Ballon d’Or winner right there, you will be fine”, you retort while pointing at Alexia, gaze still fixed on the brunette on top of you. 

Aitana’s response comes in the form of an even louder laugh. 

It takes you a moment to realise you’re the only one still on the ground, more and more of your new teammates gathering around you with questioning smiles on their faces.

“¡Val, benvinguda a Barça!”

~

Picking up a new language is never easy, but you had no idea learning Spanish could be so difficult.

The club provides you with an excellent - but most important, patience - teacher. Yet, you’re struggling to come up with simple and coherent sentences. It’s getting on your nerves. 

The girls are nice enough to talk in English when you’re around, but you want to be able to understand your manager’s instructions during practice and games or just order on your own when you’re out.

Aitana notices right away your discomfort whenever your teammates slip into their mother language without malice, cutting you out. You know she doesn’t like to speak English if she absolutely does not have to, but she always slows down her excitement to let you rejoin the conversation.

You mean it as a joke, asking her to help with your Spanish.

The sportscaster just thanked you for your time after a Champions League’s game. The Catalan answered some questions, but happily let you take the lead as you didn’t ignore a subtle implication hidden in a comment from the studio broadcasting the interview.

She seems so happy about the idea of teaching you that you have no intention to correct her assumption.

“You’re talking too fast again, Tana”

“Esto es exactamente– no, en realidad, no es verdad!”

Your raised eyebrow and her half finished sentences make her frown in realisation, just a little defeated by not being able to turn you into a fluent speaker in the amount of time she tutored you. 

It’s been barely a month.

“Your Spanish is awful”, she declares, dropping the elementary grammar book between you two on the sofa to cross her arms.

“I have a shitty teacher”

“Don’t you dare!”

The tickle battle you started ends pretty quickly when she pins you on your back, fallen on the ground with loud laughs filling your apartment. The midfielder may be shorter than you, but any display of her actual strength it’s always a surprise.

“Take it back”

“Or what?”

“Or I stop teaching you”

“Bold to you to assume that’s not exactly what I want”

It’s not, it’s definitely not what you want. The afternoons she spends in your apartment are the highlights of your week and what you look forward to after a particularly intense day. Even if you understand very little of what she says most of the time.

“Mentirosa”

“Ah! I know what that means”

Aitana drops her fake disappointment to join your giggles, helping you sit back on the sofa and picking up the book to resume her lesson.

“¡Ándale, I’m turning you into a proper spaniard!”

“I thought you were turning me into an independentista”

You know that could spark a fire into her, loving the way the brunette sits upright to start speaking with great passion about all the things you absolutely need to know about Barcelona, Catalonia, the culture and the people, even how you should be learning Catalan too.

She slips into her mother language pretty early in her dissertation, you’re too enchanted by her excitement to point it out.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aitana’s enthusiasm and your never ending fondness.

~

It takes you an entire year of double lessons and the immense amount of patience of your actual teacher to be able to hold your own in a Spanish conversation.

Sometimes your teammates still have to speak in English with you, but you don’t feel cut out anymore if they rant slow enough and you can be left on your own devices around the city.

You’re able to ask Aitana out on a date in Spanish, surprising her with yellow weavers and red poppies as you pick her up at her place. You put an effort to speak the language for the entire day, driven by her infectious laugh and your intertwined hands.

~

fine.

[adascore]

North London Bound

pairings: beth mead x arsenal!reader / vivianne miedema x arsenal!reader / jen beattie x arsenal!reader / kim little x arsenal!reader

warnings: none (?).

author’s note: oh to be meadema’s adopted child. anyway- enjoy this one xoxo

masterlist

•••••

''She can move in with me and Viv, if she’d like.'' Beth suggested upon hearing the youngster’s mother concern about how they hadn’t been able to find an appropriate apartment for the teenager.

Her mother glanced to where her daughter was chatting with Lauren and Esme, her former Manchester City teammates. ''Wouldn’t that be a problem for you two? Young couples usually like to have their own space.''

''No, not at all.'' Vivianne chimed in, shaking her head. ''And Y/N’s a sweetheart anyway, so we would love to have her stay with us if she wants to.'' Beth confirmed, throwing in a compliment for the younger girl.

Y/N had grown up at the Arsenal Academy, being recognized by a scout when she was 9 years-old. The potential and skills had always been there for everyone to see, and at just 15 years-old, she was allowed to start training with the first team. Her first two seasons with the older team had been helpful, but limited in actual game time. She got along great with her teammates, but her young age had always been seen as a liability by the coaches.

During the summer in 2021, she had been send on loan to Manchester City, where there were more players closer in age and where she would hopefully improve even more. The Arsenal management had made a correct guess, and playing with The Blues had greatly impacted her style of play. The Arsenal prodigy even making regular starting line-up appearances.

Upon seeing the success she was having with not only the Manchester team, but also the Lionesses, Arsenal invited her back to become one of their strikers. The decision had been made before the start of the European Championship at home, giving the youngster and her family enough time to make all the preparations to move her back into North London. However, it had been a challenge finding the right home for the recently turned 18 year-old. In her previous seasons at Arsenal, she still had been part of the Academy so Y/N was part of their housing-system. At Manchester, the club had organized a living space for her with Lucy and Keira, occupying their guest room for 9 months.

Nonetheless, all of that had been temporarily. Now, they would have to find something permanent for the next 3 seasons, and potentially more if she decided to extend her contract (which she obviously would do).

''Well that is very sweet of you two,'' Y/N’s mother smiled, momentarily patting Beth’s hand, ''I’ll talk to her about it later- I just think she wants to celebrate right now.'' She chuckled, knowing her daughter does not have anything but their fresh win at Wembley on her mind. Y/N's potential move into Beth and Viv's home became a topic for later discussion.

Beth and Vivianne exchanged grins, understanding completely. "Great," Beth replied, nodding. "Understandable, we'll wait then.''

''Darling, I need to talk to you about something.'' Y/N’s mother knocked on her daughter's bedroom door, then entered without waiting for a response. Y/N looked up from her phone, catching her mother's entry with a raised eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

''It’s about your Arsenal living situation.'' Her mother replied, making her way to the bed with a sly smirk.

''Ah, yeah? You found something or?''

The older woman sat down on the bed, creating a space for herself. "Kind of. You actually received a very generous offer a few days ago." Her hand landed on her daughter's thigh, offering a comforting pat.

The young striker frowned, confusion present on her face. ''An offer? What do you mean?'' She asked, shifting on her bed.

''Your teammates, Beth and Vivianne, offered for you to come live with them.'' Her mother revealed.

She processed her words for a bit, surprised by what she said. ''Beth and Viv? Like, Mead and Miedema? That I go and live with them?'' Y/N repeated her mother's words, making sure she heard her right and this was not some misunderstanding.

''Yeah! I got talking with Beth’s family, your transfer came to discussion and I explained how we hadn’t found the right home for you yet, and Beth offered their place.'' Her mother summarized, amused by her daughter’s wide eyes and surprised tone.

Y/N leaned back against her headboard, taking a deep breath. The idea of living with teammates, especially those as established as Beth and Viv, was intriguing. ''Wow, that’s… super nice of them.'' She sighed, her mother nodding. ''Yes, I know.''

''Why, though?''

Her mother chuckled, recognizing the significance of the offer. "Seems like they genuinely want to make it easier for you to settle in, sweetie.''

The question had more been an internal thought than directed at her mother. She had always gotten along with them, especially with Beth once she also joined the England senior team. In Y/N’s mind, there had always been an invisible wall between her and the older Arsenal players. They were always welcoming to her during training, offering guidance when needed, but she was aware they didn't want the responsibility of looking after a 15-year-old.

Her loan spell at Manchester City and subsequent debut with the Lionesses marked a turning point, maturing her both on and off the field. This time, she would not be coming in as an inexperienced youngster that only got on the pitch to replace someone else, but she would be an actual integral part of the team.

''I’ll let you think about it, but I think it can be good for you to stay with them, even if it is only temporary.'' Her mother gave her opinion. As much as she had witnessed the growth in her daughter, she would much prefer it if there were people looking after her every day.

''Yeah, should I talk to them or what did they say?'' Y/N inquired, eager to understand the next steps.

''They’re simply waiting on your decision, but talking with them can’t hurt.''

Beth and Vivianne sat in their cozy living room, the evening sunlight casting a warm glow through the windows. As they went through the papers for their upcoming vacation to Greece, the topic of Y/N potentially moving in with them came up.

'’So, about Y/N maybe coming to live with us… do you really think it's a good idea? I know I might have overwhelmed you when her mum was there, but seriously what do you think about it?'’ Beth asked, leaning back into the couch.

Vivianne processed the question, her gaze fixed on the swirling patterns of her tea. '’I do think it’s a good idea, but it’s quite a responsibility, no? I mean, I love the kid, but having her live with us is a big step.”

'’I know, you’re right. I do think it’s a good idea, though. I mean- she can stay in the guest room, cause it doesn’t get used anyway, and I think it would also be good for her to have people that can keep her grounded, you know? The attention on her since the Euro’s has been insane.” Beth argued.

The young Arsenal prodigy had been one of the break-out stars of the 2022 European Championships, receiving immense media attention.

Vivianne nodded in agreement. "We would be like... her parents- her work parents."

Beth chuckled, taking a sip of her tea. "Yeah, we can use her as practice for later." She winked, lightening the mood.

“I hope she agrees, though. I would understand if she would want to be on her own- most kids her age would, but it would be nice to have her around more," Beth admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

The Dutchwoman warily eyes her girlfriend, feeling there is more behind her want to have Y/N move in with them than she’s letting on.

Feeling her partner’s eyes and internal judgement, Beth caves in. “She’s mature, but she’s also just a kid, you know? There will be so much pressure on her and she'll need guidance and then… maybe we can take care of her? Kind of like a mum would.” She admits, blush on both of her cheeks.

Her girlfriend's eyes softened, and she reached for Beth's hand. '’You’re cute, Beth,'’ Vivianne grinned, '’but you just want the best for her, that’s normal. How long have we known her for? Since she was like 12, 13? We have basically seen her grow up.'’

Beth smiled, her soft spot for the young English striker evident in her eyes. '’Yeah, and there will just be a lot of eyes on her. I just want to make sure she has all the support she needs.'’

Vivianne nodded, understanding her partner's perspective. '’We've seen how she has grown, and now she's stepping into a bigger spotlight so to say. Maybe she isn’t feeling that pressure yet, but I’m sure it will catch up to her in one way or another.'’

Beth squeezed Vivianne's hand, grateful for her understanding. '’Exactly, we’ll just show her a bunch of extra love.'’ The Lioness star chuckled, relieved her partner was as much into the idea as she was.

'’It’s crazy how much she has grown, as a player and as a person.'’ Vivianne muttered, the image of a 13 year-old Y/N flying in her mind.

'’Like physically grown. The girl’s even almost taller than you!'’ Beth exclaimed, almost offended by the young striker’s growth spurt. '’Remember her first training session with us? She was the cutest little thing, following everyone around like a little puppy and just so eager to prove herself- ugh, just love her.'’

'’Yeah, she was soaking up all our football wisdom.'’ Vivianne sarcastically chuckled.

'’What wisdom? The wisdom of yellow cards by Katie McCabe?'’ Beth laughed, receiving a teasing shove from her girlfriend.

The Dutchie playfully rolled her eyes. '’I mean- that is also a very important skill,'’ she smirked, '’but to come to the point, she has grown a lot and if she would agree to it, I would love to have her here.'’ Vivianne concluded, picking up her and Beth’s intertwined hands and giving it a peck.

Beth grinned, reciprocating the playful mood. '’Alright, alright, fair point. Yellow card wisdom is crucial and Master McCabe will love to see her student return,'’ she snickered, '’and I agree, having her here would be amazing. We can be her home away from home.'’

The couple shared a warm smile, excited about the prospect of welcoming the young girl into their home.

“Maybe we can let her decorate the guest room? I mean- neither of use it for anything and it’ll give her her own personal space.” Beth suggested.

Viv nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that would be nice for her.”

“Does she still go to school, by the way?” Vivianne inquired.

Beth thought for a moment. “I am not too sure. The England staff had organized a graduation party for her during one of the camps so I know she’s finished with like her A-levels and stuff, but I don’t know if she’s continuing,'’ the English striker shook her head, confusing herself even more on Y/N’s current school situation, '’why?'’

“Just wondering if she would need the study then? Or we could even put a desk in her room?” Her partner explained.

Beth nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe I should start learning how to cook as well.” Beth thought out loud, taking Viv by surprise.

“How’s that?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Just in case you’re not here, and she wants to eat something. Don’t want to give the kid food poisoning- Jonas will have my head then.” The Brit argued.

Her reasoning made Vivianne laugh, her hand clapping the table. “We can’t let the teacher’s pet mess up, huh?” She teased, receiving a light kick from Beth under the table.

“She hasn’t even agreed yet, and you’re already worrying over nothing.”

Beth grinned, playfully rolling her eyes. "Well, I like to be prepared. What if she agrees tomorrow, and we're caught off guard? It's better to plan ahead.”

“If you are really that worried, maybe you can talk to Lucy or Keira? She used to live with them so they’ll know what to tell you.” It hadn’t occurred to Beth to ask her English teammates for advice.

She nodded. “True… you know what? Maybe we’ll just wait on Y/N, she and her parents will most likely want to talk to us first anyway.” Beth concluded.

“Yeah, she’ll probably come here when pre-season starts so we have time to prepare in case she says yes.” Vivianne, ever so cool headed, calmed her girlfriend down.

''Good thing I’ve got you now. If it was just me, I’d probably would have renovated the entire house or something for her.'' Beth laughed, poking fun at her overthinking.

Vivianne smiled, leaning in to give Beth a quick kiss. "I'm here to keep you grounded, babe. No need to renovate the house just yet. Let's take it step by step.”

Beth chuckled, appreciating her calming presence. "Yeah, you're right. One step at a time. We'll hear Y/N when she's ready, and if she decides to move in, we'll make sure she feels at home.''

Beth’s phone started ringing, making the rest of the couch sigh as they were very into the movie. ''Sorry.'' She excused herself, walking over to the dinner table where she put it. She frowned as it was an unknown number, contemplating whether to answer or not. She opted to pick up. ''Hi, with Beth.''

''Meado? It’s Y/N.'' A shy voice greeted the striker on the other end of the line.

''Y/N, darling, hey, how are ya?'' Beth looked over at Vivianne, who sat next to Ben, Beth’s brother. The Dutchwoman’s head had shot up the moment the youngster’s name was mentioned.

Beth could hear a chuckle. ''I’m good, enjoying the small break. How about you?'' Y/N asked politely.

''That’s good to hear and same, we’re just relaxing.'' Beth bit her nails, hoping the young girl was calling for what she hoped she was calling.

''That’s nice. Uh, I was calling in regards to, uh, your offer or how should I call it?'' Y/N nervously laughed, cringing at her shaky voice.

''Yeah, you could call it that.''

''Uh, if it’s not a bother, me and my parents would like to discuss all the practicals of me maybe moving in with you guys. Is that okay or…?'' The young girl’s stressed voice touched Beth’s heart.

''That’s not a problem, darling. We would love to have a talk,'' she nodded at Viv, who gave her a thumbs up, ''when does it fit for you and your parents?''

''Is Saturday possible for you? I have to be at the club for a medical exam so I’m in town then with my mum and dad.'' Y/N suggested.

Beth smiled, relieved that Y/N had called for the reason she had hoped. "Saturday works for us. What time is convenient for you?''

'’Uh, I have to be at the center at like 10 so is 2 in the afternoon alright?'’ The teenager proposed.

"Perfect. I’ll send you the address, and then you’ll find us here.'’ Beth assured her.

"Alright. Thanks, Meado. We appreciate it.'' Y/N thanked her, sounding grateful.

"No problem at all. We're looking forward to it. See you on Saturday!" Beth ended the call, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She turned to Viv and her brother, her partner sporting a supportive smile.

''She’s coming here on Saturday?'' Vivianne asked.

''Yeah, with her parents. She has to be at the club so it works out great that way.'' Beth recalled Y/N’s words.

"That's fantastic. It’s a good sign.'’ The younger one of the couple wearing a hopeful expression on her face.

Ben chimed in, "I'm sure she'll agree to it. If you need any help getting things ready, just let me know.'' Beth had informed her family on the potential new housemate or how Jen had called her, their new football child.

Beth smiled at her brother, grateful for his support. "Thanks. I might take you up on that.''

She indeed took him up on that. The day before Y/N and her family’s arrival, Beth and Vivianne, with the help of family members, had cleaned their entire home. The Dutchwoman wasn’t too worried about anything, but seeing Beth’s distress had been a challenge.

''Why am I so nervous? We’ve known her for so long and I’ve met her parents plenty of times.'' Beth shook herself, wondering why she was so worked up.

''You just want it to go well. It’s okay, lieverd.'' Vivianne tried comforting her, massaging her shoulders.

Beth leaned into her touch. ''Thanks, Viv. You’re the best.''

It felt like forever before Y/N and her family arrived, but eventually, the doorbell rang. The couple exchanged a quick glance before making their way to the hallway. As they opened the door, they were met with a smiley Y/N, decked in an Arsenal training kit, accompanied by her mother and father.

"Hi, everyone! Welcome back in North London! Nice to see ya, how are ya?'' Beth initiated a hug with the younger girl, happy to see her in her full Arsenal spirit again.

Y/N smiled into the hug, briefly caressing Beth's back. ''I'm good, and you?''

''Good as always. Come on in, the weather isn't the best.'' Beth urged the family in, greeting her parents, while Vivianne said her welcome to Y/N.

''Hey, Viv.'' Y/N said, as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her.

''Thank you for having us. Your home looks lovely!'' Y/N's mother complimented their house, glancing around the corridor.

''That's very kind of you, and we're more than happy to have you here.'' Beth responded, motioning for them to follow her further into the house.

The family of three politely followed the couple, observing the place as if it were a museum. Beth tried to ignore their faces, not wanting to be able to read off of their expressions what they were thinking.

Vivianne noticed, and subtly stroked her back- letting her know she was right there with her.

''Do you guys want anything to drink? We have tea, coffee, water, soda,...?'' Vivianne offered, pointing at the kitchen.

Y/N's father declined, politely shaking his head, but thanking Viv. His wife sweetly asked for a tea of Viv's choice, and Y/N opted for the glass of water. Vivianne glanced at Beth who, similarly to Y/N's dad, shook her head- too nervous to consume anything.

While Vivianne disappeared into the kitchen, Beth gave a swift tour of the house; showing where everything was without too much unnecessary information. However, she did spend a bit longer lingering around the guest room and the small bathroom attached.

After the impromptu house tour, they all gathered in the living room. Vivianne returned with the drinks, handing a cup of tea to Y/N’s mother and a glass of water to Y/N.

The atmosphere was one mixed with curiosity, anticipation, and nervousness.

Y/N’s mother was the one to break the light tension. ''So, firstly, we wanted to thank you for your offer. It’s very generous and we really appreciate it.''

''No problem at all.'' Beth brushed it off, not the greatest at accepting compliments.

''We, as parents, find it important for her to be able to focus on her career, while also having a stable life outside of the pitch. Those both sides of her life are essential to one another; a good personal life will help in football, and vice versa.'' Her mother stated.

''And if she were to stay with you two, she’ll still have some sorts of independence away from home, while still having the support she needs.'' Her father chimed in.

Beth and Vivianne nodded attentively. ''Yeah, we completely understand that. She can also carpool with us to training, and she can travel with Beth during the international breaks.'' The younger one of the couple said.

''That would indeed come in handy, eh? Miss No Driver’s License?'' Her mother teased, resulting in a small push from the youngest.

''We just hope it’s not too much of a burden for you. You’re a young couple, we’re sure you would want your space.'' Her mother continued, voicing her concern over Beth and Vivianne’s personal space.

''It’s really not a problem at all. The guest room doesn’t get used anyway so it will finally have a good purpose, and we would love to have her around more.'' Beth smiled at the girl, relieved as Y/N reciprocated.

''I think it would work well. I mean- I’ve been at the club practically my whole life, and you also live closer to most of our teammates so I’ll see them more as well.'' Y/N voiced her opinion.

Beth and Vivianne exchanged pleased and relieved glances, excited to hear her positive response.

As soon as there was an agreement on the offer, they discussed the formalities of Y/N moving in. When she would be moving in, discussions about any allergies or diets, her school work (contrary to what Beth believed, the girl indeed would continue studying), how they would handle things money-wise- Y/N’s parents insisting the couple should be given some kind of financial compensation for the time their daughter stays with them, and all other stuff. Y/N's parents, seeming more at ease with each passing minute, voiced their appreciation for Beth and Vivianne's willingness to provide a supportive environment for their daughter.

The practical conversation was followed up by a more casual and laid-back talk, asking about their upcoming vacation to Greece, how Beth and Viv’s families were doing, what they thought about the upcoming Arsenal season, etc.

As the meeting drew to a close, both parties felt a sense of relaxation and assurance regarding Y/N's potential move. Y/N and her father had already headed outside when Y/N’s mother subtly halted Vivianne and Beth in their tracks. ''I know we’ve said it a lot, but we are very grateful that you’re doing this.''

''It’s really no problem. Y/N’s a lovely girl.'' Beth nodded.

''She really liked it at City, but she was always talking about how she missed playing in the red and white colors.'' Her loan to Manchester City had been a mixed experience for the young player.

Vivianne pouted at her words, while Beth sighed, understanding the sentiment. ''She’s back home now. Our Gunner.''

''Yeah,'' Y/N’s mother chuckled, ''we trust that you’ll take great care of our girl. She really looks up to you two, so this means a lot to her, and to us as well,'' she said with a soft smile.

The couple nodded. ''Absolutely. We’ll treat her like she’s our own child,'' Beth added, and they all shared a laugh.

''No, but seriously, we’ll make her feel at home,'' Vivianne assured her.

''Thank you, girls, and enjoy your vacation- you’ve deserved it,'' Y/N’s mother bid them goodbye, stepping outside to join her own family.

''Thank you, Miss Y/L. Have a safe trip home, okay?''

The family exchanged appreciative smiles. ''We will, thank you.'' She replied warmly before they made their way to their car and were back on their way home. The couple watched until they were out of sight, a strong hold on one another.

As the door closed, Beth let out a relieved laugh. ''Well that went well, don’t you think?'' She turned to her partner, the Dutch’s eyes reflecting a mix of joy and excitement.

Vivianne grinned. ''Yeah, and her parents really seemed to trust us. Y/N also seemed genuinely happy about the idea.'' The youngster’s stance on this had been the most important to them, wanting to get the feeling she genuinely wanted this.

The Brit nodded. ''I hope so, I just want her to be comfortable.''

Viv squeezed her. ''We’ll make her feel at home, liefie. Just like we promised. It’s a bit like parenting, but instead of a crying infant, we get a cool teenager.''

Beth laughed. ''Yeah, and one that plays great football as well. We’re lucky gals.''

''Absolutely, we hit the jackpot.''

On the agreed-upon date, the day before the official start of pre-season, Beth and Vivianne eagerly awaited Y/N’s arrival. Most of her stuff had been already dropped off in their home, so to make it easier for her and them to transition into the new living situation. As both of Y/N’s parents weren’t allowed to take time off of work- much thanks to the European Championship- Y/N would take the train and would be picked up by Jen and Kim, the Scottish pair offering to drive her from the station to the Meadema household.

''Alright, orphan child, let’s bring you to your new mummies.'' Jen had teased her once they got in the car.

As the doorbell rang, signaling the much-anticipated moment, Beth rushed to open the door, while Vivianne took her time to follow her girlfriend into the hall.

The trio stood there, Kim and Jen holding her stuff while Y/N immediately greeted Beth with a hug. ''Meado!''

''Hey, darling! Welcome home now, eh?'' The older one said excitedly, giving the young girl a kiss on her hair.

Vivianne greeted her two other teammates before turning to the strikers. ''Y/N! How you doing?'' Instead of waiting for Beth to be done hugging her, Viv pulled her arms around both women.

''Good, and you?''

''Yeah, I’m fine.'' The bright smile on the girl’s face was infectious, her teammates mirroring her expression.

Once both her new housemates let go of her, they all walked into the house. ''How was the train ride?'' Vivianne asked, taking Y/N’s coat and hanging neatly on a wired hanger.

''Uh, it was a bit delayed, but it wasn’t too busy, so it was okay.'' She answered, having a curious look around their house again as if something drastic would have changed in the two weeks that had passed since she first visited them.

Jen and Kim let out big sighs as they put her stuff down. ''We managed to safely deliver your package, Meado. Don’t we get some kind of reward for that?'' Jen quipped, Y/N giving her a light slap on the arm for referring to her as if she were an Amazon delivery of some sort.

''I agree! She’s in one piece and with a smile on her face.'' Kim added.

The group shared a laugh. ''How about we treat you to some dinner sometime this week?''

Jen raised an eyebrow at the proposal. ''Anywhere we want?'' Beth nodded. ''No budget limits?''

''Within reason, Jennifer. We’re not made of money.'' The Brit grinned.

'’You just became European Champion, I’m sure you got a nice cheque, Meado.'’ Jen continued teasing. ''Anyway- shouldn’t the young grasshopper pay since we’re all doing this for her?'' The Scot turned to Y/N.

The young girl’s eyes widened. ''Stealing money from a minor? Wow, Beattie.'' She joked, getting a laugh out of them.

''Minor? You just turned 18!'' The defender exclaimed.

Y/N teasingly rolled her eyes. ''Age is just a number. That’s what you taught me!''

''Alright, you don’t have to pay! But next time you wanna go out with us, I’m saying no, since you’re still a minor.'' She stuck out her tongue, taunting the young girl with her own words.

''Who says I even want to go out with you guys, you’re all super old.'' Y/N retorted, being met with a bunch of protests.

The banter continued, creating a lighthearted and joyful atmosphere in the Meadema household.

[thexfridax]

D.E.B.S. at 20: a Queer Cult Classic

Bessie Yuill Photo: Sundance/WireImage

There is a secret film hidden within the shadowy sapphic corners of Letterboxd. Some call it escapist trash, some call it an underrated cult classic, fools call it a male fantasy. It calls itself D.E.B.S. As other early-2000s chick flicks like Charlie’s Angels and St. Trinian’s have been reevaluated and embraced for their candy-floss aesthetics and campy wit over the years, the lesbian community was quietly reclaiming its own equivalent with 2004’s D.E.B.S.

The precursor to contemporary high-concept lesbian films like Bottoms, the spy flick is filled with something that queer female moviegoers still often yearn for: fun. That includes Jordana Brewster and her era-defying eyebrows as the impeccably named supervillain Lucy Diamond, John Woo–style fight scenes that parody the action genre in the same way as Charlie’s Angels, and a cheerfully cheap aesthetic where spies run around in plaid schoolgirl skirts.

D.E.B.S. was written, directed, and edited by filmmaker Angela Robinson. While “unapologetically queer” might be an overused phrase, it does apply neatly to Robinson. The Chicago-born director’s first project was a short film called Chickula: Teenage Vampire, calling on the long history of vampiric queer women that began with 1872’s Carmilla.

Her love of playing with genre led her to later put a lesbian spin on the movie musical by writing the underappreciated Girltrash: All Night Long and exploring polyamory in a period biopic about the creators of Wonder Woman, Professor Marston and the Wonder Women. On the small screen, she also burnished her lesbian credentials by working on several episodes of The L Word.

When D.E.B.S. started life as a short film, Robinson described it as “a story about a trio of superspies who are all chicks. I love all the comic-book characters: Charlie’s Angels, Batman, Josie & the Pussycats … But I always wanted them to be gay and they never were, so I wrote my own.” Success at Sundance led to Sony snatching the short up and deciding that D.E.B.S. should be a full-length feature.

Two decades later, the joy of this movie lies in the details. The tone is immediately set by a gravelly voice-over telling us that there is a secret test hidden within the SAT to recruit young female superspies (and establishing that, like Bottoms, this is a film aware of genre archetypes and willing to push believability). Our main character Amy (Sara Foster) is an academic overachiever — like many lesbians overcompensating for their perceived failure to live up to social norms. Her perfect score on the secret SAT test makes it even more scandalous when she falls for the aforementioned supervillain Lucy Diamond.

Queer friend groups may delight over the nostalgic frosty eye shadow and lip gloss worn by the D.E.B.S. (which stands for “discipline, energy, beauty, strength,” naturally) at all times. Flip phones, CGI holographic screens, and Goldfrapp’s appearance on the soundtrack will also remind you that you’re watching a film made in the early 2000s. And many will squeal when they spot Holland Taylor, over a decade before she came out, as the academy’s head.

Admittedly, the special effects are goofy enough to cross over into comedy, especially when our girls are abseiling into a restaurant or climbing walls with plungers, and the lighting could be charitably described as resembling teen soap operas of that era. But the chemistry between Amy and Lucy is crackling enough that YouTube compilations of their scenes have racked up hundreds of thousands of views online. Their fun enemies-to-lovers plotline begins with the pair pointing guns at each other and quickly progresses to a whirlwind romance (the other D.E.B.S. think Amy’s been kidnapped and launch a national manhunt, just as many friend groups have had to organize rescue missions for lesbians on weeklong first dates).

You could argue that espionage serves as a metaphor for the closet and that Amy is such an effective spy because she’s used to lying to herself about her sexuality. But that almost seems like too much weight to put on this meringue confection of a genre spoof: Its campiness liberates the characters to inhabit a fun, exaggerated universe with no serious homophobia or consequences. Guns are used, but the so-called superspies have such consistently terrible aim that there are no real casualties. And Lucy Diamond’s supposedly nefarious crimes are all reversible — the murders pinned on her are revealed to be misunderstandings, and she returns all of her stolen goods in order to win Amy back.

When this live-action Totally Spies with a lesbian twist debuted, it only made $97,000 and was dismissed by critics. But there were enough moviegoing gays impressed by its snappy dialogue, fun romance, and stunning supporting cast (including Meagan Good, Jimmi Simpson, and Devon Aoki with a French accent) for its reputation to grow online over time. In forums and YouTube comment sections, young girls were asking, “Are there any lesbian films where they just fall in love and have fun and don’t die at the end?” Their answer was D.E.B.S.