#the good part is staying at home of course

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

Simon's short term rental is almost claustrophobic.

He tries to stay out of it, tries to keep himself busy. Active. After a week since you asked him to go home, to give you some space, he noticed he's lost weight. The thick of his ribs, his stomach, his thighs, has thinned out, cutting his bulk, exposing more muscle.

The grief feels more fresh than it has in years. Talking to you, telling you, has dredged up long buried things, agony and regret, pain that steals his breath and leaves him paralyzed. He forces himself not to think of it, but it still finds a way to creep in. To make him feel torn apart, turns him into a ghost.

He walks a lot. Walks to the store. Walks to the pub. Walks to the park. Sometimes he sits on the bench and watches mums push their buggies, wondering if it's something you might enjoy, if you were feeling better. Wishing he had made more of an effort to get you out of the flat, into the sunshine.

He's still walking to your building at night, standing under the tree, watching the lights flicker on and off. Your windows stay lit longer now, periods of sleep more infrequent, leaving him to worry that you're not getting enough rest, not taking care of yourself.

He walked all morning into early afternoon today. Tried to quell the nausea swirling in his stomach, tried not to watch the clock, or count the seconds. Tried to brace himself for the bittersweet he knew was coming.

>Hey, I'm going to be leaving pretty soon for work, and could be gone for a while. Could I see Orion before I go? Spend some time with him?

>Sure.

Your reply still rings in his ears. Short. Torturous.

But he doesn't blame you. He did it the wrong way. You have a child, his child, to protect, to take care of. Of course, you should be concerned. Maybe he should have found a better way to tell you. Maybe he shouldn't have told you at all.

A large part of him, the instinctual part, considered refusing you, when you asked him to give you some time, and he still hasn't made a decision about what he will do in the long run.

It would be so easy, to hide you away. To take you in the middle of the night, wake you up in a brand new home, high in hill, in a whole new country across a border.

When the knock on his door finally comes, he crams the overflow of emotion coursing through his heart into a teeny tiny box, and prays he'll be able to keep a lid on it.

"Hey." Orion turns in your grip, looking for Simon's voice, and you smother a wince at the shift in his weight.

"Hi." You look through him. Past him. To the left of his elbow, at his shoulder, the floor. Anywhere but his eyes.

"Thanks for letting me spend some time with him." Your lips go flat, but you shuffle the baby into his arms, managing to avoid skin to skin contact. It makes his stomach hurt worse than it already did.

"Of course, you're... you're his dad." You peek around him, trying to get a better look of the flat. "Do you uh, have stuff for him?"

"I went to the store."

"Okay. Well, good." You hand him the bag next. "I wasn't sure what you had so there are a few changes of clothes in there, just in case, and some bottles. They should probably go in the fridge. Diapers, some toys. Just in case... I didn't want.... I wanted you to have everything you might need." It's thoughtful of you, and he wants to smile, but you won't look at him.

"Thank you." You nod.

"Alright well, I'll come pick him up later? Just text me I guess, when you're ready. Hopefully he'll take a bottle."

"I can bring him-"

"No, that's okay." you cut him off sharply, shaking your head. He frowns.

"Why not?"

"I- I don't mind, coming by to get him."

"But if it's dark..."

"I can manage." You snap, and he purses his lips, but says nothing.

"Alright well, see you later then." You make some noncommittal noise, and then step closer, mouth pressing to Orion's cheek.

"Bye baby, love you." You finally look up at him, really look, and he holds his breath when he sees it all in your eyes. Pain. Confusion. Worry.

He did that.

The evening goes too fast. He manages to get Ry to nap, and drink over half a bottle, a huge win, but spends most of the time just holding him, walking him in circles in his flat, trying to memorize the feeling of his baby in his arms. He's fussier than usual, crying anytime Simon tries to put him down, which he doesn't mind, but concerns him. Is he like this at home, with you? Is this why you've been up more at night?

Still, it's over too soon, and when you're knocking on the door again, he stands on the other side a few seconds too long, wishing he had more time.

He's always wishing he had more time.

"How was he?"

"Good. More fussy than usual, but I got him to take most of a bottle. Is he doing alright?"

"He's been like this, the past few days. He's either going through a growth spurt, or developing some late colic. I hope it's the growth spurt." Oh no.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything. If you want me to take him at all." You nod.

"When uh... when are you leaving?"

"Two weeks or so. Once the guys get back, they'll have a few days debrief and then... we'll be off."

"Okay, well. Just let me know, when you want him again?"

"I will." He kisses Orion's cheek, whispering in his ear how much he loves him, before passing him to you. You have to reposition your posture to support his weight, and he winces. "Are you okay?" You blink at him, skeptical and surprised.

"I'm great Simon. Really peachy."

"Look, I know I really sprung-"

"Sprung? Is that what you're calling that? Simon... you blindsided me. You... you-" He holds up his hands.

"I'm much more careful now. I've learned a lot of hard lessons, and I would never, ever allow anything to happen to you or Orion." His shoulders slump, and he drops his eyes to the floor. Ashamed. Grief trying to work its way, trying to break him down just as it has all these years before. "I've learned from my mistakes." There's a long, uncomfortable since between the two of you, one that Orion fills with fussing, and then your voice cracks.

"Simon, that wasn't your fault.... I'm not... I'm not upset about... that. Or anything, that happened to you. I mean, I'm upset but not at you for that..." You take a deep breath. "I am upset for you, that those things happened to you, that you've been through such trauma, such horrible things." Tears wet your cheeks, but he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. "I would never hold that against you. I'm upset about your job. And the danger it puts us in. I'm upset that I didn't know that you'd been gone for weeks, possibly months at a time. I'm upset that you promised me you'd be here, and then never mentioned the super secret task force that will... take you away from us." Orion cries, and you bounce him back and forth, finally looking Simon dead in the eye, facing him head on. "It feels like you've been lying to me, for weeks now. I thought we were in this, together, that we were- we were building something, together. Now it just feels like... I could lose you at any second instead. That Orion could lose his father, grow up without you." The last word rips from your lips in a sob, and you shake your head as he steps close.

"You will never lose me. Do you understand? That will never happen." He vows it, swears it, forces it out into the universe as a covenant, but you only shake your head again, sadly.

"You can't promise that."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

your shark mer 141 and mer remora fic is one of the only things keeping me sane during finals week so please please please dump all of your thoughts on us because your writing style is so good and i can’t get enough!!!!!!!

thank you!! i sincerely hope finals are going/did go well for you! you should treat yourself with a little something if/when you're finished :)

and the shark mer 141 are always happy to be of service <3

37 / 1k / part 2 of shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

"But I'm fine!"

“You’re not. Look at you. You’re half-asleep.”

You’re not tired, you’re hungry. You shift against him, listless and unable to voice your needs. It's not that you're unwilling to do so--it's that you can't. It doesn't occur to you. Your kind doesn't survive by acting needy around a host.

Ghost notices your silent resistance. You’re weak--too tired, too hungry, too used to taking care of yourself--and still stubborn enough to keep your mouth shut anyway. He bites back a growl of irritation. It would be easier to fight. At least then he could shout it out of you. But no--instead you’re a tired lump in his hand, and your silence doesn’t give him anywhere to push back.

He's got one arm looped around you and both of your hands grasped in one of his. He only carries you like this, holding you by the wrists, when you accompanying him isn't up for debate. When you're being particularly fussy about it, he drags you by the wrists as if your arms were leads.

You don't relish that thought right now. You finally just bow your head, tucking it against his chest in submission.

He feels the change in your body language when you surrender to his control. He notices the way you go almost limp against him. Good. That almost puts the hungry, prowling animal in him to rest. Almost.

It’s a hard thing to explain--the gnawing dissatisfaction he felt watching you comb through the sand, small and alone on the ocean floor. The protective, possessive feeling that took root in his stomach.

It made him want to bite you all over. Not just to punish you, but to warn any other lurking thing who might confuse your loneliness for attainability. Not that he'd ever express the impulse to do so.

"Are you coming back to hunt again?" you ask him.

“Why? Do you miss me that much?”

You huff. "You didn't eat enough."

His fingers tighten around your wrists. You either have an inappropriate sense of humor or no self-awareness whatsoever.

“You're in a mouthy mood, huh?” he remarks tersely. “Must be even more tired than you look.”

He’s not stupid. He knows why you invited yourself along on his hunting trip. But he’s not going to coddle you while you shy away from the issue.

He glances up towards the coral reef, considering. If he brings you straight home, you'll just go back to ignoring your obvious needs. But he won’t let you wander the sea floor like some starving bottom-feeder. And he knows better than to hunt for you—you always refuse fresh kills.

The ones Ghost offers, at least. You seem willing enough to take fresh kills from Gaz.

Pisses him off.

You open your eyes when Ghost changes course and heads for a small cove carpeted in sandbanks. He dumps you unceremoniously into the soft sand. You look around, then at him.

"Stay right here." His tone brooks no argument. He swims off with an irritated lash of his tail before you can ask him why. You're left alone, moonlight curling across the surface of the water far above you and across the sand at your fins. Watching it makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You wake with a start when he returns. He holds in one clawed hand a fish. A live one.

He comes to rest on the edge of the sandbank. He doesn't speak, merely watching with a critical eye as you shake the sand from your scales and rouse yourself back into full consciousness. Then he holds out the live fish to you.

"Eat."

You frown but reach for it. Right as you lay your hands on it, it darts away. You jump in surprise, but one look at Ghost's face tells you he expected exactly that to happen. He can’t stop a small, satisfied smirk from curving his lips. That was exactly the reaction he wanted, and now you’re staring at him with six different accusations on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes fix on you with that smug, condescending look in his gaze. "Didn't Price teach you how to hunt for yourself?"

"Yes," you snap. You push yourself off the sand and dart after the fish, catching nothing but water again.

“Clearly not well.”

You strike out again. And come up empty. Again.

He huffs a laugh. You turn on him. "What's the point of this? You're the one who was going hunting."

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows as he eyes you. Every failed lunge and dart bring him more satisfaction. "The point is that you should be able to feed yourself," he retorts. "You're too dependent, sweetheart. You’d starve in a koi pond."

You’d love nothing more than to tell him where exactly he can shove his stupid fish, but it’s far too mentally taxing for you to refuse outright. Instead, you cross your arms in a way that just as clearly says I'm not doing that.

Ghost’s eyes glimmer. He isn’t having it.

He pushes himself off the sand and swims toward you, pushing you back against the bank when he crowds himself over your smaller frame.

"You know” —his expression is downright patronizing— “refusing an order is a bad move. Bad things happen to disobedient pets."

"It didn't sound like an order," you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

He grabs your jaw and forces eye contact. "Sure as hell wasn't a suggestion, sweetheart. If you're not gonna ask for food when you need it, you're gonna learn to hunt." His eyes are hard, and that smug, self-satisfied demeanor is buried far underneath. "You learn or I make you learn. What do you say?"

You swallow. "Thank you for catching me such a nice practice fish?"

"Good pet." He releases your jaw.

He moves back onto the sand, propping himself on his elbows once more as he leans back. His black eyes linger on you, and you feel a chill.

"Now go."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[artificial-transmutations]

Wrong bag, bro

Music blared from my headphones while I was running on the treadmill when I first saw the guy. It was obviously his first time in the gym, and after having gotten a short introduction, he looked around uncomfortably before approaching the weights. I sighed and stopped the treadmill. It was a good gym, at least judging from the equipment and the cost. The staff, however, was... improvable. It was clear that the new guy had no idea how to start and he would probably hurt himself like that.

"Sup? You're new here?" I said as I approached. He almost jumped when he heard my voice. I took a good look at him when he turned around. He wasn't very fit, at least compared to me. I mean, I'm no bodybuilder, too, but I do go to the gym a few times a week and try to stay in shape. The other guy was visibly unfit, with a small belly and no definition at all, but hey, we all have to start somewhere.

"Uhm. Yes. Actually, I wanted to lose a bit of weight. I'm Jonas. Do you work here?"

I chuckled. "Na, man. I'm Travis, and I just work *out* here. Why are you trying to get fit?"

Jonas seemed to be a bit embarrassed when he answered. "I... hope that will make dating easier. It's hard to find a boyfriend like... this."

He gestured down his body.

"Hey, you should do this for yourself, not for someone else. But yeah, I get what you mean. Chicks dig muscles, too."

The last part was probably unnecessary and somewhat spoiling the message, but I couldn't help it. It was a reflex to make clear I was straight. Really stupid, I know, but hey, that's just the straight genes talking.

Thankfully, Jonas took the hint and didn't hit on me as I showed him the ropes. He was mightily insecure, but a nice dude. After a while, he called it a day and we went to the locker room together. Having started early, I felt it was time to head home, too.

I took out my gym bag from my locker, as did Jonas, and got my soap out.

"Are you not going to shower?" I asked as Jonas just changed to his street shoes.

"Oh, eh, no, I'll shower at home." he said, and I understood. That guy was so self-conscious it would probably be hell for him to shower in a communal shower, so I just shrugged and said:

"Alright. See you around."

After the shower, I went to my gym bag to change into my street clothes but when I opened it, the contents seemed unfamiliar. Of course. Jonas had the same black gym bag as I did and must have grabbed the wrong one. That could happen. I just hoped I'd meet him again so we could swap back the bags. For now, it wasn't that much of a problem. I didn't have any valuables in there, and it seemed that Jonas had brought a towel as well, so I could just use his to dry myself.

What had been in there, however, were my street clothes. I mean, it wasn't a big deal, I could just wear my gym clothes until I got home, but somehow, I got curious and rummaged through the contents of the bag. There was something that immediately jumped into view and that was...

A pair of pink boxer briefs.

I mean seriously? How much gayer could it get?

I was just about to stuff it back into the back, when I hesitated. My gym compression shorts were soaked with sweat, and apparently, the boxer briefs seemed to be clean, I rationalized, but somehow, I *wanted* to put them on, for some weird reason. Well. I shrugged and just acted on the impulse, I mean, it was just a pair of underwear, right?

As it turned out, poor Jonas must have been not that well-endowed. The pair of boxer briefs was awfully tight and hugged my ass and my junk so firmly it was almost a second skin. I looked in the mirror and was a little surprised. My cock wasn't exactly small, but the underwear still didn't leave much to imagination either. But they were clean, and the fabric was quite pleasant to the touch, so I decided I would wear them until I got home.

Man, Jonas was probably in for a surprise when he discovered my XXL jockstrap from my bag. And unlike his - sorry - faggy underwear, I had worn that thing for a day now, so it wasn't exactly clean. I mean, there wasn't any reason for him to put it on, but what if he was curious? Or what if he was a little pervert who liked to experience the smell of a real man?

I shook my head. Where had that thought come from? I quickly got dressed in the rest of *my* clothes and drove home. However, during the drive I couldn't quite shake the thought of how Jonas might just be sniffing my jock, jerking his pathetic little cock furiously while doing so. Man, I really had no idea what was wrong with me today. When I arrived at home, my cock was hard and leaking pre into Jonas tight little pink underwear. Looks like I needed to blow off some steam.

I put on some lesbian porn and fished out my cock and balls from its tight confines. I have to admit that jerking off while wearing Jonas' briefs was oddly exciting.

At first, my eyes were glued to the two chicks on the screen, but as I got close to shooting my load, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Images of Jonas, wearing my much too large jockstrap came immediately and unbidden, but it was too late. With a groan, I came all over my toned and defined upper body.

I needed a moment to recover after that before I could start cleaning up. I stuffed my junk back into the pink underwear without really thinking about it, but realized it wasn't quite as tight as before. Perhaps the fabric was adjusting to my bigger mass. I was just about done with wiping the cum off my chest when my phone dinged with a message from an unknown number:

Unknown number:

"Hey there, it's Jonas, from the gym today. It seems like I grabbed the wrong bag when I left, and I want to return it to you. Can you give me your address?"

I thought about it for a moment while I saved his name to my phone. He probably found my number on the lost and found card, and I was just to agree, when I stopped. There was no rational reason not to swap back the bags as soon as possible and I had no plans for today. But...

Travis:

"Sorry, man, I can't today. How about tomorrow? We can meet at the gym."

I seriously had no idea why I lied, but not-so-little Travis twitched in the underwear as I wrote the message.

Jonas:

"Sounds good. Sorry I took your bag, I only noticed when I got home."

Travis:

"Don't worry, there's nothing important in there. Just my sweaty jockstrap, haha."

What was I doing? Why would I chat with a near stranger about my underwear? I was interrupted by the answer from Jonas.

Jonas:

"Yeah, I have found that thing already."

I hesitated. My cock was straining against pink fabric again, even though I just jerked off a few minutes ago. I really shouldn't be that excited, and I really shouldn't lead the poor gay guy on, but I couldn't help it. My fingers typed all on their own.

Travis:

"I see. And what did you do with it?"

It took a while before the next answer came in, and I feared that I had alienated the guy.

Jonas:

"Well, I'm wearing it right now."

Ha! I knew it! That guy was a pervert after all. I looked down at the tight pink boxer briefs struggling to contain my erection, while a small patch of precum had formed at the tip of the tent. Takes one to know one, right?

Travis:

"That old thing? I'm sure it smells sweaty as hell right now. Can you show me?"

Almost instantly, Jonas sent a picture of himself, wearing only the jock. It was way too big and baggy on him, and I could see his whole body in all of its unfit glory.

But somehow, it didn't look so bad. Absentmindedly, I squeezed my cock while looking at the picture. Then, with a mental "What the hell", I snapped a selfie for Jonas as well, of me wearing his pink boxer briefs. I didn't care to hide my boner, although it was less obvious than I thought. Might as well give him something to drool over, right?

After I had sent the picture, I looked at myself in the mirror some more. There was disappointingly little pump on my frame considering that I just came back from the gym. In fact, I looked even smaller than before I went to the gym. That couldn't be true, right?

But the bathroom scale confirmed. This was crazy! You didn't just lose five kilograms of body mass just like that. Especially, since my body mass was mostly muscles!

I took another look at the mirror, but it was true: my arms, my legs, even my chest. Everything looked less defined than before. And my chest was pretty smooth, too. I usually shave it, but since I have a high testosterone level or something, there's always a stubble remaining. Not so today. As I felt my chest with my hand, there was only smooth skin. What the hell was going on?

I looked back at my phone, and Jonas had answered again.

Jonas:

"Looks good on you, you should wear it more often! ;)"

Did he really think so? My heartbeat quickened on the praise from Jonas, and I could feel my cock reacting again. It must have gotten soft over the whole panicking, but reading this single line from Jonas was enough for it to strain against the tight underwear again.

Except... It wasn't *that* tight anymore. Sure, it was still a pair of boxer briefs and was supposed to cling to the skin, and it did, but before, my muscular ass, pelvis and of course, my large cock had filled it to the breaking point. Not so anymore. In fact, it fit pretty snugly, and although my cock was hard as a rock, the bulge it produced was much smaller than before.

My phone dinged with another message.

Jonas:

"Are you still there, Tray? You're still in for the gym later?"

Later? I thought we had said tomorrow! And why did he call me Tray? I quickly composed an answer.

Travis:

"Do we have to? I thought we'd said tomorrow."

The answer came immediately.

Jonas:

"Stop whining, Tray! I know you wane be big like I, so you must work hart!"

I cringed from the amount of spelling mistakes, but before I could answer, Jonas sent another Pic.

Was that still the same guy as before?! Sure enough, he was wearing my jockstrap, and the face was similar, but boy was he *ripped*. His arms and legs looked like he basically lived in the gym, and his hairy chest was sitting heavily on his perfectly sculpted eight pack abs. He even had a tattoo!

I looked back to the mirror in distress. I was positively scrawny, and not just in comparison. *My* arms and legs looked like twigs from a tree that were about to break from a strong wind. And were Jonas had all that chest hair and stubble on his chin, I was totally hairless, except for my perfectly styled bleached blonde hair.

I started to hyperventilate and had to lean on the sink to not fall.

What the hell was happening here?!

The phone dinged again, and I picked it up.

Jonas:

"Excpext yu wantto let ur tongue work out insted Todays bitch canceled and I Ned so to worship my "

It was getting really difficult to read, but I got the gist of it. But that wasn't right, right? Jonas was gay, just as me, and... Hold on, I... No, Jonas. Jonas wasn't gay, he was bi. Of course, with that fuck stick inside his smelly jockstrap, he'd fuck everything that moves.

All by itself, my hand had entered my pink boxer briefs and was jerking like crazy. Luckily, there was enough room in the underwear, as it was a bit loose usually. Even with my delicate hands, I couldn't close my hand around my shaft, it was just too small for that. So, I jerked with two fingers until I could finally stop myself. My cock wasn't as important for the upcoming meeting as my beautiful ass and my eager tongue that would submissively lap up every drop of sweat from Jonas manly body, so he would reward me with that magnificent cock of his. But still, no need to spoil the fun.

Tray:

"I'm coming over right now, Sir!"

I hope you enjoyed this little switchup! A few additional images can be found at my tip jar :)

[les4elliewilliams]

Syrup.

making pancakes with Ellie ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

cw/wc: 3.5k ! loser!ellie, dry humping, fingering + oral (e!receiving), kind of sub!ellie? oilin' her up 'cause pretty girls deserve special treatment. [not really mentioned because I rushed it towards the end.]

!!mdni!!

daily click・palestine masterpost・neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks.

Skipping classes with Ellie usually meant sleeping in and cuddling the whole morning, basking in the soft glow of your favorite movie or TV show. But not when she was ovulating and going feral over you. Ellie was perfect, such a fucking good girlfriend, never pressuring you into anything you didn’t feel like doing—but there were times when all you needed to do was hide from her. Especially when she was ovulating, it was as if she were reliving the raging hormones of puberty all over again.

What kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t help your girl when she most needed you? Letting her ride your fingers whenever she needed, her moans filling the room as you praised her sweetly, or letting her sit on your face for an hour straight until her body couldn’t take it anymore and you could barely breathe. You didn’t mind; in fact, you loved it.

She tasted so fucking good, and knowing she had gotten all wet over something as simple as a few words you’d said or some dumb shit she found utterly irresistible—even when you thought it was stupid—only made it better.

That particular morning, she woke up much earlier than you, her body already humming with need. The poor loser tried to wake you up for cuddles before classes, something you usually did daily before parting ways, but you didn’t budge. Her soft whispers and gentle shakes eventually turned into hungry kisses and wandering hands. Her breath was hot against your ear as she murmured how much she needed you, her fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. 

But you still shooed her away, “Five more minutes,” you mumbled, but five minutes turned into an hour and then two. You were so sleep-deprived, burning the midnight oil on your schoolwork, that you wouldn’t even hear your alarm in the morning if it weren’t for Ellie. Patiently, she took time out of her morning to shake you like a cocktail until you finally woke up.

You could hear her sigh and huff, shifting around uncomfortably, perhaps bored. “So, you don’t want cuddles before class?” she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. But you ignored her, too exhausted to respond. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered, slipping into a slightly pissy mood because you pushed her away every time she wrapped her arms around you and planted soft kisses on your neck to rouse or wake you.

“Ellie,” you grumbled, still half-asleep, “Let me sleep.”

“Wake upppp,” she drawled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath caressing your soft skin. “I wanna cuddle,” she repeated, pouting, though you couldn’t see it because your eyes remained stubbornly closed. Her desperation and neediness grew as she clung to you.

“Nooo—’s too hot for that,” you whined, scooting away from your girlfriend once again.

When you finally woke up on your own and suggested skipping classes together, she was more than excited at the idea. Of course, she didn’t complain. Why would she when she’d get to spend the whole morning with you?

Let’s say she had different intentions from yours. While you just wanted to sleep in and spend the whole day in your cozy apartment to relax, she stayed home with you hoping for morning sex—but she didn’t get it.

“Skip classes? Fuck yeah, I’m in,” she exclaimed excitedly, her arm hooking around your waist to drag you closer to her. “There are maaany more fun things we could do instead...” Her voice shifted from excited to teasingly sultry, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Hmm... like what?” you mumbled sleepily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Well, I could give you a massage,” she whispered, planting soft kisses into the crook of your neck, making their way up to your jawline. “Or we could make pancakes.”

She was a little disappointed when you picked pancakes over a massage, but you were so hungry that you didn’t even notice. You padded to the kitchen with her walking closely behind, her green eyes glued to your ass as she let out a sigh. 

She was starving. 

Ellie was usually never that blunt when it came to these kinds of things. You’d usually pick up on her body language, or she’d let you know subtly, always careful not to make you feel pressured. She was a gentlewoman, after all.

“Get the flour and the eggs. I’ll get the rest.” You instructed her quickly, bringing her back to reality and pulling her out of her thoughts. She quietly complied, gathering all the necessary ingredients and placing them on the white countertop in front of her. Meanwhile, you grabbed a bowl from one of the nearby cabinets.

“Okay,” You scooped up a handful of the fine white powder, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface as you measured the exact amount needed. The powdery substance was light and fluffy, and its scent was faintly sweet as you poured it into the bowl. “Dry ingredients first,” you said out loud, mostly speaking to yourself. 

You’ve always been terrible in the kitchen, managing to burn everything you touched or getting the ingredients completely wrong. Thankfully, Ellie had been there to help you improve over the years, guiding you through the basics and teaching you little tricks to make your cooking less disastrous. 

“Mhm,” she hummed back almost proudly. You could feel her presence lingering behind you, her breath warm against your neck. Her hands rested on your hips, fingers tracing small, lazy circles. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, each touch sending a shiver down your spine. You could sense her frustration; her body pressed a little closer, making her need evident in every movement. 

You started by pouring the powders into the bowl, but as you did, she began to tease you, planting soft, innocent kisses on all your sweet spots, making your breath hitch each time her lips met your skin. 

“And then we add the wet ones…” 

“Yeah, I know, I remember,” you said casually, trying to focus on mixing the different powders in the bowl. But Ellie’s attentions made concentrating difficult, her teasing kisses and soft touches getting the desired effect; she knew what she was doing.

“Can’t wait to taste your syrup on my tongue.” Her whispered words made your breath catch in your throat, and your stirring motions slowed in response. Her mouth was right by your ear, her breath warm and teasing against your flesh. 

“Ellie.” With a frustrated huff, you scolded her, your wispy brows furrowing together as you tried to appear stern. You could feel her lips twitching in satisfaction at your reaction against your epidermis.

“What?” she asked, her voice full of false innocence. She pulled away from your neck, resting her chin on your shoulder as she watched you work on the pancake mix. “I meant the syrup that comes with pancakes.” Her voice shifted back to its usual playful tone as she spoke, her words casual and light-hearted. Her hands rested gently on your hips as she leaned against you from behind.

“Yeah, obviously.” You responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes at her comment. But you couldn’t help but suppress a small smirk that threatened to form on your face, grateful she couldn’t see your expression.

“We’ve gotta mix the dry and wet together, and then we’ve got the perfect…consistency,” The last word was an alluring melody whispered directly into your ear, her soft lips brushing against your neck ever so gently. One of her arms moved from your waist, her fingers trailing softly along your arm until they wrapped around the handle of the whisk in your hand, bringing your motion to a halt.

More kisses were pressed to the side of your neck, making you tilt your head to give her better access. Her tattooed arm was still wrapped around your waist, holding you close and rocking you slightly from side to side.

“Hmm—you’re distracting me.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly, surrendering to her damp smooches and touches. Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you felt your body melt like butter against hers, your muscles relaxing in response to her gentle ministrations.

“Still want to make pancakes instead of getting that massage? ’m good with my hands, y’know.” Her husky voice was like silk in your ear, rich and smooth. Every word that left her lips was soothing and comforting, her tone gentle and seductive, making your heart skip a beat. “You might need my touch more than you think…” Her hips ground gently against the plushness of your ass, a subtle motion that made your clit twitch. 

You could feel the heat of her body pressing against you from behind as she continued to kiss and nibble on your neck. The sensation was soothing and arousing, making you lean into her embrace, your eyes closing blissfully as you surrendered to her attention. Lost in her kisses and nibbles on your neck, you suddenly remembered the pancakes you were mixing,

The whisk still clutched in your hand. With a reluctant huff, you shook yourself back to reality, forcing yourself out of the trance she had put you in.

“You’re such a fucking horndog.” you jokingly chided her, swatting at her hand as it crept toward your chest, but truth be told, you loved the attention. It was comforting knowing how much she wanted you, how much she needed you.

“Like you’re any better,” She let out an exaggerated scoff, her hand returned to your waist, joining the other one. 

You added eggs and milk, intently stirring and mixing the pancake batter, when you suddenly felt her grind against you again. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and almost instinctively, you pushed your ass slightly into her, making her breath hitch.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her hands gripping your hips as she guided your ass against her crotch.

“We’re supposed to be making pancakes,” you mumbled incoherently, letting her use your body to get off.

Ellie’s hands roamed your body with a growing urgency, her touch both gentle and demanding. She pressed herself closer, her breath hot against the back of your neck, the mixing bowl almost forgotten in your hands.

“But you feel so good,” she whispered, her voice low and husky, sending waves of desire coursing through your very core. Her lips brushed against your ear, planting soft kisses along your jawline, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist. “And I’m hungry for something else,” she purred, her cold hands slipping under your shirt, her touch making your nipples harden almost immediately. She moved against you, her hips creating a rhythm that left you yearning for more.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the bowl in your hands, you found yourself pressing into her embrace, “Ellie,” you uttered, barely recognizing your own voice, “we should really  finish making breakfast.”

She scoffed, her voice tinged with a playful defensiveness. “You’re the one pushing your butt into me like a cat in heat!” Her breath was already starting to come in labored gasps. Her cheeks were a beautiful sight, flushed with a delicate rosy pink hue that complemented her complexion, although hidden from your view.

“That’s because you sound pretty,” you argued with a pout on your face, making her whimper at your words. She was so sensitive it was ridiculous; she could feel herself getting wetter with each passing moment, the dampness in her boxers becoming impossible to ignore. Your ass pushed into her again, intensifying her need.

“And I’m the distracting one?” she quipped, her breath catching. “God, you’re just as distracting.” She added, her head dropping onto your shoulder as she continued to roll her hips against you, her hands squeezing your boobs from underneath her your shirt.

You snorted at her words and at the whole situation, finding it amusing. “What’s gotten into you today? You woke up horny or something?” you taunted her, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though the answer was obvious.

“You’ve got me all riled up,” she mumbled softly, a groan slipping past her plump lips. Her rough hands pushed your ass further into her as she began to suck purple marks on your neck, her eyes closing as her movements became more desperate and rushed.

“You’re a fucking loser, El,” you teased her, yet still letting her do as she pleased with your body. 

Her whimpers turned into soft mewls as she ground against you, the friction sending jolts through her and making your pussy ache agonizingly. Her breath felt like the sea breeze against your skin; her soft lips left a trail of moist, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. She was losing herself in the moment, her body responding to every push and pull, every tease and taunt. Ellie’s hands roamed all over your body, her fingers digging into your flesh as if she couldn’t get enough of you.

“Need you right here, baby.” She uttered as she guided your hips, her breath hot and ragged as she pressed her forehead against your shoulder. The fabric of her boxers clung to her wet folds, every movement making the dampness more pronounced. It was as if her walls were pulsing your name in Morse code, each beat a desperate plea for you, for your fingers. “God… feels so good.” her voice barely a whisper.

“Does it?” Her hands gripped your hips, guiding you with a desperate urgency that made your pulse race and your head spin. The smooth and unyielding countertop offered a reassuring stability for the both of you as you leaned into it, your fingers splayed wide, seeking purchase on the slick surface. Her movements were frantic. The dampness of her boxers pressed against your unfortunately still-clothed ass, and you could feel your own slickness seeping through. 

“Yeah… so… so good,” she breathed out, humping against the fat of your butt as she held you tightly in place, afraid that you might vanish at any moment. “My brain stops working around you.” You could feel her body tensing against you, her movements becoming more erratic and rushed as her orgasm approached.

“Does that little brain of yours ever work?” you shot back, a sly smirk playing on your lips—one she couldn’t see, but knowing you, she could sense it. She hated how easily you could turn her into this desperate, needy creature, and she hated even more how you always made fun of her when she got this weak for you.

“I swear to-” She released a frustrated huff, her voice strained and tinged with annoyance as she spoke through clenched teeth. Her nails dig into the soft skin of your hips, leaving imprints of crescent moons behind.

Her reaction only fueled your playful cruelty. “Aww… what? Is my baby mad?” you crooned, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “So fucking pathetic.” you hissed.

“Shut up,” she muttered quietly, her voice low and uneven, her clit throbbing madly at each word that came out of your mouth, “I’m-’m close,” she whimpered into your ear, burying her face between your neck and shoulder, feeling the cold tip of her freckled nose press against your skin.

“That’s it? Gonna cum in your boxers from a little friction?” you chuckled, her grasp tightening on your hips, your eyes darting to the bowl of pancake batter, lying there, forgotten and abandoned.

At your small chuckle, her head rose from your shoulder, and she shot you a look that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t turned your head ever so slightly at her sudden shift in position. She gazed intently at you, her brows drawn together in a slight frown. Her mesmerizing green crystalline eyes seemed unusually dark, while a rosy flush adorned her face.

“What are you… what are you gonna do about it?” A valiant effort was made to gather her composure, but her attempts were in vain as she struggled to stifle the whimpers that involuntarily slipped from her trembling lips. The muscles in her abdomen tensed beneath the gentle fabric of the oversized shirt.

“Hmm… I could move and not let you finish.”

Ellie let out a shaky exhale at your playful threat, her pace becoming desperate, and she could feel her legs starting to give up. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, trying to sound intimidating.

You smirked at her words and slowly moved away from her grasp, making her whine like a lost puppy.

“No, no, no,” she repeated frantically, her mind and body instantly going into panic mode as she reached for your arm again, yanking your body back against her. “Please, please, I’m so sorry. So sorry,” she muttered out a series of apologies and sweet nothings, kissing your neck pleadingly, trying to get what she wanted.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head, a taunting chuckle slipping away as you edged just out of reach of your girlfriend’s frantic kisses. Her kisses, fervent and pleading, missed their mark, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the power you held over her at that moment. You had her wrapped around your fingers when all she wanted was to ride your fingers. 

“Only good girls get to cum,” she groaned at your words, “Now, how ’bout you help me make pancakes?” Your question was accompanied by a lively and playful tone, which starkly contrasted her frustrated mood. Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you gazed at her, fully aware of the turmoil you were causing within her and enjoying every second of it. She was desperate for touch, for release, but you denied it to her. So fucking cruel.

Ellie looked at you through dark, full lashes, her face a canvas of desperate need, adorned with a constellation of freckles that dusted her pale skin. “Whatever, be that way,” She grumbled and scowled as she moved out of your personal space, giving you attitude.

“Get to work, slave,” You joked, watching her saunter over to the stove. She turned the fire on, her movements smooth and practiced as she reached for the pan, the soft clatter of metal on metal filling the kitchen. As she poured some oil, its golden stream glistening in the morning light, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what was to come.

In your mind’s eye, you saw her back on your bed, her skin slick and glistening, her breath coming in quick, heated pants as she begged you to fuck her hard, just as she needed.

The thought of her beneath you, oiled up and ready for you, brought a sly grin to your face and a flutter in your pussy stomach.

Breakfast was just the beginning, after all.

She gave you a constant onslaught of attitude throughout the breakfast. She pouted and glowered, her sour mood a bitter blend of disappointment and indignation. Occasionally, she huffed or muttered something under her breath, her annoyance growing with each passing moment. She gobbled down the fluffy pancakes as she shot you glares. Poor thing, all flustered and needy, sitting there, denied of something she craved so desperately.

It was more than obvious that you would satisfy her urgent needs right after satisfying your own appetite. After all, you were starving and would need all the energy you could get for the intense workout in store for the two of you. 

You pulled as many moans and gasps from her as you could, your manicured nails slipping on the soft, slippery skin of her thighs as you eagerly lapped at her folds.

You kept taking and taking, relentless and insatiable. Ellie was a fucked-out mess, babbling nonsense as she teetered on the edge of yet another release. You were fucking her dumb, and you weren’t even close to being finished with her.

“Another one, Els. C’mon, be a good girl for me,” you pleaded with a breathy voice, coaxing her with every word until she gave you precisely what you wanted. She was that good of a slut for you, and you loved every second of it. 

“I know, babe,” you cooed sweetly, your fingers knuckles-deep inside her, her moist and abused walls pulsing around them.

She was a whiny mess, squirming so much that you had to pin her down, her teeth harshly biting her bottom lip, her green eyes teary from the overwhelming pleasure you were giving her. “I know, I know- but it’s gonna make you feel better,” you murmured, knowing her mind was too far gone to focus on your words.

“Just need to cum on my fingers, ’s all.” and all she needed to do was just lay there and take it. Take what she had wished for the whole morning like a needy brat.

Only after about ten orgasms did you decide it was time to let your poor girlfriend recover. Her skin was flushed, and a fine sheen of sweat glistened in the golden light that tiptoed through the window, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her whole body trembled like a leaf, and the sheets beneath her were damp, ready to be thrown into the washing machine. Your thumb trailed down her happy auburn trail, her bush glistening with her own juices; her pearlescent sweetness dripping down onto the mattress, just like syrup.

daily click・palestine masterpost・neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks.

[cornsoupflavour]

Dear, Mr. Manager (Twice NSFW Smut)

[ Sick Day Pt. 2 – See Pt. 1 ]

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWICE Momo Hirai x Manager!Male Reader

Tags: 3.9k words, wholesome, manager x idol, multiple creampies, phone sex, romance, mutual masturbation, caught in the act, date, squirting, slight comedy

"Hey girls... Back already?" you asked, Momo still impaled on your softening cock, her tits pressing against your chest. Jihyo, who was at the front, slowly and silently closed the door as the girls opted to wait outside till you two were done. You and Momo shared a quick and embarrassed glance as you both scrambled to get up and get dressed. However, the two of you weren't able to keep too far apart from each other, sharing a passionate kiss or two amidst the scuffle. Once you were done, you left the room as Momo stayed. She gave you a floating kiss as you left. Outside, you bumped into the rest of the girls.

"Mr. Manager!" Nayeon gasped as the others shook their heads in embarrassment and disbelief. "We expected so much better from you..." Tzuyu pouted, as she walked in with the others. Jihyo stayed behind, closing the door so the girls couldn't hear your conversation. "Y/N, I–I can't believe this..." she brought her fingers to her nose bridge, "...alright, what's done is done– I'll have a talk with Momo and see how she feels about this. If I get any semblance that she was coerced, or forced, or anything like that... You. Are. Dead. You hear me?"

Despite being her manager, Jihyo still knew how to strike fear into your heart. Perhaps it's the overall Muscle Mommy vibe. You nodded in acknowledgement of what she said. "Hope you two had a good time... we might have to request for new bedsheets now..." she sighed, waving you off. You watched as she entered the room before making haste back to your car. As you sat in your car trying to process the events of the day, you decided it was best for you to drive home and maybe give the girls some space for a bit.

About a week or so later, you get a text message from Jihyo. "Y/N, I'd like to schedule a meetup with you. It's important." Immediately, alarm bells started ringing in your head and you accepted the meetup request. As you arrived at the meetup venue, you noticed Momo and Jihyo sitting at a table. Oh shit, did you knock Momo up already? Damn, this is bad... You enter the venue and take a seat at their table, an awkward silence surrounded the three of you.

"Hello, Mr. Manager. Momo here has something she wants to tell you." Jihyo started, not doing much to help ease your anxiety about the situation. You braced yourself as Momo opened her mouth.

"Mr. Manager... I'd like to... pursue a romantic relationship with you..." Momo confessed. You sat shocked, your mouth agape. That’s it? Phew... "Momo... Are you sure? Have you spoken to Jihyo about this?"

"She has. And she is a grown woman, I can't really dictate who she wants to date, I'm not her mom. But I am here to make sure your managerial duties remain done appropriately despite being with Momo. Can we agree on that?"

"Yeah, of course. I think this will only keep me closer to you guys if you guys need any help or whatsoever."

"Good. I guess you two are dating now... Thank goodness for the lack of boundary–breaking paparazzi... I'm sure in some other universe, you two would be screwed."

"Well, we did screw each other~" Momo joked, Jihyo's face scrunching up as she cringed. "Momo, that's the worst attempt at a joke I've ever heard you say," Jihyo shook her head, playfully repulsed by Momo's terrible sense of humour.

You shared some last few exchanges before Jihyo got up, followed by yourself and Momo. As the three of you parted ways, you decided to take Momo out on a proper date. You booked a fancy restaurant, and drove Momo back to her shared apartment with Nayeon. You walked Momo up to her door as she went in to change, Nayeon gave you a flirty wave as the door opened, prompting a playful punch by Momo.

"Nice suit. You guys heading out for a date~?" Nayeon asked teasingly.

"Why yes, we are. Wanna come?" you returned the same attitude back at her. Nayeon nodded approvingly as she returned to her own activity. You couldn't help but feel nervous as you waited patiently. You've had your fun on that fateful day, but now it's the time to take things slow, and you didn't know if you were up for the challenge.

Suddenly, Momo walked out of her room, her hair flowing down onto her chest, wearing an elegant but dominating, figure–hugging blazer dress, she was absolutely stunning. Your heart skipped a beat as she approached you, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You stood frozen, your lips quivering.

"Momo... You look... gorgeous..." you complimented her, your eyes digesting her entire look. Nayeon gave the two of you a knowing glance as you extended your arm out to her. As Momo locked arms with you, you walked her back to your car and set off for the restaurant. Upon arriving, you were seated at your reserved table.

As you ordered, the two of you talked about everything – from your childhood to your dreams, and even shared your favorite movies, songs, and TV shows. It was a comfortable silence as you both laughed and enjoyed the small talk. The food arrived, and you took turns feeding each other, causing the other diners to give you judgmental stares.

The two of you decided to keep the PDA to a minimum as to not rile up the other guests. "Momo, are you okay with me taking this slow?" you asked, wanting to make sure she was up for a steady pace.

Momo swallowed her bite, setting the fork down before responding, "Of course. I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me outside the stage... especially since it felt like we skipped a few steps the last time..."  Her eyes shone with contentment and reminisce as her hands reached for yours under the table, her thumb caressing tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I'm excited to see what's in store for us," she added, her smile bright, showing her eagerness for the future.

As the night went on, you decided to end it with a little stargazing session. You drove to a nearby cliffside parking lot. The two of you climbed onto the hood of your car and gazed upwards into the forever–expanding vacuum that was space.

"I hope you had a good time tonight, Momo."

"I did, Mr. Manager..." she responded, her body leaning onto yours.

"Please, call me Y/N."

Momo gave you a wide and warm smile as she nodded. Before long, your lips connected under the starry night sky in a deep and loving kiss. A manager dating an idol under his name is often considered taboo, but who's really keeping up with the semantics of it all?

It was late and was about time for the both of you to get home. You helped Momo back into your car as you drove back to her apartment. "What's your address, Y/N?" Momo asked you. "I hope I'm not making you drive too far..." her burrows frowed in concern.

"Oh don't worry about it, Momo. I actually don't live too far away from you. So once I get you back home safe, I can just drive back to my place." 

"Momo, before we get to your place, I have a question for you. If we're gonna be together, I want to make sure we're on the same page. Do you want to keep this a secret for now?"

Momo thought for a moment. "I'm okay with that, for now. Let's keep it between us, Y/N." She gave you a reassuring smile, your fingers still entwined with hers as you drove. The two of you reached her apartment. After walking her up to her apartment, she unlocked her door. "You want to come in for a bit? I'm afraid that you might be too tired to drive..."

"It's alright. I'll be okay. Plus, I don't wanna bother Nayeon," your lips curled as you bid her farewell. But not before sharing a hungry kiss. You walked back to your car and drove back to your own apartment for the night. You went through your nightly routine before noticing you received several texts from Momo, with the inclusion of some spicy pictures.

You laid in bed, your phone illuminating the room as you scrolled through Momo's texts. You bit your bottom lip as you admired the pictures she had sent. Before you knew it, your phone buzzed, a notification that Momo was calling you.

Your heart raced as you answered the call, "Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N..." Momo whispered, her voice sensual and inviting. "I'm going to do something naughty~ Wanna see?"

"Oh? And what might that be?" You replied, trying to maintain your composure.

"I'm taking off my dress..." she whispered, as she turned her video feed on. She placed the phone on her bed, leaning against the wall as she continued, "...and I want you to describe to me how hard you're getting just by watching me~"

Your breath hitched, the sight of Momo sensually stripping before you, her body on full display, was enough to send a surge of heat to your cock. "Momo, just the thought of you standing there, your dress sliding down, revealing your beautiful body... Let alone getting to watch it? I'm already at attention, baby... Aching to be inside you..."

Momo continued to undress herself and before long, you watched as the dress she wore to your date fell, pooling at her ankles. "It's off, Y/N. I'm standing here, all naked for you... you're making me so wet just by talking to me~" her voice was breathy, her need for you evident in her tone.

Your breathing grew heavy, your hand already making its way to your growing erection through your boxers. "Fuck... I wish I was there with you, Momo... I would worship your body, starting from your neck, making my way down, tracing my tongue along your collarbone, kissing those gorgeous, soft tits... It pisses me off that I can't..."

Momo moaned out loud, "Yes, Y/N, keep going. Make me feel it."

"I'd take one of your nipples into my mouth and hold it steady with my teeth. I'd be sucking on it, flicking my tongue over it, making you moan. And then I'd move to the other one, repeating the same until you're begging for more."

"Oh, Y/N..." Momo's voice trembled, "Please, please continue..."

You watched as Momo shifted onto her bed, adjusting the camera so it would capture the sight of her beautiful flaps as she began rubbing her body, the distinct sound of fingers against skin. 

"Fuck... Y/N, don't stop..." Momo began pleasuring herself as you continued to paint her a picture of your desires. "I'd slide my hand down, my fingers now trailing along the crease of your waist, feeling the curve of your hips. My hand would continue down, arriving at your wet slit, my fingers now parting your soft folds..."

"Y/N– Y/N, please... I need more..." Momo's voice was desperate, her need for you tangible through the phone.

"I would slide three fingers deep inside you, feeling your walls clench around me. I'd thrust my fingers in and out, mimicking the way I'd be pounding you if I was there, our bodies moving in perfect sync, my finger sliding in and out, your moans getting louder and louder."

"Y/N– That's it– Mmmh~" Momo's moans grew more intense, "Y/N, I can't... I can't, I'm going to–"

Her voice cut off as she threw her head back. Her cries of pleasure echoed out in her room. You watched as she squirted onto her phone, her body succumbing to the pleasure you'd given her. That squirt turned you on so much that it sent your hand moving faster around your erection, your shaft slick with precum as you prepared for your own climax. "Fuck– Momo, your voice... I'm gonna c–cum..."

Your bodies were in sync, both of you reaching your peaks, the sounds of your climaxes filling your rooms, your breathing heavy as you both came down from your high. "Momo..." You whispered, your hand still wrapped around your softening dick.

"Y/N..." Momo replied, her voice hazy and spent. "That was... amazing..."

"Momo, I don't want to bother Nayeon, but if it's alright with you, I can come back over, and we can continue from where we left off."

Momo hesitated for a moment. "I... I'd love that. But please, be quiet. Nayeon's a light sleeper."

You chuckled, "Oh no... I'm not sure I'll be able to keep quiet while you're riding me..."

You hung up, quickly slipping into a pair of shorts, throwing your hard–on back into your underwear. You drove back to Momo's apartment, your heart racing as you approached the door. You messaged her to let you know you've arrived. A few soft footsteps later, Momo opened the door, her eyes wide in surprise. "You came back~". Her tone was playful, her gaze traveling down to the bulge in your shorts. You slipped inside, moving with the grace of a stealthy ninja. You smirked, "I'll do my best to be quiet, baby~" you whispered, as you stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you.Momo guided you to her room.

Momo's hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, yanking it down slightly as her hands gripped your erection. She began stroking it slowly. "Mmm... I can't wait to have you inside me, Y/N."

You helped Momo onto the bed, your lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss, your hands trailing down her body, exploring her curves as you kissed her. Your tongue dueled with hers, your bodies eager to have each other. You guided Momo to lie down, your hand moving to her core. "Momo, you ready?"

"Y/N, I've been waiting for you all night..." She replied breathlessly.

You grinned, positioning yourself between her legs. "I'm sorry, I can't quite hear you... Do you want me to take you?"

"Y/N, yes... Take me." Momo's eyes pleading with yours, her body inviting you in.

You lined yourself up with her entrance, letting out a slow but purposeful thrust, your body merging with hers. You both moaned, the pleasure between you unmistakable. Momo's hands gripping your back, her hips meeting with yours.

Pleasure coursed through you both, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin, your thrusts deep, your hips rolling in sync with hers, your bodies lit by the moonlight streaming in from the window, the two of you coming together in a dance of passion. 

"Momo– you feel so good..." you moaned softly as your lips began to claim hers. You both reached for each other, your fingertips digging into her flesh, the two of you locked in each other's gaze, your hips slamming into each other, a carnal symphony of pleasure.

Your breath hitched, your release imminent. "Momo..." you stammered, your thrusts growing faster, your body trembling.

"Y/N... Do it, let go inside me... Fill me up... my dear, Mr. Manager~" Momo encouraged, her eyes bright with lust, the two of you hurtling towards the edge.

You met her gaze, your thrusts hitting harder, your release taking over, your body shuddering, her name escaping your lips, both of you melding together as you came, your body spasms rippling through you, your release coating Momo's insides.

Momo's body shivered, her moans mufflered by your chest, your hearts beating as one. You collapsed on top of her, your breaths heavy and ragged. You gazed into each other's eyes as you two let out a few more sultry moans. Your lips connected once more in a desperate kiss as you hear banging from the next room over.

"FUCK– Y/N– NNNGHH~!"

Both you and Momo turned your heads slowly towards the wall, your mouths hanging in confusion and intrigue.

"Mmmh– Fuck... Shit, I just squirted all over the floor–" the voice suddenly paused, "–wait, can you guys hear me?"

You turned your head away and chuckled as Momo pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes. Nayeon– have you been listening to us the whole time?"

The voice went silent for a little. "Yeah, you kinda woke me up when you guys decided to have phone sex."

You broke out into a hearty laugh, unsure to be embarrassed or amused by the situation. Momo seemed to be playfully annoyed.

"Goddamn– you guys should do this here more often... maybe let me watch... that'd be nice, yeah..."

As Nayeon ran off to grab tissues from the kitchen, you and Momo shared another deep kiss before drifting off to sleep in each others' arms. The following day, you woke up and slowly detangled yourself from Momo so she wouldn't be startled awake. You gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before draping a blanket over her nude body. You made your way to the bathroom to freshen up for the morning. On the way, you pass by Nayeon's room.

"Mmmh– Nngh– Y/N... Just like that..." she seemed to be mumbling something in her sleep. Following your shower, you lent a bathrobe and headed to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. About an hour or so went by and the two girls finally awoke, Momo first and then Nayeon. Momo looked well–rested but Nayeon had an expression you couldn't describe. She stumbled over to the seats at the kitchen counter and waited for Momo to shower.

"Good morning, Nayeon. How was your sleep?"

"Morning Y/N– I mean, Mr. Manager... I take it as only Momo and Jihyo can call you that... but I only managed to sleep at like 3AM."

"I appreciate it, thank you. Oh no, why's that?"

Nayeon rubbed her eyes, before folding her arms on the counter and dropping her head onto them.

"I spent the whole night touching myself... to you."

You froze for a bit, your cheeks flushed. What a forward girl... In a way, you admired her honesty... but maybe some extra PR lessons in case... "W–Well, I'm flattered. But you know my current relationship with Momo, correct?"

She nodded, her eyes struggling to open. "I just wanna listen, is all. It's hot– You're both hot."

Your mouth hung open for a little, unsure of what to say. She's so blunt– Just then, Momo sauntered out of the bathroom, the towel she had on wrapping around her curves. She gave a slight wink before heading back into her room to get changed.

You gestured for Nayeon to head to the showers since Momo is out. She groggily dragged herself off the counter and waddled over to the bathroom. You shook your head slightly, amused at the different personalities of girls you've found yourself managing.

As you laid the breakfast out, Momo waltzed out of her room and walked over to you. She gave the breakfast a big sniff before turning to you and wrapping her arms around your neck. She pulled you into a spicy kiss as your hands gripped onto her waist gently.

"Mmmh~ Good morning, Y/N~ Is all this for me?"

"Well, you've gotta share some of it with Nayeon."

Momo gave you a teasing pout before grabbing a plate and picking which dishes she wanted to take. She playfully wiggled her plump jeans–clad ass in front of you like bait on the end of a fishing line. Tried as you might, but you couldn't resist her allure. You grabbed onto her hips and quickly pulled your cock out from its confines.

"Sorry, Momo... You're just irresistible..."

"Oh–!" Momo gasped as she felt the sudden sensation of your hands on her hips. Her surprise slowly turned into desire as you began to bend her over the counter. She placed her plate on the counter as a smirk appeared on her lips.

Momo let out a low, sultry moan, "Oh, Y/N~" as you freed her from her jeans, her ass now bared for you. You gave it a tight smack before letting your cock prob her entrance, her slick walls eagerly taking you in. Her moans grew louder, her hips gyrating as you slid in and out slowly.

"Ahhh, Y/N~" she cried out, the ruffles on her shirt fluttering. They danced with each thrust as her tits swayed beneath her shirt, the sound of your hips slamming against her plump ass filling the room.

"Mmmm– Fuck, Y/N..." she moaned, her voice shaking. "You feel... so fucking good..." Her words were punctuated by gasping breaths as you slammed into her, the kitchen counter digging into her chest, her breasts bouncing wildly with each thrust.

"Gnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don't stop..." Momo's voice was desperate, her hands clawing at the counter, her body tensing with each thrust.

Your pace was frantic, your thrusts driving her towards ecstasy, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Momo's moans escalating. "Fuck, Momo, I'm close..." you warned, your grip tightening on her hips.

"Y/N... Y/N, let it out... let it out inside me... Pump me full~" She begged, her voice thick with lust.

Hearing her request, you tangled your fingers in her low, messy ponytail and yanked it towards you, her head tilting back as her moans echoed. "Oh my, so rough~"

You hammered into Momo, your climax beginning to flow, the two of you approaching your own orgasms. Her moans grew louder, her body tightening around you. "Momo, I'm cumming..."

"Do it– Do it, baby~" she cried out. With that, your release took over, your thrusts hitting harder, your body shuddering. "Y/N~! Fill me up, Mr. Manager~ Pump all that seed into me~" your name escaping her lips as your release flooded her insides. Her body shivered, her moans muffling against the counter as you came together, your hearts beating as one.

You collapsed on her back, your breaths ragged. You held her close, lost in the afterglow. "Momo, you're incredible, I fucking love you..." you whispered, your heart racing.

The two of you slowly detangled and straightened yourselves out as Nayeon groggily walked out of the bathroom and back into her room. You helped Momo grab a plate of the breakfast you made, your lips connecting once more, your tongues exploring each other, savoring each other's taste. "Let's eat, baby," you said, gently guiding her to the table.

Momo's face was flushed, her eyes bright. "Yes, Y/N– let's eat." She smiled, the two of you sitting down to breakfast, your hands entwining as you enjoyed the morning calm.

Not long later, Nayeon joined the two of you at the table, grabbing her own plate. Her widened eyes suggested that your food tasted amazing. "Damn, Momo– you should have Mr. Manager here more often. We'd be eating so good."

You let out a chuckle as you finished your plate. You looked at Momo and asked if she'd wanted to join you to go run some errands. She nodded excitedly and went to grab her purse. You were left with Nayeon once more.

"Do you wanna come?"

"Oh– uhh, no thanks. I'll stay behind to finish the rest of the breakfast."

You both shared a laugh before Momo walked out with her belongings in hand. You stood up, locked arms with Momo and headed out. The two of you wandered around a nearby shopping mall together as you ran your errands. That was when you saw a familiar face.

"Mina?"

"Momo!"

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[bonniepop]

i watched the haikyuu movie a total of four (4) times in theaters and while i do have my demons to deal with (probably the reason why i watched this movie four (4) times in theaters) kuroo was mighty fine in the film (don't look at me as if it's not true) that i just need something out there for him

so here's something i wrote a LONG time ago (edited of course) but whatever it's still cute. also i'm too lazy to do those titles and shit okay leave me be

—

the first thing kuroo registers before everything starts to make sense is the warmth of the morning sun on his face, the light bright against his eyelids. he grunts and squeezes his eyes, twisting so his face into the shade.

the second thing he registers, as soon as he squints his eyes open, is the bare walls of his room.

no, not his room. his walls weren’t this color, the room not this size. his had paint chips from a volleyball poster on the wall to the left of the bed. this wall one seemed freshly painted. 

and the last thing: a small shift of something, lightly scratching against the bed, and the familiar scent of shampoo. your shampoo.

it’s right then that the puzzle pieces fall into place.

your head is now pressed against his arm, immobile; likely still asleep. kuroo moves with the slightest of movements, shifting little by little so he doesn’t wake you. his mouth twitches into a smile when you breathe a little deeper and release a small snort.

when he’s fully facing you, he gently tucks a lock of your hair behind her ear to look at your face. you're looking down, chin tucked in, because you like to curl up into a ball while you sleeps (a habit he noticed a few nights into moving in together). right now, you're hunched over on your side, knees bent towards your chest, lightly pressing against his front. 

his brushes his knuckles against the slope of your cheek, taking in the color of your skin and the slight part of your mouth as you slumber. they slide over the slant of your nose, brushing lightly over your lips. when he stays too long on your bottom lip, your nose scrunches lightly. he pulls his hand away.

kuroo stares, and all at once he thinks about all the paths his life could’ve followed. all the outcomes, all the situations, of each and every decision of every different scenario. and somehow, he’s here. with you. 

and in your own life, he thinks about what could have happened, how you could’ve chosen different. but in every universe, he always thinks that you meet the same end: together in this bed, the bright morning sun crawling into the room you deemed yours, in your new home. maybe it’s one in a thousand, or one in a million. but in this life, it feels like a miracle.

it makes his heart beat faster, rattling the bones in his chest.

you shift then, as if hearing the shaking of his soul. you uncurl, bringing your hands to your face to rub the back of your hand against your nose, and he catches a glimpse of the ring he put on your finger two weeks ago.

before long, kuroo watches your eyes slowly blink open, and the first thing he wants know to see is the happiness he feels when he sees you.

“good morning,” he rasps, reaching forward help you push you hair away from you face.

“good morning,” you greet, voice rough from sleep, then yawn. you blink a little, waking yourself up further, before smiling up at him.

god, he thinks desperately, lovesick beyond measure. how fucking beautiful.

“what time did you wake up?” you ask. kuroo notices that your ringless hand reaches up to card through his hair.

“like, ten minutes ago, maybe,” he says, taking the hand and kissing your wrist. “i lost track; i woke up and i got confused for a sec.”

your brow wrinkles. “how come?”

he grins in that (lovingly) annoying way of his. “i woke up next to the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen."

you rolls your eyes with a lazy smile, but make no move to pull away. “you’re so lame.”

he hums, pulling your hand to his to link your fingers together, seriousness overcoming him. kuroo isn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but there are a select few who’ve seen the man beneath the smirk.

he never wants to hide from you.

“i’m glad you married me,” he admits with wholehearted affection. “i woke up and forgot where i was, then i just looked around our room and i thought… i’m really lucky to be here.”

your smile slowly falls away, and his heart twists at the way you gaze at him. 

“halfway through getting this room together—our room together,” he continues, pulling your linked fingers together and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “and being here, with you. it… that just made me think about how lucky i really am.

“i just…” he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his heart honest. “i’m so glad you picked me.”

silence fills the room, comfortable yet unbearable at the same time, and he feels your grip tighten around his hand. he opens his eyes and meets your shiny ones, looking at him with enough affection that it makes his stomach flip.

“i’ll always pick you, tetsuro,” you whisper softly, expression sincere and open. “i love you.”

he shifts so he can pull you close, wrapping his other arm around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “thank you,” he says against your skin, his hand searching for yours. the gold band around his finger flashes cold against your skin. "i love you, too."

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we maybe see Snowball Princess reacting to Jin coming back?

Warning for angst, idk why it got angsty

You've never been very good with time.

Even when you were younger, you've always struggled with telling how much time has or will pass. It never got better the older you got- and especially nowadays, you've kind of given up on trying to learn such a skill altogether.

You didn't have to.

Yoongi took care of you- most of the time. When he had to go to his own basic training, you had to stay alone with staff- and that period of time was enough to.. change you, as the producer and rapper notices quite quickly.

You've become.. calmer. Quieter.

In order not to unnerve any of the other members, Yoongi had kept that to himself however- not quite thinking that one trough, since Seokjin’s discharge was still so far away. To him, this change has become the norm by now. He doesn't notice it any longer.

But now, Jin is back. And of course- he wants to see you.

He can't help but smile as he enters his apartment- it's obvious that you've been occupying it occasionally, blankets and pillows and other little items he doesn't remember being there. It's nice to see that you took everyone's invitation and advice to seek out their homes whenever you'd miss any of them- but what he's now curious of, is where are you right now?

Jin worried this would happen at some point with him gone.

He's been one of the people to always manage things so that you'd never feel like a spectator, always trying to include you to make you feel like an important part even if you had to be away from them here and there. But with him gone, these habits must've been neglected- because he can't get a hold of you now.

Yoongi informs him that you're at his place- but that reassurance doesn't last long, because he notices that once he enters the producer's apartment, you're sleeping.

It's not at all your usual routine.

"She.. now that you mention it, she has been sleeping a lot more these days." Yoongi notes, most likely not having noticed this change much since he continued to be close to you the entire time the other members were gone.

But to Jin, who hadn't had that luxury of visiting you often due to both company restrictions and time, the change to him is..

more than drastic.

He wakes you up with a hand on your shoulder, and once you do spot him and realize that he's back, your tail instantly begins to wag. But you don't tackle him down like you would've done before his enlistment period- you instead hug him tightly, simply wanting to be held for the moment.

"You're still sleeping, basically." He teases, though he can't hide his slight concern over it. "Let's have breakfast tomorrow, yeah?" He asks, and you shake your head at that, continuing to cling to him. "Hey- I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" He says, but you stubbornly shake your head. "Well, I guess I'll steal her for the night?" He laughs into Yoongis direction, who simply nods and smiles.

And while Seokjin still worries about the change in you, and what that might mean, tonight, he finally sleeps at home, with you close.

Just how it's supposed to be.

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

Part 2

masterlist

part 1 | 1.2 | part 3

pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory, ambiguous/open ending

2.5k words

author's note: @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay because you asked about part 2 <3

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist - let me know.

——————————————————————————————————

Something inside you has broken.

It seems that for a long time, you were pieces that were temporarily glued together.

In the end, pretending was a good thing.

After all, the one who laughs the loudest internally cries the hardest. 

Since those three days, weeks have passed. And somehow you couldn't move on. Maybe you should ask about that ring on his finger that unexpectedly appeared. Or maybe you should forget, finally move on, start living your life as before and never look back.

And of course, the phone rang every day. The boys, as usual, cared about you, not just him. After all, the captain's orders were to take care of you, too.

Even if he said those words so long ago. Before.

Do you think these waters will ever be shallower? That the current of the river, will carry you away and let you swim inertly to another shore? Or will you drown in the mud and your body sink inertly to the bottom. Forgotten. Left until your flesh rots, disintegrates eaten by river creatures.

His warm hands gently hold your waist. Keeping you from falling off the chair. Even though this is November outside it's already exceptionally cold. It even snowed lightly today. However, there was no longer any sign of it now.

You try to concentrate on decorating the tree, but the presence of a man in your flat is slightly overwhelming.

You let him. You accepted it all. Feeling inside, somewhere deep under your ribs, that this is madness. But despite everything, this discomfort, the smile doesn't leave your face.

You look down at him, his hands still holding your hips. Maybe you can stay like this for a while longer. You feel safe. Wanted. Needed. Belonged to someone.

”I'll turn on the lights”

he says finally helping you off the chair. You take a few steps away to get a better view.

Your first Christmas together. Never mind that it's just the two of you. And you don't mind that it's November.

What matters is that someone finally put your broken pieces together.

He was just yours.

In a few days he had to go on a mission. For unknown amount of time.

So this year Christmas came sooner. And you glance at him as he looks at the decorated Christmas tree with pride written on his face. To turn his gaze to you with the same delight.

”Somethin' wrong?”

You don't answer, blushing slightly. No one has ever looked at you like that.

”Nothing”

you mumble embarrassed

”You look nice in that Christmas sweater” you reply and reluctantly glance back at tree.

”Do you like snowmen, dove?”

The phone rings. It rings nonstop. A familiar picture appears on the screen.

That's right, today is Wednesday.

You allow yourself not to answer.

Several times.

Finally, you slide your finger across the screen.

"Everythin’ okay?"

Kyle, as usual without greeting, gets straight to the point

"I've been waiting for an hour and you're not here. Do you want me to come get you?"

Silence.

"Or maybe I should call Simon?"

That will do.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

You sigh, slowly letting the air out, as if you've been holding it in your lungs for the last few minutes. You quickly take the keys and leave the cold apartment.

You let him hold your hand. Maybe it's weakness. Maybe longing. Or maybe selfishness.

When the therapy is over and you're sitting in his car, you see a Tupperware container in the back seat. You know very well what it means.

"Jessica thought you'd be hungry. You know how she is.  She always cooks too much, and Captain won't eat it all himself” Kyle hands you a heavy container and a spoon

"How long?"

You don't dare raise your eyes, heavy eyelids close for a moment. The world starts spinning again. You don't want to hear that she is there again. Why is she there. After all, it was your home too. Never hers.

But of whom you want to make a fool, you know very well the reason.

"Two weeks." Kyle looks through the windshield, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel

"Friday will be three years from-"

"Don't."

You speak quickly and dryly. You don't want to hear it. You know perfectly well that Friday is the anniversary of the accident.

You should be the one standing in the kitchen. It should be you. There.

"Should I drive you back to your apartment? One of the guys will drive the car back later."

You don't answer, your eyelids are heavy. It's as if they've stuck together and don't want to give you even a hint of light. Any comfort of a still bright day.

Drowning. To sink into the darkness. In an abyss of pain. Rot and suffer. This is your destiny. Forgotten.

"Hey, do you want to talk? Maybe someone should stay with you for the next few days?"

Kyle looks at you, sees your gray, tired face. The dark circles under your eyes. Hair that hasn't been cared for by a stylist in years. Fallen cheeks and chapped lips. Someone else is sitting in that car. It's not you anymore.

When you finally get back to your place, you toss the food container into the trash can and, still in your coat and shoes, lie down on the couch, in the living room. You stare dully at the blank wall, hoping that maybe sleep will come now.

It was better with you before, you were already walking on that straight path. Without stumbling, colors appeared on the sides. The sun was rising more and more for you. But again, a shadow that hid somewhere behind you covered your silhouette. Leaning heavily on your shoulders.

Late in the afternoon, when night slowly replaced day, and red and pink colours dance on the walls in the room, you finally fall asleep.

And again, a nightmare comes. You wish you could wake up and stay awake, stare at the ceiling and not have to relive it all over again. Maybe insomnia was some kind of cure for you. An escape.

And here you are in this place. Another broken promise. Once again you are doing something against yourself. You're sitting in the guest room on fresh evenly laid sheets.

In his home.

But when the phone rang in the middle of the night and on the other end you heard from, none other than Ghost (not to be confused with Simon, at that moment he is speaking to you as a soldier, the Captain). So it wasn't even a request. Just a command. Since John's memory had improved considerably since your last visit, along with the doctors, Ghost decided that you would stay with him this time for longer. Due to the fact that Johnny was injured and needed time to rest. Ghost and Gaz went on missions together. This time, to your misfortune, for a few weeks. And Jessica with kids couldn't stay for longer. Everyone had their own responsibilities. So you were chosen. The last option.

When you arrived, John wasn't there yet, he was going to rehab on Thursdays. So you got a few more hours of freedom before he returned. However, something paralyzed you to leave the room. The suitcase stood next to the bed, still unpacked.

The smell in the house, despite such a long time and so many different people who came in every now and then, remained the same. Cigars and burning wood from the fireplace.

Overwhelming. Now suffocating.

And those damn beige walls. Boring, nauseating. But eventually, it had to be repainted, three years ago these four walls witnessed your darkest moments in life.

Maybe it's better to sleep downstairs in the living room.

When John returns and enters the house, everything happens as if you were a different person - a spectator sitting in the front row, watching with bated breath the scene being played out. A scene from the movie called your life.

John puts his keys down on the dresser in the hallway, walks into the living room looks at the already made-up couch and turns in your direction with surprise. And you stand still with a wooden spoon in your hand, not even blinking.

"Oh there you are darling. Are we supposed to have guests tonight?"

You answer absolutely nothing, still standing motionless at the kitchen island, dismayed to see him slowly walk towards you.

And as if nothing ever happened, he grabs you lightly, squeezing your hip, and leans down to kiss your forehead. The kiss seems to last an eternity. It's almost like he's been kissed you for the first time.

He always did that when he came back to you.

But that was then. It was never - after.

"Somethin' wrong?"

He moves away from you and smiles gently, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

You finally gain some strength in yourself and despite the unreality of the whole situation, which seems as if your brain is playing with you and replaying a scene from the past.

You finally nod slowly, in denial.

"I'll change and help you, I'm exhausted after today's new exercises. But I'm pretty flexible considering my age."

Saying this he smiles wider.

"And how was your day, at work?"

The wooden spoon fell to the countertop with a bang. Echoing in the room.

Mumbling apologetic words, you quickly evade him. You say something about a forgotten business, about making an urgent phone call.

You don't know who to call. Your hands are shaking and wet with sweat. ''It didn't happen.'' you mumble to yourself. Someone who was in charge of your life was a fucking prankster . Every time it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a new unknown and unannounced thing popped up from around the corner. A bloody joke.

Finally deciding to call Johnny, even though he was recently injured and supposed to be resting, you had to hear someone's familiar voice. Something that confirms that you have your feet on the ground. Something that makes you reassure yourself that you're not crazy.

After two signals he picks up and when he hears your frightened voice when you tell him about the situation from a moment ago.  Johnny will be here in two hours.

It's nothing that the wound on his thigh hasn't healed yet. Because if his Captain has finally regained his memory. He would, even if he had to walk 1,000 miles barefoot. He would do it without hesitation.

Just to have him back.

So you had to face John somehow, waiting for those two hours. And that seemed to be no easy thing to do. Because you no longer knew what awaited you on the other side of the beige bedroom. Who was the man who just a few weeks ago, every time he saw you, didn't recognize you and asked the same questions.

Was this the old, kindest John, the one you fell in love with many years ago.Was it even still possible, or was what you heard a few minutes ago some kind of error in his hollow, broken memory.

And again, the same scenery. How many times will it all be the same almost so familiar, and in truth so distant and foreign.

John's already dressed in more comfortable clothes, a plain plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and comfortable old, slightly rubbed jeans.

You stand in the threshold of the kitchen nervously clutching the phone, holding it as if it were some sort of lifeline, a connection to something that will save you. Well, from what, exactly? From a man who acts as if the last years, that tragedy never happened, and your marriage continued uninterrupted. Happily.

"Why don't we eat on the terrace? It's a really nice afternoon today."

John is standing at the countertop, his back turned to you cheerfully humming tunes known only to himself.

And you, you stand praying that by some miracle Johnny will get here sooner.

Despite your fatigue after a day's work, you cheerfully bustle around the kitchen, preparing a late supper. John was supposed to come back today, even though it had only been a week. The longing for him was great. Especially since just 3 weeks ago you had written in the documents, different name. Now, you proudly looked at your finger many times a day, seeing no longer an engagement ring. But something much more important.

A gold wedding ring.

Mrs. Price.

Not only was his return a cause for celebration, there was something else.

Once dinner is ready, the table is a bit over-decorated. The room, and practically the whole house, is illuminated only by the candles that have been set up. You stand nervously in the kitchen in your hands holding a small gift bag.

The dress is rather too elegant, as well. But you want this moment to be special, unique. Unforgettable.

Finally, this long-listened-for sound is interrupted by the only oddity you hear - the beating of your own heart.

John stands in the threshold with astonishment

"Honey? What's-?"

Slowly you hear his heavy footsteps, and after a moment you see him. A tired face, this time with longer facial stubble than usual. He is still dressed in a dirty tactical uniform. You don't even want to know what he witnessed in his absence.

He walks up to you and, as usual, one hand rests on your hip gently squeezing it and a warm kiss lands on your forehead.

"Some celebration? don't tell me I forgot about some important anniversary."

John looks up at you, despite his fatigue, his eyes shining happily illuminated by the candlelight.

"No, you haven't forgotten anything. It's something else."

Speaking, you grab a colorful bag and hand it to him

"A gift? oh, that means it is some positive occasion for me. For us?"

You smile nervously waiting for him to see what's inside.

Definitely a very positive news.

Time passes slowly. It's as if someone has pressed the slow motion button on the remote control to see the details better.

John, still in a good mood, finishes preparing the meal and finally turns in your direction and looks at you

"White or red?"

You bite your lower lip, feeling a coppery aftertaste in your mouth.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why is this happening again?"

Slowly saying these words, you look at his hands, which he wipes inattentively.

"But, what's the matter? I wanted to help you with dinner, dove. And I asked what kind of wine you wanted to drink. That's all."

With each step he takes toward you, you back away until you hit the wall.

"Tomorrow you will forget everything again, I don't have the strength anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Again."

John stands close, much too close.

"How could I forget my biggest sweetheart? My beautiful wife? There's no way I'll ever forget you."

You finally lift your gaze, and look into his eyes. Hoping to see the same spark he once had, long ago.

However, all you see is emptiness. A faded blue.

And the only thought in your mind is for Johnny to hurry up and rescue you from this nightmare.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 5

Contents: pre-relationship headcanons, slow burn, pining, humour

By the time you both leave the cafe, the streetlights have come on and the wind births small eddies, their burden of leaves swirling in dusty corners. You haven't nearly exhausted all the things you want to say to him, but something about this quiet walk home sparks something reverential in you. So, you'll let the evening spin a web of secrets around you, for now. It feels better to keep it that way.

Nanami stays close to you, his eyes trained on the pavement. His manner, so hard for you to read just a few months ago, is now familiar enough that you can see he is experiencing some internal struggle. You close your eyes momentarily, as you know full well what he must be considering.

Taking a small breath, you point out the car that he had called earlier. It is parked at the kerb, sleek, gleaming and slightly threatening in the dim light. You don't want to slip into the cool interior just yet, away from the inexplicable lightness being close to him brings. He stops abruptly, some distance still between the both of you and the car.

"Are you cold?"

"No. Not now."

You don't mean for the words to sound quite like they do. Nanami is silent before checking his watch and clearing his throat.

"I suppose our evening together ends here."

"We're still traveling in the same car."

He catches your teasing smile and raises an eyebrow.

"I suppose you're right. However, there's something I'd like to ask before we go."

"And that is?"

"Whether you'd like to visit another cafe with me next week."

The words come out of his mouth with uncharacteristic stiffness, slightly rushed. He eyes you as if from behind a shield composed of finest steel, a hint of longing hidden well beneath.

"I would certainly like that."

His shoulders drop slightly.

"You would?"

"You sound surprised."

"It's only polite to ask, of course."

"So you knew what my answer would be, for sure? Is that what you're saying?"

"Well, no -"

He clamps his lips together tightly and you laugh softly, taking a step towards him beneath the unsteady light of the old streetlamp. Something about how the tables seem to have turned in the past few minutes emboldens you.

"What about the time after that?"

"You've already decided then?"

"Should I not?"

"Well, what if it turns out that you don't actually like my company."

"I don't think there's any danger of that."

"What if I - " he paused and considers the car ahead of you, the corners of his eyes tight. "What if ... work gets in the way?"

You suddenly feel as if you're both standing on the deck of a flimsy raft in a turbulent sea. All the softness, the sweetness, the hushed longing of that afternoon, seems awfully fragile under the impending wave of his own pragmatism. Feeling the wind pick up around you, catching at your hair, you are fully aware of how tenderly you are looking at him. If you don't speak now, you would regret it later.

"You know, today I thought a lot about how simple our meal was. Just a few things, put together. I ... think I like simplicity. No, I always have. Good food can give you temporary comfort. You know what I mean. When you're exhausted and drained and want to forget everything else, there's something warm and inviting, that's waiting just for you."

He is silent, but in a way that lets you know he is taking in every word you say.

"And often, I don't know what tomorrow may hold. I think ... that sorcerers like you must feel that even more keenly. But even if I don't know, I still have some consistency in my day. I know that I have something small to look forward to, something that fills me and gives me strength."

You meet his gaze, pushing the words out before your burst of courage deserts you entirely.

"So, what I mean to say is, don't think too much about what may happen at work tomorrow, or the day after. If we have to re-schedule, that will be fine. Because ... I do enjoy your company and I hope you enjoy mine. And it's that simple for me."

Your words have almost failed you this time, but you stand there, holding your ground, willing him to understand what you're trying to convey. He looks back at you, and this time, the raw emotion, the hesitancy, the desire to do the right thing, is so evident in his eyes.

You think of the name he mentioned, the friend he had spoken of in the past tense. You knew, on some level, that this was something only Nanami could decide, no matter how badly you wanted more.

When you smile at him, there is no pain there. There is, instead, a soft blossoming in your chest that whispers your answer to you; that you can only ever want this man to be as comfortable and as happy as he could be. Nanami watches your lips, and then your eyes and he is drinking you in, as if he has seen something he can barely comprehend.

"Nanami, it's getting cold out here. Let's head in. You can message me if you want to go somewhere else soon."

You pat his sleeve lightly, the spell that has woven itself around the two of you evaporating, leaving traces of something solid and steadfast. As you turn to head to the car, his voice arrests you.

"Kento."

"Pardon?"

"Please refer to me as Kento from now on."

"Oh."

In spite of everything that's passed between you two today, it's this, of all things, that brings your mind to a shuddering halt.

"Well ... then it's only fitting that you call me ... "

When he says your name, cutting you off before you finish, you stare at him. Now your heart feels as if it has ceased to function entirely. Nanami, no, Kento, steps forward and past you, drawing you along in his wake. His voice holds something new, a different quality of warmth.

"Thank you for today. I'll find a good place for us to visit next time."

When he leans forward to open the door for you, his breath mingles with yours, and you think that you can almost taste the soft exhalation.

You feel unaccountably restless over the next few days. When you're at home, your hands are always occupied with something, whether cooking, cleaning or simply fidgeting with the corner of the blankets as you fail to fall asleep. Your mind is racing a mile a minute and shows no sign of slowing down. You wish your own thoughts would allow you a moment of rest.

Now, you know. You can finally shove open that mental door, even though the splinters catch in your skin and leave you raw and delirious.

He does feel ... something. He may even feel the same way, the same intense passion and longing. How can you even process this development? In all the years of your adult life, you have never experienced something like this. This is so much more than the obsessive quality of first love, so much more than a workplace crush, which you have certainly experienced before.

Why? Why did humans have to feel so intensely, to the point that it hurt, as if a javelin molded from purest, scorching sunlight had pierced your chest; an injury that had left you bleeding a viscous, golden ichor that you wanted to collect in your palms and pour over your joined bodies?

Ironically, what gives you a sense of stillness and serenity is the image of him you have committed to memory in that shining time. The smooth planes of his suit, the way the burnished collar pins caught and reflected the light against the clearcut lines of his jaw and neck. The small traces of shadow under each eye. The way he paid attention to how he occupied space, the natural strength and grace with which he moved. You can recall clearly the way his honeyed gaze caught and held yours, as if there was no shame in such an intimate glance, his darker lashes painting soft shadows against his cheeks in the afternoon sun. The hint of faint freckles on the backs of his hands.

It's when you allow yourself to move on from that image, when you remember that you'll have many more such images of him to refer to in your mind's eye (possibly), that the vicious cycle of restlessness returns.

The weekend arrives and you have plans. Plans to stay in and indulge in ordering takeout and catching up on your reading. The weather forecast promises rain and cold weather, something you don't particularly mind.

The last few days have been stressful. A large-scale exorcism of cursed spirits in an underground shopping centre had taken place and several younger sorcerers had sustained injuries. Fortunately, there had been no fatalities. You had been in charge of organizing the paperwork for their medical treatment.

As you return from a short run to the grocery store, rivulets of water pouring from the creases of your umbrella and raincoat onto the entryway floor, you notice a message notification silently awaiting your attention. The way your stomach clenches with pleasant anticipation tells you just how spoiled you have become. Expecting a message from the man who occupies your thoughts endlessly is certainly something that wouldn't have crossed your mind before. He has sent a simple question.

"Are you busy?"

Wait, what? Surely, he wouldn't want to meet in this kind of weather?

Shaking your head to clear it, you answer.

"Yes. Just got back home from the store."

His reply comes shortly after.

"Is it all right if I give you a call in a short while?"

"Sure."

Well, this was a new development. You hurriedly put the groceries away, wondering what he wanted to speak about. Within fifteen minutes, your phone rings. Towelling off your damp hair, you perch on the sofa in front of your space heater.

"Kento?"

There is silence on the other end.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Ah, I can hear you just fine."

His voice pours into your ear like soft, mellow hickory smoke. You hadn't realised how much you'd desired to hear it again, until now.

"How are you doing? Were you deployed on that mission a few days ago?"

"Yes, I oversaw a few exorcisms. I heard there were several injuries in the other locations."

"Nothing serious, thankfully. Was Yuuji with you?"

"No. He was out with Gojo on a different task." He pauses. "I didn't call you to talk about work."

You can't control the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh?"

"No. I wanted to know how your weekend is going."

"Very slowly. Just the way I like it."

"Just wait until Sunday."

You laugh at his foreboding tone. 

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes. There's a strange warping effect on Sunday evenings. Like some kind of hiccup in the space-time continuum that makes those last few hours of freedom vanish into thin air."

"Haven't you found a remedy for that yet?"

"Have you?"

"Yes, actually. I have a Sunday evening self-care routine that drags the time out forever."

"I'm not too familiar with self-care."

"I can tell."

"Do you admire my resilience?"

"Not really."

"How harsh."

"Listen, if you've never felt the scrape of a good exfoliator or inhaled the scent of jasmine tea while massaging essential oils into your skin, you haven't really lived, Kento."

"I don't particularly trust essential oils."

"Oh no. Have they offended you?"

"Terribly. I once fought a cursed user who smelt as if he'd bathed in peppermint oil."

"Ugh. Hardly blame you then. How about you come up with something that involves no herbal remedies?"

The silence on the other end is longer this time, and when he speaks, the softness in his tone sends a spear of heat straight down through the core of you.

"I think I've found a good distraction."

Somehow, you're able to reply.

"I thought I said you should find something that involves no herbal remedies."

"Are you going to force feed me peppermint oil?"

"Possibly."

He waits for a while before answering, and when he does, his tone carries more weight.

"There's something you said, the day we had supper together. I wanted to tell you my thoughts on that."

You're silent, nervous. Had you spoken too brazenly that day?

"You said that you liked simplicity. That temporary comforts could bring happiness and make us feel better."

"I did."

"Hmm. My thoughts on that are ... conflicted. On the one hand, I agree. Small comforts are important in our lives. I like simplicity too. But what are small comforts without meaning behind them? I want to give all of my actions meaning, so that there can be no mistaking their purpose."

"What is your purpose, Kento?"

He doesn't hesitate this time.

"I want to spend more time with you. More than the occasional lunch. I want to know more about you, and I want you to know me. In a way that's more than a temporary comfort. It's not about what's proper. It's about what's right. I think you know by now that I don't take half-measures when it comes to things that are ... meaningful to me."

The straightforward quality of his words is like a nail pinning down the elusive nature of that dance you both have been conducting up until now. You almost lose the ability to speak, one hand clutching the arm of the sofa hard. There is an uncontrollable feeling, like hysteria, but not quite, rising in your chest. You hope that your voice isn't as hoarse with emotion as it sounds to you.

"I want to know you too, Kento. That would mean a great deal to me."

His relief is palpable.

"Then that's what we'll do from now on."

There is another pause, but this one is different. It's full of promise, a breath taken before diving deeper than either of you have before. Surprisingly, you find that you're the first one to break it.

"Want to start by telling me something about yourself? Something that I definitely don't know?"

"Hmm. I actually like the ridiculous hat that Yuuji bought me at the fair. The one we visited the other week."

"I asked you to tell me something that I don't know."

"You could tell that I liked it?"

"Kento, you showed it off to Gojo. And you enjoyed telling him that it was a limited edition just to see how disappointed you could make him."

"You're describing some kind of sadist."

"Yes. I'm describing you."

"Ah, very well. Here's something you're definitely not aware of."

"Well?"

"I like the way you say my name."

This absolute devil. For such a proper man, he certainly knew how leave you tongue-tied and flustered.

"Do you think if I say it often enough, the effect might wear off?"

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound.

"I suppose we'll have to test that theory."

@tsukimefuku @kentocalls @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 8

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

You and Benedict spent the previous night talking until it was well late into the night. He escorted you back to your home to ensure nothing bad happened to you. No one had seen, of course, since all of the Ton was asleep.

Before stepping back into your home, you gave Benedict a hug, "You will always be my dearest friend, Ben. Never forget that."

He swallowed down the deep rooted desire to inform you of his affections. He can't. He mustn't. No matter how much he's been wanting to for so long.

_____________________

Because James was a friend of Simon and Daphne's, the Duchess decided to throw a celebratory ball at the Clyvedon Castle for your engagement. You tried to decline, but Daphne, much like her mother, is very persistent and convincing. You, Aunt Eliza, James, Auggie, and Daphne all rode back to Clyvedon together.

You had only gone to the castle once and that was for the ball Daphne held after she and Simon married. It was just as beautiful as you remembered.

Simon was there ready to greet his wife and son with open arms.

Daphne steps out of the carriage with the coachman's help, Auggie asleep in her arms.

Simon smiles as he approaches his wife, kissing her head and looking down at his son, "Back in my arms again."

He looks past Daphne and gives you and your aunt a nod, "I see you have come back with a few more guests than when you left, my love," he gives Daphne a teasing look.

She rolls her eyes at her husband, "I wrote to you informing of our added guests as well as the ball I plan to hold here in honor of James and Y/N's engagement."

Simon sighs, "I've yet to read this morning's letters. I have been busy."

Daphne gives him an understanding nod and the stands to the side as Simon walks over to you, your aunt, and James.

"Congratulations to you both. Excuse me for my surprise to your arrival, Y/N. I have been behind on my letters."

"I understand, Your Grace. And thank you for allowing my aunt and myself to stay here up until the ball."

"You are a friend of Daphne's, Y/N. You are always welcome here." he looks over his shoulder and gestures to the housekeeper, "Mrs. Colson, here, will show you to your rooms. I will let you all rest until dinner. Now if you excuse me, I'd like to spend some time with my family."

"Of course, Your Grace. Thank you again for your hospitality," Aunt Eliza says with a bow and watches with a smile as Simon escorts Daphne and Auggie inside.

James looks at you with soft eyes, "Would you like to take a walk around the grounds after you rest?"

"I'd enjoy that very much," he tips his hat to you and your aunt, "I shall see you later then." He then heads inside the castle to get some rest for himself.

________________________

"Benedict, I know this must be painful for you, but you need to show face! If not for Y/N then at least for Daphne," Violet Bridgerton looks at her second son as if he'd grown a second head.

Benedict had just informed his family that he will not be attending the ball Daphne is holding for you and Lord Montclair.

"I apologize, mother, but I already have prior engagements."

"What prior engagements?"

Benedict looks at his mother and the rest of his siblings. He sits up, "Well, I have an interview with the headmaster of an art academy."

"That's amazing, brother!" Hyacinth exclaims in excitement.

"Which academy?" Anthony asks.

"One in France."

"France?!" Gregory's jaw drops, "How did you get an interview?"

"I wrote a letter to them and a friend put in a good word for me."

Anthony scoffs, "You let a friend help you and it is fine. But when I help you, you get upset."

"This friend didn't use money to help my case, brother," Benedict practically sneers. He's clearly still a bit upset about Anthony practically buying his way into the academy. But this time, Benedict's work, determination, and Henry Granville's word, helped him. Not Anthony's money and status as Viscount.

"Well, I suppose I cannot be upset by that. Well done, Benedict."

He grins at Violet, "Thank you, mother."

___________________

Daphne was meant to be a duchess. Violet truly taught her well, you think, as you watch her list off orders and demands to Mrs. Colson and staff. You let her do her thing, occasionally answering questions in regards to what color theme you wanted, the flower arrangements, the entertainment, etc. Other than that, Daphne took the reigns of it all. You admired the young woman.

"Shall we take a break?" Daphne asks as she guides you to the balcony that overlooks the grounds. Some glasses of lemonade are out waiting for you both.

You both sit and sip from your glasses. You sigh, "You were truly meant for this life, Daphne. You fill the role so well."

"Soon you will be in a position similar to mine," she states with a smile.

You let out a deep breath, looking out to the grounds, "Yes, I suppose I will be. I am not sure I am as well prepared as you are."

"I'm sure your aunt has done the best she could. However, if you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them." She shoots you a grin.

You chuckle, "You might regret that, Your Grace."

"Ah, I was wondering where my fiancée had gone," you hear the marquess say as he steps onto the balcony. Fiancée. It was so odd that you were a fiancée now. Even weirder that your husband to be isn't a certain Bridger-no. You mentally scold yourself for thinking about Benedict. You need to not think of him anymore. You and he are not meant to be. Not now. Not ever.

You look up at him from your seat, "Yes. We were just taking a break from planning the ball. To be honest, Daphne is doing majority of the work. Also, I hope you don't mind, but I chose lavender as the colors."

"Not at all. I think you'd look beautiful in the color," James smiles at you and you can't help but shy from his gaze.

You clear your throat, "Yes, it is one of my favorite colors so if you are not fond of it, then we might have to rethink this marriage." You respond playfully, causing the marquess and duchess to chuckle.

"You are a funny one, mon cher," he looks to Daphne, "Is it alright if I steal her away for some time together?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Daphne says as she stands. She smooths out her dress and pats James' arm, "I should get back to planning anyway." She nods to both of you and enters her home, leaving you two alone.

James occupies the spot Daphne previously resided, "I should let you know that my family will also be attending this ball. I figured now would be the best time rather than at the wedding."

You nod, "Of course. I'd love to meet them. Both your parents and sisters will be in attendance?"

"That is correct. I must warn you, my sisters can be rather mischievous," he smirks at you and you giggle.

"Oh, I have experience with mischievous. Growing up with the Bridgertons has made me quite familiar with mischievous."

"My sisters will love you then. They are twins. Both ten and two. My mother does her best to raise them as young ladies, but," he shrugs with a guiltily, "I like to show them a few tricks here and there."

You laugh, "I can imagine the scoldings your mother gives you for teaching your sisters such 'un-ladylike' behavior."

He shrugs again, "I tend to be a bit more progressive in the notion of what women can and cannot do."

"That's...that's very relieving to here, my Lord."

"And why is that?"

You didn't plan on telling James your secret until well after you two married. However, an opportunity to come clean has presented itself. You've come to learn that James is kind, understanding, loving, compassionate, and open to the idea of women having more freedom.

Previously, you were apprehensive about telling James your secret, that you were writing under a man's name to publish your work. But now, you felt even more relieved and comfortable to know he most likely wouldn't treat you differently because you are pursuing your passion.

You let out a deep breath and reach out to James, placing your hand on his, "I must confess something to you."

"Yes?"

You open your mouth to confess, but you're interrupted as Mrs. Colson steps out, "Pardon me, miss, but her Grace has asked for you."

You nod, "Alright. I shall be with her in a moment."

Mrs. Colson retreats and you groan, "I must admit that I've lost my nerve now."

James places his other hand atop yours, "It's alright. Whenever you are ready to tell me, I shall listen with an open mind and heart."

You lean in and kiss his cheek, "I truly don't deserve you, my Lord."

He grins and stands, holding his hand out to you, "Come. Let's not keep the duchess waiting." you two walk together, hand in hand to meet with Daphne.

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 7

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 7 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Rosie had arranged for Hal to escort you across town for the event.  

“You'd be an easy target, all gussied up and fancy looking,” she'd explained.  “And Alastor is nothing if not a gentleman.  He'll see ya’ home safe.”

So Hal had put on a bow tie and his least blood stained trousers and the two of you had set off towards the Hazbin Hotel.  It took longer than expected thanks to your heels making the pitted sidewalks an absolute terror to negotiate, but a good number of people were still entering the hotel by the time you arrived.  

“Ya’ got knives on ya?’” Hal grumbled.  

“I've got two in my purse, one strapped to my leg, and Ms. Rosie leant me her sharpest hat pin,” you say, reaching up to fiddle with the accessory in question.  

“Attagirl,” Hal says, squeezing the arm laced through his in approval as you passed through the gates and meandered along the cobblestone driveway.  Hal prattled on as you drew closer to the entrance, seemingly overflowing with paternal advice, but it was hard to focus on his words over the thundering of your heartbeat in your chest.

“- and a kick to the pussy hurts just as much as a kick to the dick.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmured distractedly, reaching into your beaded pearl clutch to pull out the invitation with shaking hands.  

You handed it to the doorman, some sort of egg-like creature with a large chunk of shell missing from the top of its head, providing a clear view of a pulsating yolk where its brain should be.  The egg man called out your name to the uncracked egg beside him, who scribbled on a clipboard wildly before shooting you a dopey smile and thumbs up.

“Don't stay out too late,” Hal said gruffly, patting your hand reassuringly as he released your arm.  “You're opening tomorrow.”

Alone for the first time since the sun came up, you decided to linger in the lobby of the hotel for a bit before following the garishly flashing signs directing visitors to the rear garden.  

With as deep a breath as your girdle would allow, you grasped the back of a wing back chair and gave yourself permission to panic, hoping that briefly indulging your baser instincts would clear your mind enough to stay focused on the task of surviving an entire afternoon on the Radio Demon's arm.  

A few minutes and an uncountable amount of breaths later, you felt the knot in your chest loosen and heartbeat slow to an acceptable rate; still fast, but as good as your were likely to get walking into an event that would likely draw out some of the most powerful demons the Pride Ring had to offer.  

“Whatcha doin’ in here, toots?”

Adrenaline crashes through your veins, undoing all of progress you'd made in centering yourself as you spin to face the man addressing you.  You recognized him, of course.  Not because you'd personally watched any of his many works, but because of the plethora of billboards bearing his face and other, more delicate parts, that loomed tall over every corner of the city.  

“The garden party is, y'know, in the garden,” Angel Dust said, tone acerbic as he rested a full watering can on a jutting hip.  “So what're sneaking around her for?”

“I'm not sneaking,” you rush to defend yourself, fiddling with the cuff of your sleeve nervously.  “I'm just… lurking.”

“Ain't too sure there's much of a difference between the two.”

“Sneaking implies some sort of underlying mischief.  I assure you that I'm simply waiting here.”

“Oh?  And what're you waiting for?” Angel Dust asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he crossed one set of arms across his chest.

“An excuse to leave,” you say dryly, casting a wary glance out the open double doors leading out to the patio.  Something about your response seemed to set Angel Dust at ease, because the next time you looked at him he was smirking down at you, suddenly more amused than distrustful. 

“You and me both, girlie,” he snorted, unfolding his multitude of hands to smooth down nonexistent creases in his floral halter top and leather hot pants.  “I can't stand all this hoity-toity bullshit.  It's exhausting playing nice with folks who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.”

“I think I'd rather burn anyway,” you said, wrinkling your nose distastefully at the thought.

“No promises, but I'll keep your preferences in mind,” Angel Dust snorted, beckoning you down the hallway with a wave of his willowy arm.  “Why don't you come outside with me?  I'll show you the best parts of the garden- all the ones I planted, of course.”

The gardens at the Hazbin Hotel could be generously described as eclectic; an absolutely miss-matched and uncoordinated array of plants that honestly had no business being in the same hemisphere as each other, let alone the same garden bed. 

“Charlie had the grand idea of givin’ everyone their own chunka’ land to cultivate,” Angel explained, pointing at various sections of the garden.  “Husky put in the lemon tree so he can have fruit to stock the bar with and all the goddamn mint that won't stay where it fucking belongs!”

A surly looking catman casually flipped off Angel as you passed by, likely the one responsible for unleashing the minty scourge if Angel Dust's playful sneer was anything to go by.  

“Satan below, I love that man,” Angel sighed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray before continuing down the rough cobblestone path. “Anyway , all these pretty blossoms belong to moi-”

You nodded in sincere appreciation.  “They're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Course they are!  They take after their daddy,” Angel Dust cooed, blowing kisses at a cluster of puffy white chrysanthemums.  

“I didn't know Earth flowers could even grow down here,” you murmured quietly, struck nearly breathless by the beauty of the blossoms.

“They can't.  Not naturally, anyway,” Angel explained, flicking an aphid off the petal of a perfectly symmetrical dahlia.  “But having Lucifer constantly hangin’ around definitely comes with some perks.”

“I didn't think I'd ever get to see them again,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to banish the tears welling in your eyes, frustrated at how they made your vision blur when you wanted to remember everything with sharp, crystal clarity. 

“It's like seein’ an old friend again, innit?” Angel smiled knowingly, having gone through a similar experience when the scraggly stalks he'd obsessively tended had sent out their first, tentative buds.  “Now, c'mon.  You gotta see the rest of this place.  Shit starts gettin’ fuckin’ bizarre.”

‘Fucking bizarre’ didn't even scratch the surface of describing the rest of the garden tour.  Your next stop was Princess Charlotte’s sad plot of withered and wilted plants. 

“She bought every half-dead plant at the nursery.  Thought she could rehabilitate ‘em,” Angel had explained with a long suffering sigh. “I don't wanna talk about the symbolic implications of that, if ya’ don't mind.”

The next section was a barren stretch of land without a single plant.  Rising from the ground instead were hundreds of insects skewered on sharpened sticks; everything from tiny house flies on toothpicks to large horned beetles impaled on whittled down twigs. 

“Niffty,” Angel Dust had offered up with a helpless shrug, as though the single name provided any sort of reasonable explanation for the eerie tableau.  Deciding that you didn't actually want Angel Dust to expound on the situation, you simply nodded and continued on your way down the row.  

The air quickly soured as you left Niffty's sacrificial plot, the ground on either side of the path softening with every step; eventually shifting into a churning, fetid swamp.  The understated appeal of the shoulder high cattails and thick swaths of pillowy moss were lost on you, distracted as you were, by the thick cloud of gnats that swarmed the area. 

“Whose area is this?” You grumbled peevishly, swatting at the bugs flittering around your face. 

“Why, this area is my handiwork,” Alastor's familiar voice called out from behind you.  Both you and Angel Dust visibly stiffened at his sudden appearance, turning in unison to face the Overlord.  

“Alastor,” Angel Dust greeted flatly.  “What're you doin’ all the way out here?  Don't you have some rich schmuck to schmooze?”

“Always,” Alastor sighed dramatically.  “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“You must never fuckin’ sleep then,” Angel groused, folding his many arms in front of himself defensively.  

Alastor ignored his barb and instead extended a hand out towards you, wiggling his fingers expectantly.  

“Come along now, dear.  I'm not sure how you managed to slip by me, but you've deprived me of your company long enough.”

“Wait a minute,” Angel bellowed incredulously, eyes impossibly wide as he watched you place your hand tentatively into Alastor's; his spindly fingers clamping around yours like a vice as he guided you closer to his side.  “You're Alastor's guest?”

“She's a fair bit more than that,” Alastor grinned, undeniably smug as he guided your small hand into the crook of his arm; turning his head to give you an unmistakable, pointed look.

The performance has begun.

Tag List:

For the first time ever I have been requested to create a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added!

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, ImpulseSV, 6/12/24

((If you caught the excerpt from this I posted last night, you may be ready for the wildness that is this stream recap. I started out expecting a build stream and wound up recapping a Hermit social gathering for two hours, lol. It's all right though, because it was very, very funny.))

2:55 Impulse opens the stream on studio view. He asks if his streaming setup still works and jokes he needs to get the dust off it. He shares that he has been gone because he’s been sick, and decides he should probably just start tacking a few extra sick days onto the end of each vacation because it happens every time. (Except in Michigan, Chat points out.) Chat tells him his voice sounds better now than in the video. He says he’ll see how he feels as the stream goes on. He talks a little about PixelPulse Valley, how he named it because he likes being in the valley in Phoenix and likes valleys in general. Chat makes a joke about valley girls. Impulse has been sick almost a whole week and it is gross, especially since he’s had to travel.

6:00 Impulse shouts out to Noah in chat, who is someone he met in person on the cruise ship. Apparently there were several Impulse-in-the-wild spottings on this trip. He thanks subs and donos. He reminds chat that a Big Video came out today, one that he’s been waiting to show for awhile. He finally gets to tell the story of PixelPulse Valley and its battle with the AIs, and the basics of what the game is going to be like. Impulse doesn’t want to go too deep here because he doesn’t want to spoil the video, but he will be working on some stuff in the city. He suggests that maybe chatters might want to catch at least part of the video before joining the stream. Today he’ll be working on the secret tunnel and hopes for a normal-length stream. Chat sings the SECRET TUNNEL song.

9:50 Chat is worried about Impulse staying hydrated. He assures Chat he has been triple-fisting coffee, juice and water. Chat is unsure about the phrasing but happy that Impulse is getting enough to drink. It is impossible to bother Skizz during stream today because Skizz is at work, and when he gets home from work they are going to record the podcast.

11:00 Impulse shows off his new redstone door. He apologizes to RKF Walter, whose name he messed up while crediting him for the door design. It is a beautiful door design and opens to an exploding flight rocket. He drops down the escape hole and shows Chat the Secret Tunnel. He says he’s gotten lots of good suggestions in the video comments already for different ambiance touches. He is not sure yet what he’s going to change, if anything. He shows off how covering a pearlescent froglight with a trapdoor turns the light pure white.

14:10 Impulse highlights the wall lights. He is happy because there are not many chances for subtle design touches that are only a few pixels tall in Minecraft. He contemplates how he’s going to mute when he inevitably starts coughing. He reveals that his favorite DCI team is Impulse, of course. It’s where all his branding came from! (Blue Devils is also good). DCI is Drum Corps International, professional marching band with no woodwinds. He toured the country for a whole summer with the Impulse team back in the day. Chat is excited about this Impulse Lore. Impulse’s girlfriend back in the day (not his wife now) was a clarinet player, but she played cymbals on the drumline.

18:00 Impulse notices that all the trapdoors have completely oxidized and wonders who has been keeping it loaded. Probably Joel, he concludes as he cleans and waxes them. Chat suggests it might also be people coming by to use the XP bank. Impulse agrees that the XP bank is popular, way more popular than he and Skizz anticipated. He may have to put in some more at other Hermits’ bases, just to lighten the load on Bop n’ Go. Chat suggests putting XP banks inside the volcano once it is hollowed out. He likes that plan.

21:00 Chat asks if Impulse saw Tango’s video that had the naturally volcano-shaped Magic Mountain clone. Impulse didn’t see it. Chat asks what he plans to do about the slime chunk in the tunnel. Impulse does not know. He doesn’t want to put carpet in. He’s not too worried because big slimes are unlikely to spawn, and he doesn’t want to slab it and change the tunnel shape. He’ll wait and see how bad it is. He decides to start the next segment of tunnel with the bottom wall edges and gathers his supplies.

23:40 It was easier to record video sick than to stream sick, because he could gather energy for short bursts of talking. Chat asks for advice on visiting DCI events. Impulse says check out the vendors to find cool music supplies, and also bring lots of sunscreen. He does not have enough cyan terracotta. He considers whether anyone sells terracotta, then remembers he’s not buying from Big T. He begins laying out his pattern. Ren messages in chat that he needs Impulse’s brain. Impulse doesn’t promise his brain is working, but goes to find Ren at his base. As he flies, Impulse talks about playing Wordle at Pearl’s yesterday and how he struggled because his brain was foggy. He likes Wordle but he did not do well. ((It did take Impulse more than 20 minutes to solve the puzzle at Dyeductions on Pearl’s 6/11 stream, compared to 10 minutes for Skizz.))

26:30 He touches down at Ren’s base and asks where Ren is, Ren tells him he must come into the truck. Impulse asks if he should be recording. Ren says he can if he wants, and he probably should too. They both reveal that they are streaming. Impulse tries to find his way into the truck with little success. Ren directs him to the door on top and describes the lever. Impulse finds the lever but it doesn’t work. They are having some audio issues due to Ren’s setup. Impulse plasters himself against the front windshield and breaks into the truck, to Ren’s great consternation. Impulse replaces the broken glass and assures Ren he is a certified repair technician. Ren accepts this and moves on.

29:00 Ren tells Impulse he needs his brain, then uses the classic girlfriend tactic of telling Impulse he’s been waiting for him to notice something. Impulse is immediately on the back foot and tries to fall back on the defense of having been gone. He guesses that Ren has a new outfit, which is true. Ren demands that Impulse look at him. Ren has a new skin on, including a spacesuit and a face that Chat thinks is very similar to Beef’s (which is true.) He has a beard and everything. Impulse says the outfit reminds him of Terra Swoop Force at MCC. Ren admits that is true. He says his chat thinks the glasses are too much. Impulse’s Chat thinks they’re great. Impulse and Ren both take off their glasses. Impulse has no eyebrows without the glasses. He says he plucks his eyebrows when he gets nervous and it’s been a rough week. Ren puts the glasses and beard back on, and shows off the handsome touches of gray in his hair. They talk about getting IRL haircuts. Ren is going back to facecam streaming and told his barber he needed a good haircut for an important meeting. He wanted a side shave, but his barber told him his head is too large for a side shave. Impulse thinks Ren has a nice head and hopes the barber didn’t hurt his feelings. Ren says the barber did a good job. Big-headed folk in chat commiserate with Ren.

33:30 Ren says he listens to the advice of professionals about how he looks, because he has no understanding of fashion or how he is supposed to look. Impulse admits he hasn’t got Ren’s stream up and can’t see how he looks, Ren admits that he hasn’t dared to turn the facecam on yet. Ren compliments how nice Impulse looks every time he streams and thinks it must take him a long time to get ready, but Impulse denies that. He does his hair once a week, puts glue in it, and is careful about how he sleeps. His wife is the closest thing to a stylist he has. She cut his hair for him for a long time. Ren talks about the value in learning a single hairstyle by muscle memory and doing it exactly the same everyday forever. Impulse agrees and tells a story about his vacation, where he couldn’t take his regular hair product. His hair was a mess his whole trip. Ren is very sympathetic. Chat thinks Impulse has bougie hair.

37:30 Ren is jealous because Impulse has a nicely-shaped head and can shave his hair off. Ren’s head is weird-shaped at the back and he has a mole, so he would look terrible if he shaved his head. He asks Impulse if he’d ever wear a toupee if he started going bald. Impulse says his dad is 70 and has a full head of hair, but he doesn’t think he’d be a combover guy. He’d probably do some kind of filler. Hopefully by that time there will be a pill or cream to grow hair. Chat is telling Impulse that the baldness gene comes down on the maternal side. Impulse reassures them that his mom also has hair. Ren says his mom is a Yeti, with very thick hair. Chat reminds Impulse that Rogaine is a thing. Ren shows off his boots, Impulse is impressed. He tells Ren that his Lore dropped today, and that it’s going to tickle Ren in all the right places. Ren is eager to see it. Impulse did make a mistake by tackling the biggest, hardest game first, and it is taking forever. Ren thinks maybe that was the right way to go, since it will regulate the size and speed of the other games.

41:00 Ren suddenly detects an INTRUDER at the truck. He shows Impulse where the actual door is and shoots a rocket at Pearl, who is standing just outside. She makes an indignant noise. Ren tells her that the oxygen out there is poisonous and full of spores, so she jumps down inside and asks Ren if he stream sniped her. Impulse also wants to know how Ren spotted Pearl. Ren says he saw the nametag through the ceiling. Pearl immediately compliments Ren on his new look. Impulse is chagrined at her superior powers of perception. He says this happens in real life with his wife too. Ren sits in the cockpit with Pearl and tells Pearl the whole embarrassing story of Impulse’s visit.

43:00 Pearl points out that she is good at seeing details, that she noticed right away that Iskall had a haircut earlier in the season. “Iskall had a haircut?” Ren asks. Pearl describes Iskall’s haircut test. Ren says there’s something different about Pearl too. Impulse says she looks older. They sing Happy Birthday to her while chasing her through the truck while she flees. She is embarrassed but thanks them. She asks Impulse for a thing. He doesn’t understand for a minute, but Chat does and helps out. Impulse provides the Birthday You-Yo. Chat celebrates. Pearl tells him he sounds better today than he did yesterday. They talk about getting sick on vacation and at cons. Pearl digs around in Ren’s shulker boxes. Ren objects, not very strenuously, and she tells him it’s her job. They point out it’s not the job of the postmaster to clean up messes, and the Cleaning Lady was Season 9. Apparently once a Cleaning Lady, always a Cleaning Lady.

46:00 Impulse asks if they have the shulker mod that shows what’s in the boxes. They do not. Impulse explains his retexture woes anyway. Someone drops a cake into the truck through the door for Pearl. Pearl suspects it was False. She sets down the cake just in time for Invisible False to pearl into the truck. Impulse and False give Pearl birthday punches, or False does while Impulse fails to punch. He blames his short arms. Ren comes back and puts a single candle on the cake and they all wish Pearl a happy first birthday. She says she doesn’t feel so old now. Pearl is not hungry enough to eat, so Ren and False give her more birthday punches. Birthday punches are not very effective when someone is wearing netherite armor. “Punch harder!” Pearl yells as she removes her netherite. Ren “punches” her with an axe. “Not that hard, not that hard!” she corrects, running away. She makes a wish and knocks the candle off the cake, then eats a bit. Ren asks what she wished, but she won’t tell or it won’t come true. He realizes that’s been his mistake all along.

49:00 Pearl eats most of the cake, then offers her friends a slice. Ren sets himself on fire to be hungry enough to eat. This alarms his friends. He finishes off the cake. They discuss the awkward IRL situation of one slice of cake left on the plate. None of them will eat it unless no one is watching and the party is nearly over. Ren asks if Pearl’s had a good birthday so far, but she points out that it is 2:48 in the morning, Pearl time, so there has not been much birthday yet. Ren asks if she has had cake anyway. Pearl says she doesn’t have a cake yet. She asks if they know that heated mousepads exist. False wants one immediately, Impulse wants the exact opposite of that. He tells them that the high in Phoenix today is 43 degrees Celsius (109 F). Nobody likes that. Chat is horrified. Pearl says no wonder he got sick, with that temperature change. Apparently it was 6 degrees in Alaska. (43 F) False said it was 15 (59 F) today in the UK. Ren has been keeping his eye on the prize and is still upset that Pearl doesn’t have IRL cake. Pearl promises that she’s going to have dinner with her family and she’ll get cake then, and she also had a strawberry doughnut.

54:10 There have been lots of Hermit birthdays recently. False and Gem both had birthdays recently, and someone else that they can’t remember. Chat knows it was Skizz. Pearl remembers Skizz, and Cleo as well. Ren thinks next year they need a birthday hall for the month of June. Pearl and False think about horoscope-themed buildings, with a really big one for Gemini. Ren thinks there’s another big batch in October, but it’s really just him. Chat points out that Geminis are born entertainers. Ren claims Bdubs as an October birthday. He reminisces about turning False’s base into a cake way, way back in Season 4. Pearl points out that as of today, the minimum Hermit age is 28. They are all getting old. Ren says they need a special celebration for when the minimum age hits 30. Impulse agrees and says they can hand out walkers to everyone. Ren suggests ear trumpets as well, while False suggests giant keyboards.

59:00 Impulse doesn’t realize how they got back to this topic when he and Ren were just talking earlier about losing their hair. False said she was listening, and educates Impulse on the existence of little tubs one can put one’s hair gel into for traveling. It takes Impulse a minute, but he figures out what she’s talking about. He says that’s a lot of work. False tells Pearl she’s a bit concerned for these guys. Pearl agrees and says they need Bdubs the hairdresser. False tries to sell them on the beneifts of long hair, but Pearl reminds her that it took her an entire day to find a bottle of hairspray in Michigan. Impulse fondly remembers the days when he used to shave his head so he wouldn’t have to do anything with it. He reiterates his story about only styling his hair once a week and using glue. False and Pearl are disgusted. He admits that is a slight exaggeration. Pearl suggests Impulse has a Lego haircut. Ren thinks Impulse just sleeps in the chair in his office and has his wife wake him up to stream. Pearl says this is why not having a facecam is the best option. Ren seems like he might be reconsidering his decision to facecam.

1:02:20 False starts teasing Ren about not uploading his VODs. Ren protests that he managed to upload a VOD just today. Impulse brags that it’s easy when you have two copies of OBS. The others are skeptical of this solution. False says no wonder it’s 40 degrees there, Impulse’s computer is on fire. Ren admires the teleprompter setup in Impulse’s office. Impulse says he likes it because staring at Chat makes them uncomfortable. Chat agrees. False stares deep into Chat’s eyes on all three streamers’ channels. They talk a little more about streaming setups. Ren declares Impulse the “smorterest” of the streamers. Impulse admits he needs to run an entire tech checklist to go live.

1:05:30 With all other conversational topics exhausted, the group decides to talk about food. Pearl is baffled that Impulse and Ren don’t like jam doughnuts. Ren clarifies that he doesn’t dislike jam doughnuts. Impulse says he doesn’t like being surprised by, like, banana doughnuts. Ren agrees and adds lime as a possibility. Pearl is horrified and says they need better doughnuts. Ren really wants to try an American Cinnabon. False tries to tell him they have Cinnabon in the UK. “Not like that,” Ren tells her. Pearl asks if any of them tried the salt doughnuts in Michigan. False and Impulse say no, Pearl says it was “really interesting” and “oddly enjoyable.” She recommends them, especially with the chicken salt she brought along. Ren is confused at “chicken salt on a doughnut.” Chat is confused by “chicken salt.” False says she’s going to salt a doughnut and complain to Pearl when it tastes bad. Pearl sputters for a minute, then demands to know whether any of them thought she was actually serious about salt doughnuts. Ren says she’s Australian, and Australians eat weird stuff. It seemed plausible. Pearl tells them she’s just Mission Possible’d all of them, that her mission was to convince them all that she’d already told them a story about something and that they’d just forgotten. Ren congratulates her, Impulse feels violated. Ren and chat are still hung up on the chicken salt thing. Pearl wonders suddenly if maybe she did it wrong, because she actually convinced them they were there for the story happening, not that they’d heard it before. They agree it counts.

1:11:00 False is a little sad that she can’t have a salted doughnut. Pearl demands to know how they can hate Vegemite and want salted doughnuts. False says Vegemite is too fishy. Pearl is mortally insulted. Impulse confirms it was Marmite and not Vegemite on the wings in Michigan. Vegemite and Marmite are similar but not the same. Ren asks if he really has to go all the way to Australia to taste Vegemite. Pearl slaps him and tells him if he actually comes to an event, she will bring him Vegemite. Impulse shills TwitchCon San Diego but Ren demurs, saying he can’t afford it. San Diego is very expensive. Pearl understands, she spent 5 grand for 5 days in Michigan. False says she might be out too, then. Impulse invites them all to stay with him and they’ll make the six hour drive each day to the con. Ren asks how much it costs to get one of those Scarbots to roll around the convention. Pearl says that if any of them want to come to Australia, they can stay at her place. Ren has family in Australia. They discuss Vegemite some more. Impulse didn’t like it on first bite, but sort of got the idea of why people might like it after a few bites. More Vegemite talk. Impulse sidebars to chat that he has no idea what he is doing, and that he has a tunnel to build. Chat assures him that they are happy and he should stay.

1:18:00 Ren mentions black pudding. Impulse asks the group what’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten. Pearl says cow’s tongue. Impulse says he once went to a fancy restaurant in French Polynesia and didn’t know what he was eating. Later he looked it up and saw it was duck liver. It was really good. False admits she doesn’t know if she has a good answer for this question. Vegemite, she decides. Pearl smacks her. Ren says he likes everything he’s eaten except oysters, but the weirdest thing he’s eaten was a Mopane Worm in South Africa, a big caterpillar that gets deep fried. Pearl asks if they tasted like chicken, he says they taste like peanuts with an earthy aftertaste that is not nice. Impulse pushes False for a better answer; she says she almost ate crocodile once but the kitchen was closed. She says she once ate a weird fruit with a bad smell, she thinks it was durian. But also Vegemite. Pearl smacks her again. Chat is vouching for durian: smells bad, tastes great. Impulse says escargot is pretty good, mushroomy. Ren says escargot also has an earthy aftertaste, and the others begin teasing him about why everything tastes like dirt to him. Ren asks if none of them ate dirt as children. Pearl says she once ate a daisy. She decides to change her answer for “weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten.”

1:22:45 Pearl decides to get her Mission Possible book to make sure everyone agrees she succeeded the task. She blasts out the roof of the truck. Impulse decides to investigate the door to try and figure out why the lever didn’t work for him when he tried it. He clicks the lever and the door opens. He hits it again and the door closes, just in time for Ren to smash his head into it and visually clip through the roof. Chat is deeply amused. False and Ren are impressed on the timing of that. False realizes that if someone clicks the lever from inside, the lever outside doesn’t work. Ren is ashamed of his terrible redstone, but False says it’s good to have a door lock he can activate from inside. Impulse is just happy to know that he wasn’t the crazy one, even if he was the one who broke in through the windshield. He and False examine the decorations of the roof. Impulse is disappointed to know that they are still polluting the planet in the futuristic future.

1:25:00 Pearl returns and reads her task to the group. They agree that she completed the task in a way that is even better than was asked for, since she convinced Impulse that he was actually present for the story that never happened. They all fly to MP HQ to watch Pearl spin. False tells them that Skizz broke the machine when he spun, so she didn’t get anything on her spin. But it’s fixed now. Pearl collects her token and spins the wheel. She gets the Sword, which is a hat that looks like she’s got a diamond sword stuck in her head. The others pretend to pull it out. Impulse makes a Sword in the Stone joke. Ren says that Pearl’s brain is too dense to get the sword out. Pearl smacks him, but Impulse tries to convince her it’s a compliment. She is skeptical, but Ren is all in.

1:28:40 Grian logs in, tells everyone in chat “Just so you know, I’m off to play badminton,” then logs out. They decide that this is a clear case of FOMO. Impulse asks if that’s the game with the birdie. False scoffs and corrects “Shuttlecock.” Pearl confirms he’s thinking of the right game. They talk about Badminton for a few minutes. Impulse says that badminton is not really a thing in America; they play pickleball instead. Everyone is baffled. He tries to explain it. Pearl asks if it’s the game with the long stick and a tiny racket on the end ((possibly lacrosse?)) Impulse says no, but that’s it’s very popular. Ren says it’s a ridiculous name and needs to be changed. Impulse demands to know how they can call something a shuttlecock and think they have the high ground for naming anything. Ren says it’s just mini tennis. He has an idea. Hermitcraft table tennis Olympics, five day round-robin event. They’d sell out a stadium. False and Pearl are deeply skeptical. Impulse thinks they should play basketball. Doc and Mumbo against each other, Impulse vs. Bdubs, etc. Pearl says she wants to play against Skizz. Impulse is very into this idea now. Ren asks diffidently what the rules are. Impulse assures him it’s just regular street ball. Ren has never played basketball. He played NBA Jam on Sega. He asks if he’s allowed to SuperDunk. False and Pearl discuss Dodgeball. Ren wants to play Pool, so nobody gets hot and sweaty. False suggests Bowls. Ren and Pearl are very enthusiastic about the idea. Impulse is baffled. “Are you saying balls?” he asks. “BOWLS,” Ren corrects hastily. Chat is amused. Ren tells False she can never call him inappropriate again. She slaps him a couple times and calls him the guy who’s never played basketball instead.

1:35:40 Ren explains bowls to Impulse, taking exquisite care to pronounce “BOWLS” each time. Chat tells Impulse it’s bocce ball. Pearl also experience pronunciation problems with bowls. Ren asks if they’ve ever played croquet, everyone says they have. Ren excitedly suggests to Pearl that they could play cricket. Impulse is not sure how it’s played, Pearl and False tell him it’s like rounders and wickets, which is unhelpful. Impulse starts feeling like he’s in a fever dream. Pearl goes to get her new mission, but she’s not going to read it out loud. False gets a mission too. Ren already has a mission. Impulse steps up to get a mission, but the game is empty. It’s very disappointing. Ren thinks this might be an excellent opportunity to do his mission. Impulse asks if it was Ren’s mission to get him to say “balls,” because if so, he won. Ren asks if the missions all have to be secret. False says most of them are all “do something or say something without the person knowing.” She says Ren could never be a good secret agent.

1:40:30 Pearl’s chat is begging her to ask Ren and False to play Wordle. Impulse thinks it’s a great idea. False demands that Ren close his chat so they don’t cheat for him. Impulse asks Chat if they want to go watch. Chat very much wants to watch. Impulse played yesterday and already knows the word, but he was not streaming so Chat will only know the word if they watched Pearl’s stream (or read the exhaustive recap.) Pearl takes them all down into the basement, where she has been building the locker room to hold inventories. False asks if a locker room means they’re going to die. Pearl says she hasn’t installed that yet. She cleans up a little buit while False and Ren read the rules and empty their inventories. Impulse turns off his facecam and goes to have a bio break while Pearl, Ren and False entertain the chat.

1:43:00 Pearl explains the game to False and Ren. It’s very much like Wordle, but there are no repeated letters and all the letter tiles are named dyes and flowers. Impulse comes back and watches along with Chat. False and Ren try to decide a starter word. Ren tries to think of a five letter word that is just vowels. He decides to play “BEAUT” and Pearl agrees this is a word because she is Australian. He gets one letter, in the wrong place.

1:48:00 Time for Round 2. Ren thinks there are eight vowels. He gets straighened out and decides he needs a word with I and O. He decides on “OINKS.” Pearl says that’s okay, so long as he doesn’t mind sacrificing a choice. Ollie Orionsound raids into the stream. Ollie’s chat tells Impulse he was playing Among Us, Impulse is very excited. He misses Among Us so much and wants to play it again. Ollie says he will let Impulse know if they run it back Ren gets one letter in the right place.

1:52:00 Ren tries to think of a third word. Pearl tells False she’ll switch the word after Ren plays so False gets a good play too. False says no thank you. She suggests to Ren that he might do well with a pen and paper. Impulse tells Chat he knows this stream is a bit scuffed, but he’s been gone and he missed his friends. He will get back to building soon. Chat is not actually in any hurry to get back to building. Ren plays “FILED” and gets none correct. Pearl realizes that he should have gotten some right and asks if the game has broken for the first time. She is worried until Ren realizes that although he showed off his guess on the item frames, he did not actually feed his guess into the game. He wasted a guess by not putting in any letters. He places the letters into the hoppers and runs the word again. Three letters lock into place, the other two are correct and in the wrong place.

1:55:30 Ren realizes there is literally only one option given the board state and plays “FIELD.” He gets the win condition. Everyone cheers! Ren tells Impulse he could’ve given him a hint that he had the letters reversed. Pearl admits she laughed when Ren decided to play Filed and not Field. Ren cleans up the supplies and puts them away, then resets the game. False definitely does not want to play, but she thinks the game is great. They discuss Wordle strategy and starter words. Impulse uses TRACE or SOUND for most of his starters, Ren thinks ADEIU would be good to get the vowels out. Pearl debates options for getting the last missing letters into the game. The game can handle the whole alphabet, but she doesn’t have enough dyes for every consonant without retexturing.

2:01:50 Pearl asks if Ren got a prize. He says yes, it had flowers and dyes. She says yes, that’s what they all have. Ren was not paying attention and makes Pearl rehash the “Why not all the letters” discussion. False suggests retexturing new, fake dyes. Pearl is ambivalent. Everyone is very impressed by Pearl’s work making the game. Impulse says she’s definitely a redstoner now, and he likes how she left it visible under the copper grates. Pearl tells Ren about the randomizer she spent four hours building yesterday, just to make sure nobody could get any hints. Other than tiny tweaks, the game is fully done and tested. Ren says there’s one thing missing: an ender chest. If hermits are going to pay, they need a chest! Impulse takes advantage of the new chest to play some horns. Pearl is going to put up a leaderboard with books so Hermits can keep track of their own streaks. Ren says Impulse is going to dominate because he plays so much Wordle. False says they need to let the old folks win some games. Ren suggests a timed version of the game, much to Impulse and False’s horror. Impulse wants a version where he can make a guess, go build for awhile, come back and guess again, etc. Pearl will make the game harder if everybody wins all the time. Ren suggests a hard mode to the game. Pearl thinks it’s doable, except it will take a _lot_ of work. Impulse feels her redstoner pain. Ren suggests an ultra-hard-mode that is just Pearl singing a countdown song and saying random words the entire time.

A suggestion about playing “BALLS” as the guess leads to an explanation of why there cannot be double letters. Ren suggests audio recording of various useful information to appear at different times in the game, like Xisuma’s TCG setup in Season 9. They brainstorm ways this could work.

2:17:00 Pearl does a little troubleshooting of the system and plays the fail sounds so they can hear it. It’s very funny. False says she should make the losers feel worse. Pearl points out that anyone who fails can pay another diamond to try again. Ren and Pearl are ending their streams, but Impulse has only placed about seven blocks today and needs to get some work done. He realizes he never did figure out what Ren wanted his brain for. Ren admits he just wanted to show off his new skin. False examines the new skin and points out the shape on the back. There is an arrow pointing to Ren’s butt. Impulse makes a suggestion that might be more risque than he intended. Chat is very amused. Pearl and False think Ren’s new skin without the glasses look like Beef, XB and Sausage. Impulse says he’s a meat lover’s pizza, a little Beef and a little Sausage. Ren says the skin will not have a tail because while he wants to be a dog, he doesn’t want to be a furry. There is a brief conversation about whether the coccyx counts as a tail. Ren decides to flee.

2:22:20 Impulse decides to head home. He says hello again to chat. This stream was supposed to be super-productive and he wants to get at least something done today. He drops back into the tunnel and sings the Secret Tunnel song, then tells Chat about the tunnel lore. He places five blocks and gets attacked by a baby zombie. He gathers more torches to light up the nearby caves. He says they may change the name of the city to DoublePulse valley, after him and Bdubs both. Neither of them are written into the story, but the city can still be named after them.

2:26:00 Impulse notes that he got so distracted that his Spotify finished the stream-safe playlist and went on to play other music. This VOD may not be monetizable. Ren raids into the stream. Impulse places one row of blocks, then starts talking to chat. A chatter asks how he feels about ducks. He is good with ducks. A chatter tells him to Google Bulk Bronson, a wrestler who looks like Impulse. Impulse can see it a little bit. He places some more blocks and talks about his vacation. 15 days ago he went to Seattle with his whole family, spent a couple days there, then went on an Alaskan cruise.

2:30:00 Impulse talks about vacation. The first day they went to the space needle and, on Scar’s recommendation, the MoPOP Museum. Everyone was wearing Pearl Jam shirts, and he didn’t realize why until later when he learned there was a Pearl Jam concert that same night, in walking distance of the hotel. He debated paying scalper prices to go to the concert, but then didn’t. He regretted not doing it. They went on the glass floor of the Space Needle. Impulse is afraid of heights so it was a little intense. Impulse didn’t get a chance to meet up with Scar or Fwhip while he was in town. Pike’s Place Fish Market was a disappointment, they do not throw the fish anymore.

2:37:10 A skeleton attacks Impulse, he tracks down where it came from to mobproof. At the hotel bar on the first night in Seattle, one of the bartenders asked Impulse if he was a gaming YouTuber. The bartender said the front desk guy recognized him. This was funny because Impulse was talking on the podcast the other week about how he never got noticed outside of cons. The cruise left on a Friday morning, headed for Alaska. It was a nice ship, a big ship, with an overwhelming amount of food. After the first couple of nights he felt sick from too much food and they stopped doing reserved dinner. There was a lot of food.

2:40:50 It took the ship two days at sea to reach Alaska. On those days, they found activities on the ship. There was a volleyball competition with one group of very skilled players who dominated everyone. Impulse’s youngest daughter plays volleyball and was very into it, so they went to watch. A guy at the tournament recognized Impulse and asked if he was Impulse. (That was Noah from the beginning of the stream.) Later they were going around the ship and there was a thing where they hide ducks on the ship. Kids can look for the ducks. Impulse’s daughter was looking for ducks, walking every level of the ship, every nook and cranny. It was a big walk. They went into a music hall to re-hide a duck she found, and while they were in there a kid approached Impulse and asked if he was Impulse. That was Colin from Tennessee, and he was very polite. Impulse’s daughter is 12 and now she thinks her dad is famous. Chat thinks Impulse is famous too. Another day went by on the cruise. Impulse and his family were going home from the pool, waiting for the elevator. Cruise ship elevators are slow, so eventually they decided to take the stairs. They went down four flights, and Impulse heard a little commotion of girls giggling above them. A woman stuck her head over the banister and asked “Are you a YouTuber? My daughters want to know.” Impulse was like “Yup.” So he met a mom and a couple of teens in the stairwell and took a picture. Impulse’s wife did not know what to do. She heard them yell “Impulse” at the top of the stairs, but she didn’t stop. It was maybe a little weird for her. Impulse’s daughter thought it was the best, though. Impulse suspects it might be because he was wearing his Life Series hoodie. He decided to stop wearing it, but his daughter put it on instead. Getting noticed was pretty fun, overall.

2:50:00 The cruise went to Sitka, a cool small town in Alaska. They had great fish and chips. Impulse pauses to consider the next steps of building. He’s actually making pretty good progress now. In Alaska they saw some whales, though not close up. The weather was cold but otherwise great, no rain. After Sitka they went to Skagway, but Impulse doesn’t remember what they did. He thinks they took a cool train ride. He is out of smooth slabs and leaves the tunnel to cook some rocks back at his base. Skagway had some interesting food, but it was good. Impulse was eating basically one big meal a day, but it was always good. The ship went to Juneau next, where they went on a dogsledding tour. They didn’t do the helicopter glacier tour because it was wildly expensive.

2:54:20 Impulse is caught up in his story and shoves his buckets of lava into the Smithing Input barrel. Chat informs him of this fact instantly, but he doesn’t catch it right away. “Nooo!” he cries when he notices it. He dives into the redstone and falls down a hole before escaping and climbing up into the smelter. He needs to stop the smelter from smelting itself. He mostly succeeds. He shows Chat some pictures from the dogsledding tour. There was no snow when they visited, so the dogs in the photo are pulling a wheeled cart. They look like very good doggos. After the cart ride, they got to meet the puppies. There is a picture of Impulse with a large and fluffy puppy, looking about as happy as he can be. Chat is charmed. Impulse says the puppy was very heavy and so cute.

2:58:00 The ship went past Dawes glacier. Glaciers are cool, and they got very close. Impulse talks about what glaciers are made of and shows a picture of a blue glacier. He gets a large dono and a nice message from a disabled vet starting his own channel. Impulse is touched and wishes him luck. He reads some other donos and subs. He talks again about going from 8C to 43C, but admits he got sick before they even got back, so it probably wasn’t the temperature. He did his best to wash his hands and use sanitizer, but cruises are disease vectors. On the last day of the cruise, they stopped in Victoria, British Columbia. Impulse woke up feeling a little sick. Victoria is a beautiful place and the weather was really nice. Impulse’s wife found a place that was supposed to have the best poutine in Victoria. They went to a pub called Irish Times and had poutine. Chat has a brief internal argument over the pronunciation of poutine. Impulse describes poutine (fries, brown gravy, fresh cheese curds but not like from Culvers, the unbreaded squeaky kind). The poutine was amazing. As he was enjoying his poutine, though, he realized he was sick. He got back on the boat and went to bed. His youngest daughter (the older two were there too, but they did their own thing on the boat most of the time) liked the bands, so she and her mom went to watch music while Impulse stayed in the room and ran a fever. He rested through the night, but woke up still sick and had to travel that way. They rushed off the boat so as not to miss their flight, and then the flight got delayed. He did his best not to complain and not to get germs on people. Eventually the plane did leave and they went home. Impulse spent two days in bed with his wife out on the couch and away from the germs. Impulse shills briefly for Factor Wellness Shots. He took every remedy he had available. After three days he started to feel better. He did not get a COVID test, but he’s much better now. It was an awesome trip with a lousy ending, but he got lots of good memories. It’s also probably the last time he’ll have a vacation with his whole family, parents and kids, together in the configuration they are now, so he wants to remember it.

3:13:00 Impulse thanks subs and donos. A chatter tells him a joke. He needs to figure out this music situation because Spotify keeps randomly picking nonsafe music after it finishes its playlist. The same thing happened to Skizz yesterday and Impulse should’ve been prepared, but he wasn’t. A chatter asks how long he’ll be streaming and he says not long. He has a podcast to record today. He shows chat how the wall light decoration works. He is justifiably proud of this. He reads off more subs and donos. He can’t believe how little progress he made today, but he had no “regerts.” He finds a random brick while digging and realizes he has almost dug into the other water elevator for Bop ‘n Go. Disaster narrowly averted.

3:17:40 A chatter asks for the podcast topic this week. Impulse says it’s dealing with failure. Most of the podcast episodes assume people can set goals and be successful at them, but they’ve never really talked about what happens when you fail and how you come back from it. He promises to keep it light, even inspirational. It’s important to embrace failure as a good thing. He hopes it’s a relatable topic, since everybody’s been there. He teases week after next with the possibility of another guest. They have a lot of people they want to get on the show, so they might have guests more often. Chat is enthusiastic and full of guesses.

3:21:00 Impulse look back and shakes his head about not even completing one full section. A chatter asks when he will come to the Netherlands. He says he’d like to one day. A chatter thanks him for inspiration to start streaming. Impulse places a few more blocks, then decides it’s time to wrap things up. He hasn’t even set up for the podcast yet. He is a slacker and Skizz is going to mock him for it. He notices that Cleo is streaming, so at least he has someone to raid into. He talks a bit more about the podcast topic for the week. A chatter asks if he reads podcast comments on Spotify. He says he does but not often, because they’re very hard to get to.

3:26:00 Impulse wraps up the stream and thanks chat for coming. It was a good coming-back stream. He reminds Chat to please, please, please watch the new video with its Important Lore. He thanks subs and donos. He tells chat he is not going to TwitchCon Rotterdam, but he will be at TwitchCon San Diego. He will double-stream on Friday, announcement soon! He raids into Cleo and ends his stream.

[fairy-verse]

The Horror in this universe makes me go mad man. Pretty big fairy... IUuhhUHuhuihIUYGUFdestDYfuygub <3 <3 <3 ... I'm personally really keen to know more about his background, such as: Members involved in the cave-in? Horror's opinion on Error? If the 2 met what was the initial impression / interaction like as I believed it was most likely Error who gave Horror the spot / semi job to patrol around the edge of his domain or was it Horror's own claustrophobia that made him leave? Did any other fairy try and help Horror with his trauma after he was saved? ... Sorry for the amount of questions being thrown at you but I am very very invested in his character (as well as his relationships) and would love to see his reference sheet one day! <3

Friends… The fairies that were unfortunately trapped together with Horror were his friends, good friends, fairies he’d shared meals with, fairies he’d taken steaming baths with in the deeper bowls of Error’s domain, fairies he’d shared nests with as they grew closer. Horror can recall memories of kissing one of them, a sweet one that had such a pretty laugh and always made such luxurious sets of armour… they’d been one of the wounded ones as the rocks and boulders came tumbling down, and they’d been the first to die. Horror wouldn’t know it just then, but it’d been a merciful fate compared to the horrors he faced. Fairies are good to each other, loving even in rivalry, but desperation and starvation can turn even the loveliest of fairies into something horrible, and so it came to be as Horror’s friends suddenly came down upon him, begging his forgiveness even as they caved parts of his skull in their attempt to eat him. He’d been the largest in the group, even back then, but nothing compared to what he was nowadays. He’d only been a little bigger… just a little… but that had been enough for him to be seen as a proper meal.

In the end, it was him who came to weep as he fed on them, keeping them alive but unconscious for as long as possible, but even after they’d turned to stardust, he tried to eat that, too… And then he was found. What a Horror he must have been to witness.

He can’t remember the name his mother gave him…

Horror never had much of an opinion regarding Error. He was their Winter Queen, King Winter, their leader, a pretty, prickly fairy with the brightest, bluest wings Horror had ever seen, and now he stood above Horror with a look of unconcealed distraught upon his face. Of course he’d be upset, Horror has not only confessed to eating his fellow fairies but was even caught in the act of feasting upon their stardust, too. A terrible act to commit, for now his fellow fairies will never be a part of the wind.

Horror expected no mercy, expected to be either cast out of killed for what he’d done, but Error did no such thing. His eye lights had lingered upon the jagged hole in his skull, upon his unnaturally bloated eye light, upon his chipped and broken bones, upon his malnourished body… He felt so ugly….

“Do you wish to stay in these halls?” Error had asked him.

“N…no,” he’d replied. “The rock… th… the… rocks…”

Horror hated being surrounded by cold, stony walls. These halls had been his home, had been his parent’s home, and he’d rarely left them throughout his life, yet now he hated them. He hated them. He hated them.

He hated them!

So, Error allowed him to leave. He allowed him to live outside but to stay within the domain itself and guard its southern borders, for that was to be his punishment. Mercy was the fact that he wouldn’t die, that he wouldn’t be forced to stay in the halls, but he’d still done the unspeakable. He’d still eaten the stardust of a fallen fairy, and thusly couldn’t be granted full mercy, yet Horror was glad despite his grief and anguish. He was permitted to stay outside, to go as he pleased by the southern borders of Error’s domain, and that is all he could ask for.

He was alone after that. None of his remaining friends came for him, none wished to approach, none wanted to take the risk of being eaten. It wounded him. Horror hadn’t wanted to eat any of his fellow fairies, he hadn’t wanted to do it. He wished he could tell them that, but his slurred and broken words made him sound dumb and primitive, made his desperate, engorged eye light seem far too eager when they came too close.

His pathetic whines as they fled from him made him angry… and terribly, terribly sad.

It was becoming difficult to remember things. It was becoming difficult to speak. His back began to hunch as he grew, the side effects of consuming other fairies kicking in. He couldn’t stand going hungry, he always needed to eat the second he felt his stomach twist.

Horror’s muddled memories of his first years in the forest by the southern border are… difficult to comprehend, but there is a light in the form of a golden begonia somewhere in them. He cannot remember her face, but he remembers the warmth she brought, and most importantly of all, the fresh fruits she gave him. A rare treat for a winter fairy to have in the middle of winter.

Few and far between did this flower come to him, but her very last meeting had been the most important one, for she’d brought with her a fairy. A weak, petite, beautiful summer fairy. Dust. She’d given him Dust to care for, and care for him Horror had done. He’d given Dust his bed, fed him with his food, kept him warm by always keeping the fireplace lit with the wood he’d chopped. It had felt so good to care for another fairy again, to have the company of one, even if Dust could hardly stay awake the first few days there.

Horror had prepared for him to leave once he recovered, had mentally prepared to be alone again, to be shunned by other fairies again… But Dust never left. Dust didn’t want to leave him, he’d said, and Horror hadn’t been able to keep himself strong just then, so he cried, and he cried and cried and he held Dust so close that he feared he might crush him, but the cold summer fairy in his arms only cradled his skull, and kissed his forehead so sweetly it did nothing to halt Horror’s tears.

The past is something Horror doesn’t wish to think of. He doesn’t want to ponder on how things would have turned out if past happenings had been different, because in the end, everything that has happened to him has led him to where he is now…

“Bunny?” Whispered Horror, afraid of disturbing his mate should he already have fallen asleep.

“Hm?” Replied Dust, sleepy, but still awake in Horror’s arms. He adjusted himself a little and nuzzled deeper into Horror’s chest, savouring the warmth he emitted.

“I love you,” said Horror, and held Dust ever closer to himself. “I love you,” he said again, the tremble in his voice poorly hidden. “I love you, Dust.”

“I love you, too,” said Dust only after a short pause. “I love you, too, Horror.”

[come-away-with-me87]

Modern Hearts Chapter 1

Summary: You and Shouta Aizawa had been good friends since elementary school, but you lost touch when you and your parents moved to a different country.  Twenty-five years later, you move back to Japan where you get a job in the library at U.A. High School.  Will your friendship rekindle, and even turn into something more?  Or will your heart be captured by the number two hero with the golden-brown eyes?

******

Pairings: Shouta Aizawa | Eraserhead x Fem!Reader; Keigo Takami | Hawks x Fem!Reader

******

You and Shouta Aizawa had been best friends since the first grade, where you first met.  He was a very small, thin child.  You were on the taller side, and very gangly.  Even in his childhood days, you could say he was the "black sheep" of his family.  He was not an upbeat or outgoing child, being the complete opposite of his parents and older sister.  You were similar to Shouta in a lot of ways, though not to the severity of his introvertedness.  You believe that's why you two were drawn to each other from the very beginning.  When you first met Shouta, he was sitting in the corner of the classroom by himself, doodling something with a crayon on a piece of paper.

"Whatcha drawin'?" you had asked him.  He just looked up at you with his onyx-colored eyes, looked back down, and went back to doodling.  You just sat next to him, pulled out a piece of paper and a box of crayons, and started doodling yourself, not saying anything to him.  Even though you were focusing on your drawing, you were in tune to your surroundings, for as young as you were, and noticed that the boy kept side-eyeing your drawing.  Nevertheless, you made the decision not to say anything else to him, especially if he didn't want to talk to you.

Finally, he spoke up in a small voice, "I'm Shouta Aizawa."  You looked over at him and gave him a small smile, "I'm Y/N L/N."  You asked him again, "so, what are you drawing?"  "A cat," he simply replied.  "I like your cat, here's mine," you showed him your drawing: it was two stick figures just standing next to each other, one with your H/C, the other with black hair.  "That's me and you," you beamed at him.  In that very instance, you two became inseparable.  

You two didn't really have any other friends in the classroom since you were both introverted, and your teacher noticed that, so she would often pair the two of you up when you had to work on group projects.  What you didn't realize, at the time, was that she was previously worried [separately] about you and Shouta not interacting with your classmates.  So when she noticed that you two seemed to get along well with another, she called your respective parents to let them know.

That's why the one day when you got home from school, your mom pulled you aside and said to you, "sweetie, your teacher called me earlier. I heard you made a friend at school, I'm so happy!"  You replied to her, "yeah mommy, his name is Shouta, and he's my best friend.  Can he come over?"  Your mom absolutely beamed, "of course, sweetie. Let me just call his parents and set up a time."  From that point forward, you two constantly went on play dates to each other's houses.

Shouta's parents and older sister were the complete opposite of him; they were upbeat and outgoing.  You felt the warmth when you were around them; they were so welcoming of you into their family.  It was the same way with your parents; they accepted Shouta as part of your family.  You didn't have any siblings; it was just you and your parents, so it was especially nice when Shouta was over.  It felt like you had a brother.

Things stayed like this until the middle of third grade, when you received devastating news; you were moving.  Not even to another city in Japan, or even a different prefecture; you were moving to a whole new country.  You didn't know much about your parents' jobs, but you knew enough to know that your dad was a businessman, and he "received an opportunity in America that he just couldn't pass up."  And on top of that, the move was happening within the next two weeks, as the business in America wanted your dad to start as soon as possible.

You cried and cried and cried to your parents, begging them to not move, and as sorry as they felt for moving you in the middle of the school year, they were adamant on their decision, telling you to start packing up your room.  The next day at school, you decided to break the news to Shouta during recess.  "I'm moving, Shouta."  He replied, "that's cool, Y/N.  Did your parents find a new house?"  You couldn't help but start to sob right there on the playground, and Shouta didn't know what to do.  "What's wrong?!"  You went on to tell him the story of how your dad got a new job in America, and you would be moving out of Japan in two weeks.

"I see," was all he could say.  Then, very uncharacteristically, he smiled at you and said, "we could be pen pals!"  Through your tears, you smiled back at him, "yeah!"  Since your house was being packed away, you had one last playdate at Shouta's house before you moved.  His mom, who had grown to love you like her own, hugged you while saying, "we'll miss you sweetie. Thank you for being such a good friend to Shouta."  You couldn't help but tear up at her words, "thank you for everything, Mrs. Aizawa."

Shouta and his parents came to bid you farewell the day you were moving.  Everything had already been arranged already, so all there was left to do was get in the car and go to the airport.  You and Shouta went up to one another, and for the first time in the two years, you two hugged each other.  "You're my best friend, Y/N.  Promise me we'll be pen pals."  You cried in return, "I promise, Shouta."  And with that, you and your parents got into the car, and made your way to the airport, not without turning around in the backseat and waving to Shouta one last time.

******

To be continued...

[dorthyanndrarry]

Unknown -2-

Tags: Angst, Post war deatheater prejudice, light injuries, chronic illness, post war trauma

Suggested rating: Teen

<- Part 1 ||

-

Draco shook the melting snow from his hands and pulled up the collar on his robes, ducking his head down between his shoulders. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets relishing what was left of the weak heating charms drawing the numbness from his fingers.

He slipped into the crowd, doing his best not to get too close to anyone, cutting through the narrow alley leading to Carkitt Market. Before stepping out into the market, he pressed himself into the shadow of Gladrag's awning. He drew his wand, pulling his sleeve down to obscure it as much as possible before casting a basic healing episkey on his knees and hands. It closed the scrapes but left the dull ache of the tender, bruised flesh. The important thing was that it looked good as new.

He followed the episkey with a quick cleaning charm and a reparo on his torn slacks. He ran his hand over the fabric to make sure it took, finding the linen fully patched though it had gotten thinner. Soon there wouldn't be enough fabric left to stretch and they would begin to fray, or unravel entirely.

Draco shivered and quickly put his wand away before stepping back out onto the street. He followed the edge of the square around to the owl post office and stepped inside to use their public apparition zone.

He landed on the gravel drive in front of the manor.

"You're late," Narcissa said. She was standing in front of the doors waiting for him. Her face was drawn and pale despite the heavy cloak wrapped around her. "Is everything okay? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mother," Draco said, hurrying over to her.

"You said you'd be home twenty minutes ago," Narcissa said, a shaking hand reaching out to the railing and starting down the steps.

Draco cursed under his breath. He should have kept better track of time. He should have hurried.

Draco quickly picked out a lie that would be believable, "A queue at the potions supply held me up." He took the stairs two at a time, catching her other hand in his before she could take another step. Her skin was cold, shivers making her fingers tremble.

"It's too cold out here," Draco said, tugging Narcissa back up the steps, an arm around her shoulders to support her.

"Next time, use the house elves for the shopping, won't you? You must. It's not safe in Diagon Alley," Narcissa said.

"They do all the shopping other than my potion supplies," Draco said gently. He clenched his jaw to hide the wince of pain as he pulled the door open with his sprained wrist and ushered Narcissa inside.

The door thumped closed behind them, their steps echoing loudly on the cold marble floor. The rugs and tapestries were gone, destroyed during the war, or disposed of not long after. Only a few sconces still had working lighting charms in them, leaving the entry hall in a permanent dusk.

"Send the elves o-or owl order them, you don't have to go. You should stay safe. You need to be safe." Narcissa said, grasping Draco's hand so tightly the tendons showed through her thin skin.

Draco forced a thin smile. "Of course. I'll do that from now on," he lied, taking out his wand and casting a passable warming charm over his mother, rubbing her arms to speed the warmth into her bones. "You shouldn't wait outside, you'll catch sick again."

"You were so late," Narcissa said weakly, her shivers going stronger for a moment before slowly beginning to subside.

"The windows in the drawing room look out onto the drive," Draco suggested.

"I don't like the drawing room," Narcissa said sharply.

"Right, right," he said quickly. There were many rooms one or both them hadn't stepped foot into since the war ended and the Aurors finished their exhaustive sweep of the property. It was hard to keep track of them all.

"Draco, darling-"

"I won't leave again. I'll stay here," Draco reassured her. He would make sure he only went out when she was resting, then she wouldn't have to worry. He could tell their elves, the two they had left, to fetch him if she woke before he was done. He would go mad if he had to stay in this tomb for the rest of his life.

Narcissa nodded to herself, "good... good."

As her anxiety drained away, so did her strength and she slumped, leaning all of her weight against him.

He held her tighter, "Mother-!"

"I'm fine," Narcissa said faintly.

"You are not," Draco said, guiding her down the hall to the small side room near the kitchens that had been repurposed into a bedroom so she wouldn't have to go up and down the stairs. He shouldered the door open and helped his mother to her bed.

"I will be, I just need to rest, to get my strength back," Narcissa said, letting her cloak fall onto the ground and collapsing onto her bed.

Draco grabbed a heavy throw blanket from the end of the bed and tucked it around her.

"Wake me for dinner," Narcissa said, her eyelids drooping.

"If you feel up to it," Draco said.

"I will," Narcissa said with a weak smile, "Promise that you will. I hardly get to see you otherwise, you're always at your cauldron."

Draco sighed, "Very well. I shall see you for dinner."

Narcissa smiled as her eyes closed and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Draco leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to the top of her head. He hoped this would not lead to relapse, she had only just recovered from the last illness that had left her bed-bound for weeks.

He collected the empty potion bottles from her nightstand and dropped them in a basket that one of their elves would bring to his brewing room once it was full. He pulled open the drawer took out a fresh bottle of each and lined them up on the edge where they would be easy to grab.

Draco took a quick inventory of the potions left in the drawer. She was nearly out of invigoration draught, so he would make more of that first. The healing potion and draught of peace were equally low but the healing potion was more important so that would come next, followed by the draught of peace, then dreamless sleep and girding potions.

He slid the drawer shut and stood up with a sigh. And he needed to find time somewhere to prepare a blood- replenishing potion. Draco hoped it might provide his mother more strength if administered in smaller doses. If it didn't, he'd try another potion and another, as many as it took. He couldn't lose her. She was all he had left in the world.

-

Tags below v💜 same as always, leave a message or reblog to get tagged in the next post

@havingaverydrarryday hi hi! it's so good to seeyou!

@shadowsofstories 😭thank youuuuuuu!

@dewitty1 ye 😁its gonna be so angsty lol💜thank yuuuuu💜

@assweetascherrypie thank you so much! that means soo much to mee😍😍

@bug-bytes YAy😁 thank you!!

@reveriepi 🥰thank you! I'm so happy to be back, I missed writing😥

@plsgimmeahug @setemipe @tiny-naut @witch19 @lilyinthebreeze @death-cool 💜thank you for the reblog! 💜

[citruswriter]

I FUCKING LOVE THE ANIMALISTIC READER SHIT ANSUSIJASH

Them Finding Out You Have a Partner

Listen with me! ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

A/N: I'M SORRY HAPPY YOU LOVE MY CRINGY BF SCENARIOS! NAJDKDKDJSJDJ! Get ready for angst ya'll. Reader is in a relationship but it's kind of rocky. Bc obviously we're not gonna stay.

Previous Part

"I don't want you hanging out with them anymore!" Your partner shouted at you. The two of you had been arguing for the past twenty minutes. Why? Well your partner found out about your group chat with the turtles, April, and some others. It wasn't exactly a secret, you never hid the group chat. You saw no need. But apparently your partner had a problem with you texting a bunch of mutant turtles. "But why?!" You yelled back, animal appendages displaying your anger. Your partner growled and stepped forward, causing you to step back. "I don't want you talking to those freaks!" Your partner spat out and your eyes widened. "Excuse the fuck outta me? What's next? You gonna call me a freak too?" You growled back and your partner huffed. "You know damn well that it's not the same damn thing. You're still mostly human. They're not." Your partner said, trying to reason with you. You let out a bitter laugh and scoffed. "Whatever. I love you but I'm headed out. I can't hear another word of this bullshit". You spat out, storming out of the apartment and going out onto the streets of New York. You knew that your partner would attempt to follow you home, so you took a different path and instead headed for the lair. Fuck this shit man.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader has a boyfriend.

Leo had never seen you so pissed. You walked in with a silence he had never seen from you, ears pinned and tail bristling. A growl was resounding from your throat, a primal noise he had never heard from you before. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't a little bit intimidated. Mikey sprang up to hug you, obviously not picking up on your mood. "Touch me, Michaelangelo, and I swear it will be the last thing you do," you spat out, golden eyes moving to give him the deadliest death glare the poor turtle had ever seen. Immediately he put his hands up in surrender. "Woah! What's up with you? You good?" He asked gently. "Got into a fight with my boyfriend," you said bluntly. Leo struggled to keep his exterior neutral and calm when he heard that word. Boyfriend. Of course you were taken. "(Y/N)," Leo called out to you and your head snapped his direction, glaring up at him as if to silently tell him to not waste your time. "Come mediate with me. It'll help calm your nerves". He didn't expect you to follow him, really he didn't, but he was grateful to see you behind him when he finally reached the meditation room.

He sat down and you followed suit, sitting beside him. "So boyfriend huh?" He started gently, trying to sound as casual as possible. "What's it to you?" You snapped, glaring at him only to soften when he gave a 'don't test me' look. Sighing you rubbed your face and looked up at him. "Yeah. Boyfriend. We've been going steady for about a year now. But recently things have been rocky." You murmured and Leo nodded empathetically. "What did he say that got you so worked up?" He asked. You chewed your bottom lip, fangs slightly slipping out. "He said he no longer wanted me to hang out with you guys. Said you guys were freaks." You confessed. Leo swallowed thickly. He was used to being called a freak. This wasn't new to him. But the idea of you cutting him off because of some bigot made him nervous. "Are you going to do it?" He asked, voice slightly shaky. Your ears pricked up as you looked at him, "Absolutely not! If he thinks I'm going to stop hanging around here, he's dead wrong." Leo only hummed in response. You slouched your shoulders, giving an exhausted sigh.

"I don't know Leo. These past few months, it seems like we've been fighting every single week, if not multiple times a week. He keeps asking me to cut off certain friends for one reason or another. Hell he even asked me to block my dad". Leo wanted to hold you as he saw you anxiously run your fingers through your hair, gripping it in a stressed manner. Instead he opted to gently pull your hands from your scalp, holding them and looking at you, "Forgive me if I'm overstepping but that sounds incredibly toxic." He said softly. You hung your head, ears pinned back in sadness. "I know. It's just... so hard to let go sometimes." You muttered. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Leo felt his heart squeeze. He pulled you closer, hugging you. You melted almost instantly, hugging him back. "Thank you..." You whispered. Leo rubbed circles onto your back, butterflies flitting around in his stomach. "Anything for you, blossom".

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, Reader has a girlfriend.

"Raphael!" You shouted as soon as you walked in and this man almost thought about running and hiding from you from how pissed you sounded. You beelined it to the gym room and glared at him. "Yes?" Was all he said as he took in your body language. Pupils turned to slits, ears pinned, claws unsheathed, tail lashing. "I'm absolutely enraged right now. So give me something to hit or lift or something before I punch a wall and inevitably break a few bones," you seethed. "Hear you loud and clear kitten," was all he replied with and boy did he put you to work. Two hours later and you were sweaty and laying on the floor, chugging water as fast as you could. You were still mad but at least you were calmer.

"What got you so worked up? Swear you were boutta kill me". He asked gently, drinking his own water. You sighed softly and looked at him, "Got into a fight with my girlfriend". You explained and Raph almost choked on his water. Girlfriend? Course a pretty thing like you was taken. He felt his heart break but you kept talking. "I mean seriously. I've dated all kinds of people of all genders but she's just a work of fucking art." You spat out, standing up on your wobbly legs to pace. "She saw the group chat and just demanded that I stop hanging out with you guys because, and I quote, 'because they're freaks'. Which is utter bullshit. If anybody's the fucking freak it's her!" You shouted. "So then I asked her if you guys are freaks then what am I? And she said it wasn't the same because I'm still mostly human". You stopped pacing, angry tears streaming down your face and your tail bristled with utter rage. "I don't want to be her stupid fucking exception". You chocked out, hands beginning to shake from the pure unfiltered rage you were filling. Raph knew he needed to calm you down and soon.

"Wanna know my opinion?" He asked and you angled one of your ears his way, silently telling him you were listening. "I think this little girlfriend of yours sounds like shit. If I were you, I'd dump her". You relaxed a little, tail fur now smoothed out and your fists were no longer clenched. You made your way over to the giant turtle and pushed him to sit down before crawling up into his lap. Raph didn't know what to do, not expecting you to pull such a move. "Maybe you're right, Raph..." You murmured, nuzzling into him softly. All the anger must have utterly exhausted you because you could barely move. Raph decided to softly pet you. Soon you were purring against him, halfway dozing off. He couldn't help but stare down at you with adoration. You had come to him so willingly. It was nice to know you found solace in him.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Read is a moth mutant, Reader has a girlfriend.

You were utterly enraged. Storming into the lair. From the other room, Donnie picked up on your scent. Excitedly, he made his way out to go find you but he was a little too late. Mikey had just begun to ask you what was wrong when you let out a frustrated yell, spun around, and smashed your fist into the wall. "(Y/N)!" Was all Donnie let out. You reared your fist back for another go but luckily the tall turtle stopped you, grabbing your wrist and noticing how you were shaking with pure rage fueled adrenaline. "Come with me," was all he said before dragging you along with him. He picked you up before setting you down on a table in his lab. He got out some medical items to now deal with your busted up knuckles. "Mind telling me what the hell that was out there?" He asked, trying to keep his tone calm. "Got in a fight," you simply said. "With who?" Donnie asks, cleaning your bloody knuckles. "My girlfriend." Donnie's heart jumped into his throat at those words, pausing his actions momentarily before continuing.

"She called you guys freaks..." You muttered and Donnie looked up at you, eyes so soft and caring that your heart couldn't help but melt. You sighed and hung your head. Donnie bandaged up your hand before leaning in to kiss your head. You gave a moth squeak and looked up at him, lip trembling. "I don't like that she called you guys freaks. It hurt my heart. I care about you guys so much, Dee. So much about you." The last sentence came out as a whisper as tears began to roll down your cheeks but he heard you. "Although I appreciate you getting angry on our behalf, please don't punch the wall again." He said gently and you nodded, sniffling softly. "Do you guys fight often?" He asked, prodding softly and you nodded. "Y-Yeah. We do. We didn't at first but it seems like all we do know is either sleep together or fight." You said and Donnie pressed his lips together, noticing how stressed you look.

"That doesn't sound very healthy, (Y/N). Being in a relationship like that could really damage you". He said and more tears spilled over onto your cheeks. He fought the urge to cradle your face. To wipe your tears away and kiss you. To tell you that he had you, that nobody could hurt you now. "Donnie?" Your voice shook him out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked up at you. "Yes dove?" He replied without thinking and he noticed your wings flutter at the nickname. "Thank you for cleaning me up. I appreciate it". You said bashfully. "Of course, (Y/N). Happy to help".

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has white feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, Reader has a boyfriend.

Wings fluffed up in a defensive measure, you briskly walked into the lair, making your way straight to Mikey. "Hey angelcakes!" He called out, not picking up on your mood. "Do me a favor and shut the fuck up," you spat before taking his controller and tossing it aside. He just blinked in surprise as you shoved him arms apart and crawled into his lap, curling into him. Under normal circumstances, he might have pulled away to ask you what was wrong or ask you to please not just snatch his controller away. But as he heard you silently sob into his plastron, all other worries melted away as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. "(Y/N)? You ok?" He questioned softly and you lifted your head to finally look at him. "No. I got into a fight with my boyfriend." You muttered. Mikey swallowed thickly and he swore his chest felt tight at the word 'boyfriend'. "He just makes me so mad, Mikey. H-He called you freaks a-and I just- I just walked out. I care about him but all we do is fight these days and I hate it." You sobbed out. Mikey took to mindlessly rubbing circles on your left hip. "Well you know what they say," he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you looked at him with confusion.

"If your dog starts barking at you, someone else is feeding it better." You tilted your head, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "Now that you mention it. He has been sneaking around a lot..." You muttered before looking back down into his eyes. "Do you really think he could be... doing something?" You questioned, voice trembling. Mikey shrugged. "I don't know, babes." He replied softly. "Just know that whatever happens, I'm here for you. Ok?" You nodded, smiling softly. "You're too sweet to me, Mikey". You cooed and Mikey swore he felt his heart skip a beat at your tone. "Only because you're sweet, sugartits". He quipped back. You rolled your eyes. "Aaaaaaand there it is," you said with a giggle, rolling off of him and getting comfy on the couch beside him.

He wanted to pick you back up. Settle you back down on his lap, keep you curled up and safe against his chest. Keep you close to him. "Sorry for yanking your controller away, by the way," you said, glancing at Mikey's dead character on the screen with drooped ears. "It's ok baby," he reassured. You enveloped yourself in your wings, but only to hide your flustered face from him calling you baby. He's so cute...

Reader falling in love next? Maybe, maybe. Hope ya'll enjoyed this one. 💋