#no there’s no sticks or plaster or anything ! it’s just milk !

[matchamiko]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: fox quirk!reader, muzzling, injuries (scratched knees). Touya is around 9 and reader is about 10.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ note: I got some inspo for my oc nd decided to turn it into an insert, it’s very self-indulgent nd actually part of something a little bigger I wanna do T-T

It was a little bit rude of you to interrupt his outside playing, his scooter time in the street outside his house. It was his time to be silly and race the shadows of the pigeons flying above him, his time to scuff his knees and stick his tongue out at the kids walking home from after school club. But you ruined it with your whimpering and pitiful crying, somewhere behind the across-the-street-neighbour’s bins. 

Touya crunches to a halt beside the boxes and cans, hearing shuffling and whining the closer he rolls towards them. He intents to tell you off, that this is his street and not yours, that kids play hide n seek down at the park or in their gardens, and he also intends to chase you away on his scooter, showing you how fast and how crazy he is,

“You’re not allowed back here, it’s dirty and not yours,” he begins, lisp pronounced with the absence of one of his front teeth, “You need to go away,” Touya squats and pushes a bin bag out of the way, socked feet and a plush tail appearing before him. You’re cowering, eyes glistening with tears and nose running, short pointed fangs glinting in the amber light of the afternoon sun. Instead of letting his scooter drop to the floor, Touya gently lowers it to rest against a box of recycling, icicle eyes never leaving yours. You start to cry again when he doesn’t say anything, silent with a wobbling chin. 

There’s a heavy wire muzzle over the lower half of your face. Leather straps cut into your cheeks and stretch over your head between two powdery orange ears tipped in black, flattened to your hair and quivering all over. 

Touya doesn’t say anything, shuffling forwards slowly, grit scratching under his trainers and you, at first, flinch as if about to flee. But there’s something in the way he holds out his sticky fingers and prods the grazes on your knees, face soft and curious and boyish. 

“Did a bully do that?” he’s referring to the muzzle, voice soft and you shrink in on yourself, hiding in the shadows of the bins, “I can help take it off, I bet it hurts alot,”

Your eyes are sharp and calculating, afraid and still flooded with tears, 

“M-my tea-cher,” you stutter through sobs, “I accident-tally scratched -,” you gulp in several heaving hiccups, “I hurt-ed someone, accidentally!” 

Touya spots the short, almost blunt claws at the ends of your fingers, looking more like the long nails his mom would get painted at the salon sometimes. He sits lower in his squat, chin leaning on his folded arms over his knees, watching you and your tail that twitches and flicks to and fro. He knows from watching cats that at least you seem less agitated, allowing him to come closer on his knees and reach for the muzzle, 

“I’m Touya, and my house is just that one there,” he offers just like his mom did when she was dressing a cut knee, talking over the pain and shame just as he knows you must feel, “Do you like banana milk? Mom’s got some in the fridge, you want some? It’ll make you feel better I think,” you allow him to touch you, nine year old hands fumbling with the heavy metal clasps behind your head, “makes me feel better when I get a bad grade at school, or if stupid Natsu’ is being stupid,”

The muzzle comes free and he throws it to the floor, the two of you staring at it with fear and repulsion. After a moment, Touya picks it up again and takes it over to the general waste bin, dumping it unceremoniously into the filthy depths. 

“D’you want that milk then?” you’re crawling out from behind the rubbish, ears up and twitching when he picks up his scooter, “I would get you some plasters for your knees but - wait,” Touya thrusts his toy at you, ignoring your yelp as you catch it clumsily, the handle jutting into your cheek, “I can go get some! Mom left the box on the table!” 

He trips as he rushes through the gate, a little oof! making you giggle into your hand and sending a rosy flush to his cheeks, “Don’t play on my scooter! It’s special!” he doesn’t see you nod, disappearing into his house with a shout of his brother’s name. 

It takes him a little while to return, the sun beginning its descent and the streetlights flickering on while you wait patiently with his scooter. You’ve seen kids at school playing with them, riding them to school far ahead of their parents or older siblings and it makes you a little resentful towards the sleek black car that drops you off every morning and picks you up every afternoon. Except for today. You ran away today, not even taking your school bag, ignoring the shouts of the driver and his panicked phone calls. Tears threaten again and you scrub them away, feeling the welts of the muzzle still present on your cheeks, and it’s Touya’s return that shakes you out of your misery. 

“I got a lot of stuff, but I gotta be quick cause it’s getting dark and dad’ll be so mad,” he shudders at the thought, careful not to trip over the step this time and you catch the carton of banana milk that falls from his arms. Touya drops everything to the floor away; several plasters with aliens on them, a damp dish cloth that has grit on it now, a chocolate bar and a second carton of milk, this one mango flavoured. He squats down to brush off the rag, flicking your skirt out of the open wounds on your knees, cleaning them roughly and a little terribly, sending tears spurting out of your eyes again, 

“Oh m’sorry,” he says quietly, looking up at you and frowning at you rubbing wetly at your cheeks, but you nod through it, encouraging him, “I’ll put the plasters on now, they’re my actual favourite, and you can drink the milk by the way, I got it for you,”

You juggle his scooter and the straw for the milk, successfully piercing the cardboard and sipping with a sniffly nose, giggling when Touya points out his favourite alien and then his least favourite one, blobby and red (“looks like Natsu’ when he was born”). Then, after criss crossing your knees with plasters, he tells you all about his recent birthday and how his scooter was his absolute best present ever, how he’s ridden it every day after school and also on the weekends,

“If you wanna ride it, you can! You don’t cry all loud and gross like the little kids so you’re not that annoying,” Touya stands and opens up the chocolate bar, halving it very badly and handing the larger piece to you, “You could come round tomorrow after school, unless you have a club or study or something but if you don’t come inside, then dad won’t mind,”

“I don’t do clubs after school,” you say with a scratchy voice, “m’not allowed,”

“Oh,” his mouth is full of chocolate and he swallows loudly, goo stuck to his upper lip, “well, that’s okay, that means you can come and play whenever you want, I think I like you alot so I don’t mind if you wanna use it but you are not allowed to go faster than me, I’m the fastest,” Touya’s threat is empty and followed by a big gummy grin, teeth brown and sugary. You nudge him and laugh with your belly, chomping on your own snack and drinking your milk with crinkled eyes, 

“You’re funny Touya, and you're really nice, I think I like you too,”

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[zerobaselove]

my favorite | park gunwook

pairing: gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 939

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread

prompts: 7. "dont tell me you're jealous" 30. "you make it hard to think straight"

notes: my wookie ohhh i love him so bad. i've been pretty busy lately but i did manage to pop this out in a pretty quick time so <3 anything for him tbh

ever since you started dating gunwook you had found yourself getting close with the other members; it was inevitable really, always visiting gunwook at practice and the dorms meant you were also always visiting them. surprisingly you actually got along really well with everyone, despite your fear that they wouldn't like you.

you had especially gotten to be on good terms with gunwook's best friend, gyuvin. he was always fun to be around and the three of you found it easy to hang out together without anything being weird. it was nice. after years of longing for a close group of friends, you finally had one, and you had gunwook; it didn't get much better than that.

today was a day off for the boys, a rare occasion that you knew you had to take advantage of. according to gunwook he had the dorm all to himself, almost. gyuvin was there too, both deciding to stay in on the free day instead of going shopping or out with friends like the others. so in an attempt to be nice, you stopped at the store to grab them some snacks for all their hard work lately.

you grabbed a few snacks, one you had seen gyuvin eating with gunwook once, a safe option you'd like to think, as well as some drinks and gunwook's absolute favorite snack.

soon enough you found yourself knocking on the door to their dorm, hearing some muffled shuffling before being greeted with gyuvin's smile. "oh gunwook is just in the shower, c'mon in." he opened the door, gesturing you into the kitchen as he locked the door behind you.

"i brought treats!" you enthused, holding the convenience store bag in your hand before reaching in to grab the snacks you got for gyuvin.

the two of you chatted for a bit, gyuvin even sharing his snack with you to show his gratitude until gunwook made an entrance. his hair was still damp and sticking to his forehead, partnered with the glasses resting on his nose. "hi love," he came up behind you to drape his arms over your shoulders. you relaxed into his touch despite the drips of cold water coming off of his hair, giving him a similar greeting before standing up, not noticing the way his eyes grazed over you and gyuvin in front of him.

"you two go have fun, i have to catch up on a show." gyuvin smiled, heading off to his bedroom with his drink, opting to leave his snack on the counter. now that you were alone you couldn't help but notice the expression plastered across gunwook's face. "what's wrong wook?" you questioned, bringing your hand up to brush a damp strand of hair from his eyes.

"it's nothing," he mumbled, barely audible through the pout that he displayed as his arms crossed in front of him.

gunwook was stubborn, this wasn't news to you, but he also knew you weren't stupid, so you ran over anything that could've made him upset today. you quickly scanned the room, eyes landing on the snacks and the empty seat that once sat gyuvin a few minutes ago. bingo.

"wook," you chuckled, "don't tell me you're jealous."

"you got him snacks," he pouted again, unable to control his tone as he stood there staring at you. you could only laugh for a moment as you picked up the bag on the floor, "i got you snacks too, silly." you pulled out a bag of home run balls and a carton of chocolate milk for the boy sulking in front of you before holding it out to him.

he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, "those are my favorites, how'd you know?"

"i pay attention gunwook," you placed the snacks down on the table as you gestured for him to sit with you. "did you really think i'd get gyuvin snacks and not you?" he shrunk into himself at the statement; yeah, it seemed a little weird that you'd do that, but he didn't always prove to be the smartest when it came to the person he loved.

he shook his head, mumbling a "no" under his breath as he shyly opened the chocolate milk carton. "thank you." his voice was a little louder this time.

"no need to thank me," you ruffled his hair, letting out a small chuckle at the endearing boy in front of you, "you're cute when you're jealous by the way."

the blush that dusted across his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you, and you couldn't help but wonder how you got so lucky to have such a cute boy in your life.

"listen it's not my fault," he sighed, taking another sip of his drink, "you just," he paused for a moment, "you make it hard to think straight."

now it was your turn to blush, a little flustered at the innocent confession from the boy sitting beside you. you took a few moments to compose yourself before responding, "well i'm honored," a slight questioning tone in your voice, but genuine nonetheless.

a shy smile spread across his lips as he grabbed your hand with his free hand, the other holding the snacks and his drink, "well c'mon," he started, pulling you off towards his room, "you promised me you'd play games with me."

and that's how your afternoon went; back and forth bickering as you competed in various games. as much as you loved your boyfriend, you'd be damned if you went easy on him, so that incident wouldn't be the last time you saw pouty gunwook before the day was over.

[rosanna-writer]

now i wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Summary: Feyre can't sleep. Rhys wants to cuddle anyway. Pure fluff ensues. Warnings: None Word Count: 600

Celebrating Feyre's birthday with a short fluffy drabble dedicated to @reverie-tales <3

You can read it below the cut or here on AO3.

Feyre's side of the bed was cold when Rhys woke up. He'd fallen asleep with her curled around him, her arm banded over his chest and her leg hooked around his hip. Without her there, the bed felt too big.

It was still dark, and one sleepy stretch of his mental talons was enough to let him know she was sitting in the kitchen. Rhys winnowed right behind her chair and leaned down to kiss her hair before he'd even fully materialized.

"Feyre darling," he said, voice gravelly, "come back to bed."

She twisted around to look at him, putting down the mug of warm milk she'd drained just before he'd appeared. "Did something wake you?"

Even as she moved, Rhys buried his face in her hair more thoroughly, inhaling her lilac-and-pear scent and letting it soothe the part of him always seemed to cry out for her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. "I missed you."

"I couldn't sleep, and you looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you," she said, relaxing against him.

"Wake me next time. I hate the thought of you sitting up alone."

She pushed an image down the bond, the view she'd been staring at while she'd watched him sleep. His hair was mussed, one lock of it plastered to his forehead and the rest sticking up at odd angles. A drop of drool had begun to form at the corner of his mouth. He'd looked dead to the world, completely exhausted after a long day. Feyre let him feel her rush of affection and the peace it brought her to see her mate comfortable and resting.

I should paint you like this.

Only if you promise not to display it anywhere prominent.

Feyre laughed, and Rhys felt some of the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders melt away. He ran a hand down her arm, mostly just to feel her bare skin. "What's keeping you up tonight?" he murmured.

"Nothing in particular. It's just…one of those nights."

Rhys understood. Most nights were peaceful, but along with the occasional nightmares that might always plague them both, there were times that racing thoughts and memories playing on a loop made sleep impossible.

"Anything I can help with?" If it was bad enough, he could push his way into her mind and use his daemati abilities to help her sleep, though that never fixed the root cause of the problem.

"I think it just has to run its course."

"Then at the very least, will you do me the honor of letting me hold you until it's over?"

Feyre smiled. "Only because you asked so politely."

In the blink of an eye, the mug was in the sink and Feyre was tucked against Rhys's chest. He held her with one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, the way he used to before she'd learned to fly herself. It had been a while since he'd cradled her like this, and Rhys took a moment just to savor the solid weight of his mate in his arms.

Feyre cuddled closer, pressing her face to the crook of his neck as she let him carry her up the stairs. Her breath skittered across his collarbone as she scented him.

Her hold on him didn't loosen, even as they fell back into bed together. Rhys draped a wing over them both just as Feyre rested her head on his bicep and let out a contented sigh. He let himself drift off again and didn't let go until morning.

[puddingcatbeans]

timkon; a slow, sweet, spring morning, some day in the future.

When Tim stumbles out of the bedroom, the sun is already up, the sound of bustling and hustling Gotham filtering through the half-open windows. He makes his way into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning.

Off-tune humming reaches his ears as he rounds the corner. Tim's feet carry him across the tiles until he can plaster himself across a broad back. It's naked, because Conner is too used to Kansas heat to put on a shirt unless they have guests or he has to leave a house, even though it's Gotham. Tim sticks his face in between the strong shoulder blades and inhales.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Conner says. There's a snap as he turns off the stove, and then he's carefully maneuvering his way to the counter to plate up breakfast. "What were you dreaming about? Woke up to you trying to chew a hole in my shoulder."

Tim bites him at the back of his neck. It does nothing, of course, but Conner indulges him by pretending it tickles. "Hungry," Tim manages, brain still trying to turn on.

"Good thing I made breakfast, then." Conner nudges him back so he can set the plates on the table.

Tim huffs about the loss of contact and body heat, but he immediately zeroes in on the mug left on the counter. He grabs it and takes a large sip before pulling back to stick out his tongue. "Blergh." He stares down at the light brown liquid in betrayal.

Familiar laughter comes from behind him. "If you'd just waited a few more minutes, you could have gotten your own cup."

"Coffee?" Tim says hopefully, following Conner to the expensive espresso machine that appeared one day in his kitchen after a particularly rough stakeout-gone-wrong. The only family member that has a copy of his key is Alfred, but it's not like Tim could have stopped his siblings from crawling in through the windows if he tried. He'd be a hypocrite.

"Here," says Conner, placing a steaming mug in his hands. "Straight black, you caffeine monster."

Ignoring the scalding heat, Tim has already gulped down three mouthfuls. He blinks, slightly more awake. "The amount of sugar and milk you add to your coffee is atrocious," he declares. "Coffee is wasted on you."

"If I'm the one making it, I'm getting it." Conner tugs him towards the table. "Come on, let's eat before the bacon gets cold."

Tim melts into the chair, still holding his mug. He tips over so he can lean against Conner's arm. "Hey," he says, watching Conner dig into his eggs with his left hand so as not to dislodge Tim. "We're still okay to go to the farm this weekend?"

"Yeah, why? Do you need to postpone again?"

Tim wrinkles his nose at Conner talking with his mouth full, but he doesn't say anything. "No. I've already done that too many times. I already told Tam to reschedule anything short of a national disaster, and even then, to make a Zoom call."

Conner grins. "Ma misses you. She says now that all us Supes have moved out, she misses having someone to spoil."

"She can still spoil you."

"Nah, you're more fun. Your reactions are gold."

Tim pinches Conner's elbow. The only response he gets is a snicker. "Whatever. I'll tell her not to leave you any of her pancakes."

"No, wait, I take it back! Tim? Tim, no, put down your phone---"

Hiding a smile into his coffee, Tim lets himself slowly wake up and feel the sunshine.

[negai-no-astro]

after finally escaping hibaru's brotherly embrace kou finally has time to get fussed over by kuran. "are you feeling ok?" "no." "do you want this melon pan?" "no" "do you want this curry bread?" "no" "do you want this croquette?" "no" "do you want this carton of fried chicken?" "no" "do you want this bottle of milk tea?" "no" "do you want this corn dog?" "no" "do you want-" "i want to know why you have all that, and whatever else is in those bags" "well, when i left to the convenience store to get hibaru's candy, i had too much money...and so did every man in the sanmenroppi, and i didnt want to come back just to ask terasu or hibaru if they had 100 yen so i just had the cashier break the smallest bill we had down into change. and that bill made a lot of change. so i bought as much of hibaru's candy as i could, but i cleared the shelf of it and it didnt even put a dent in all the 100 yen coins. so i just bought more stuff. like cleared the hot food cabinet, or what they had left in it..then i went after bread and eventually got some drinks. then i realized id been in that store for like half an hour and i hadnt even made a dent in all the fucking coins and you and the other two were waiting so i came back and you were passed out and we had to take you to the hospital before i could figure out what to do with anything...and and thats about it i guess? seriously is there anything i can get you kou?" "that drink you and botan used to make for me?" "of course" *pours orange juice into a styrofoam cup with a little water* "wait a minute no alcohol?"

Kuran's just trying to look out for him! Even if it's a bit much. There's probably a bunch of medical equipment in there too that Kou doesn't even need but that doesn't stop Hibaru and Kuran sticking plasters on him while he's asleep.

[cosmicangst]

22 had shakarian all over it ❤️

22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au (prompt me here!)

word count: 5802

+

Shepard wasn’t the type to exaggerate but would it be such a stretch for her to say that she would rather be facing another thresher maw again than endure this reception?

It wasn’t even the reception itself or the concept of socializing. But she had been running on fumes, having traveled from Alliance Headquarters via a scrambled last minute hitchhike on an industry ship to even arrive on the Citadel on time. And the ceremony, while meaningful, and its celebrants, while beloved, weren’t enough to sustain what Anderson called her “military poster face”. She could face a horde of enemies with no sleep but maintaining her public-facing charisma required a different strength. Not like she had any excuse. It wasn’t as if she was on active duty or had anything to justify why she missed her initial shuttle and had to wait at the intermediary depot for the next one.

Somehow, getting waylaid by batarians seeking to swindle her out of her credits in a round of poker, engaging in a friendly shootout when she out-hustled them despite their tricks, and buying out a bar in celebration afterward didn’t seem like a good enough excuse.

Hence, the hangover. Hence, the missed flight. Hence, the lack of sleep.

And hence, why she was tucked at the corner where the bar was situated with only a silently brooding turian guest with blue face markings at the other end and Vilk, an even quieter elcor bartender, behind the bartop for company. She had broken her self-imposed no-drinking rule and opted to nurse a healthy glass of red as she kept her distance and tried not to look too much like she spent the previous cycle shit-faced.

But perhaps she had not fully succeeded.

Several guests had lingered nearby to catch a glimpse of the infamous Shepard, whose face and exploits had been plastered on screens and datapads for the past month. They all looked curious, but none seemed inclined to approach. Maybe the huge, still-healing scar on her face was a deterrent. Which didn’t quite make sense considering that half of the guests were turians.

So she people-watched, distantly amused that the bride’s mainly turian entourage was forced to intermingle with the eclectic mix of species on the groom’s side. Like with so many of her contacts, she had met and befriended Atvius amid battle, the latter unwittingly captured during a literal milk run. His two-man ship containing food stocks from Thessia had been commandeered by a ragtag group of scavengers and Anderson had sent Shepard and a small retinue to answer the distress call. Atvius who had the mandatory training of turians his age almost held his own but had been quickly overtaken when he was caught by a particularly grabby krogan. Shepard had arrived just in time with her Claymore and as such, earned an odd friendship and a lifetime’s worth of free levo meals at his bistro in exchange.

Atvius was what his fellows and foes called an aberrant. And that was the friendliest translated term for it. He was disowned by family in all but name, an easy-going bastard who detested fighting. Barefaced in spirit, they called him, he had found his discipline instead in cooking and had chosen to dedicate his life to serving food for all species. Shepard liked him immensely.

It was a real surprise when she had been sent a wedding invitation informing her that he would be marrying another turian. The surprise specifically not that he would be marrying within his species but that another turian would be so accepting. And from what she had gathered about the bride, Livia seemed to have a heritage and reputation of respectability that the groom lacked. What compelled her family to tolerate the union, Shepard couldn’t guess. But she was unsure whether the initial strain of the reception was a genuine product of this sentiment from the bride’s side or just a “turians having a stick up their ass” thing. The fact that Atvius didn’t seem inclined to stick to formalities perhaps didn’t help in any case.

Shepard did not know how turian weddings worked but she was almost certain that the vows and a Top 40 rendition he had whipped out in the middle were certainly not part of the tradition but a product apparently improvised from his absorption of human TV pop culture. Livia seemed charmed though. Atvius was subversive but he was one she seemed deep in love with. Perhaps, that was the trick of it—why none had been able to disrupt such an oddball match.

The answer as simple as that.

Shepard downed her drink. She would have marveled at the romance of it had her head not been throbbing and her throat cottoned with a heaviness that had not just been born from last night.

“You’re Commander Shepard, right?”

Seemed she spoke too soon and someone had gathered enough nerve. She even pulled a not-pissed-off expression when she turned and faced the inebriated man who had swaggered to the bar seat next to hers with a cocky grin.

“That’s right. And you are?”

“People have been staring at you since you arrived,” he said, not answering her question.

Shepard raised an unamused eyebrow. The guy’s tone implied that he seemed more excited that people were watching him talk to Shepard than being interested in actually talking to her.

“Have they now.”

“Well, can’t blame them, right? You and Akuze have been top news for a while now.”

“Hm.”

“So… is it all true then?”

“What?”

“What people have been saying.”

“Oh? What have they been saying?” Shepard leaned closer and something to the effect of having her scar up close seemed to make the man falter for a moment.

“Uh, all sorts of things. Like that you’ve been discharged because you pushed the other soldiers in the way of the attack so you wouldn’t get targeted,” he trailed off, sounding less sure.

Shepard weighed her potential responses carefully. Nearly all of them didn’t seem conducive to maintaining the down-low presence she had wanted for the couple’s sake. She didn’t think that either of them would appreciate her inciting a brawl on their special day.

“You really want to know the truth?”

Some spark ignited behind the fogginess of alcohol, and he nodded without trying to look too eager.

“It’s true, you know. Everything that people have been saying,” she continued, dropping her voice for effect. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. We fought for days but it only took me an hour to realize that I wouldn’t be getting out of it if I played fair.”

“Fair?”

“I used them as bait. My lieutenant was the first to be grievously injured. I mean, they were going to die anyway, right? The ones that were eviscerated to pieces were the most useful because I could throw their extremities in multiple directions as a distraction and attack the sons of bitches from the other side. Of course, the maws quickly caught on to my grift. I was already running out of corpses to use, and it’s a real pain sawing for more limbs. I know the others all like to call us humans soft flesh bags, but meat and bone are a real mess to detach even with a good omni-blade. I could only hide under the remaining bodies and bide my time until they retreated for the night. At that point, it was just a waiting game. Rinse and repeat for several days afterward. My only real regret was that I didn’t get to burn down that entire nest. What I would give to go back and make sure they felt a sliver of the torture we all went through. I’d tear them to pieces the same way with my bare hands and teeth if I could.”

She punctuated this with a matter-of-fact finish of her drink before turning back to the now silent man with a smile that was all teeth and politeness.

“Anything else you want to know?”

“N-No. Uh, that was very…informative.”

“I’d be happy to provide more details.”

“No, that’s all right.” He quickly stood, seemingly soberer now. “I actually have to meet up with some people…over there. But, um, it was very nice talking to you.”

Shepard watched the quickly departing figure with a smothered laugh and flagged down Vilk for another glass as a little reward. She knew that it wasn’t wise to exacerbate the rumors that had been spreading since the Alliance had kept tight-lipped over the details in their public copy. But if anyone was going to exploit her ordeals, it might as well be her.

“Nicely played.”

She turned to her left and found the quiet turian had broken from his stupor and was now tipping his glass to her in a toast.

“Who says it was a play?”

“Just a guess. But I’ve learned that Atvius only makes friends with shit stirrers.”

“I could have been invited by the bride.”

“Nah. I know Liv and everyone she invited. Anyone with your name would have stood out in the guest list.”

“Oh, a close friend of hers then?”

“A friend of both.” He leaned forward to stretch out a hand and Shepard was so surprised he was making such a human gesture that she didn’t immediately take it. “Garrus Vakarian.”

His hand was uncovered due to his formal clothing, and it felt just as warm and leathery as she would have imagined. She’d never touched another turian’s skin before in a non-combat setting.

“Shepard.”

“That was the right procedure, yeah?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve seen enough humans do it in my line of work but I never actually got the chance to do it myself until now.”

“Hmm…I’ll give you a 7 out of 10.”

“Damn. Tough crowd. Was it my form? It was my form, wasn’t it?”

Shepard bit back a smile. “You gripped hard enough to bruise my hand. Which isn’t a bad show of intimidation but not appropriate for a casual, friendly greeting.”

“I’ll take note.” He made a show of typing on his omni-tool. “Don’t…break…human’s…hand.”

She did laugh this time. His lighthearted demeanor seemed so in contrast to his previous brooding mood when she had first taken her spot two seats away from him. It was curious.

“Unless you’d been planning to intimidate me all along, it’s a good tip to keep handy,” she drawled.

“Ha. Don’t know how much intimidation I could do after hearing that story you gave out.”

“I stretched the truth a little,” she offered lightly. Because the truth was, in actuality, much, much worse. But no one else needed to know that but her.

Shepard had never made a point to study turians’ eyes before but even two seats away, his stood out in the low lights with a brilliant shade of blue that seemed to sidestep her lies. Like he knew exactly what she was not saying and he seemed to have enough daring to face the truth of it.

If she was anyone else but herself, she would have fidgeted under such casual and piercing scrutiny. Instead, she kept her stare direct and waited.

But instead of averting his gaze or prodding her for more intrigue, he exchanged his seat for the one directly next to hers and said out of nowhere, “Much as I respect the guy’s skills, Atvius still doesn’t know how to source his alcohol correctly. His horosk is diluted as all hell. No offense, Vilk.”

“Good-natured teasing. No offense taken, Officer Vakarian. I just pour what I’m given,” the bartender uttered.

Shepard stopped drinking. “Officer? Good thing I didn’t start that brawl then.”

“I probably would have joined you if I’m being honest,” he said and his tone seemed to regress to the lower mood he was engaged in before.

“This scene not your thing?”

A loud whoop resounded from the dance floor. They both looked at the party, now considerably livelier and less awkward than it had been from the start. For all the impure alcohol Atvius had foisted upon the festivities, it worked well enough to smooth out the tensions into an actual air of celebration. The groom and the bride were in the middle of the crowd, wildly flailing their limbs into something even an inept dancer like Shepard didn’t think construed as proper dancing, while guests of all species cheered them on. It was enough to make her smile, and she wondered why Garrus remained stiff-shouldered at such a cheery sight.

“So you said you were friends with both of them?” she ventured when he didn’t answer her previous question.

“Yeah. I met Atvius after my coworker forced me to go with him to the bistro after a shift. He’d just opened and word-of-mouth was already spreading about how good he was. But I wasn’t buying the hype. He showed me in the end though. That grunnien kebab of his is a killer. I became a regular quickly enough.”

“Scary how his meat can pull you in so quickly, huh?” Shepard couldn’t help but joke and she was rewarded with Garrus’s hoarse bark of a laugh.

“You said it. And what about you? How’d you meet the two lovebirds?”

“Atvius I saved from a group of pirates who thought he was shipping some lucrative mining resources rather than a bunch of asari spices. And Livia, I only met briefly through Atvius. They’d only been dating for a short time and I was away from the Citadel so often I didn’t have more chances to get to know her. The next thing I know, I’m getting an e-vite to their wedding. Which was a surprise, considering.”

She trailed off but Garrus was quick on the uptake.

“Liv’s already stubborn but she can become even more hard-headed with the things she wants. And she’s already established enough of a name for herself in her career not to take any repercussions from her family seriously.”

“Hm. My type of woman then.”

“That’s Liv for you.” Something about the flick of his mandibles told her that he was smiling.

“Seems like you know her best,” Shepard ventured again; she didn’t miss that he omitted her the first time. “How’d you two meet?”

“Liv… Well, Liv, I’ve known since we were kids but we didn’t get close until military school. She was my sister, Solana’s friend first and Sol always complains about how quickly I replaced her spot,” he said warmly.

Something in the softness of his voice made Shepard pause. She didn’t think she was well-versed with turian body language and tonal inflection to be certain of what that was about, but she could guess enough.

“Pity for your sister. It’s hard being replaced,” she said lightly.

Garrus was quiet for a moment before saying, “Yeah. Pity for her.”

He took another swig of his drink and Shepard felt bad at what she’d uncovered. She quickly changed the subject. “So… wait, wouldn’t that make you a shit stirrer yourself?”

“What?”

“You said Atvius only befriends shit stirrers. Which would naturally mean that you are one yourself.”

His mood seemed to lift at that. “You could say that. I’ve been known to be a bit of a bad boy to some.”

Shepard nearly sputtered out her drink as she cackled.

“What?” Garrus sounded slightly offended.

“I don’t know. Just your phrasing. You seemed so earnest when you said it. Bad boy. Like a proverbial Boy Scout puffing out his chest.”

“What’s a Boy Scout?”

“Someone who’s definitely not a bad boy,” she teased before descending into cackles again. God, she needed sleep.

Her humor seemed contagious though because Garrus joined her even if it was at his expense. “I don’t know why you’re laughing. But if you ever meet a Pallin at C-Sec, ask him about me. He can tell you all about how much of a bad boy I am.”

“I’d rather not get crossed with your coworkers. So I’ll take your word for it.”

Their conversation became more spirited as they exchanged stories about their colleagues. They shared minimal information about each other to keep it light and smooth. But from what she had gathered, Garrus was the youngest of two children. His father had been an officer as well and Shepard deduced due to her increasing observation of his tones that he had followed out of a sense of duty rather than personal preference. He made mention of his mother but his cheer had dampened a little at the topic so Shepard quickly diverted it to a story of when she had pranked one of the recruits to use Anderson’s personal bathroom to shower in. Garrus quickly followed that up with a tale of accidentally letting a detainee’s hamster loose in the office, much to Pallin’s chagrin.

He didn’t ask anything about her background, for which Shepard was grateful. After Akuze, her name and what minimal information there was to glean from her origins and her military career were broadcasted on news sites and programs. What’s more, he didn’t ask why she was staying in the Citadel long-term when she’d mentioned that she was planning on leasing an apartment in the area.

But she was grateful for once to engage in conversation that held no weight, that had no bearing on heavy matters it seemed that suns would rise and fall for. It had been a long time since Shepard had engaged in a kind of fun that wasn’t born from a sick urge to escape her head.

They were in the middle of debating the merits of sniper rifles versus shotguns when someone cut the music and called the guests’ attention to the middle of the room. Livia stood in the middle; her new husband tucked to her side as she raised a glass.

“Everyone, I want to take this moment to thank you all for coming. I know how long many of you had to travel to get here and I couldn’t be more grateful that you’ve attended despite your busy schedules and lives. Especially knowing that some of you were definitely thinking of ditching last minute. Don’t think I don’t know you all.”

Raucous, good-natured cheers mixed with muted clapping from the more sober party-goers.

“First, I want to thank my parents for coming.” Livia nodded soberly towards the general direction of two turians before she launched into a speech about family, the future, and true love that would have made the least sentimental melt.

Just as Shepard thought she was done, Livia punctuated it with a last point.

“Before I let you all go to get even more wasted, I also want to take this time to make a toast to Garrus Vakarian,” she continued. Beside her, Garrus stiffened. “Now, where is that big lug?”

Livia’s eyes traveled around the room before landing directly on him. Her mandibles widened and then narrowed in an approximation of a smile. “Garrus! There you are! Everyone, raise a glass for our good friend here for introducing us. Without him, Atvius and I would have never met and none of you would have been taking a day off to party and share this happiness with us today. To Garrus.”

“To Garrus!” everyone crowed. Shepard took one look at his thunderstruck expression and winced in commiseration. Either Livia was more cutthroat than she thought, or she was completely oblivious to his feelings.

Atvius announced that more food was coming and once everyone’s attention had tapered off and returned to the festivities, the spirit of their earlier conversation was well and truly gone. Garrus stood without hesitation and muttered, “Going outside to get some air.”

Shepard watched him leave, pushing away how sorry she felt for him. Somehow, she thought it’d be more insulting to him if she felt a modicum of pity over his situation.

“Vilk, you know any relaxing places to go in this area that don’t involve alcohol?”

The elcor took a beat to answer. “Thoughtful consideration. I think your idea of relaxation is much more different than mine.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go with mine.”

“Genuine suggestion. The Armax Arsenal Arena offers combat simulations that soldiers such as yourself would find a good release of tension. It’s located at the end of the Strip.”

Shepard transferred him an overly generous tip. “Have a good night, Vilk.”

“Fond farewell. Go easy on Officer Vakarian, Commander Shepard.”

Shepard followed Garrus’s trail outside the doors leading to a balcony overlooking the neon lights of the commercial district. Garrus’s lone figure had his back to the door as he leaned his arms on the railing and watched the busy crowds of the Strip.

“Jeez, aren’t you freezing out here? I thought your kind hated the cold.” An icy draft blew through just in time to prove Shepard’s point, whipping her short hair into a frenzied mop on her head. She was wearing a layered, floral embroidered suit but even the blazer couldn’t fully dispel its chill.

“We do. But I’m a bit of a masochist if you already couldn’t tell.” His tone was joking but she guessed there was more truth to that statement than his humor could hide.

Shepard was never great at being a source of comfort. Her usual M.O. was to find the problem and beat it into submission. But something about his lonely silhouette amidst the festive lights compelled her to try anyway. “You know, if I was you, I would have said to hell with the wedding and gone barhopping instead.”

Ok, maybe not the best choice of words.

He turned to her and something about his expression suggested that he was a little affronted. “They’re my friends.”

“I know. I’m saying that you’re a much better person than me to be handling this the way you have.”

“A better person? Or just a better coward?” He laughed dryly.

“Maybe both. Maybe neither. Some would say it’s honorable—keeping your emotions to yourself to keep the peace.”

He was silent for a moment. “I've had the opportunity to tell her my feelings all these years. But I didn’t. When I introduced them, I knew from the first moment they talked that I’d lost that opportunity for good.”

She considered fairly. “Yeah, maybe you were a coward for that. But that was then. Do you wish you could go back and tell her now?”

He paused. “No. Knowing how everything eventually pans out, I don’t think I could take what they found with each other away from them. Even on the slight chance that she happened to return my feelings.”

“So maybe you should take some closure now for protecting what they’ve found because of your silence. That, or spiral in selfish regret.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“I don’t spiral.” She huffed. “I fall gracefully.”

Garrus’s laughter was a soft thing. “You know, you are definitely not what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Perhaps, it was something to the atmosphere of the balcony, a contained bubble of the bare cold and the quiet surrounded by frenetic activity that made being genuine with each other so easy. Or perhaps it was just them. Already too honest and blunt for their own good, kindred spirits such as theirs understood that they could never pretend to be anyone else but themselves.

“I thought you’d be a terror. The rumors weren’t very kind to you,” Garrus admitted.

“I don’t mind. It helps my work maintaining that kind of reputation.”

“Hm. I get it. But that can’t be all of it, can it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s good for Commander Shepard to be seen like that. But what about you? How do you feel about it?”

Shepard never thought a turian’s eyes could be so bright. It was a little unnerving to be seen beyond a title like he was addressing the “you” to some stranger that lived under her skin. She hadn’t been that stranger for a long time.

When did she get here? Two cycles ago, she was hounding the poor office admins in the Alliance Headquarters about reconsidering her forced health leave for the second time and now she was on the balcony of a dance hall in the Citadel, having a heart-to-heart with a lovesick turian of all people.

She scrounged for words, finding them uncharacteristically and worryingly out of reach. “It’s not my favorite thing. But I’ve handled worse.”

“I don’t doubt you.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to follow me out to comfort me.”

“Who said I followed you out here for that?” she scoffed, regaining their earlier rapport. “I felt it was only polite to say my goodbyes before I left.”

“Oh. You’re leaving already?” Was it her wishful thinking or did he sound almost disappointed?

“Yeah. I figure I’d extricate myself from here for Atvius and Livia’s sakes before I’m inevitably tempted into making a bigger scene.”

She took a beat and maybe because she couldn’t stand to see him looking at her like that that she found her offer had already left her mouth before she could stop it, “Speaking of which, I was planning on stopping by the Arena to blow off some steam before I call it a night. It helps me sleep when I get some exercise beforehand. I’m open to bringing a partner if you’re interested.”

His eyes widened and her face remained casual and open as she waited for his response. “Uh. Yeah. I mean, are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure. Plus, it seems more fun having someone to fight with.” He still looked uncertain so Shepard added, “That is, unless, you can’t keep up. In which case, I understand why you’d be scared to take your chances with me.”

As expected, a competitive and rebellious light brightened his expression. “I know what you’re doing.”

She grinned. “Is it working?”

“Embarrassingly so.”

“All right, then let’s say our goodbyes to the happy couple and blow this popsicle stand.”

“I don’t know what blowing a popsicle stand means but that’s the best thing I’ve heard all night.”

He followed her back inside, faithful on her heels.

*

Garrus was good.

Actually, way better than she would have expected.

Perhaps, it was her upbringing with the Reds and dealing with incompetent and corrupt officers on Earth, but despite her limited dealings with C-Sec, she didn’t naturally have a positive opinion of the expertise of any police force, to begin with.

Oh, she was eating her words now.

He was still a little rough around the edges, and brash in some of his combat choices but he had the kind of raw talent and intelligence Shepard could see being honed into a deadly and finer weapon.

But more than that, it was just plain fun.

It wasn’t until after they had finished several matches and even garnered a small audience upon displacing some mainstay scorers in the charts that Shepard realized how their opposite styles not only complemented each other but made the other better. And some quieter part of herself admitted how much she enjoyed engaging in a battle to stretch her skills, to recognize that she was good at fighting for something more than just survival.

But that was a revelation that was reserved just for her.

“We kicked some major ass in there,” she announced with satisfaction as they stepped out of the arena.

“Yeah, you’re going to have a major fanbase if you keep this up.”

“Me? What about you?”

He waved her off. “I’m just window dressing.”

“I’ve just met you, Vakarian, but I never would have pegged you to be so modest. You held your own in there and saved me from a few scrapes to boot. Take the win.”

“You make it sound like such a command.” He chuckled.

She was in such a good mood she couldn’t help but be playful. “Oh, it absolutely is. Be proud of your win or I’ll, uh…well, I can’t think of anything at the moment but whatever it is, I’ll make sure you regret it if you disobey me.”

He leaned his head towards her, taking advantage of his height as his voice lowered and cast over her with concerning and immediate effect. “That a threat?”

“More like a promise.”

“Hard not to take that seriously when you put it like that.”

“I’m a woman of my word. Among other things.” She didn’t know who this stranger was that had suddenly applied this suggestive tone into her voice but it definitely wasn’t her.

Garrus gave her one of those inscrutable but piercing looks again and absurdly, she felt her face warm this time.

“I’ll go to bed with my lights on then,” he said finally and she wondered why she was holding her breath.

As soon as the moment arrived, it disappeared and they were back to the previous mood of their banter as they walked to the transfer shuttles.

What the fuck, Shepard.

“Well, this is going my way,” Garrus announced. “Where are you staying at? I can walk you if you’re nearby.”

He had tacked on the last part like he wasn’t fully thinking about it when he said it. But once it was out there, she saw the immediate cringing regret in his expression.

“Er, I mean. Not to imply anything about your ability to keep yourself safe. Just thought I’d be…you know, chivalrous. Actually, turian propriety’s a bit different from humans but a lot of C-Sec diversity workshops I’ve attended informed me that humans can get a bit twee and overly particular about gender customs so I thought I’d put it out there. Not to say that you yourself are overly particular about that kind of thing, just that—”

“Garrus, I’d love for you to walk me. My hotel is just a little outside of the Strip.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, cool.” He looked visibly relieved and Shepard suppressed a grin. She never thought someone’s awkward rambling could be so endearing. How he slipped so easily between nervous energy and smooth delivery was frankly impressive.

They walked, exchanging easy repartee about their respective training. Once they approached Shepard’s hotel, Garrus noted, “So how long are you staying here?”

“Just for a week. I’m hoping I can find a more long-term situation before I have to extend my stay. The Alliance is more than happy to pay for my room and board here but I’d prefer to bunk at my own place somewhere quieter.”

They never did delve deeply into Shepard’s situation and she hoped that they wouldn’t end such a good night with that can of worms. Thankfully, Garrus didn’t poke, and once again, she marveled at how his bluntness operated along such quiet understanding.

Instead, he cleared his throat and offered, “You know, I’m not much of a real estate guy but I can connect you with a couple of contacts who could help you find a place quickly.”

“That’d be helpful, Garrus. Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Yeah. I mean, if you, you know, also needed some help with moving or anything, I can do that, too. Or if you needed someone to show you around. I know these sectors like the back of my arm.”

“Hand.”

“What?”

“Like the back of my hand.”

“What about your hand?”

“Garrus.”

“I’m kidding.” He shifted his heels, a tell-tale sign Shepard was quickly learning was a nervous fidget of his. “So, what do you think?”

She didn’t know why she was suddenly remembering her last video call with Anderson days after a psychological diagnostician deemed her mentally unsound and the Alliance had promptly put her on forced leave. But the memory came back to her in a flash.

“This is ridiculous. Do they really think pulling me out of duty is what’s good for my ‘mental stability’? What’re our chances of getting a second opinion on this thing?”

“Our hands are tied, Shepard. It might be a choice neither of us would have made but it’s the choice that we’ve been given.”

“Are you serious? Do you believe what they're saying about me, Captain?”

“I believe you will do what’s necessary to get back on the job. Even if that means not doing the job.”

Shepard was silent, feeling resentful and hopeless that her last ally had conceded to the higher-up’s whims. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do here then? Frolic in the park and people watch? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

For the first time, Anderson’s formalities had fallen away as a slight smile upturned his lips. “Shepard, if you have to ask me how to have fun, I don’t think there’s any hope for you. Find some friends. Go out. Get some sleep and attend your wellness check-ups so they can finally clear you. Then, get back to me.”

She looked up at Garrus’s waiting face, realizing that she had been leaving him to stew in silence for longer than what was appropriate.

“Garrus,” she said slowly, gravely, deliberately. “Are you propositioning me?”

She wished she had her camera out to capture the pure universal expression of shock that overtook his entire body. He made a sound that was more of a squawk than anything else.

“What? No! I don’t think of you that way! No offense, but you’re not my type. Plus, you know my situation. Er, emotionally-speaking. I was just asking if you wanted to hang out as friends because we had such a good run tonight and oh—wait, you’re kidding. That’s your kidding face.”

She burst into laughter. “You are so earnest. How do you get anything done as an officer? Also what was with that chicken sound?”

“Ha, ha, laugh it up. I’m retracting my offer.” He made to walk away but she stopped him in between fits of her amusement.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I would love to hang out as friends. I had a lot of fun tonight, too.”

Garrus eyed her, presumably to see if she was up to any more tomfoolery before he matched her mood and took out his omni-tool interface. She didn’t think turians eye rolled but he definitely did. “Contact me at this number. We can start the search tomorrow after my shift if you’re free then.”

“Sounds good, friend.”

“Nah, you’re on probation now,” he said haughtily. “Give me a week and we’ll see about being friends.”

“All right, that’s fair. I’ll see you on our date tomorrow.”

“Shepard.”

“Kidding.”

He rolled his eyes again before he left but she could see that he was pleased.

He really did have the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

[visd3stele]

Ser Criston Cole dating NSFW alphabet

requested by @ignitedminds27

a/n: my first time writing something like this, i have no idea what i'm doing, so, please have mercy. also, forgive the spelling errors, got a lot on my hands and it's jarring to know this is left unfinished. i will correct it as soon as i can

tw: filth, minors dni!!!

Amor - how romantic is he (in and outside the bedroom)?

This man redifines romance for you. Flower petals' in the bed for your first time together. A room full of candles. He won you over with the sweet charisma he enbodies and didn't dissappoint. In bed, he doesn't lose the cute lover's touch. Always making sure you're feeling good and confortable. Prepping you well and good before even thinking of entering you. He'd urge you to stick by his side afterwards, hugging and caressing your sweaty, sticky body, his touc lulling you to sleep.

Blows - (orals) a fan of giving, receiving or both?

Only if he can't be inside you. Criston likes the feel of your lips around his length, but he much more prefers the pulsing of your walls grasping at his cock. However, when it comes to eating you out, he's like a starved man with a taste for his favorite food for the first time in ages. Licking, sucking, kissing as if his life depends on it.

Cuddles - in favor of, or not?

Totally! Anytime, all the time. Before having sex, passioante kisses and tender touches that soon turn into something more. After a night of love, groggy with morning fog. He's so touchy and clingy after a session he'll beg to stay inside you, hugging you to his chest in a tangle of hot bodies.

Dates - how often? how many? how much effort does he put in them?

Don't get me started... this man insists on making everything the proper way in his courtship. Asking for permission from your parents, walking you home, kissing your hand. But somehow, you two end up in his bed anyway. He's just so cute and sweet and honor-bound you can't help trying to tempt him. Which you succeed.

Endurance - how much he lasts? what about how fast is he ready to go again?

Criston is a menace for your sanity. All in a good way, of course. He could grow hard from one touch of yours alone, a brush on his neck, a lick of your lips, a ghost of a kiss, a pointed look and some choice words and he's good to go. And does he go! You begin to wonder if training to be a knight did something to him or if he is simply gifted. The man can last to make you cum four times and still not a twitch from him.

Fixation - what is that thing you can always count on him to do?

Listen, we established the man is a needy, clingy, romantic hoe. He has to feel closer to you than human possible. Adding more intimacy to everything you do than you would have imagined. So Criston has a fixation with lacing your fingers together. Take your hand as he slips in and out of you and sqeeze it tight as your walls milk him. Brush a thumb over your own on the rhythm of his thrusting. Anything, just to hold your hand, fingers curled in one another. In and outside of the bed as well. But rarely does he gets the chance outside of the comfort of your love making.

Giddy - how stoic, or not at all, is he in bed?

Criston doesn't laugh much, but he has a smile plastered on his face the whiole time. At the end, he'd huff an exhausted attempt of a laugh as he rests his head between your breasts.

You, on the other hand, he's obsessed with making you laugh. Tickling your chest with his hair, neck with his tongue, in delightful teasing. He needs to know you're enjoying it as much as he does and the sound of your laugh combined with moans and shouting his name seals the deal.

Haste - what is the preferred pace?

Slow and sweet. He'd drive you crazy before letting you have your release. Fingers laced together, lips exploring every inch of skin, Criston pushes inside you like a sommelier tasting the best wine he ever had. Hitting every nerve. Attentive, careful to feel every spot inside you as he is to with the outside. He fills you so well, you're left a mess of sweat and tears of pleasure at the end.

Imaginary - how creative is he in bed?

If you count talking, than Criston is a match for the poets. He would lean and whisper in your ear how good you make him feel. How much he wanted you, how long he's been waiting to have you. He'd make sure to compliment your body as well as everything else he can remember through the pleasure fogged brain. Finding the most obscene, yet somehow sweet and artistic ways to dirty talk.

Jealousy - how strong is it and how does it manifest?

Oh, boy!... Criston is a very jealous man. No one else can even look at you in a suggestive way that he immediatly bars his teeth and fights to restrain himself from slashing a clean cut with his sword through the daring man. But when he catches you alone he makes sure you're still his. It's the time when he breaks the slow pace for a cruelly fast one. He'd never hurt you, of course, you can rest assure. He'd speed up to let his nerves out, biting and sucking at any part of your body his mouth fall onto. You always make sure to tell him how he's the only one you want, but part of you enjoys the hectic man he becomes when he thinks of competition. As if there could be anyone else, but him.

Kinks - how kinky is he?

You can't tell me this man is not as vanilla as they come. Which isn't a bad thing, mind you. Criston loves to see your face when doing the do. The fluttering eyeslids, the rolled back eyes, the opened mouth in a beautiful O shape. Sometimes you'd bite your lips to keep the maons at bay and he'd kiss at it, pulling with his lips and teeths until you let yourself go. It makes him so happy to see it all. Either if you're on top, or him, Criston likes the simple intimacy of the act. Nothing hazardeous, just two bodies loving each other.

Love langauage - what is it and how does it fit in bed?

Definetely words of comfort. He may feel it deeper than he ever thought possible, he may see it in your eyes, but Criston needs to hear your love and make sure you do his as well. How does it play in bed? You get a very talkative boyfriend, that's how. Peppering you with kisses and praises. Reminding you of how perfect you are, how nice you feel under his touch, how good you are to him. Begging to hear your voice too. Until all it's left to be understood is an amalgam of barely discernible words, moans and cries.

Masturbation - a yes, a no, a maybe?

Nope. The all too pure, all to honorable knight deems it below him to make himself cum, alone, in his fist. However, if he is in your company and you ask him, he will oblige. Seeing you smirk lovingly at the sight of him falling apart gets him all turned on and itchy for your touch. He'd let you stroke him to orgasm, if he can return the favor. Criston would try to have you masturbate in front of him, but he can't help touching you, turning it into real fucking.

No's - what's a hard no from him?

Derogratorry terms. This man hates, capital letters hates, calling you anything but the most amazing of all compliments. Even in ire, Criston will make sure to keep being respectful and addressing you only with highmost manners. As for being called your whore or slut... you better not. The poor guy will feel so betrayed, hurt and dissappointed, he might left to fight in a war without telling you. Yes, even walk out during the do.

Orgasm - (cum) anything to do with it

Criston got loads to shoot into you. He wants it all kept in the safety of your swollen, stimulated cunt. When you blow him off, though, he would much rather watch it shower over your body than dissappear down your throat.

As for your own, he always tries to make you squirt. Splashing your juices in a white mess over his cock, or into his mouth. Give it all to him, he wants to take it. However, Criston is more than happy to feel your orgasm coating his tongue, fingers or cock, no matter how much there is.

Practice - does he have plenty of it or none at all? what does he preffer in his partners?

Criston isn't a virgin, but neither did he left behind a trail of women he slept with. So, he does know his way around a woman's pleasure and is quite the good lover, adapting quickly on your needs, but he is still bashful until you actually sleep together and the first few times.

Quarrel - hate sex/angry sex/make up sex and all that comes after a fight

You have 'naught to fear of him and you know it. But Criston can become a sour sight when angry. It's rare, though, when it happens. He usually keeps his chill, like a knight is trained to. But when he does lose it, Criston also looses his appeal to conversation. He'd scarringly silent in bed, stoic as well. Eyes fixed in yours as he goes punnishing slower than usual. Softer too. Teasing. Making sure he avoids all the right spots. Petty bitch (you'll think, but don't say it outloud). He is able to edge and edge and edge you until you settle your fight and put it behind.

Though you are no less of a menace when you're the angry one...

Raw - pretty self explenatory...

Despite there being, uhm... ways, to cover his dick for babyproof protection, if you're comfortable with it, he preferrs it skin to skin contact. Nothing between his length and your pulsing walls.

Scenery - how prone is he to a different scenery than the bedroom?

Surprisingly, very much so. He likes to take you out in the woods on intimate dates that might end in you two rolling around the forest's ground. He would be happy to sleep with you in the stables, but you tried it once and the hay isn't as comfortable as the grass is... But the most ridiculous, yet fascinating place you fucked and made love to each other in, or rather on, must be the highest tower's roof. Criston took you up there to star gaze and, well, you gazed at the stars in his eyes while riding him into oblivion. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of someone seeing you, the logic reassurance no one could, the chilly air, the sky above, dressed in stars and moonlight, the heart beating faster at every slick slip. Though you knew you wouldn't fall. Criston jumped and ran and even did some push ups to test the resilience first. It quickly became your favorite spot for the devil's tango.

Top - kinda gives it all away, no?

He would prefer to be on top, yes. Gives him a sense of power and control he desperately needs.

Unrequeited - how does he reacts when you two stumble over differencies

He is not usually the one to give in. Be it a position you want to try or a particular kink, he doesn't want to hear it at first. But once you thoroughly explain it to him, he will try it. You know Criston isn't the adventurous type in bed, but for you, he can change it every now and then. He knows he can trust you to guide him; be safe and vulnerable with you.

Voice - how does he like sounds during the devil's tango?

Sound on, please! This man neeeeeeds to hear you. Your moans are enough to electrify his body. If he can get cries from you, he might cum sooner than he wishes. Laughs are more than welcome, words too. Entire conversation on lazy days when you're more swinging your hips laizyly than actually fucking. Or dirrections. He loves to hear you beg for harder thrusts, or point him to massage your bud with his fingers, suck on your tits or whatever is it that you want from him.

Where - the place you do it more often

Remember that roof i was talking about earlier? Yeah... you see where i'm going with this, right? Say what you will about vanilla Ser Cole, but the man life is hanging by a thread by his chosen profession. He can die in a gross war at any given time. Of course he likes the risk. Especially since he knows it's safe (not a triangle roof, mind you, a flat one), otherwise he wouldn't be taking you there. But, yes, this is the favored, magical place. Good luck when it's raining because Criston doesn't mind it one bit. "I can protect you with my body!" He'd cry. And he would. Though rain still drops on you from the loose ends of his hair, tickleing you. Neither of you care about the weather once he's inside you, though. May it be cloudy, sunny, a clear starry night, foggy, thunderstormy or even snowing, you would heat each other up with your bodies.

X-rays - thoughts and feelings when he's fucking you

All he can think about while snapping his hips inside your welcoming pussy is how lucky he is. How much he loves you, not because you let him fuck you, but because your hair is sprawled on his pillow like the roots of the one and only life tree from ol' legends. Because your mouth is often found in a mixture of a moan and a smile (pleased and happy), both his doing. Because your closed eyes roll behind your lids so vividly it bewitches him. Because your body shifts and turns and your skin wrinkle and you're so perfectly real he can't believes you're his.

Yielding - is he a dom, a sub or a switch?

If this man doesn't give you sub vibes, are you even paying attention? Buuuut, he's a bratty sub. Doesn't yield power over himself or his body that easily. It makes him uncomfortable to even feel the desire to. Once he makes peace with it and finds it in himself to trust you, be completely vulnerable with you, he is the most eager, obedient and needy man you could have gotten stuck with (lovingly).

Zoom in - favorite spot on his and your body

During sex, Criston adores his hair. The way you'd comb your fingers through it, pulling at those polished brown locks, bringing him closer to you. Scratching his scalp when you're too blissed out to notice. Hearing your laugh as he tickles you with the thick strands as he kisses your body. He absolutely loves it.

On you, he worships the lips. The shapes they make when you moan, the way they move when you talk, how they stay lightly apart when you breath in and out after a round of passion, desire, lust and love. The way they feel on his, or his body... the man is obsessed.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

In The Kitchen

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Sirius Black [Wolfstar]

Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Word Count: 1173

Rating: Teen

Summary: Strangers to lovers to enemies.

Tags/ Warnings: Hogwarts, Summer Challenge, Writing Challenge, Song Fic, Betrayal, Sirius is in prison, post halloween some time, depression, angst,

Notes: This is my summer writing challenge 2024. Seven fics over seven days - all will be hp based and song fics.

Summer Challenge 2024 // Song Inspo

Remus winced as he put on the kitchen light, the brightness stinging his reddened, raw eyes far too much. It didn’t help that the light illuminated just how much mess there was in here. Dirty plates, cups and cutlery littered every inch of the countertop, hemming in empty cartons and old cans of beer. The bin was overflowing and he wrinkled his nose as he passed it on his way to the fridge but he didn’t do anything to fix it. Instead he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of cider. The crate was the only thing in there apart from half a pack of bacon and milk that looked as though it was on the verge of souring. Though that made sense, everything else in Remus’ life had gone sour too.

How could it not?

He’d lost everything. Not just his friends, gone before their time, but his entire trust in everything that he knew. Even now, standing in his kitchen gulping down cold cider, the first thing he’d drank since last night when he’d gotten black out drunk and crawled into bed, he wasn’t sure he could trust the memories that flooded him.

‘Hey you,’ Sirius said as he sidled up behind Remus, his arms wrapping around his torso. Remus jumped, the knife he was holding as he sliced through a roll slipping and nicking his thumb causing crimson blood to gather at the surface, seeping into the bread as Remus winced.

‘Jesus!’ he grunted, moving the thumb to his mouth so that he could stem the blood flow, the taste of it tangy and sickening. 

‘C’mere let me see,’ Sirius said, quickly moving to take Remus’ hand in his own so he could assess the damage. It was a small cut but it was still oozing making it look deeper than it was and Sirius feel guilty, ‘shit, sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ Remus smiled.

‘No I should’ve bloody known not to sneak up on you,’ Sirius said guilty as he moved to grab the first aid kit from a drawer close by before he grabbed Remus by the hand and led him to the sink, sticking his hand under the cool tap immediately. There wasn’t much blood now so the water only tinged crimson before running clear, the small slice now visible and pink.

‘You’d think I’d be able to hear you coming,’ Remus chuckled, watching as Sirius moved his arm from under the running water and dried it with a towel before he unscrewed a  bottle of essence of dittany and doused his thumb in two drops of the liquid, ‘with my wolf senses and that.’

‘They’re always duller just after a full moon,’ Sirius replied as if this was common knowledge though it only made Remus furrow his brow curiously. Sirius rolled his eyes, ‘duller after, on top form right before. You could hear a pin drop a few days ago.’

‘And you’re tracking that why?’ Remus chuckled.

‘Not tracking,’ Sirius corrected as he foraged in the bag for a plaster. He produced one, ripping it open with his teeth before he moved to bandage Remus’ thumb up, ‘but it’s good to know so I don’t disturb you. I mean today I could clomp around this house in clogs and you’d not know.’

‘I’m bet you’d be able to pull off clogs and all,’ Remus chuckled.

‘I would and maybe I should,’ Sirius smiled, ‘if you could hear me coming you wouldn’t end up with your hand slashed in half.’

‘It’s a scratch!’ Remus protested.

‘Even so we can’t be running to St Mungoes every time you’re not paying attention. We’re too busy,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah with what?’ Remus said, pulling Sirius into him. Bar the full moon they hadn’t left the house in days, no jobs or order business to attend to.

‘Loving you is a full-time job Mr Lupin,’ Sirius grinned, before placing a kiss to Remus' lips.

The memory made bile churn in Remus’ stomach. Because how could he do it? How could he stand in that kitchen with him, make him feel as loved as he did, and then do that? How could he throw it all away? Betray everything? It didn’t make sense.

Unless he didn't do it. No, Remus reasoned, shaking the thought from his head as quickly as it had come. He had been their secret keeper. He had led them there and killed Peter because of it, that he couldn't argue with. There were too many witnesses to refute.

So when had it changed? When had he given up on their side, on them?

Was the memory he held dear, and so many more like it, all untrue? A façade. An act.

And if that were the case how hadn't Remus seen it? How hadn’t he felt the shift between true love and fakery? Because it hadn’t all been fake, Remus had known him once.

In fact he’d known him better than anyone so how had he been so blind to it all?

Remus tried to push the memory from his mind as he moved through to the living room. It was just as untidy in here but Remus didn’t care. Instead he settled himself down onto the couch and turned the TV on. The shapes and colours moved on the screen but he didn’t register what they were. He just sat there. It was his spot, set up to his liking and yet it didn’t feel right. Not without a head or a set of legs in his lap, wittering on about something or nothing. Remus never minded the chatter. He knew that if Sirius was chattering it meant his mind was quiet. Even if it meant that whatever book Remus was reading or whatever he was watching on TV was put on the back burner.

Now all he could think about was whether he’d missed something. Whether there was something in the chatter he should’ve heard. Had he said something about James or Lily? Had he mentioned somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, something Remus should’ve picked up on but hadn't? Had he been trying to tell him only for it to fall on deaf ears?

Of course as time had gone on Remus had suspected something even if he hadn't wanted to believe it. He’d been suspicious but not sure enough and now it had all unravelled. Now he was sitting in his living room with nothing but ghosts. He’d lost everyone he’d ever loved.

But what was worse than that was that Sirius wasn’t gone. Everyone else was beyond saving and yet he’d survived, imprisoned but alive. And as long as he was alive Remus wouldn’t be able to truly make peace with it. It was why he hadn’t taken down the pictures of them that decorated the flat. It was why Sirius’ clothes still hung in the wardrobe. Why he sunk into the couch cushions, still able to smell him on the fabric.

Because they were enemies now but he would never stop loving him. 

SIRIUS BLACK/SERIES TAGS

@mysteriouslydelicateface @caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy @maeisafangirl

[kareofbears]

so many hours in a day

It's drizzling in Tokyo when Nanami sees him, or rather runs into him, in a way that only Yuji can pull off.

read on ao3 or below the tag :)

Nanami Kento is a busy man.

He would prefer if he wasn't. He would like to be the type of person who wakes up naturally, instead of a shrill alarm. He would like to have slow breakfasts with coffee that he makes himself, instead of rushing to the convenience store around the corner for a pre-made egg salad sandwich and instant coffee from the fridge. He'd love to take a few weeks off in a year and travel for a bit, to enjoy the sights with his own eyes, instead of an advertisement that he'd see plastered on the subway walls.

Nevertheless, preference doesn't dictate reality. It doesn't matter what he'd like. A leisurely life wasn't designated to him in the lottery of birth, and it was something he resented for a long time. Accepting the cards that he's been dealt with, however, is indeed something he can control.

What he had yet to accept, on the other hand, was the consistent presence of Itadori Yuji.

--

It's drizzling in Tokyo when he sees him, or rather runs into him, in a way that only Yuji can pull off.

Nanami pulls into the curb gently, mindful of the rain and wary of pedestrians. It isn't often he drives around the city, with public transit being fairly reliable if not cramped. Parking is a gamble that Nanami doesn't appreciate, but rain can be difficult to traverse when he's in need of a grocery run.

Pulling on the handbrake, he opens his umbrella as he steps out of the car, and feels something roll onto his foot.

Looking down, he stares as a can of beans slowly gets wet with rain. He stoops down to pick it up, readjusting the umbrella on his shoulder.

A familiar voice sighs, loud and frustrated. "Sorry to bother you, it just got away from me. Again, if you can believe it. Oh, hey!"

"Hello, Itadori-kun," Nanami straightens up and takes in the boy in front of him.

Yuji, arms full of groceries, from vegetables to eggs to a carton of milk, stands in front of him, grin wide, hair flat and wet. "I didn't think I'd see you today, Nanamin. It's really great to see you," he says, open and earnest.

"I'm grocery shopping." For once, Yuji's out of his jujutsu uniform and is sporting a hoodie and pale jeans, neither of which are helping with the current weather. Nanami raises his umbrella to prop it above Yuji. "I assume you are, too."

"Bingo!" Yuji laughs, wordlessly getting closer to Nanami so they can share the umbrella as the rain picks up a bit more. "What gave it away? Haha, just kidding, don't answer that."

That's good because he wasn't going to. "Are you on your way home now?" he asks. "You didn't bring a bag with you?"

"Ah," Yuji shifts from foot to foot, and Nanami eyes the carrot that's threatening to topple over. "I ran out of money for a bag. At least I have my arms, which is kind of like nature's bag."

"It's three yen for a bag," he says, but he digs through his pockets, pulling out his car keys and unlocking the trunk. "Here, put it down. There should be a few reusable bags in there as well, so make sure to separate your groceries into three different sections: produce, refrigerated, and non-perishables."

"Thanks!"

Yuji hums as he works, Nanami opening the bags for him as Yuji drops the groceries in. "What are you making for dinner tonight, Nanamin?"

"Curry omurice." He expected the oohs and ahhs that follow. "It isn't difficult. If you're attentive in the timing of it, anyone can do it."

"You must be a good cook," Yuji remarks, shuffling the eggs around so they don't break under the oranges. "I want to be like that, too."

Nanami considers this, vaguely remembering how Gojo boasted about how his student made meatballs for him. "I recall you being able to cook."

"I can make about five things super well," he says. "Like, really well! Simple dishes are doable. But anything past that--" Yuji makes a so-so gesture. "Hit or miss, so I stick with what I know."

Once everything is packed up, Yuji hauls everything from the trunk with ease. "Thanks for the bags. I'll make sure to wash them before I give them back to you. Geh, imagine if the milk spills and I give it back to you like that." He shudders at the image he conjured himself. "Anyway, next time you stop by school, I can pass these back to you."

Nanami peers above the trunk, displeased. "Where are you going?"

That makes Yuji pause. With his confused eyes and dripping hair, the rain only emphasizes how young he looks. "The train?"

"But that only takes you so far," he says, reaching over to pull Yuji's hood up. "It's another thirty walk after."

It's Yuji's turn to frown. "Yes?"

Repressing a sigh, Nanami glances at his watch. "There's still another 20 minutes before rush hour hits. I suggest we get going now, and we can get to the school in 30 minutes." Opening the driver's side, he gets in and closes the door, cutting off any protest that Yuji has.

Nanami stares into the rearview mirror, seeing Yuji smile as he gently puts the groceries into the back before moving to the passenger side. Turning the ignition, he cranks the heat so it'll be warm by the time the door opens.

He wonders if the store will still be open once he helps Yuji put his groceries away. Not a big deal, Nanami can get takeaway if it comes to it. He also wonders when was the last time that someone offered him a ride that wasn't for a mission. He also wonders how many cans had slipped out of his hand before someone finally offered to pick them up for him.

What Yuji has not accepted, it may seem, was the consistent presence of Nanami Kento.

[tobeckyweek]

(Mamma Mia) Here We Go Again!

Tobecky Week Day 1

Summary: Becky Botsford is having one of the strangest days of her life.  Now if only she could stop having it.  A 5k tobecky time loop fic!

AO3 ink

cws: memory loss, food

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

She yawned, back cracking as she stretched luxuriously.  It was a Sunday, which meant she could lay back down (provided a villainous plan wasn’t brewing), but ABBA this early meant her dad was in the kitchen, doubtlessly whipping up something delicious and chocolatey for breakfast. 

She dressed and shuffled downstairs, murmuring a groggy ‘good morning’ to her parents and Bob then making a beeline for the refrigerator.  She cracked open the milk carton, gave it a sniff, then shrugged and poured herself a glass, settling at the kitchen table as TJ tramped downstairs.

“Hey, Becky, is your phone acting weird?” 

He flashed the screen – the wallpaper was on the fritz, interface completely eclipsed by static.

She rolled her eyes.  “You probably dropped it again.”

“Just because I’ve broken it like five times–”

“–forty seven times–”

“–doesn’t mean I’ve… actually, yeah, good point.”

TJ flopped gracelessly into the seat next to her and Bob, nose twitching.  “Almost ready, Dad?”

Time laughed, flipping a pancake in the air and catching it nearly in his skillet.  “Does a flapjack flap?”

They stared at him blankly. 

“… yes?”

“I mean, the name seems to imply so, but–”

“Hello, Botsfords!”

Becky dropped her fork.

Plastered against the glass doors leading to the backyard was none other than Theodore Tobey McCallister III, smile frenetic and eyes wild as he scrambled for the door handle.

“Good morning, hope all is well with you.”  His voice tripped and trilled over itself as he stepped inside – with his shoes on, the heathen.  “I’m here to see Becky.” 

“Tobey, what are you doing?”  Becky demanded, only for her to reel back, stiffening in surprise when he said the same thing at the same time. 

“Stop that,” he said just as Becky did.  “What are you doing?  Tobey?!”

Becky’s family fell silent, watching with wide eyes.

“I need to talk to WordGIrl,” Tobey said, when Becky finally lapsed into silence, “urgently.”

“WordGirl?!”  Becky forced a laugh, eyes darting to a stunned Bob.  “That’s… that’s silly, why would I even have contact with her– and even if I did I’m sure there’s plenty of others who–”

“Alright,” Tobey sighed, hand closing around her forearm, “I’m abducting you.  Just to the treehouse, don’t worry.”

“Now, hang on–”  Tim objected, recovering his senses, but Tobey was already in motion.

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Botsford,” Tobey called over his shoulder, tugging Becky along.  “I mean absolutely no offense, but you’re not going to remember this tomorrow, so I don’t really feel like wasting my time on good manners, even if you are my future in-laws.  Presuming there is a future, that is.”

“Tobey!?”  Becky let him pull her along, flummoxed as the door slammed behind them.  “What on Earth are you talking about?  ‘Presuming there was a future’?  ‘Not going to remember this’?  Future in-laws?”  

“We need to get to a secure location,” Tobey said, instead of anything remotely useful.  “We used the tree house yesterday; it should have everything we need.”

“Yesterday?”  She followed him up the ladder, fighting the urge to grab him by the shoulders and literally shake the answers out of him.  “Tobey, we were at school yesterday.  And you didn’t come over.  Why would you have?”

“Oh, I did!  It’s just that I came over today yesterday.  A today that no longer exists, because it was yesterday.”  Tobey turned at the top of the ladder, holding out a hand and hoisting her up afterwards.  “Get it?”

“Tobey,” Becky said, as gently as she could, “did you sleep at all in the last…  ever?”

“What? Yes, probably.”  Tobey ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking straight up.  Heavy purple bags beneath his eyes, skin pale and sallow, movements sharp and jittery – he didn't look like he’d slept.  “I mean, presumably.  The loop forces me to sleep, I assume.  This is the fourth go round, and I’ve woken up in my bed every time, at least.”

He crossed over to the blackboard taking up the far side of the treehouse, picking up the chalk from the nearby shelf without even bothering to look for it, scrawling on the board.  “So, here’s what we’ve got so far.  We, my darling WordGirl, are stuck in a time loop.  Unfortunately–”

“WordGirl?”  Becky interrupted.  “Tobey, WordGirl isn’t even here, that’s-  that’s ridiculous.  Me?  WordGirl?  Ha.  Ha!  How do I know you aren’t WordGirl and you’re trying to throw me off–”

Tobey held up a finger, glancing at his watch.  “The neighbors realize they’re late for an appointment at 6:57” – the sound of emphatic swearing, followed by the squeal of tires – “lady walking her dog at 6:58” – on the street, a woman in a red coat chased after a hyperactive Yorkie. – “And your brother comes out to check on us shortly thereafter.”

From below, TJ’s voice called up to them.  “Becks?  Are you good?  Do I need to send for backup?”

Becky swallowed hard, reeling.  “I’m fine, TJ,” she managed, dropping into a beanbag chair.  “Tobey just… needed help with a school thing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m sure.”

She and Tobey regarded each other in silence as TJ trooped back across the yard, sliding the door to the house shut behind him.

“Believe me now, Botsford?”

“Unfortunately.  I mean, this is Fair City.  Why not add warping the fabric of space-time to the mix?”  Becky sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “So… did I tell you I was WordGirl?  In one of the previous loops?”

“Oh, no, I’ve always known, my dear.”  He turned back the chalkboard, shooting her a devilish grin over his shoulder.  “Thank you for confirming it just now, by the way.”

“Wha– I did no such thing!”  Becky flushed, skin prickling.  “I just asked if I said that to you previously.  No confession involved!  I could have been lying!”

“Granted,” Tobey said, squinting at the complex diagram he was drawing of… was that a bowling ball in a net?  “But all the evidence suggests otherwise.  Besides, I’ve been in love with both of you for such a long time, with equal ferocity, so the two of you being one and the same makes more sense than anything else.”

Becky blinked.  She rubbed her ear, snapping her finger next to it, then stared at Tobey’s back as he finished scrawling some headache-inducing calculus.  

“Tobey,” she said, voice strained.  “Did you just say you’re in love with me?  Both of me?  Not just WordGirl?”

The chalk snapped in half in Tobey’s hand.  “I… Yes, well.”  

He turned, adjusting his bow tie and staring fastidiously at the floor.  “The chances that you’ll remember this tomorrow are vanishingly small, so I’ve been taking the liberty of not filtering myself.”

“You were holding it in before?”  Becky raised an eyebrow.  “I never would have accused you of being encumbered with your emotions.”

“This feels like you’re trying to tease me, not help me.”

“I’m a phenomenal multitasker.”  She took a deep breath, softening her voice.  “Tobey, I–”

“Let’s… focus on the task at hand, shall we?”  Tobey said, picking up a nub of chalk.  “We can discuss other matters tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.”

“Oh my dear,” he said, “when is it ever?”

The facts went something like this: four ‘days’ ago, there was some weird power surge all across Fair City.  Tobey, who had been insulated as he tinkered away in the thick metal exterior of one of his robots, hadn’t noticed anything at first, only to realize once he emerged that every single type of computerized device in Fair City was malfunctioning.

“Which explains the lack of robots?”  Becky asked.

“Which explains the lack of robots,” Tobey confirmed, glumly.

He had largely shrugged it off as a scheme by one of his fellow villains, going to bed, only to be bewildered by his mother claiming it was Sunday when getting ready for school the ‘next’ day.

“I spent most of that first loop trying to puzzle things out with her, convinced she was ill,” he explained.  “Of course, when I ventured downtown later, I realized everyone else had come down with the same affliction.  They were stuck inside time, and I… wasn’t.”

His theory, admittedly, didn’t make much sense to Becky.  He postulated that the energy surge had somehow nudged them sideways out of the linear flow of time and into this loop.

“How does that explain electronics not working?”  She asked.  “Or why you weren’t affected?”

“Well, you see, I…”  He paused, blinking.   “Well, obviously…” 

“You have no idea, do you?”

“I do too,” he protested, hotly.  “I just… we simply…  oh, blast it all, this is as far as we’ve gotten in the last two days. Forgive me for not having everything figured out perfectly.”

He snarled, scrubbing the board with the eraser in large, jagged strokes.

“Tobey, stop!  What if you need that?”

He scoffed.  “I like packing things away for the day.  It’s not like it would be here tomorrow, after all.”

“I guess.”  Becky groaned, dragging her hands down her face.  “Ugh, this is all just so bizarre.”

“Odd?”  Tobey offered.

“Peculiar,” she countered, a smile brushing the corner of her mouth.

“Outlandish.”

“Wacky.”

“Rum.”

“Isn’t that a type of alcohol?”  Becky squinted at him.  “We’re only fourteen, Tobey.”

“British slang, my dear,” he protested, tugging proudly at his bow tie.  “And now you’re behind.”

“Shoot, uh… queer.”

“No reason to call names , darling.”  Tobey shook his head in mock-disappointment.  “Besides, what’s that saying about pots and kettles?”

Becky laughed despite herself, nudging him with her shoulder.  “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, McCallister.”

He offered her a half-smile.  “Well, look on the bright side: it’s not like you have to get used to it, after all.”

The urge to smooth her thumb under his eyes, as if she could wipe away the lines of exhaustion, swept over her.  She looked away, pinning her hand beneath her leg. 

“I’m sorry you do, Tobey.”

He shrugged.  “Better me than no one, I suppose.”

Pale moonlight flickered in through the glass panel set in the roof.  They had barely stopped for lunch; Becky’s parents were probably bursting with questions Becky had no idea how to answer.

“See you tomorrow?”  Becky asked, then winced.  “Well, I guess you’ll see me…  a me, that is… today.”

Tobey chuckled a little.  “Bloody weird, isn’t it?”

“Oh, that’s putting it lightly.”

There was a hint of cathartic hysteria to their laughter, an edge of delirium as they wheezed; better that than start crying.  Even when they quieted down, there was an afterglow of warmth, solidarity.  Maybe that’s why Becky reached out, laying her hand over Tobey’s and squeezing.

“Tell me I’ve got a carousel in the spaceship hideout tomorrow,” she advised.  “I’ll believe you quicker then.”

His pale green eyes were shining, starry.  “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

“It’s late,” she said, softly.  “I should get to bed.”

He reached out, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.  “Sleep well, my dear.”

Her heart, for whatever reason, felt like it was trying to flutter out through her throat.  “You too, Tobey.  You need it.”

“Oh, you never know.”  He winked.  “I may get myself into some mischief.  Not like it matters, after all.”

She shot Tobey a glare.  “Be good.”

“My darling.”  He swung his legs over the edge of the windowsill, and all she could see of his face was the edge of a mischievous smile.  “That’ll never happen.”

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

She yawned, back cracking as she stretched luxuriously.  It was a Sunday, which meant she could lay back down (provided a villainous plan wasn’t brewing), but ABBA this early meant her dad was in the kitchen, doubtlessly whipping up something delicious and chocolatey for breakfast. 

She dressed and shuffled downstairs, murmuring a groggy ‘good morning’ to her Dad and making a beeline for the refrigerator.  She cracked open the milk carton, gave it a cautious sniff, then shrugged and poured herself a glass, settling at the kitchen table as TJ tramped downstairs.

“Hey, Becky, is your phone acting weird?” 

He flashed the screen – the wallpaper was on the fritz, interface completely eclipsed by static.

She rolled her eyes.  “You probably dropped it again.”

“Just because I’ve broken it like five times–”

“–forty seven times–”

“–doesn’t mean I’ve… why is Tobey standing on our back porch?”

“Hi, Botsfords!”  The self-proclaimed boy genius waved through the glass doors, beaming, looking absolutely unhinged.  “Can I steal Becky for a while?”

For some reason, Becky smiled.

  They still didn’t figure it out that time, even if Becky laid her head against Tobey’s shoulder when she groaned in exasperation, and he had to spend about five minutes figuring out how to talk normally again.

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

  Or that time, even if Tobey made some joke about synonyms that made Becky laugh so hard soda came out of her nose.

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

  Or that one, especially since Tobey kissed Becky’s hand with a dramatic flourish when he greeted her in the morning and they lost a few hours with Becky explaining emphatically to her family how they were absolutely not dating and Tobey doing his utmost to be as unhelpful as possible.

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

  Or that one.  No particular reason.  Quantum physics is just notoriously difficult, even for fourteen year old geniuses who seem to spend half their time bantering.

Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

She yawned, back cracking as she stretched luxuriously.  It was a Sunday, which meant she could lay back down (provided a villainous plan wasn’t brewing), but ABBA this early meant her dad was in the kitchen, doubtlessly whipping up something delicious and chocolatey for breakfast. 

She dressed and shuffled downstairs, murmuring a groggy ‘good morning’ to her Dad and making a beeline for the refrigerator.  She cracked open the milk carton, gave it a cautious sniff, then shrugged and poured herself a glass, settling at the kitchen table as TJ tramped downstairs.

“Hey, Becky, is your phone acting weird?” 

He flashed the screen – the wallpaper was on the fritz, interface completely eclipsed by static.

She rolled her eyes.  “You probably dropped it again.”

“Just because I’ve broken it like five times–”

“–fifty six times–”

The doorbell rang. 

Sally looked up from her morning paper, head tilted.  “Who could it be at this hour?”

“Salesperson maybe?  I’ll get it,” Becky volunteered, hopping up.

She swung open the door, ready to protest that they really didn’t want any tomatoes or vacuum cleaners when–

“Good morning, Becky Botsford.”

“Tobey?  What are you doing here?”  She stepped outside, barefoot on the concrete step and pulled the door shut behind her, frowning.  “Are you okay?  You look… discombobulated.”

He laughed wearily, rubbing a hand across his jaw.  “That’s a good one.  What’s it mean?”

“Disoriented.  Confused.  Lost.  You, for example.”

“There’s… something I need to do,” he said.  “Something I need to figure out.  I have all the time in the world to do it – more than, actually – but I just… I need a break.  So I was…”  He cleared his throat, adjusted his bow tie, and for the first time, she realized he’d put gel in his hair, slicking it back.  “I was wondering if you, Becky Botsford, would like to accompany me on a… on a date.”

The world teetered into unreality.

Tobey looked tired.  Bags under his pale green eyes had been smeared with concealer, patchy and uneven.  Clutched in his hands was a bouquet of starflowers.  His shirt was pressed but worn soft, as if he’d been wearing it for hours already.  He’d put gel in his hair for her.  He was asking her out. 

“Okay,” Becky said.

“I completely understand, of course.  Sorry for–” He blinked slowly, a small, delighted smile starting to spread.  “Wait… really?”

“Really,” Becky said, laughing a little.  “I think I’d like that.”

It was true, even.  Seeing Tobey there, standing on her doorstep, felt… right, somehow.

“Oh!”  He straightened up, hand flying to his hair before he remembered the gel at the last second.  “Brilliant!  I thought we could go downtown; I believe there’s some pop-up instillation there – well, I know, actually, I’ve passed it at least five times, but regardless–”

“Tobey,” she tried to interject.

“No?  Oh, we can do the park then!  There’s a lovely bookstore on the way, and I saw a copy of Jane Eyre that looked absolutely marvelous, or–”

“Tobey!”  She interrupted, laughing.  “That all sounds wonderful, alright?  Just let me put on some shoes first.”

  It was wonderful, in the end.

They did go to the installation, where the artist spoke passionately about how this had always been their dream, how today was only the first day of the exhibit but how it felt so familiar, so right.  But they also went to the bookstore, where Tobey bought her the copy of Jane Eyre – leather bound and gorgeous.  And the park, where Tobey waited with infinite patience as Becky pet every single dog she could find, then bought them ice cream cones. 

The entire day was filled with conversation – favorite books, school, banter over whatever evil schemes Tobey intended to pull off next.  Becky laughed herself silly, for whatever reason so comfortable, so familiar with her villain.  Yet, still, something was off.  Tobey reacted to things around them even as they happened, sometimes, almost like he already knew.  A strange shadow passed over his face when Becky casually mentioned her plans with Violet tomorrow.

“Something’s wrong,” she said at the end of the day, as they sat on an old swing set, ice cream cones slowly melting in their hands as they watched the sun sinking past the horizon, ceding to the silver moon.  “Isn’t it?”

Tobey kicked the ground with the tip of his loafers, sending him swaying slowly in a pendulous arch.  He didn’t look at her, just tightened his grip on the swing’s chains.

“You have a carousel in your secret spaceship hideout,” he said.

Becky dropped her ice cream cone.  

“What are you talking about?  She managed, laughing nervously.  “I don't– why would I, ordinary teenager Becky Botsford, have a secret–”

“We’re in a time loop, Becky.”

Becky’s swing came to an abrupt stop.

“That…”  She said, slowly.  “Explains a lot, actually.  The sudden date did seem a bit out of character.  Running out of ways to entertain yourself?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”  Tobey laughed bitterly.  “I just… needed a break.  A reminder that it was still worth it to keep trying.”

“And?”

“It is,” he said, looking at her with green eyes turned emerald by the setting sun.  “To have days like this with you in the future, to have a future… it's worth anything.  It’s worth everything.”

“How long has it been?”

“A week, I think.  Maybe longer.  It’s… difficult, keeping track of things.”

“For what it's worth,” Becky said, gently.  “I’m glad you get to remember everything.  If there’s anyone who can get us out of this mess, it's the self-proclaimed boy genius.”

“Why, Becky Botsford.”  His eyebrows shot up, a wry smile dawning.  “Finally admitting I’m smarter than you?  Took long enough.”

“I said ‘ self-proclaimed’, McCallister.  We have a big enough problem without your ego inflating and crushing the city beneath it.”  Her words sounded warmer, fonder than she knew what to do with.

Tobey just laughed, standing up.

“Come on,” he said, hands in his pockets.  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “Creating an electromagnetic pulse with an opposite frequency?”

“Already thought of it.  Too risky, since I didn’t get the exact amplitude of the first blast and we don’t know how a second one could interfere.”

“Finding the location of the pulse and blowing it up?”

“You were adamantly against the destruction of public property.”

“Learning the true meaning of Christmas?”

“It’s the middle of July.”

“I don’t see your point.”

Tobey laughed, shaking his head.  “No matter how many times we do this, you never fail to surprise me, Botsford.”

“Well, what if I just stay awake, hm?”  Becky rounded on him as they turned the corner to her house.  “Then the reset won’t happen at all.  Or, at least I’ll be aware of it.”

“I believe you tried that before.  Obviously it didn’t work out.”

“Well, what if you stay with me this time?  Just don’t let me go to sleep, Tobey,” Becky breathed.  “Please, I don’t want to forget.”

“I don’t know if we have a choice, my dear,” he said, gently.  “Besides, what will you think if you wake up in the morning to see me in your room?”

She laughed bitterly, taking one step forward, then another, then fell against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck.  He went stiff, every line pulled tight, scarcely daring to breathe.

“Make me remember, Tobey,” she said.  “I don’t… I don’t want all this to go away.”

His arms slowly lowered around her, settling across her back.  “You know I can’t promise that, darling.”  

“Yeah,” she said as they came to a stop before her door.  “I know.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”  He asked.  There was a wry edge of bitterness to it, a cruel inside joke.  

“Tobey?”

He turned halfway down the path, something achingly open in his face.

“Even if I don’t remember it…”  She hugged the book he’d bought her to her chest, smiling.  “This was the best date I’ve ever been on.  Take me on another one just like it when we’ll both remember, alright?  Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Next time, when we’ll both remember,” she said, “kiss me goodnight.”

  Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA, blasting from somewhere downstairs. 

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya!

She yawned, back cracking as she stretched luxuriously.  It was a Sunday, which meant she could lay back down (provided a villainous plan wasn’t brewing), but ABBA this early meant her dad was in the kitchen, doubtlessly whipping up something delicious and chocolatey for breakfast. 

She dressed, pulling on her typical green sweater and –

Becky froze, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Mamma Mia!  Does it show again?

Slowly, she reached up, pressing the pad of her finger to her cheek.  It came away wet.  She watched her reflection as other tears slipped out after.

My, my, just how much I’ve missed ya!

She was crying.

  Becky shuffled downstairs in a daze, murmuring a groggy ‘good morning’ to her parents and Bob then making a beeline for the refrigerator.  She cracked open the milk carton, gave it a sniff, then winced and put it back, settling at the kitchen table as TJ tramped downstairs.

“Hey, Becky, is your phone acting weird?” 

He flashed the screen – the wallpaper was on the fritz, interface completely eclipsed by static.

“You probably dropped it again.”

“Just because I’ve broken it like five times–”

“–fifty seven times–”

“–doesn’t mean I’ve… actually, yeah, good point.”

“By the way, Becky,” Sally chirped, sliding a gray book over to her.  “Is this yours, honey?  It was on the table when I came down this morning.”

Jane Eyre.

“Oh, yeah it is!  I got it…”  She blinked, picking it up and shaking her head.  “Sorry, I don’t think so, actually.”

She traced a finger along the creamy leather cover.  “It’s beautiful though.”

“Did the most beautiful girl in the world say beautiful?”  Tobey McCallister suddenly appeared at their back door, waving before he grimaced.  “That was cringe, actually.  I’m not going to say that when you– where did you get that book?”

The entire Botsford family stared at him blankly.

“What?”  Becky managed.

  The treehouse, again.  An explanation, again, yet with Tobey pacing around frenetically, hands jittering.

“You’re telling me we went on a date?”

Tobey shot her a look.  “Really?  I tell you the book I bought you has blipped through the fabric of space and time, and you’re concerned that we went on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, me too.”  Tobey grinned at her, goofy and unabashed, before he shook his head, refocusing.  “But this doesn’t make any sense!  I mean, unless it’s not…” 

“It’s not a time loop,” Becky breathed, hand trembling around the novel as her shocked gaze caught Tobey’s.

His pale green eyes were huge, breath coming out in strange, hitching gasps.  “It’s a memory loop.”

“You didn’t get caught up in it because you were in your robot–”

“–and there’s enough electromagnetic interference there to shield me, of course!”  Tobey smacked his palm against his head.  “Oh, I’m a bloody idiot, why didn’t I realize sooner?  Of course everyone’s behavior is the same, they’re just acting like themselves, but the environment is changing in minuscule increments!” 

“I knew the milk in the fridge wasn’t going bad that quickly!”

“Okay, okay, think,” Tobey instructed, pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair.  “This isn’t a time loop at all.  There’s something causing everyone in the city’s memories to be reset every day.”

“Everyone except for you.”

“Accurate as always, darling.”

“Well,” Becky said, “there’s really only one villain I can think of who would mess with the minds of everyone in Fair City.”

  It was almost embarrassingly easy to break into Mr. Big’s skyscraper.  The computerized security system was down, and whatever security guards roamed the halls were quickly dispatched by WordGirl.

Tobey, for his part, stood behind her and swooned dramatically every time she took another one down.  She was mostly sure he was joking.

Mostly.

It helped that Mr. Big and Leslie themselves were caught in the loop, arguing ceaselessly about some budgetary report or another that was due the next day.

Wouldn’t they be in for a rude awakening.

The basement where Mr. Big kept his spare mind control devices was an echoing, cavernous place, littered with ominous monuments, strange obelisks.

“Bloody hell,” Tobey swore lowly.  “This place is massive!  How are we supposed to find the one that’s causing all of this.”

Becky tapped his shoulder.  “Call me crazy, but I have a hunch it's the one over there that’s glowing an ominous green and sparking, like it wasn’t destroyed properly the first time and is now malfunctioning.”

“Huh.”  Tobey turned, hands on his hips.  “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

Becky pulled back her fist.  Tobey picked up a length of pipe before nearly topping over and deciding to leave it to the professional.

One hit.  

The machine sparked and wobbled.  Tobey suddenly forgot what he’d had for breakfast that morning.

Then another.  

It cracked down the middle.  Tobey blinked, rubbing his temple, trying to remember if his remotes used low or high pass filters.

Then it was over.

(Ah, Tobey thought to himself. Bandpass filters, obviously.  And oatmeal.)

“Well,” Tobey said, looking at the thing smoldering on the ground before them.  Good riddance.”

“Tobey,” Becky said, turning to him.  “Did you get me cotton candy ice cream yesterday?”

“I did.”  His eyebrows furrowed.  “How on Earth did you– no.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, grinning devilishly.  “Now, what was that about you knowing I’m WordGirl because of the massive crush you have on both of us?”

“I changed my mind.”  He scrambled past her, towards the device, laughing as she grabbed him by the waist, hauling him back.  “Let me fix the machine.  I choose the time loop.”

“Not a chance, McCallister,” she said, tapping his nose.  “You’re stuck with me now, memories and all.”

“Well,” Tobey said.  “How could I complain about that?”

If either of them had bothered looking at their phones, now clear of static, they would have seen that it was a Tuesday.

But they had much more pleasant things to be thinking of.

  “So,” Becky said, once they had crept in through the window to her room.  “How will we know if it still works?  From what I remember now, I crushed the machine once, before the loop started, and that’s when all of this got kicked off.”

Tobey just shook his head, offering a half-hearted smile.  “I suppose we’ll know in the morning.”

“Stay with me,” she asked.  “Please?  I don’t… I’m going to lose my mind if I wake up to Mamma Mia alone again.”

“I will,” Tobey said, softly.  “I promise.”

Bob’s hammock was too small, so they made him a cot of Becky’s spare pillows and blankets, nesting him down at Becky’s bedside.  

“Good night, Becky,” he said, softly.

“Good night, Tobey.”  She reached down, finding his hand with her own.  “See you tomorrow?”

He squeezed.  “See you tomorrow.”

  Mamma Mia!

Becky’s eyes cracked open to the sound of ABBA.

Here we go again! My, my, how could I forget ya?

She sat straight up, chest heaving, eyes wide.

“No,” she breathed, scrambling out of bed.  “No, no, no, no–”

“Good morning, my dear.”  Tobey stood in the doorway, a wicked grin on his lips, a perfectly functional cellphone in his hand, blasting music.  “I hope you slept well?  Your father is making some sort of quiche, and he has several questions about what I’m doing in your house.”

She stared at him incredulously for a long moment, but he just winked, clicking the music up even louder.

My, my, how could I resist you?

“You, McCallister,” she said, stalking forward and grabbing him by the collar.  “Are lucky that you’re cute.”

Mamma Mia, now I really know.

There was a smile on his lips, a bite of mischief in his eyes, and it was the last thing Becky saw before she kissed him.

My, my, I could never let you go.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 29.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Pre-Wedding Jitters, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Praise, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Pregnancy Kink, Wife Kink, Glazed Donut!OC

A/N: Today’s chapter is late because I’ve been busy playing New Pokemon Snap... sry. Shout out to @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna because I’d be lost without them.

There are undoubtedly many events in life that make a person nervous -- your first day of high school and college, your first kiss, your first sexual experience, and for some even your first phone call you give to your doctor when you're no longer under your parents protection. But no one -- not a single person, told you how nervous your wedding day is.

Maybe it's the amount of people that are attending. Two hundred is no small number.

Or maybe it's the fact that with your belly sticking out so far you can barely see your feet makes you feel like you'll be judged.

Whatever it is, the feeling fucking sucks.

You've seen so many movies where the woman who is getting married is all laughs and smiles, giving cheers to anyone and everyone because it's her wedding day. But now, you can officially say it's bullshit.

The best part is, it isn't even today, it's tomorrow and you still are frightened to the bone at the thought.

"-And I mean, yeah. Fine. We chose the taupe napkins but who the fuck is Aubrey to say anything, y'know? Like she knows her colors… Evil witch. I swear I don't know how she passed kindergarten!"

Leena's rant drifts through your ears like a soft breeze. You haven't been paying attention for a while, if you're being honest.

"Y/N? Are you listening to me?!" Leena gawks, grabbing her glass of champagne from Taehyung's hand.

Again, you're caught up in your own mind. You play every scenario of how tomorrow will be and they all seem to be terrible ideas.

What if you trip walking down the aisle?

What if your heel snaps on the way up?

What if your water breaks in front of two hundred people?

What if-

A small square of balsamic bruschetta appears in front of your face and your eyes narrow at the piece of bread.

You feel your soon-to-be husband's fingers pushing back some stray hairs behind your ear. "Food for thought?" he quips happily.

He has not had a frown on his face in what seems like forever. You adore it, you really do. But how can he not be nervous? Your heart is practically thrumming out of your chest.

"Open," he whispers.

Reluctantly, you open your mouth for the appetizer. When he leans in, you look back down at your lap.

"I can see your heart racing through the artery in your neck," he murmurs against your ear.

His hand squeezes your knee under the table reassuringly as he pulls away.

Yoongi wants to pry, he wants to ask you what's got you so in your own head but there are a few too many people here for that.

"Noona, you're an amazing cook." Jeongguk whines, grabbing another piece of steak off the platter.

"You're actually disgusting." Jimin breathes, wrinkling his nose at the youngest's third steak.

"I need my meat, that's how I win in the ring. Gets me all big and strong." Guk beams, cutting into the large t-bone.

"That's what she said!" Hoseok and Taehyung chirp at the same time.

You watch as they high five each other with child-like smiles plastered onto their faces.

"Are you tired? Do you want to call it a night?" your fiance inquires softly, turning his whole body towards you so the rest of the room can't hear him.

You would never want to take away from the festivities. It's just that your stupid anxiety is overwhelming. Looking over at your handsome partner, your fingers intertwine with his. He's quick to kiss the back of your hand, searching your eyes for some sort of hint as to why you're so down.

"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry." you reply, giving him a small smile.

His eyes narrow at your smile and he takes a sharp breath through his teeth in confusion.

"Al...right, if you say so." he says unsurely, running your intertwined hands over your belly.

"Y/N!" Leena whines from across the table and this time you give her your full attention.

You need to try and push this anxiousness elsewhere even for a little while. You will not be a horrible host.

"Yes Beena," you inquire, leaning your chin on your hand.

"Did you hear me? Did you hear what Kim Aubrey said about my wedding planning skills?!" she screeches.

You can only snort as all eyes around the table land on you. "I don't know why you indulge her. Isn't she the one that shit her pants in chemistry when she was fifteen?"

Yoongi laughs loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hand on his chest.

"Actually yeah, she sat two rows behind me!" Namjoon chimes in with wide eyes. His nose wrinkles at the sudden memory and you don't blame him as he pushes his plate away in a sudden state of queasiness.

"So I don't suck at wedding planning?" your best friend pouts across the long table to you.

"Absolutely not." you insist, winking at her.

"This wedding is going to be the biggest event of the entire year. Maybe even the biggest event of the next ten years." Anna, Jimin's wife cheers.

Oh.

Good.

Love that.

"Well, I think we just want people to have a good time. We aren't worried about what impact it will have." Yoongi says quickly, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand to calm you down.

He's not dumb. He's figured it out by now, but he'll still want to hear it from your lips later on.

"Yeah right. 'Min Yoongi and his artistically talented fiance WOW people with their show stopping matrimony' is gonna be on the cover of Dispatch in two days." Hoseok murmurs.

"Oh yeah? And you're gonna be the one giving them the hot scoop, then?" Namjoon jeers, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass of brandy at the handsome man.

Hobi sneers in his direction and Yoongi can only respond with a chuckle.

"My fiance is pretty show stopping." the CEO surmises, leaning back in his chair.

"Please. I'm eating. Christ." Leena groans through a mouthful of pasta.

It is nice to have so many close friends around tonight though. You hope it can distract you long enough for the nervousness brewing and bubbling inside of you to subside.

When conversations begin to break up and become between smaller groups of people, you can feel his eyes on you like a heat source.

"Little dove?" Yoongi coos softly, rubbing your distended side.

You hum to him, turning to give him your full attention.

"Tomorrow is going to be beautiful and perfect." he promises, tilting your chin up with his index finger.

"No, I know. I'm just-"

"Worried." he finishes for you and he's not surprised to see your reluctant nod of agreement.

"I know. I'm nervous too." he admits, kissing your cheek.

"You've already gotten married before," you scoff, allowing his arm to curl around your shoulders.

"Actually I was black out drunk and can't remember a single thing because I was venomously angry with the dumb bitch that ruined my life before you." he replies with a wide smile.

"Oh. Good." you reply, rolling your eyes at his playfulness.

"So this is my first real wedding too. And even though I'm nervous, I'm excited. Because then when the wedding is over and we get to our honeymoon-"

"Uh uh." you gasp, smushing your finger to his lips.

He pouts against your finger, kissing it softly. "What?" he garbles against your digit.

"We have company." you whisper fiercely.

"Didn't stop you a few days ago when you sucked my cock beneath the desk upstairs while I was on a video meeting." he deadpans, pulling your hand away from his face.

"Yoongi!" you gasp, glancing over the table who hasn't heard a single thing.

You'd like to keep it that way.

"I can't wait to fuck your little pregnant cunt as you're Mrs. Min Yoongi." he beams, kissing your temple.

You can feel your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and you can only blame the man beside you for that one.

When you smack his chest out of shame, the noise echoes throughout the room, earning attention from all of the guests.

"Abuse is not nice, Y/N. Do you want to file a lawsuit, Yoongi?" Yoona quips, sticking her tongue out at you.

The CEO chuckles, squeezing your shoulder with glee. "No, she couldn't handle my lawyers." he bubbles.

"Oh yeah, you know you aren't supposed to sleep with each other tonight, right?" Leena inquires, moving her fork between the both of you.

The cackle Yoongi gives is loud and absurd, much like your best friend's comment. "I can't do anything to her she doesn't have proof of." he banters, pointing at your large belly.

Leena scoffs, pointing down at her plate. "Again. Eating. Gross." she enunciates, pouring herself another glass of expensive champagne.

Jimin's laugh rings throughout the dining room and Yoongi knows that he's the only person who could truly understand him in that moment.

"Why do people do that dumb tradition anyway?" Jeongguk asks, finally finishing his food.

"It actually comes from arranged marriages. When people didn't know who they were marrying." Yoona informs him.

"Fuck that luck shit. That's the saying, isn't it? 'It's bad luck to see the bride' or something like that." Hoseok breathes.

"I think I'm lucky," Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin reply all at once.

Your best friend takes the opportunity to sneer at her boyfriend and you can't help but giggle at his hopeless expression. "You know I love you, baby." Taehyung coos, sliding his arm over her shoulders.

"Mhm." she drolls, rolling her eyes when both of you look at one another.

"What's for dessert?" Jeongguk asks pleasantly, tying his long black hair up into a ponytail.

"Are you serious? You're not full?" Namjoon gawks at the boxer.

"I was saving room for dessert!" he beams, looking over at you expectantly.

Jeongguk is sweet, sweeter than most younger men you've ever met. He feels something akin to a little brother to you at this point and it's wonderful to see that even if you're rich you can still have manners.

"I made just a simple cobbler, since the wedding cake tomorrow is going to be super heavy and rich." you announce.

Yoongi shoves his chair back, holding out his hand to help you up like the gentleman he is.

He watches you carefully sprinkle powdered sugar atop the dessert with warm eyes.

You don't know how difficult it's going to be walking up that aisle tomorrow, but you do know that your ankles are going to be on fire. They already are.

He picks up the ceramic dish for you, nodding to the chair for you to sit back down and your heart warms for what feels like the billionth time today.

He's such a special person.

"Yoongi is really cool these days, huh?" Jimin jeers, elbowing your fiance when he steps between him and Jeongguk to place the dessert onto the table.

"I've always been cool," he counters, nudging the younger man back

"Well…" Jeongguk and Taehyung droll at the same time.

"Whatever," the CEO breathes, rolling his eyes.

Your giggle seems to light up the room as well as Yoongi's heart. Slamming down in his chair beside you, he can't help the glee that courses through him.

He can't wait for tomorrow.

Climbing into bed, you let the mattress mold to your body and it feels like heaven to be finally laying down, your body certainly thanks you for it.

Yoongi leans against the wall, watching as you sigh happily. "I can just come to bed y'know? I don't need to stay up and hang out." he offers, padding towards you.

"No, that wouldn't be fair. It's your bachelor party. You should be able to play poker and drink." you reply, cupping your stomach.

His eyes drift over you and you can see how soft his expression is in the dim lighting. "You got out of your bachelorette party," he adds, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I have a reason. I'm pregnant." you deadpan, lifting your head to look at him.

"With my baby," he coos, stretching up the bed to lay down beside you.

"Don't get comfy." you warn him, running your fingers over his clothed chest.

"I'm not, I'll just stay until you fall asleep." he promises, kissing your forehead.

His hand drifts over your stomach and the tiny kick he feels makes his heart beat faster. "Hey, kid. How you doin' in there?" he whispers, running his thumb over the spot his son just hit.

You hum gently, letting your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm so tired but I'm so nervous." you announce in the quiet room.

Your fiance looks away from your belly to look over at you. "It's okay to be nervous, but don't let it supersede your happiness for tomorrow either."

You nod gently, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I just have so many scenarios going through my head."

"And none of them are nice, I'm sure." he replies, booping your nose with his index finger.

Scoffing in agreement, you bury your face into his sweet smelling neck.

"I can make you cum, it might make you sleepy," he offers.

"I can't return the favor though, I'm too tired. It'll be unfair," you whine.

When he clicks his teeth, you only hold him tighter to your body.

"I don't need you to 'return the favor' when you love someone as much as I love you, you'd do anything to see them comfortable." he replies, kissing the top of your head.

"They're waiting for you downstairs." you remind him.

"Let them wait. You come first," he breathes, running the tips of his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

You whine in disagreement but your body betrays you naturally. Your legs spread wider and your breath hitches, your lips softly suckle on the thin skin of his neck waiting patiently for what he will do next.

"Your skin is so soft," he whispers, tugging the seat of your panties to the side.

He pulls away from you just far enough to be able to see how well he pleases you and he's already aroused at the sight.

Your eyes are low with lust, bottom lip clamped between your teeth. Your nipples are stiff peaks, straining against the grey silk nightgown you adorn. He can see the grey fabric becoming darker with each passing second as you bead milk.

"God," he groans, parting your lower lips.

"Tomorrow when we fly to Japan, I'm gonna fuck you in every way you could possibly think of." he promises, running his middle finger through your arousal.

"H-How?" you inquire curiously, gasping when he taps the pad of his finger to your clit.

His lips part and his teeth clamp down on one of the cups of your nightgown before pulling down harshly.

You whimper at the chilly air that glides over your now exposed skin.

He lays soft, hot opened mouthed kisses to your nipple, watching your eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

"How am I going to fuck you?" he prods.

You nod fervently, capturing your index finger between your teeth.

"Well," he begins, drawing smooth, slow circles to your swelling clit, "I'll start on the red eye. I'll take you back to the bedroom and take off that pretty wedding dress you'll be wearing just for me."

"Daddy," you whimper, spreading your legs wider for more.

He hums in agreement, pulling off your underwear to free you completely before him.

"I'm gonna make sure the whole crew of my plane knows you're getting fucked by your husband. Gonna have you screaming my name while I fuck your tight little pussy with my thick cock." he avows, kissing over your shoulder.

His words send shivers up your spine and your toes curl with excitement.

"Fuck," you whimper, grinding your hips down onto his hand.

"Gonna hold your big belly in my hands while I fuck you from behind. Let your milk drip all over the sheets of the bed on the plane. You're gonna beg me to go harder, to fill your dirty pregnant cunt full of my cum. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you aren't even going to care that everyone can hear you calling me daddy."

Shoving two fingers inside of you, he skillfully taps the soft patch of nerves within you and your brain is already firing on all cylinders to cum for him. His thumb begins to press harder circles into your clit and when you cup your belly, his eyes roll back at the sight.

"Gonna get you to the secluded hotel and fuck you out on the balcony, in the bath tub, on the bed, anywhere I can get my hands on you. Because I need you wrapped around me. Always." he murmurs into your ear.

"Shit!" you cry out, letting your head loll back to the pillow.

"Good girl, little dove." he praises, unbuttoning his pants for relief.

The head of his cock peeks out from the lip of his briefs and you whimper at the pearl of precum that beads at the tip.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, kissing from your collarbone to your pert nipple.

When he suckles softly, your hips lift at the erotocism. He moans at the taste of your milk and his hand ghosts over his hard cock.

"Daddy," you cry out, starting to shake from the overwhelming pleasure.

Sitting up on his knees, he shoves his pants down further. He parts your legs wider and he doesn't seem to care that all of his friends are waiting patiently for him downstairs.

His cock ruts between your folds and you're ever so close to cumming with every swipe the head of his cock brushes against your clit.

"So warm," he murmurs, purchasing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your moans begin to get louder and he knows you're so close to releasing your pleasure.

"That's it baby, you're so close." Yoongi notices, running his hands over your stomach.

"O-Oh my God!" you cry out, grabbing his hands over your belly.

"I know, little dove. Feels good, huh?" he coos.

You're so obscenely wet, that even without him being inside you he's finding himself close to his own end.

It's just you in general, you overstimulate him in ways he can barely understand.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum." you bleat, gripping his hands harder.

"Cum for me, little dove. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me." he begs, rutting his hips harder against your core.

You do as told, cumming for him with white spotted eyes and loud sobs of pleasure.

"Good girl," he praises, pulling away from your weeping pussy.

He fists his cock in hand, dragging the swollen, leaking tip over your belly. "Such a pretty woman I have beneath me. Fuck," he curses, jerking his hand faster.

Even as tiredness begins to shroud you, you want him to orgasm too. "Daddy, cum all over my belly. Want to feel your warm cum."

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, his eyes snapping to yours.

When you palm your breasts, his eyes immediately falter to them. You pinch your nipples purposefully, earning droplets of milk that stream slowly over your digits.

"Oh fuck!" he gasps loudly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Want your cum so badly," you whimper, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

"Yeah? You want me to cum all over your belly?" he prods, feeling his balls tightening.

You nod fervently, leaving your breasts to rub circles to your distended skin.

"Fuck!" he curses, squeezing his eyes shut as his orgasm courses through him. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand and you hum with satisfaction when you feel his warm cum land on your belly.

"God, you're too sexy for your own good." the father of your child jeers, sitting back on the heels of his feet.

You find yourself giving a tired giggle and your eyelids slowly begin to shield your eyes from view.

"Good girl." he whispers softly, hopping off the bed to clean your stomach.

When he comes back with a wet towel, he can see that you're already fast asleep. He's happy knowing that you'll be able to sleep even if it's only for a few hours.

He can understand your worries and your fears but he wants you to be able to enjoy your wedding too.

Kissing your forehead as he cleans your belly, he sighs softly. "My wife," he breathes, closing his eyes.

"I'll be back later, my love." he promises, tossing the rag back into the bathroom.

Yoongi covers your naked body with the comforter and his heart is thudding in the recesses of his chest with joy.

Just a few more hours and you'll be legally his.

"Remind me why we're playing poker the night before your wedding instead of going out?" Taehyung asks, throwing chips into the center of the green felted table.

"Because there's no pregnant strippers around these parts," Jimin jeers, picking up his beer.

Yoongi sneers at the younger man beside him, elbowing him almost out of embarrassment.

"What? If I could go see a pregnant strip show, believe me, I would."

"We know." everyone replies, rolling their eyes.

"Last time you had a bachelor party, man, that shit was fun." the hotel CEO recalls.

"You had fun." Yoongi reminds him, ashing his cigar.

"Also, aren't you completely smitten with Leena anyway? You want her to have your baby." Namjoon prods, placing his cards down on the table.

Taehyung smirks at his comment, leaning back into his chair and slinging his arm over the lip. "Oh, I'm very happy. She's everything I could possibly want." he affirms, smiling to himself.

"Then why do you want to go to a strip club?" Hoseok adds, throwing chips onto the table.

"Because I like tits. Jesus Christ, just crucify me why don't you!" Tae replies appalled.

Yoongi snorts loudly, clamping his teeth down on his cigar.

He wonders if you're okay, if you've woken up in the past few hours due to his son being so active.

His fingers flex uncomfortably and he's still surprised how much his life has changed in such a small amount of time. He's gone from being a violent, sadistic, narcissistic asshole to being a needy, loving and adoring man. And that's all thanks to you.

You've completely changed the pattern of his DNA and he could never appreciate you as much as you deserve.

"You excited for tomorrow, hyung?" Guk's voice pulls him from his thoughts and he smirks at the younger man.

"Very excited but very nervous." he admits to his group of friends.

"I remember the night of his other wedding. He was so fucking drunk he could barely stand up on his own." Jimin recalls with a laugh.

"I had to hold him up with my shoulder from behind so he didn’t fall backwards." Namjoon adds with a sharp laugh.

Yoongi smirks to himself, looking down at his pocket which holds his wallet. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have to have a repeat of that horrible day again."

"You got lucky dude, not many people find their soulmate when they were an asshole like you were." Hoseok says, pointing at the Kisung CEO.

His sneer is terrifying but probably only to himself as the other men laugh at Hobi's words.

"Y/N completely made him do a 180." Joon concurs.

"I like Y/N noona a lot. She fits in well and she's always optimistic and sweet. We needed someone like her in our lives." Guk beams and your soon-to-be husband seems to glow in their praise.

He loves hearing his friends talk so highly of you. He loves knowing that you're loved for being yourself, especially because you don't know it very often.

He can remember when he first met you, in the back of Seokjin's club. You were sweet and kind but a smart ass and cheeky at the same time. You intrigued him on so many levels and he can remember how badly he wanted to destroy you. But he never would have expected to fall in love with you as earnestly as he has.

And he wouldn't change it for anything in the universe.

"Leena has been putting in so much work for this wedding, you would think it's hers." Taehyung laughs, pulling Yoongi out of his reverie.

"And when are you getting married to her then?" the Kisung CEO inquires, ashing his cigar.

The question seems to stupify the handsome hotel owner, he stutters and shifts awkwardly in his seat trying to reply to the sudden question.

"Jesus, you broke him!" Jimin laughs, clapping his best friend on the back.

Taehyung's cheeks burn bright red and his hand immediately cups the back of his neck out of embarrassment. "I mean I bought a ring. I just haven't thought of anything romantic to y'know… ask her."

Beer goes flying out of Jimin's mouth and the sneer Yoongi gives makes him want to die on the spot.

"Jimin. You're paying for the new felt, you fucking animal." Yoongi gripes, watching Namjoon and Hoseok heartily laugh at the younger man.

"That'll be great! Leena noona is really nice!" Jeongguk cheers, hugging Taehyung happily.

"Thanks…" Tae breathes embarrassed.

Yoongi winks at him and he isn't surprised in the slightest, he knows just how smitten the man is with your best friend.

"Yoongi?"

The voice is gentle and tired.  In an instant he's burning out his cigar and waving the smoke away.

"Yeah, baby?" he calls to you, disregarding the others in the library.

"Just checking to see if you were all still here," you murmur, stepping into the library doorway.

You're beautiful in the dim glow of the library's lights and the smile that spreads over his face is heart shatteringly perfect.

"Still here." he beams, padding over to you.

"Okay." you bleat, rubbing your sleep hooded eyes.

"What're you doing up, my dove? You must be so tired." he inquires, pushing hair back behind your ear.

"I'm thirsty. Wanted water." you chirp, pressing your forehead into his chest.

"Okay. Get your water and I'll be up in a few minutes. Alright?" he promises, tipping your chin up with his index finger.

You hum in agreement, starting to yawn.

He chuckles at your sleepy state, kissing your forehead. He pats your backside for good measure before turning to his friends that are seated around the poker table.

"I think it's time to get some rest before the big day tomorrow."

The guys hum in agreement, tossing down their cards and standing up.

"Tomorrow's gonna be great, man. I'm really happy for you." Joon whispers, patting his shoulder as he heads out first.

Yoongi can only agree with a wide smile.

Tomorrow is the start to the rest of his life. And it's perfect, just like you.

Next Chapter ----->

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykrueger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi​, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​, @moonlitmyg​, @justzeera​, @absolutefantrash​, @whocaresarchives​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​, @bt21chim​, @flowerboyhobi​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[atiredvampire]

So I came up with a bunch of suggestions for my friend on how to slowly piss of his mother, but he's not listening to my suggestions so instead imagine Neil doing all of this to the foxes and everyone blames Andrew because this is the kinda shit he'd pull, but one day Neil gets caught setting one of these up, by Alison no less, so she exposes him, I don't really see him stopping though so *shrugs*

(These were literally copy and pasted from my messages, so ignore that all these suggestions say "her")

steal her phone

and remotes for things

place tiny ducks around the house

and hide a polar bear holding a bi flag as well

get window pens and draw little dinosaurs and cats

turn all the mugs upside down

switch the spoons and forks in the cutlery section

replace her hairbrush w a fork

steal all her left socks and put them in the tumbledrier

swap her shampoo w soap

unpick every 3rd stitch in one of her tops

put those sticky tabs on the top of the kitchen door, so that wen she closes it it gets kinda stuck

put washoutable blue dye in her face cream/wash

use a lighter and bend her toothbrush so that the bristles are at a 10 degree angle compaired 2 its usual angle

remove all the butterflies from her earrings

put a few drops of nail polish remover in all her nail varnish

file her tweezers down so that they just dont touch anymore

soak everything cotton in water w a little yellow dye then dry them out (eg: cotton buds)

exchange the icing sugar w flour

change the second button on every shirt w one that looks exactly the same exept its a mm or 2 bigger diameter size

spray the back of the door handles w water and dust them w a bit of icing sugar

remove the aglets from every shoe lace she has bar one

curl the back of the dangly earrings so its a pain 2 put them in

take out all the lipbalm on the sticks and replace it w toothpaste, freeze it overnight then replace

file down the point of all the safety pins, pins, sewing pins, sewing needles, ect

remove a few of the stitches from the blankets

unscrew all the lightbulbs untill theyre just loose enough to not hold light and start 2 flicker

put dye in all the sponges, same colour as the sponges, add a drop of soap

remove the screws of one leg of the dining table

half unplug the cable behind the tv

bend the charger so that it doesnt hold onto the phones correctly and keeps falling out (like my charger rn)

get a rly thin film and place a small hair on it, then with the hair on the inside place it onto glasses frames so she cant remove the hair

paint the toilet paper roll w pva glue, 2 layers, hairdry it, replace it and remove all the other toilet rolls

put a small hole in the base of her shopping bags

drain all the deodorant she has

put a tiny foam block in the window seal so that there is always a small breeze

unpin carpet from one corner of the room

remove the catch from all her necklaces

put clear nail varnish on the inside off all her rings so they they dont fit/r tight

put googly eyes over anything that could look like a mouth

put an extra hole in all her belts

put a leaf under her pillow everyday, 3wks into that do it w a feather, then go back 2 leaves

use milk and then replace every bit u used with water

put clear nail varnish over all her lipsticks, and any brushes she doesnt actively feel the the bristles of

put smears of lip balm on all the mirrors

turn off every socket

exept the toaster

bend all of the curby grips backwards

cut all the hair bobbles w fabric on them so that they r just plastic bands

trade a few of the keys on the keyboard

superglu a penny to the ground

trim all the bristles on the bottom of the outdoor doors

cut the fingers off of all her right gloves

change all the ink in the pens 2 red and green

untune the piano

put soap under the bristles of her hairbrush

unscrew the hinges of the doors (fill in the holes and re-drill them 5mms higher/lower, possibly re-screw the hinges if u have time)

un-sharpen all the scissors and knives, esp the bread knife

open all the plasters

file down one leg of each chair

slowly add fragranced oils to one room, everyday just one or two more dropps

turn the heating down a couple degrees

polish one wooden surface so that its slightly darker than it should be

flip a book upside down on the shelf every time u walk by

remove the plastic wrap around the wires of her straightener/curler, cut all the wires, replace the plastic cover and fix any blemishes

unpick one of the teeth on her favourite jacket zip

lift the inside sole of one of her shoes, place a small stone in it and place it back, glue 2 make it hold

put a tiny amount of glue in water and very carfully place it so it covers the whole of her eyeshadowy makeup, if u wanna be extra remove a bit of the make up first and place on top, so she could paint one eye but not the other

replace contact solution w plain water

raise one stair by 2 cm

theres also the obvious flour in the hairdryer and dye in the shower head but i rly think one should be above those

[katsukikitten]

Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love. 

People were just too disappointing. 

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you. 

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not. 

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof. 

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens. 

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now. 

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk. 

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you.  He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease. 

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink. 

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky. 

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles. 

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious." 

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?" 

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him. 

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!" 

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope. 

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet. 

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers. 

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space. 

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core.  You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips. 

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him. 

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life. 

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh." 

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done.  He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat. 

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt." 

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it. 

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar. 

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach. 

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened." 

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby. 

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm. 

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both. 

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you. 

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin. 

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him. 

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight.  You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office. 

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!" 

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks. 

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret. 

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!"  You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you. 

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well. 

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home. 

Wearing that damned devilish smirk. 

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock. 

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you. 

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek. 

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand. 

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight." 

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner." 

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower. 

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?" 

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down. 

Reading one of them in horror. 

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this. 

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness 

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes. 

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?" 

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain. 

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer." 

[ynisamenace]

pegging eren who has a mommy kink🥺

Warnings: Modern au!, Mommy kink, pegging, dacryphilia, reader basically slutting eren out, sweet aftercare at the end.

Words: 1k

a/n: Eren would def have a mommy kink 🥺 , just someone who he knows isn’t going to leave him and cares for him and his needs.

Eren was sick and tired, exhausted even. All he wanted was a nice evening with his woman but Armin suggested drinks and Y/n couldn’t say no since she’s been wanting to get to know more of Eren’s friends. If it were any other day he would have gladly gone out for drink with his co-worker/friend but right now, he was needy. He knew he shouldn’t have put in the new butt plug y/n gifted him last night. He knew he shouldn’t have left it in and gone to work. He knew he shouldn’t have texted a photo of him in the restroom palming his hard-on to y/n during lunch. He knew he should’ve hurried out of his office when he saw her waiting outside after work, devious smirk plastered on her face. Maybe if he had shuffled a little quicker, Armin would’nt have caught up to then and suggested drinks, and y/n would’nt have agreed.

Right now all he knows is that his pants feel abnormally tight and y/n looked abnormally gorgeous under the low bar light and fuck he could feel his hole twitching, the plug digging deeper into him and y/n’s hand in between his legs, clutching onto his thigh far too close to his groin but no enough to touch. He couldn’t give a damn about whatever her and Armin were animatedly talking about, all he knew was that if he didn’t get fucked right this second, he would explode.

“Y/n i-it’s getting quite late, we should probably get going”, turning her head she frowned at her husband, face sympathetic but eyes full of mischief. “But sweetheart, Armin was just about to explain his conspiracy about giants,” her frown now gone as she turned to Armin, gesturing for him to continue until she felt Eren by her ear whispering-

“Please mommy fuck I need you and if I don’t get a dick in me right now, I shit might cream my pants,” eyes glossing over, he watches as her eyes darken with lust at his begging. God how she loved when he begged. Sighing in faux dissapointment, they both say their goodbyes to Armin who promises to tell the conspiracy the next time y/n visits work. Not even glancing back, Eren grabs his wife, practically draging her out of the bar and into the car.

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“You know you’re such.a fucking.brat.sometimes,” punctuating each word with a thrust that has the man on all fours panting, “so fucking needy that you couldn’t even let me finish a conversation after teasing me all afternoon.” Eren’s eyes were blurry from the tears running down his cheeks, eyes glossed over and face red hot as she pushes his head further into the pillow, arching his back more and making his mind go numb as her strap-on continually pounds into his g-spot.

“Dont have anything to say for yourself huh? Is that how good boys are? Unappreciative?” slapping his ass as he yelps, his mind finally understanding the question.

“I’m s-sorry mommy mmm fuck please I’m sorry I n-need to cu-”, a moan ripping through his throat as she digs her fingers into his hair yanking him up, his back molding into her chest. He moans even louder, more tears falling from his eyes as he feels her pumping his cock in time with her thrusts.

“You need to cum baby boy? You really think you deserve to cum today?” he shakes his head no but still babbles on about needing to cum, moans turning into whines, “you can come once you tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You you always you mommy, only you can make me feel this good fuck only you can-gasp-fuck me this good aaah”, he pants, slicks of his hair sticking to his forehead

“Good boy. Will my baby ever use mommy’s presents without her permission again?”

“No no no God no I’ll be good, a good boy just for you mommy pleeeaasseee”‘ sensing the desperation in his voice and his cock twitching in her hands, she finally utters the three magical words, “Go ahead sweetheart.”

Eyes rolling to the back of his skull, Eren spasms and lets out a quiet scream as thick ropes of cum shoot out of him, staining the towel laid out under him, even getting on his lower abs as y/n continues milking him dry before he collapses onto it, droopy eyes slowly closing as he slips in and out of subspace.

Y/n releases her strap-on, putting it aside to be cleaned later and fetching a bottle of water and gummy bears from their mini fridge and a damp rag from their shared bathroom.

“Roll over sweetie, let mommy clean you up,” rolling over and handing the stained towel over to her, he puts is hands on his face in embarrasment, y/n chuckling as she sees a blush creeping up his neck. Giving his forehead a quick peck, she tosses the stained materials in the laundry basket before giving him the snacks and water, laying on her side as he buries his face in her boobs, sighing contentedly as he sucks on a brown nipple disregarding the gummies.

“You were such a good boy for me Eren but next time just tell me you want me to fuck your brains out instead of sending nudes in your office bathroom” she smiled, caressing his long hair.

“Technically I wasn’t fully nude, my pants were just down”, he mumbled before going back to suckling. Rolling her eyes playfully at his wittiness, she yawns as sleep overcomes her, eyes closing softly as Eren looks at her with adoration. Popping his lips off of her nipple, he shuffles closer to her wrapping his arms around her waist as he drifts off, a calm and content smile resting on his face.

Tags: @itzgabz22

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.

“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”

“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.

“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”

And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.

“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?

“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”

“What happens next?”

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The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.

When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.

“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”

“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.

“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.

With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.

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Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”

The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?

“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”

Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.

“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”

Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.

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As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”

“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.

“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.

It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.

Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.

“What do we do?” Beel asked.

“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”

Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.

Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.

Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”

The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.

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“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.

“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he’s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”

“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”

“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.

“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”

At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.

“Babe, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.

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Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.

It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.

The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.

Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,

“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”

Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”

“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.

“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.

Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."

Next

Masterlist 2

[druigswhores]

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

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