#the only other option is Click which is I think he is fine for a more spoiler-free thing

[anonymocha]

[ Mild Reverse 1999 1.7 Spoilers? ]

I am gonna draw these arcanists in the template tomorrow since it is 10 pm but here is my fill on @titaniumions’ template 😍 I wanna ramble abt these goobers first

Click edition

[cleo-fox]

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

*

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

*

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

*

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

*

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

*

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

*

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky. 

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core. 

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature. 

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. 

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long. 

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss.  He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[enkvyu]

7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, pet names, nipple play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part one. / part three. | masterlist

2-5-1-2.

It’s an easy enough combination to remember, being Christmas Day and all.

Pressing 2, 5, and 1 is easy. The final '2' makes you second guess yourself.

You’re not sure why you’re panicking. He’ll pick up.

(It’s literally his job, idiot.)

Fuck it.

Your index finger hits the '2' and the hashtag to finalize the combination.

When you hear the line go dead, you tense every muscle in your body.

No breathing.

No blinking.

Just waiting for that silky, sultry siren song to come over and confirm your bias that it’s the single sexiest voice you’ve ever heard.

—but it’s that automated lady you tried to bypass from the menu.

“Please enter your credit card number, followed by the expiration date—”

“Oh, Goddamn it,” you groan, shouldering the phone to shuffle your purse around.

Eventually after some digging, you find your card before she can continue a second loop of her payment spiel. 

You can’t believe you’re legitimately putting your credit card information out there for anyone to steal.

Yet, if Annie’s been doing this for ages, then it ought to be safe.

Right?

After typing in the necessary numbers and confirming they’re correct, you’re so out of your own head that you don’t even realize the line switches from slight static to smooth nothingness.

“So you finally called back.”

“Shit!”

The buttery smooth greeting — or lack thereof — makes you nearly drop your phone.

You gasp and manage to catch the device just in time to hear a chuckle, graveled and low, on the other end.

“And just as jittery as last night.”

“Levi,” you greet breathlessly, straightening your outfit like he can actually see it.

You swear you hear a smile in his voice.

“Hey, baby.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

“Or do you prefer it when I call you Scarlet?”

You prefer literally anything he’ll give you, is what you want to say back, but you don’t want to automatically appear as though you’re ready to be walked like a dog at minute one.

“I’m… fine with ‘baby’,” you confess after a beat, focusing on the swirl of the marble counter below you just to dissociate to his voice.

“Thought so,” he arrogantly states before making this grunting noise, like he’s rolling his body in a chair to get more comfortable. “Are we talking again?"

"Is that alright?"

"You know it is." Levi's voice lifts, softer now. "And how's your Saturday so far?”

“Very mundane and super lackluster,” you admit. “I’m sure you’ve had a much more interesting day than me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies without skipping a beat.

“No?” you ask with a smirk. “I’d say getting people off with the sound of your voice makes for a pretty interesting job.”

“Who said it’s only just my voice?”

Son of a bitch.

The phone shifts from your right shoulder to your left.

“It isn’t?”

He makes a noncommittal hum, and it runs straight to your core. “That's confidential, sweet Scarlet."

"Boo," you joke. "You're no fun."

"You haven't seen me at my fun yet," he corrects. "Speaking of fun: how are you not hungover?"

“The power of heavy tylenol and H2O? Which... I have to apologize that."

"For what?"

"Uh, I pretty much poured my heart and soul out to you last night.”

He chuckles. "I didn't mind it. Feeling any better about that situation?”

“I haven’t really thought about it since last night, so you’re already a miracle worker.”

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no joke."

“Huh." He clicks his tongue. "And what have you been thinking about?”

You say it without realizing you’ve said it out loud:

“You.”

Both ends of the phone go silent.

Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to take a pan out of one of the cabinets to bash your head in with anguish. 

“In, like, an interested sense.”

Shit, that isn’t much better.

“An… interested sense,” he repeats, slower this time. His vowels dip deep.

“Oh no,” you bemoan. “Okay. Let me restart: I mean it in like a — you were on my mind? Today, sort of way. So I called.”

“...uh-huh.”

“Because the call ended so quickly!” you add. “I didn’t think it was going to end so abruptly at the fifteen minute mark, but I wasn’t done talking to you, so I called again.”

“You’re shit at asserting yourself, aren’t you?”

His words make you blink twice.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like making decisions or having to explain things,” he replies without judgment. “You think if you want something, then it makes you selfish.”

Ouch.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you reply in a bitter, yet lifted tone of surprise. 

You hear a noise on the other end. A ‘tch’ if you can make it out.

“Sorry," he apologizes. "Too far?’

“No! Too real,” you admit with a small laugh. “And I’m sure you don’t want to play analyst-therapist tonight, so.”

“I’m here to do anything you want,” he reminds, syrup-y sweet. 

“Anything?”

“Mostly anything,” he adds, and there’s a tiny chuckle bubbling between the words that makes your heart flutter. “Can’t hold a tune worth a damn and I don’t know how to speak some languages, so there are limitations.”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling your stress melt.

Then—

A small groan, like his head's tilting backwards. “Damn, I like hearing that.”

You turn away from your kitchen counter, subconsciously padding to your bedroom. “Hearing what?”

“Your laugh,” he explains. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Very.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Dark hair. Gray-ish blue eyes. Sharp nose. High cheekbones.

Fit.

When your eyes flicker to your own bed, you try to picture a version of him waiting there.

He could be leaning back on his elbow, button-down shirt splayed open like a newly-peeled present.

Maybe his legs are parted.

Maybe he stares at you like you’re all he could ever want.

His voice cuts through the fantasy, causing your breath to catch.

“What do you want, baby?”

Then it drops an octave lower.

“...c’mon, be selfish for once.”

For once.

Like he can read your soul through a damn cell phone.

But Levi is right — your entire short-lived relationship with Porco and just about any other man before him has been through a small lens. Fitting in the middle seat just to never make any noise. To bend with the curve rather than against it to create your own path.

It’s just a sex hotline, but for some reason, his words resonate.

Be selfish.

Wasn’t that the point of calling in the first place?

“Anything?” you repeat a second time, much softer.

Levi shuffles on the other line then exhales like he’s getting comfortable.

“What do you need?” he asks, tone low and words slower. 

Purposeful. 

“What do you want?”

You close your eyes, drawing in a slow, steady inhale.

Are you seriously doing this?

No more overthinking.

“Should I... get comfortable?” you ask, too afraid to say what it is that you want.

What you’re about to do.

“Mm, you near a couch or a bed?”

“A bed.”

“Don’t get on it yet,” he orders, “but walk towards it. Bend over it.”

Jesus Christ.

“Bend over it?” you ask with a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You’re home from a long day. I’m home from a long day. All you’ve wanted all day is to have someone tell you what to do, right?”

As much as your face feels like it's on fire, you slowly walk to your bed and put the phone down between your splayed palms.

You press the speaker option to ‘on’, and feel a wave of arousal hit your gut when you hear him sigh through the phone.

“I thought you said you wanted me to be selfish,” you remind, bending over your bed.

“You’re allowing me to take charge,” he retorts with little hesitation. “You’re letting me take care of you the way you always should’ve been taken care of. Your ex-boyfriend has no fucking clue what he’s missed out on.”

You exhale, trying to keep it together.

“Levi—”

“I’m right here, baby,” he huskily promises. “Right here. Not leaving you.”

You feel ridiculous.

You’re so turned on it’s almost laughable.

“You ready to let me take control?” he eventually asks, and you nod like he can see you.

“Yeah, I’m— I think so.”

“I like using a red-yellow-green light system,” Levi hums. “Red’s a hard stop. Yellow is negotiating, a slow down to check in. Green means you’re in.” He pauses, and you lean down closer to your phone, bending further. “Color?”

Even on speaker, his voice rips straight through you.

“Green,” you decide, blurting before your brain can catch up.

“Good girl.”

You’re not going to survive this.

“Are your lights off?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he decides. “I want you to crawl slowly onto the bed now. Can you do that for me?” 

Your hand slides obediently, passing over the phone as you begin to rest one knee on the mattress. It dips with give. 

“All the way up to your pillows, then you can lay on your back — but keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

Eventually you drag your phone with you as you crawl to the headboard of your bed, only to then slowly turn around and drop to your back.

“Are your eyes closed?”

With the phone speaker right at your ear, it almost lends itself to the fantasy of him hovering above you.

His lips dip at the edge of your ear, the static lost to you.

“Yes,” you exhale, relaxing into the bed.

“Good. You’re doing so good for me already, and we’ve barely started.” He pauses, shifting once more. “What’re you wearing, baby?”

“Something so not sexy,” you joke, and it earns a breathy laugh from him.

“Bet you can make anything sexy,” he tells you, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

“How would you know?” you ask, your hand already reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ve never even seen me.”

“No, but I hear you, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Your breath hitches, and you can hear it; the smile in his voice.

“Take everything off, except your underwear.”

“Bra, too?”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he tells you, and it’s much less breathy. It’s certain, like he wants to check in — make sure you’re just as into it as he sounds. “Would you rather I help you take that off?”

Your brain blanks.

Slowly you push your jeans off first, kicking them to some unknown corner.

Then you rise, ripping your t-shirt off of your body, until you’re sitting in your mismatched bra and panties.

“How would you take it off of me?” you boldly ask, though you can’t quite get rid of the shake of anticipation in your voice.

“Fuck, I’d love to,” he grunts, and your face burns. “I’d be so busy pressing small, slow kisses to your neck. Reach up and touch your neck for me. Feel how I’d kiss it.”

You do.

As surprised as anyone else, you reach up and press your fingers against small parts of your neck, earning him a tiny gasp and noise of want.

“Dragging down to your throat.”

You press two gentle fingers to your skin again, following his path, before slamming your thighs together to try and relieve the heat between your legs.

“My finger would just… slip, right under the right strap of your bra.”

Your fingers dance across your collarbone, slipping your middle finger just under the delicate strap to mirror.

With your eyes closed, the motions lend to an almost out-of-body experience.

Like your hand trailing down your body isn’t yours; it’s his.

You’re his, right now.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and you nods furiously.

“Very.”

“Good. Let me pull the other one down. I wanna see how pretty my girl is.”

The praises, the way he so easily speaks this way, has you all sorts of flustered.

Slowly you raise your other hand to pull down the strap, and whimper when you tug down as far as you can.

Your breasts spill out over the cup, allowing your hardened nipples to greet the night air.

“Can I touch you?”

The words almost make you open your eyes, as if you’ll see this mystery man hovering over you.

You know he's not here.

You wish he were right here.

“Yes.”

“How do you like to be touched, baby? Show me.”

“Levi,” you whine, allowing your shaky hands to run along your breasts.

You’re afraid, you’re exhilarated, but when you finally pinch the little buds and roll them between your fingers, you’re too far gone to care.

“Fuck—”

“Feels good, huh?” Levi’s own breathy voice interrupts your curse. “You look so beautiful like this. Letting me play with you— God, I could do this for hours—”

“Want you to.”

You don’t even recognize your own breathy tone. 

Hell, you only hear him.

You only feel him.

“Need more,” you pant, and he hums with amusement.

“No,” he replies, “think I’m gonna play with you a little more right here for now.”

You accidentally pinch your nipples, harder, like he’s teaching you a lesson.

“Levi.”

“What, is my girl getting impatient?”

His girl.

You don’t even know him, but you’d sure as hell like to be.

(How easy is it, for you to fall so fast from your judgmental high horse when Annie first slipped you this number — only for you to be moaning on your bed, hands groping and kneading your breasts, for a man you didn’t know?)

“Y-You said,” you stammer, “to be selfish, and I want—”

“Shh, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Levi interrupts on the other end. “But you have to do something for me, too.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you holding back on me. No shyness. No second guesses. I want you, I want to hear what I do to you. Is that understood?”

You can’t take it.

Your one hand leaves your chest to skim down to your belly, unable to wait any longer.

“I want you to touch me,” you hiccup.

“Yeah?”

His voice wavers in the response before it strengthens. Demands.

“I want those panties gone first. Take them off and spread your knees. Feet flat on the bed.”

No need to be told twice; you hastily pull your panties down your hips, your knees, until they pool at one of your ankles.

Your knees knock together before spreading, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want to touch you, too, baby.” Levi swallows, coating his throat. “How wet are you for me?”

Fingertips run past your lower belly to touch the apex of your thighs, gasping with surprise and relief when you feel that familiar electricity.

“Really fucking wet,” you admit.

The groan he emits is delicious. “Fuck.”

For a moment, you feel completely out of your depth. 

This is meant to be a sex hotline, but there are lines blurred in your mind. Something about the sheer image of him leaning back into his chair, fucking a fistful of his cock while he has a phone operator headset against his ear, only turns you on that much more.

“If we had time, I’d spend all night memorizing what you taste like. What you feel like. How you let go — for me, only for me.”

“Only for you,” you promise, unable to stop yourself from drawing circles over your clit.

You moan, head bent back against your pillow.

“Fuck, you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, and his voice seems less controlled now. It’s got a hint of raggedness, and it only quickens your pace. “You feel amazing, you know that? Such a pretty pussy, all spread and wet for me—”

“Shit, Jesus, Levi,” you gasp, knowing that you’re not going to last long.  You’re too wound up from the night before. “If you keep talking like that—”

“What, are you gonna come for me?” Amusement tickles the question. “Oh, you can come for me, baby, but I’m gonna need at least two from you tonight.”

Your fingers press a little harder to your clit, and you keen. 

“Wh– At least?”

“As if I’d ever be satisfied with only one,” he murmurs. “No, I wanna watch you come apart. Feel it on my fingers with those cute little contrac—”

That’s it.

You moan louder than you expected, the taut bowstring suddenly snapped in half. 

You arch off the bed, relentlessly rubbing your fingers against your body to ride out the insane orgasm that you — that Levi has given you.

Even if you’re blissed out, you hear it on the receiving end:

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you sound amazing. I know it’s gonna be tough, but keep going for me, okay? Don’t stop.”

“It’s sen– ha, sensitive!” you whimper, wanting to stop your hand.

“Mm-mm, you said you’d be good. Be selfish, baby. Give me two.”

“But Levi!”

Everything is on overdrive.

Your hand; your body; your mind.

You imagine he’s hovering over you, working you with his hand with a near-sadistic relentlessness.

As you battle your own refractory period, your toes curl, teeth clenched.

You want to be good.

You want to be so good.

And somewhere in that overwhelming intensity, you feel it: the ebb and flow of pleasure returning, crawling through your veins and forcing you to not give up.

To give this to him.

Then you hear it: panting.

As if he’s getting off to this himself. Your eyes snap open, wide, to an empty room. 

When your cheek turns to the phone, you confirm that’s what you hear:

Ragged breaths, albeit softly, with added grunts of control. 

Like he’s holding back.

Something about that image of him in a chair, his hand relentlessly pumping his cock in time with your hand, your whimpers and moans, does damage.

“I need— mm— want— please.”

“I’m right here, baby,” Levi promises, though his voice is weaker. You can even hear him swallow again. “Right fucking here, wanna hear you cum so bad.”

Maybe you really were pent up enough for two, because soon you’re slipping — falling — into that blissful nothingness while your body clenches on itself, clit fluttering from a second release.

It’s less intense, but that doesn’t make it any less good.

Everything throbs in your body as you come down, panting, with a slight sheen of sweat on your skin.

You turn to your phone, totally gone in the bliss of the aftermath.

Levi has grown silent as well; only light puffs of air come through the speaker now.

“Feeling better?” Levi asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Shut up,” you answer with a gentle laugh of your own. “I’m… shit. I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

That statement gets Levi to laugh, and your heart feels twice as full.

“That’s one way of pillow talk, I guess.”

The man pauses.

“Are you alright?”

As if he’s truly concerned, worried about your wellbeing.

You don’t allow yourself to fall for it, not completely.

This is his job — even if it felt so real, in the moment.

“Much better,” you promise, smiling to yourself.

“Happy to help,” he hums, his voice returning to that stormy swirl of seduction and softness.

The sobering reality of an empty bedroom should deter you, but all you can do is smile.

(When is the last time you genuinely felt giddy? Excited? Satisfied?)

“Hey, Levi,” you murmur eventually, slowly sitting up to unhook your bra and toss it away. No need to keep it on.

“Yeah, baby?”

You’ll never get over the way he sounds when he calls you that.

It’s permanently stuck to your frontal lobe, obscuring any other logic or reality.

“Am I still allowed to call?”

“Allowed?”

“Yeah, even though we…”

“What, you think you get one experience and your membership is up?”

Levi chuckles, shifting in his seat — or bed — or wherever he is.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

“Any?”

“Between company hours, yeah.”

“Even to talk?”

“Of course,” he answers, softer this time. “Always to talk. Go get some rest.”

“Mm,” you mumble, turning on your side as exhaustion takes over. “I will, but only because I want to and I’m being selfish.”

It surprises you to hear him laugh again, but it’s louder now.

More prominent. 

As if he genuinely enjoyed your joke.

Get your head out of the clouds, girl, is what you want to say to yourself, but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Good. You earned it.”

A noise emits from your tired throat to acknowledge him, too sleepy to formulate a real sentence.

Then his voice drops to a whisper, for your ears and your ears alone.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You press the ‘end call’ button and fall into the deepest sleep you’ve had all year.

.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part two of P4! This is insane. I still cannot believe the feedback I got in part one. Seriously, you all made my June. I hope this next part has satisfied your curiosity of how Levi would be a hotline operator.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[moonsaver]

I cant stop thinking about being a possible singer from the Iris Family?? Their family is usually responsible for the major "talent" productions that practically are responsible for the entertainment... also Siobhan as hints to what the Iris family would be like.

-

You were a singer.

Barely a singer, to be fair.

It was for the sake of your little compartment of a family. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you scraped out every last bit of your talents. The one which seems to be lasting the longest, seems to be singing.

You did what you had to. You sang until your throat was raw and hurt, practiced day and night until your ears were sick of your own voice, passed through every elimination tests that were conducted – all so you could have a stabilized, bolted place in the Iris Family, if it meant you and your parents and siblings weren't kicked out.

And, you weren't the best. And certainly not as good as Robin – the gem of the Oak Family. It was ironic, but it didn't matter. Not to you. As long as it kept your family secure, you endured. The comparisons, the hushed, barely pleased audience as they only took your performance as stalling time for the "real stars" of the show, the side-glances all of your other relatives threw your way. It was fine. You told yourself so. It was fine as long as you, your parents and your siblings were secured.

Risks weren't an option for you. Not when you had too much to lose.

-

Sunday has learned to appreciate frequency over output.

Times where schedules had to be rearranged last minute, performances strained and announcements elongated to squeeze out any extra amount of coverage for a missing show, routine dismantled and put together in real time as the neverending perfect show went on.

In all of those times, Sunday kept a usual eye on everyone. Their names, roles, status, popularity, preferences. And most importantly – their reliability.

You were an average performer. But your reliability was notable to Sunday. Oftentimes he found himself looking for you first and foremost for an improvised concert, whenever things even threatened to go awry. He knew perhaps you obliged out of self-interest or a simple fear of upsetting The Head of the Oak Family, but you were reliable in your own way. A simple glance your way and a nod was enough to signal you for advance preparation for improvisation, repeated song lyrics at the tip of your tongue.

If you were lucky, sometimes Sunday would repay you by scheduling you for an opening performance for a small-time event, or letting you in on the recent trends, the general public opinion towards your show, or even drop some personal hints for you to improve.

That was all you were. A reliable stand-in for when there were a disarray of clarity, disagreements upon disagreements, confusion stagnating the scheduling.

-

Until, you became so much more in a simple moment of disillusion.

A break is in order, Sunday believes. He clicks his pen continuously, the sound echoing in the vast space of the room, bouncing off of the sterile, empty walls.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

5 times.

Click.

6 times.

Sunday's restless mind comes to a small halt when he inhales sharply, constraining his fingers. His shaking hand gently places the pen onto the flat, neatly organized desk, back where it belongs. He rests his chin on his hands. Thinking and listing everything on his agenda for the day.

A tandem of knocks resound from the smooth wooden surface of the door.

"Mr. Sunday?"

Ah. It's you.

He supposes his asisstants and servants don't realize he's noticed the recent pattern as of late. Whenever something changes in the schedule that could possibly threaten to dampen his mood or displease him, they send you in as some sort of collateral. He's gotten used to your presence enough to not mind it.

"Come in."

Short, quick clicks of your heels accompany the entering of your figure into the room. Your front is warmly illuminated by the yellow lighting of the room.

"Changes have been decided within the schedule again."

"As expected."

He gets up from the leather chair with a subtle creak, the steps of his shoes muffled by the carpet. He walks around his table, fingers trailing across the ridges of the masterfully crafted desk.

"Can I ask a favor of you, as always?"

"Of course."

His wings slightly flutter, pleased at the response. You can tell, despite his back facing you.

His fingers trail and come to a slow halt at the edge of the desk. His index finger taps on the surface.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

5 times.

Ah, you think. He's anxious.

"Mr. Sunday?"

"Hm?"

His finger stops, you note.

"I've heard guests have taken more to berry-flavored items as of late."

He chuckles a bit, softly.

"There's an uprising trend. Berry-flavored items have been on the rise, and as such, food follows."

Sunday half theorizes it could be due to the recent intreview Robin had. Strawberry flavored lipgloss was something she mentioned in particular.

"Ah. I see. So I suppose those colors may also influence the recent fashion trends?"

Sunday hums, in thought.

The moment is interrupted by an abrupt knock at the door.

"Mr. Sunday, there's a few tasks that need your approval to go ahead."

The male asisstant's voice resounds confidently through the previously quiet room. Sunday looks over at you and nods. You turn to take your leave. You can only hope it was enough of a reprieve for him.

-

"It seems fashion trends are inspired, aswell."

Sunday mentions, standing beside you. His eyes are watchful, analyzing the current performance from behind the curtains.

"I see."

You respond. Making conversation was not your strongsuit. Sunday smiles slightly at your awkwardness.

He continued the conversation after a few moments, talking about color palettes, scents, and general observable trends. Your usual,basic gowns and dresses will now see a noticeable change, due to Sunday's suggestions.

He admits, even at times, he looks forward to them. Sometimes, as foolish as it sounds, he slips in a mix of his own personal opinion, thinly disguised as the "general preference", which manages to then take presidence over your usual pick of gowns. He won't admit it, but he secretly does enjoy sometimes "picking out" your outfits. It's never harmed anyone in the long run, and Sunday's personal theories of whichever color would look good on you are confirmed.

-

"May I ask.. what this is..?"

The artificial, blue light of the Dreamscape softly highlights Sunday's face, as he stands before you with a pleased look. The same, usual smile on his face.

"I believe incorporating a few gold accents into your palette may help."

You look at the black, velvet bag; the ends of it scrunched into a closure. Your fingers gently pry it open and meddle around a bit, before they pull out a single, gold earring. It glimmers wonderfully under the soft, blue light. There's a flower at the very top with an encrusted diamond, from which a long, elegant thread of gold dangles, ending into a small golden stalk.

You curiously examine it, slightly dangling it to inspect the weight and movement of the accessory.

Sunday walks toward you with a few, short strides, and holds out his hand.

You look at his open, gloved palm, then him.

You inhale deeply, before taking off your current earrings and placing them onto his hand, and gently replacing their former stations with the new earrings. Sunday places your previous earrings into the velvet bag, and glances at your ears, then you.

"Consider it a.. company gift."

How fanciful.

"Thank you for your generosity."

Sunday's eyes linger on your ears, then trail down to the junction of your jaw. His eyes close as his smiles widens slightly.

To be fair, he wanted more.

‐

Sunday has been getting closer to you as of late.

Because you wouldn't imagine ever being this close in proximity to Robin of all people.

Her lips are glossy with a strawberry tint, and her eyes are a beautiful lake green, you note. You also take note of the fact she's much more warmer and approachable than she is appeared to be on digital surfaces.

Both of you engage in polite conversation, her taking the lead, noticing your awkwardness. She's sweet, and understanding. She discusses general things regarding singing and songwriting. You take her for a very warm individual. It's no wonder she's a well-liked popstar. Talent alone can take you so far.

What you also wouldn't imagine is her managing to entangle you within her daily affairs. She leads you to private rooms, asks for advice on outfits, practice, and all sorts of things, despite the contrast of your styles almost bizzare, you oblige anyway.

And it's almost brazenly obvious she's trying to get you and Sunday to spend more time alone outside of work.

It's of no coincidence that she suddenly has to leave and take care of a few things or shuffle around a bit outside whenever Sunday manages to pop in and check up on you two. It wouldn't have been so uncomfortable if for the fact, Sunday's eyes are always lingering on your ears.

Once, he'd taken note that you'd been wearing them more often to your performances and shows. It can't be helped – you've gained more popularity and as a result, keener eyes inspect your choice of practically everything. Including your earrings. Your fans aren't hesitant to point out how exquisite and specific the craftsmanship of your earrings are, and it's not long before your fans have understood it was gifted to you. By who, became the newest sensation regarding you. Petty rumors were incriminating, but you suppose if it brought you more fans, it was enough.

Sunday chuckles softly when you briefly touch on the subject.

It wasn't long before he'd gotten you another pair as a result.

You only worry about paying him back, more and more.

‐

There are a plethora of thorns on Sunday's side. Many, of which the public, and many members of the Oak Family aren't privy to.

One of them was currently busy darkening his doorstep;

The IPC.

Or rather specifically – Aventurine.

What he wasn't expecting, was for you to be an exclusive invitee to his mischief.

You were rather in an unlucky spot. You had always considered your luck to be rusty, having struggled so much just for average recognition and a barely tangible career that's keeping your family afloat.

On top of that, you were being heavily persuaded by Aventurine, who was persistent in his offer to you. His desperation was more than obvious, like a nervous dog waiting for the bone toss, holding you in place with a firm grip on your arm. It didn't help that he'd forced his way into your hotel room aswell.

And Sunday just witnessed the pinnacle of this forsaken deal.

...

"Aventurine."

"Mr. Sunday."

After a beat of silence, you pathetically try to step in,

"This–"

"I see you've taken to familiarizing with my employees."

Sunday's smile remains well plastered on his face. Aventurine only smiles back.

"I was actually in the middle of striking a deal. There's always opportunities in the best of places, right?" Aventurine side-eyes you. You shrink back a bit.

"My employees are unfortunately off-limits to contracts from unauthorized branches. I look for your understanding in this.. complicated form of approach."

You watch Aventurine's smile strain. Sunday continues.

"Perhaps, if you are in need of a singer, I may direct you to an appropriate employee from the Iris Family to search for someone."

"That won't be necessary. I wasn't looking for a singer. You don't think that's all they're talented at, do you?"

Sunday's eyes slightly sharpen at him. Aventurine's smile becomes more genuine.

"Oh, you've positively ruined the mood. I guess it's just not my lucky day, and it looks like I'm not getting a deal with you anytime soon."

Aventurine's eyes hone in on you. You stand stiffly, your arm tense from the uncertainty your body feels physically.

His grip loosens, languidly. You'd think he was doing it slowly on purpose if not to tick off Sunday more.

"I'll take my leave, then."

Aventurine breezes past Sunday, rounding the corner of the door. He casts one last glance to you as the turns.

His footsteps echo down the hallway. As soon as they fade, Sunday's smile drops slightly.

"Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?"

‐

[steveseddie]

not so fast

rated: t | cw: none apply | word count: 6,219

tags: steve harrington has a crush on eddie munson, accidental kissing, getting together, first kiss, steve is a Disaster in this

click here to read on ao3

***

Steve is running late for work.

And not just a little late either. More like, catastrophically late.

Like, ‘should’ve left his house ten minutes ago to even hope to make it on time’ kind of late.

Why?

There isn’t just one reason for how that happened- it’s been a series of mishaps that started with his alarm not going off this morning and ended with his car refusing to start.

“Because of fucking course!” Steve groans, twisting the key into the ignition a few more times before giving up.

After a string of creative curses and smacking his palms and his forehead against the wheel multiple times in frustration, he leaves his useless car and goes back to the house. As he crosses his driveway, he tries to think of ways to get himself to work.

First, he thinks of Nancy. He knows she’s giving Robin a ride to work today, but she’s probably dropped her off by now, punctual as she is. He has no way to reach her until she goes back home, and he’s pretty sure she mentioned something about hitting the library after dropping Robin off to do research for one of her articles for The Weekly Streak, so asking her for a ride isn’t an option.

Considering Steve’s only other friends are all fourteen-year-olds with no car and no license, he’s out of any other options pretty quickly after that.

If only he had a bike he could use, but the Harringtons got rid of those years ago. He could call Henderson and ask him to ride his bike here so Steve can take it to work. The kid will probably complain, but he owes Steve for the countless rides to the arcade and to Eddie’s trailer for their nerdy campaigns and-

Eddie!

Eddie has a car!

Eddie is Steve’s friend and he has a car!

After that realization hits, Steve rushes to the phone, dialing the number to the Munson’s trailer, which he memorized at some point during the last couple of weeks.

“Please, don’t be asleep. Please, pick up,” Steve mutters as the phone rings, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. His eyes flick to the digital clock on top of the TV and he groans. God, he’s so late.

“Ugh, hello?” A sleepy voice asks and Steve sighs in relief. Finally, something going his way this morning.

“Eddie! Oh, thank God!”

“Fuck, man, why are you being so loud this early in the fucking morning?” Eddie grumbles, and Steve feels bad for clearly waking him up. Or he would if he had time to feel bad.

“Sorry, sorry, listen, I need a favor, I need you to pick me up and take me to work, my car won’t start and I’m supposed to be at Family Video in- crap, right now actually.”

“Dude-”

“Eddie, please. I have the keys and Robin can’t get in until I get there and she’s going to kill me-”

“Steve, relax, Je-sus!” Eddie interrupts.

“Please,” he repeats, feeling desperate. “If you do this, I’ll do anything you want.”

Eddie hums. “Anything, huh?” He asks in that low voice that always sends shivers down Steve’s spine. Even now, he can feel them, anxious as he is.

God, he really doesn’t have time for this.

“Munson,” Steve hisses.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it. I’ll be there in ten.”

Steve winces, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not like he can ask Eddie to disregard speed limits or traffic lights or other cars just so he gets here faster, the last thing he wants is for him to wrap his van around a tree because of him. “Okay, thanks.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Eddie says before hanging up.

Since Steve has ten minutes before he gets here anyway, he gives himself one to get flustered over Eddie calling him that.

Then he uses the remaining nine to make Robin her favorite snack- peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which she claims taste better when Steve makes them. It’s probably an excuse so Steve makes them for her every time, but right now it works in his favor. She’s going to be pissed when Steve shows up late- he can’t even call the video store to let her know he’s on his way! Not when she’s locked outsid e because Steve has the god-damned keys. He hopes the sandwiches will help soften her up at least.

He’s already in the driveway when Eddie’s van rolls around the corner. As soon as it slows down, he jumps in and tells him to “Go!” without saying even saying hello.

Eddie snorts. “Good morning to you too, Harrington,” he says with an amused half-smile, but he starts driving. Eddie isn’t a slow driver by a long shot, but Steve notices that he still steps on the gas a little harder than he normally would, which he appreciates.

He slumps back onto the passenger seat. “Sorry, hi, thanks for doing this.”

“No problem, man,” Eddie says, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look Steve up and down. “Looks like you had quite the morning.”

Steve blows out a puff of air, running a hand through his hair. It probably looks like a mess right now because not only did he not have enough time to complete his routine, he’s also been anxiously running his fingers through it all morning. “You have no idea! First, my alarm didn’t go off so I had to rush through my shower and didn’t have enough time to fix my hair, then I couldn’t find my vest, then my car keys, and when I finally found those, my fucking car wouldn’t start!” He drops his hands on his lap with a huff.

“Sheesh, man,” Eddie says, somewhat sympathetically.

“Yeah!” Steve agrees as his hands start flailing again. “And now, Robin is gonna be pissed at me all day for being late, and for leaving her waiting outside the store.”

Eddie reaches over with one hand, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you quickly enough, Birdie can’t stay mad at anyone for long.”

“Um, yeah,” Steve stammers out when Eddie’s hand stays there, on his shoulder. “You’re probably right and I brought her PB&J sandwiches to soften her up a bit, so.” He chuckles, a little shakily because Eddie’s fingers are brushing lightly against his neck.

“See?” Eddie asks, giving Steve’s shoulder a little shake. “Give her those and flash those pretty doe eyes of yours at her, and she’ll forget why she was even mad in the first place!”

Steve shoves his hand away- because it should be holding onto the steering wheel, not because having it on him makes his stomach flip-flop.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, how was your morning, Munson?”

“My morning? Well, Harrington, it was just fine, thanks for asking. I was catching up on some lovely much-needed Zs after band practice ran late last night, but then the phone woke me up. Some guy yelling at me to come pick him up.”

Steve makes a face, chuckling softly. “That guy sounds like an asshole.”

“Nah, he’s actually a very sweet guy. Pretty, too.” He tosses a wink at Steve, who flushes pink. “And you know me, I’m so easy for a pretty face. I was already gonna say yes when he promised he’d do anything if I gave him a ride. No way I could refuse.”

“Well, I’m sure the guy is very grateful,” he says, then wrinkles his nose. “And hopeful that you won’t make him regret promising you that.”

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh. “Don’t worry, Stevie, I won’t ask for anything too embarrassing.”

“Ugh.”

The van falls into a comfortable silence, only the radio playing softly in the background. Steve is surprised that it’s not one of Eddie’s tapes playing, he’s always complaining about radio stations not playing any ‘real music’ and Steve’s witnessed, more than once, the way he dives for the glove compartment to dig out one of his tapes before he even starts the van. He can’t help but wonder if the reason why Eddie is listening to the radio is because he was rushing to get to Steve and didn’t even have time to pick a tape.

Whether it’s the truth or not, it makes a dopey smile appear on Steve’s face, thinking about Eddie not wasting any time looking for a cassette tape because he knew Steve was in a hurry. He also didn’t change out of his pajamas or pause to fix his hair on his way out, Steve thinks as he looks Eddie up and down. He’s currently in plaid pajama pants and an old band shirt with holes around the collar that Steve knows he wears to bed, and his hair is sticking out every which way even more than usual.

He looks cute like that, and Steve’s dopey smile only grows because of it.

“You know,” Eddie starts and Steve jumps, thinking for a moment that he caught him staring, but his eyes are still fixed on the road. “If you want I can take a look at your car? Old Al Munson didn’t just teach me how to hotwire them, you know? Maybe I can fix whatever’s wrong with it.”

Steve blinks. “Really?”

He’s sure that there must be hearts in his eyes right now. He was already dreading having to pay for a tow truck to take his car to the mechanic and then pay to fix whatever was wrong with it. That kind of money would really put a dent in his plans to save enough for a place of his own, so Eddie fixing it for him would be a great help.

“Of course, Stevie,” Eddie says, flashing him a dimpled grin. Yup, definitely hearts in Steve’s eyes right now. “I can drive you home after your shift and take a look at it. I’ll bring Wayne’s tools.”

The visual of Eddie bending over the hood of Steve’s car with a tool belt around his tiny waist pops up in Steve’s mind without a warning, making warmth pool in his stomach.

He shakes his head and focuses on the Eddie in front of him- sweet, cute Eddie who is offering to give Steve a ride and help him with his car. Yeah, that’s really not any better than sexy mechanic Eddie from his fantasies.

“That would be awesome, Eds, thank you,” he says, possibly a little too earnestly.

It makes Eddie a little shy. He winds some of his hair around his finger and pulls it in front of his mouth. “Don’t go singing praises at me yet, I might not be able to fix it.”

“Maybe not, but I appreciate it anyway, the ride back home too,” Steve says softly. If Robin was here she would tell him to tone it down with the googly eyes and the mushy smiles, the way she does when the three of them hang out-

Shit. Robin.

He checks his watch and a whine slips past his lips.

Eddie notices and the van takes on speed as he pushes his foot harder against the pedal. “We’re almost there,” he says reassuringly.

Steve nods, but his leg stays bouncing anxiously for the rest of the drive.

***

Finally, Eddie drives the van into the Family Video parking lot.

Steve looks for Robin in the distance, squinting his eyes, wanting to gauge just how angry she looks. If she looks like she’s about to murder Steve, he might just tell Eddie to keep driving.

When he spots her, Steve’s stomach falls. She doesn’t look angry, but that’s only because she has an apologetic look on her face as she talks and gestures wildly to a family of three. Steve can’t read her lips, but he figures she must be explaining to them how her coworker and best friend is an idiot who doesn’t know how to work an alarm clock and that he should be getting here any minute now so she can murder him but not before she sends them on their merry way with whatever movie they’re here to rent and a bunch of candy and popcorn. On the house, of course.

“Fuck me,” Steve mutters, slumping back against the seat.

They never get customers this early on Sundays. Never.

Go fucking figure.

Eddie also squints his eyes through the windshield and scrunches up his nose at what he sees. “Maybe you can bribe them with PB&Js too?”

Steve appreciates Eddie trying to lighten his mood, but all he can muster right now is a slight huff of laughter. He starts gathering his things, ready to jump from the van as soon as Eddie parks.

“What time should I pick you up?” Eddie asks as he starts slowing down the van.

“Uh, I get off at four,” Steve says, just as he makes eye contact with Robin. She manages to glare at him while keeping her polite customer service face on. It’s impressive. “If Robin doesn’t kill me first.”

Eddie sniggers. “I don’t think she’ll kill you, maybe hurt you, or put Nair on your shampoo.”

Steve whimpers pathetically at the thought. The van slows to a stop. With the keys to the store in one hand and his Family Video vest in the other, Steve pushes the door open. He already has one leg out when Eddie says, “Wait!”

Steve half turns in his seat and gives him an impatient look, but it shifts into a grateful one when he sees that Eddie is holding the Tupperware with the sandwiches.

“Not so fast, sweetheart, don’t forget your bribe,” Eddie tells him with a lopsided grin.

Later, Steve will ask himself why he did what he does next, but the truth is, he doesn’t know.

Maybe it’s because he’s in a hurry and his body is moving faster than his brain. Maybe it’s because he had a shitty morning and Eddie swooped in like a knight in plaid pajama pants and a worn band shirt. Maybe he smashed his head too hard against the steering wheel of his car earlier that morning. Maybe it’s Eddie’s dimples or maybe it’s the pet name.

The thing is he doesn’t know what does it, just that something gets his wires crossed somehow, and before he knows it, he’s leaning over the space between their seats and pressing a quick kiss to Eddie’s mouth.

He doesn’t even realize he does it. Not yet.

He just grabs the Tupperware from Eddie’s limp hands, throws a “bye, Eds!” over his shoulder, and shuts the van door.

Robin’s head snaps in his direction as he makes his way across the parking lot, attempting to put on his vest without dropping the keys or the sandwiches. The family is watching him too and luckily they don’t look mad about having to wait- Steve checks his watch- shit, thirty minutes for him to get here.

“Hi, hello, I’m so sorry,” he starts apologizing before he even gets to them. He tosses the keys to Robin, who fumbles to catch them, so he can finish shrugging on his vest. “I’m so terribly sorry I kept you waiting,” he tells the family while Robin unlocks the door and flips the sign so it says Open! “My alarm didn’t go off and then my friend had to drive me ‘cause my car wouldn’t start and I couldn’t find my godda-rn vest!” He corrects himself when his eyes dart to the kid staring up at him. “But none of that matters now! Because I’m here and we’re-”

“Open!” Robin says, sweeping her arm in front of the door with a flourish, kind of like Eddie does sometimes.

Speaking of Eddie, Steve glances over his shoulder and notices that the van is still there.

Which, weird. But right now there’s nothing he can do about that.

Instead, he starts ushering the family inside, putting on his most charming smile. “Come in, come in, we’ll have you out of here in no time!” He says, following after them.

He makes eye contact with Robin over the kid’s head and mouths I’m so sorry, grimacing when she glares at him. But at least she holds the door open for him too, instead of letting it slam on his face, which he probably deserves.

Once inside, Steve helps the family find the movie they’re looking for in record time while Robin starts the computer system. By the time he guides them back to the counter, she’s ready to log it into the system. They give them an extra couple of days to return it, for the trouble, as well as all the Milk Duds and cherry licorice they want. On the house. Then they wave at them as they head out, throwing a “Thank you for choosing Family Video!” for good measure.

When the door closes, Steve spins around to face Robin on the other side of the counter. “I’m so sorry, Robs,” he says with as much feeling as he can muster.

She pokes him in the chest several times with her bony fingers. “You owe me so much! I’ve been apologizing to that family for thirty minutes, dingus!”

“I know! I’ll clean the floors today and I’ll take care of the reshelving and you can take an extra long break and I won’t say anything!”

Robin doesn’t speak, just glares. Steve grabs his Tupperware, his last resort, and pushes it across the counter toward her. “I made you PB&J sandwiches. Your favorite.”

She heaves out a long sigh. “Okay, fine, I forgive you, but you’re doing all of that and you’re letting me pick the movie of the day and you’re watching it with me.” Steve nods profusely. The corners of her mouth twitch up, and even if it’s not a full smile, Steve feels relief flood through him. “Now come on, let’s finish getting this place ready for business, and then we can have those sandwiches and you can explain how you got here so late.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Steve says, giving her a two-fingered salute like he’s seen Eddie do many times.

Speaking of Eddie, Steve squints at the parking lot before following Robin’s lead- turning on lights and straightening cardboard cutouts.

He notices that the van is finally gone, and so is Eddie.

***

“Then I almost left the sandwiches in Eddie’s van!”

Robin gasps dramatically, cradling her half-eaten PB&J against her chest. She’s in a much better mood now, after one and a half sandwiches, more apologizing from Steve and his dramatic retelling of this morning’s events.

“Which would be just my luck today, I swear! But Eddie wouldn’t let me forget them,” Steve says, his smile turning dopey the moment he brings up Eddie. He knows this because he sees Robin rolling her eyes. “So I grabbed them and then I-”

And that’s when it hits Steve. What he did. Almost an hour after the fact.

The fact being- He kissed Eddie.

“Oh God,” he mutters, horrified. “Oh fuck, oh God.”

“What? Are you having a stroke? What is it?” Robin asks, eyes widening in alarm. “Steve?” She waves her hands in front of his face and bread crumbs fly everywhere. Steve knows he’s going to have to clean those, but right now he doesn’t care about that at all.

He lets out a pitiful whimper, his hands flying to his face. “Oh my God!”

“Steve, what?”

“I kissed Eddie,” he says, but the words are muffled by his hands over his face.

He hears Robin let out a sigh. “Steve, my best friend, my platonic soulmate with a capital P. I know we joke about it but I can’t actually read your mind. I’m gonna need you to speak more clearly.”

Dropping his hands onto the counter, Steve’s eyes meet hers, then he says, loud and clear, “I kissed Eddie.”

Robin’s face goes through many different emotions in like, twenty seconds. Shock, confusion, something that Steve dubs her fucking finally, dingus! expression, and then, outrage.

“Wait! So you were late because you were busy kissing Eddie? Steve!” She says on her way to get angry again, but Steve starts shaking his head before she’s done talking.

“No! Robs, I was running late and then I kissed Eddie as I was getting out of the van!”

The outrage disappears and she grins at Steve. “Fucking finally, dingus!” She says, and yup, that’s the one, Steve got it right. She holds her hand up for a high five, but Steve grabs her hand between his instead, shaking his head.

“No, Robin, no, this is bad.”

“Why? You like Eddie!”

“I do! I like him so much, but he was never supposed to find out, and definitely not by me just- kissing him!” He says, shaking his hands wildly and Robin’s too since it’s still trapped between them.

“Okay, first, I need my hand back,” Robin says, extracting her hand from Steve’s hold. “Now, what did Eddie do when you kissed him? Did he kiss you back or did he go like, ahhh and pushed you out of the van?”

“I- I don’t know. Nothing?” Steve tries to remember, but his whole morning was a blur. It’s just his luck that he finally kisses the boy he likes and he can’t even remember it. “He just- sat there. Actually, he sat there for a while because he was still here when we were helping that family. Oh my God, is that bad? Do you think he’s mad? Robs, what do I do?” He drops his head on the counter and feels Robin pat his head. He doesn’t even care that her hand is sticky with peanut butter and jelly.

“You said he’s picking you up later?” Steve makes what’s supposed to be a noise of assent. “Okay, so you talk to him.”

“If he even shows up.”

Another pat. “I’m sure he will and then you just tell him the truth. That you kissed him because-”

“I was having a stroke?” He says, twisting his head to one side so he can look at her.

Robin rolls her eyes. “I said the truth, dingus.”

“But the truth is so embarrassing. So, Eddie, I kissed you because I think you’re cute, I kissed you because you came to my rescue this morning, I kissed you because you called me sweetheart and it might’ve melted my brain. I kissed you because I finally let myself do what I’ve wanted to do for weeks!” He groans pitifully. “What if he doesn’t like the truth, Robin? What if he doesn’t like me?”

“You know what I think about that,” she says and Steve does know. She’s told him that she thinks Eddie feels the same way over and over while trying to convince him to make a move, but Steve doesn’t believe her. “But if he doesn’t, then at least you’ll know. And whatever happens, you’ll have me and an endless supply of romantic movies we can both cry to! And ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream!”

Steve lifts his head fully from the counter and smiles gratefully at her. “Thanks, Robs.”

“Of course, Steve, now come on! I know what movie I’m picking today!” She says, hopping onto the counter and swinging her legs over it, barely missing Steve’s head.

“Ugh, not Children of Paradise again, please.” Steve groans when Robin grabs hold of his wrist and pulls him in the direction of their romantic drama section.

She does pick that one again and Steve has no choice but to go with it, but at least with a two-part movie, he’s distracted for a whole two hours and forty-five minutes so he doesn’t think about Eddie or what he’ll say to him later.

Not that much anyway.

(Okay, maybe he does.)

***

Steve half expects Eddie to not show up, and a part of him wishes he’s right, so he doesn’t have to talk to him yet- or ever.

He’s surprised when, at four o’clock, he sees the van roll into the Family Video parking lot.

That surprise quickly turns into horror and he must make some kind of noise that alerts Robin and makes her follow his gaze.

“I told you he’d come!”

He turns to her with a pleading look. “Please let me hitch a ride with you and Nancy, Robs, I can’t do this.”

“You can, Steve,” she says, putting her hands on his shoulders to guide him toward the door. Steve tries to put up some resistance, digging his heels into the floor, but she puts her whole body into it and manages to get him moving.

“What if I kiss him again?”

Robin snorts. “Maybe try to have a conversation with him first,” she suggests, pulling the door open and shoving Steve through it. “And if it turns out that he wants to kiss you then go for it!”

“But what do I even say?”

“You’re asking me that? Pfff. I’m hopeless, you know that. Just be honest, okay? And call me as soon as you get home to tell me everything!” And with that, she shoves him toward Eddie’s van. Steve stumbles a few steps, thankfully catching himself just before he eats dirt.

When he looks up, he sees Eddie staring at him through the windshield. He probably just saw Steve nearly faceplant in the parking lot- and Steve’s supposed to hope Eddie wants to kiss him after that? Yeah, right.

With a sigh, he starts walking towards the van. He reaches the passenger door sooner than he’d like, and after bracing himself, he opens the door and climbs inside.

“Hey,” Steve says, wiggling his fingers in a wave.

He notices that Eddie’s hands are clinging to the leather of the steering wheel. He gives Steve a smile that looks a little strained. “Hey, Steve.”

An awkward silence falls over them and Steve’s fingers itch to open the door and run away, but he can see Robin chatting with Nancy, the two of them standing next to her car, and he’s sure that if he makes a run for it, Robin will chase him down and drag him back to the front seat of Eddie’s van herself.

So he stays where he is and glances at Eddie, noticing that he looks different from this morning.

“You changed your clothes-” he starts, but Eddie chooses that moment to also start talking.

“Seems like Buckley’s in a better mood-”

They both cut themselves off when the other speaks, looking at each other and laughing a little awkwardly.

Eddie looks down at himself. He’s wearing ripped jeans, a self-made Corroded Coffin shirt, and his hair is pulled back into a ponytail, which allows Steve to see the earrings adorning his right ear. “I did change clothes. I don’t just hang around and do nothing in my pajamas all day. Sometimes, I wear jeans,” he says, making Steve snort. “So, did the PB&J sandwiches work?” He asks, gesturing at Robin across the parking lot. Steve can see her glancing towards the van every couple of seconds. She’s not being subtle.

“They did, but I also had to let her pick this long French drama for movie of the day and let her take an hour-long break. And also apologize like, three hundred times.”

“Damn, Buckley’s tougher than I thought,” Eddie whistles, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “But she let you off the hook?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Eddie nods. “Cool.”

Another silence. This one’s less uncomfortable, but it still feels like something is hanging over their heads. No, not just something.

Steve sighs. Might as well get it over with.

“So,” he says.

“So,” Eddie echoes, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel.

“I kissed you.”

There, he said it. It’s out there.

Eddie inhales sharply. “You did.” His knuckles start to turn white with how hard he’s gripping the wheel. “Um, why did you?”

He remembers Robin’s words. The truth, Steve. Just tell him the truth.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t even realize I did it at first,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes on his lap.

“So it was just- what? An accident? You- you didn’t mean it?” Eddie’s voice sounds uncharacteristically small, quiet. Steve risks glancing at him, and when he does, he finds that Eddie has shrunk in on himself. His eyes meet Steve’s for a split second and he looks hurt, like he wanted the kiss to mean something.

And Steve can’t have him thinking that it didn’t. No way.

He turns sideways on his seat, leaning forward, closing some of the distance between them.

“I didn’t realize I did it because I’m so used to thinking about kissing you,” Steve admits. Eddie’s eyes snap up to meet his- wide, hopeful.

“You- you are?”

Steve nods, feeling his cheeks turn pink, but he doesn’t let that stop him. “I’m just usually better at stopping myself from doing anything about it, but today,” He shakes his head, letting out a shaky laugh. “You swooped in to help me and were looking so cute in your pajamas and you were smiling at me with your dimples and I- I just did it, without thinking. So I didn’t mean to do it, but I meant it.”

Eddie’s lip is trapped between his teeth as he chews on it nervously. It’s very distracting, but Steve does his best to keep his eyes off his mouth and on his eyes, which are sparkling as he thinks over Steve’s words. “Holy shit, you did?”

“Yeah, I meant it so much that when I realized what I did, I started panicking.”

Finally, Eddie lets go of the steering wheel, slumping back against his seat, and huffing out a burst of air. “Thought I was the only one who was panicking.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit. “Why would you be panicking?”

Eddie shoots him an incredulous look. “Because! You kissed me and then just- said goodbye like- like you didn’t turn my world fucking- upside down with that kiss, pun absolutely intended. I didn’t know if for you it was like, a friend thing or a mistake or-”

“Not a friend thing,” Steve says, “and not a mistake.”

Eddie lets those words sink in then starts nodding in a way that makes him look like the Chewbacca bobblehead toy he keeps next to his bed. Steve has to bite down on a smile. “Okay. Okay, good, because I want you to do it again.”

“Huh?”

Eddie meets his gaze. “You took me by surprise this morning, but I want you to kiss me again. So I can kiss you back this time.”

Steve’s stomach flips. “Holy shit.” He doesn’t move right away and Eddie looks at him expectantly, not taking it back, waiting for Steve to kiss him again. And what the fuck is Steve even waiting for? “Shit, yeah, okay.”

His hand catches Eddie’s jaw, cradles it with his palm, and he leans over the space between the two seats for the second time that day. Only this time, he moves slowly, committing everything to memory- the way Eddie’s breath hitches when Steve touches his face, the way he goes cross-eyed staring at Steve as he moves closer, the way he whines when their lips brush, not quite touching yet.

And finally, the way Eddie fists the lapel of Steve’s Family Video vest, and in an impatient move, pulls him towards him, crashing their mouths together.

And Steve- well. Steve doesn’t know how he did this already and didn’t remember until an hour later. Because this? He’s never forgetting this.

Eddie’s mouth is warm and soft. There’s a small cut on his bottom lip, no doubt from him chewing on it hard while panicking. When Steve flicks his tongue over it, Eddie yelps, but then he’s tugging Steve even closer by his vest and he’s licking into Steve’s mouth and Steve’s brain goes offline. He gets lost in the kiss. Lost in Eddie. He’s drowning and he never wants to come up for air.

But sadly that’s not something he can do. At some point, he has to breathe so he breaks the kiss but he doesn’t go far. He stays in Eddie’s space, his hand stroking over his jaw. And even if he wanted to move he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, not with the hold Eddie has on his vest.

“I say this should count as our first kiss,” Eddie whispers, his forehead resting against Steve’s.

“What’s wrong with our actual first kiss?”

“Dude,” Eddie says, and the fact that he’s calling him that while their faces are a few inches from each other after kissing, makes Steve giggle. “The kiss lasted like, a second and you ran away right after!”

Steve’s face scrunches up. “Yeah, maybe it wasn’t my best work.”

Eddie snorts. “It really made me question everything I heard about Steve Harrington’s kissing prowess.”

“My- what? Where did you even hear that?”

Eddie shrugs, making Steve’s hand fall from his jaw to his shoulder where he starts playing with a curl that slipped free from his ponytail. “I used to hang out under the bleachers a lot, and heard many girls gossiping about your mad kissing skills.” He waggles his eyebrows, making Steve laugh. “So imagine my surprise when you go and kiss me like- like my grandma used to kiss me! I thought they had to be talking about someone else.”

Steve’s cheeks go red, but he tries to save some face by asking, “And after that second kiss, do you still think they were wrong?”

Eddie gulps. “Nope.”

“Good,” Steve says with a pleased smile. “Then maybe we can count this as our first kiss, I wouldn’t want my reputation to be ruined when we tell people about this.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. He’s back to chewing on his lip, which is significantly more distracting now that Steve knows what those lips feel and taste like, but right now he focuses on the way Eddie’s eyes start flickering all over the inside of the van, not meeting Steve’s when he quietly asks, “This?”

“What?”

“You said this like, what do you mean? What is this?” He lets go of Steve’s vest to gesture between them. “Is it like, just kissing or do you, uh, do you want to be with me? Like, boyfriends or something?”

“Exactly like boyfriends,” Steve says, making Eddie squeak adorably. “If that’s what you want.”

“Steve, God, there’s nothing I want more,” Eddie says with a dopey smile that rivals Steve’s.

Except it doesn’t because Steve is beaming at the thought of being Eddie’s boyfriend. Of Eddie being his boyfriend. Christ. He would be embarrassed about how giddy he feels if he couldn’t tell Eddie was riding the same high as he is.

“Then I guess I should give my boyfriend that ride home that I promised him, hm?” He asks, leaning back on his seat, but not before he leaves a fleeting kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

And God, hearing Eddie call him that makes Steve feel like he’s floating. “Yeah, you should.”

He leans back too as Eddie starts the van. Steve glances across the parking lot before he drives them away and realizes that Nancy’s car is gone. They must’ve taken off around the time Steve kissed Eddie after Robin realized Steve wouldn’t try to run.

“I promised you something too, if I remember correctly,” Steve says, looking out the window as Eddie drives them onto the main street. His eyes flick towards Steve, one of his eyebrows raised. “I promised I’d do anything if you gave me a ride to work, remember?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s talking about. He teased Steve about this all morning and now it’s his turn to return the favor.

“And now that we’re together the list of things I can do got significantly bigger so you might want to think about how you want me to pay you back,” he says with a smirk.

Color starts rising from Eddie’s neck to his cheeks and then to his ears. “I- shit, you want me to think about this while I drive?” His voice goes higher in pitch as he stammers more words out. “Do you want me to crash this fucking van, Steve? Jesus!”

Steve just laughs, relaxing back against his seat. He trusts Eddie not to get them into an accident, but just to be on the safe side, he stops teasing him and reaches for the volume dial on the radio, turning the music up.

He steals glances at Eddie as he drives, thinking how the end of his day did a complete turn from how it started. His morning had been a disaster, especially when he thought he ruined things with Eddie.

But now, Steve is heading home after kissing the boy he likes, and he gets to watch him play sexy mechanic while fixing his car, and he gets to do something about it if he wants- like kiss Eddie stupid against the hood of his car.

So, in retrospect, Steve thinks, his alarm not going off this morning might actually be the best thing to ever happen to him.

[luizd3ad]

Game Time | Poly!Bartylus x GN!Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x GN Reader x Regulus Black

WC: 700

CW: swearing, mentions of Bartys dad 🤢, modern AU, mistreatment of Sims, anxiety

Author's Note: Honestly I just got this idea bc my sims hyper fixation is coming back. The little bit of French that’s in here I got from google please tell me if it’s wrong.

Summary: Regulus comes home to you and Barty playing the sims.

Someone tell me to stop making theses for ever fic please. I won't listen but someone should still tel me.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Regulus had spent the day with Sirius, just catching up. 

They've been finding it harder to do so since leaving Hogwarts so they try to make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. 

He did enjoy spending time with his brother but right now all he wanted to do was go home to his partners. 

You and Barty were like a breath of fresh air to him after his social battery was drained. Just being in the presence of both of you was enough to make him feel better. 

Regulus finally crossed the threshold to his shared flat. He took his shoes and jacket off at the entrance and put them in their designated places.

But then he noticed the flat was quiet which was rare considering Barty lived there.

“Mon amours? I’m home?”

Regulus called out looking around the flat curiously. 

No one was in the living room. He didn't hear anyone in the kitchen. 

He started walking down the hall that held their shared bedroom and the guest room/ office when he heard them.

“Angel, I love you but you're wrong!”

“Watch it Crouch! Or you'll end up in the basement next..”

Regulus was only slightly taken back when he heard his partner say that to their boyfriend. 

Honestly it wouldn't be the first time he heard them say something like that.

Barty then gasped and started shirking something about ‘Never feeling so betrayed’ which was something Barty would say often. 

Regulus took a deep breath mentally preparing himself and then opened the door to the office, he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the sight in front of him.

There they were, the loves of his life hunched over the computer playing the muggle game that Remus had shown them.

‘The Sims’ he thinks it was called, but he couldn't quite remember. 

“Barty.. Did you take the ladder out of the pool again?”

Barty then gasped as if the thought was inconceivable. 

“What would make you think such a thing, angel?”

“I mean other than the fact that you've done it before? The sim’s name is Bartemius Crouch and he looks exactly like your father.”

Barty then giggles looking proud of himself. 

“Leave him there he deserves it.”

Barty says with a wide smile.

Regulus chuckles a little louder this time and shakes his head finally catching the attention of his partners.

You and Barty both turn your heads to look at Regulus. 

You send him a big smile and say.

“Hi my love, how's Sirius?”

“Sirius is fine. Now what are you two doing?”

Regulus say still standing in the doorway of the room.

“I'm trying to show our darling boyfriend that there's more to The Sims than killing the people that you wish you could kill in real life.”

“And I'm trying to show our angel that killing people in the game is the most fun you can have.”

“Wait, so you make the characters people you actually know?”

You and Barty look at each other and then look at Regulus with raised eyebrows.

“Obviously.”

Barty says looking at Regulus like it should be common sense.

“Wait so you have a character of me?”

“Of course we do.”

You say then turning back to the computer clicking on the mouse a few times and then waving Regulus over to show him a big house with sims of the three of you.

“Is this supposed to be our house?”

“Yes. Unfortunately we’re not all technically dating on here, since that's not an option.”

You explain while Barty crosses his arms while pouting and saying.

“Which is stupid.” 

Regulus just smiles at Barty and kisses his head. 

“It’s okay ​mon beau because we’re dating in real life.”

Regulus says while running his hand through his boyfriend's hair.

You and Barty spent the rest of the night showing Regulus your favorite parts of the game. 

Regulus found himself having a good time whether it was just because he got to spend time with the two of you or because he actually found the game entertaining he didn't know nor did he care.

He was just content and happy to be there.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

[rayslittlekitten]

Days of Fine Wine and Roses

Main Masterlist “Dad Will” Masterlist

A/N: Feels like it's been ten thousand years since I started this (probably some time last year, or even the year before), but it's finally done! 😭 It all started because I wanted a dance with Will. I'll spare the excess commentary. Thank you so much to @carni-val and @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading! Banners by @spaghettificationandpretzels. Hope you enjoy and thank you all for being so patient! 🙏 😘

Rating: E (18+ ONLY PLEASE)

Word Count: 5,150

Pairings: Dad!Will "Ironhead" Miller x Wife F!Reader

Summary: With Lucy going off to college soon, a spontaneous date night gives you a snapshot of what yours and Will's life could look like with having more time for each other.

Contains: sex (PiV), oral sex (M receiving), flirting/bantering, aging, sugary sweet fluff, Will finding reader irresistible, Will still being self-conscious about getting older (I think that's it?)

When Will and Lucy made up after DisneyGate, he lessened her punishment so this weekend she's away with her friends to enjoy their time together before they go off to college, which leaves the house to just the two of you.

"Hey, you know what we haven't done in a while?" you ask Will after plopping down next to him on the couch where he's on his laptop with his reading glasses perched adoringly on his slim nose.

"Make brownies," he quickly answers without looking away from his screen.

"Yes, but no," you giggle. 

“Stop by Astrid’s,” he quickly guesses again, still focused on his laptop, clicking and typing away.

“Oh my God, you and your sweets!” You nudge your shoulder against his, your reaction pulling a small smug smirk from Will.

“We haven't gone on a date in a while.” You loop an arm through his and snuggle against him.

"You want to be wined and dined?" He asks, bringing his arm up and behind you while pushing his glasses up on top of his head with his other hand to look over at you.

“I want us to have a nice night to ourselves.” 

"You don't have a nice night with me every night?" he teases. 

"You know what I mean!" you nudge him again. His smirk widens into a smile.

"How about we try that uh… oh! I've got an idea!" A light bulb goes off in his head. "There's like, this social media trend of couples making plans by blindly making choices," Will starts to explain as he closes his laptop. "For example, I'll write on two separate pieces of paper, say two different restaurants and you pick one without knowing what I have written on either, and we go to the one you picked."

"Okay, that sounds fun, but since when have you kept up with trends on social media? You don't even have social media," you say with a raised brow.

"Lucy showed a bunch to me the other day, but the cutest one was with a puppy choosing which outfit it was going to wear."

"Hm, I think it would be fun to pick out each other's outfits," you tell him, suddenly intrigued by this idea.

"Alright, how about this? We throw a couple of restaurants in a hat and we randomly pick one. Leave that to probability," he suggests. "But we each get to personally pick out what the other person wears. How does that sound?"

"Hmm..." you pretend to ponder. "Okay!"

***

After the luck of the draw of picking a bistro you haven't been to in a while, the next step is to figure out what to wear. The two of you take a peek at each other's wardrobe options after a long, refreshing shower where Will decided to join you.

“The navy blue suit? Really?”

“You look handsome in any color but this one really brings out your eyes,” you tell him. “But most of all, I love how your butt looks in it.” You smirk and give his behind a squeeze.

"Do I have to wear a tie?" he whines.

You nod.

“Fine," he submits. "Well, I haven’t seen you in this sexy number in a while.”

Will pulls out a dress from the back of your closet and presents it to you.

“Because I never have a reason to wear it.” You look at the bold red slinky dress with an open back as you walk towards It. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore this. Might’ve been Fish’s wedding. Don’t you think this is a little over the top for where we're going?”

"I'm wearing a suit and tie. I don't think you'll be the only one overdressed."

"Okay, that's fair."

As the two of you start getting dressed in front of each other, you notice Will watching you. You slip into your dress, hoping you still fit into it. The fabric snugs over your curves and contours in all the right places. The zipper in the back is low enough for you to pull on your own but Will helps you with it anyways. When he comes up behind you, you feel the heat of his body radiating against your bare back. He gently puts his palm on your lower back for a moment before sliding it down to the bottom of the zipper, holding it down while pulling the zipper up.

You expect him to walk away to finish getting dressed but instead, you feel him pressing his lips against your shoulder and neck as his hands knead your waist.

“Babe,” you giggle. “This is why I never wear this dress. Because we’ll never leave the house.”

“If my shirt wasn’t already tucked in, I’d take you right now, just like this.” He continues kissing and nipping at your skin as his hands continue to explore your body, drawing a moan out of you.

"Now I remember why I don't like you wearing this out. I wanna show you off, but at the same time I don't want anyone looking at you the way I'm looking at you now."

His eyes rake over your body in the mirror.

“You’re like this gorgeous rose I just wanna ruin,” he growls.

"Well, know that you're the only one I'm going home with."

Turning around, you and Will steal glances at each other as you help him finish buttoning up his shirt for him and adjust his collar.

"I think that gray tie you have with the stripes will go well with the suit. It'll also compliment my dress."

"You don't think it'll also bring out my grays?" He asks, pointing to his head.

"Maybe, but trust me, it's a good thing. I've never wanted you more than I do now," you reach up and affectionately finger his graying sideburns. "And you’re probably gonna have other women wanting you to take them home with you as well," you chuckle.

"Even if I wanted to do that, I can barely handle you in bed. I don't need to add another woman in the mix," he replies.

"Uh huh," you smirk. “Sure.”

"Besides, she's just gonna be watching because all my attention would be on you," he says as he pulls you in against his body.

"Or you would be watching. How about that?" you tease.

"Nah ah. I'm too greedy.” He shakes his head. “I don't want anyone pleasuring you but me."

"Most guys would jump on that opportunity," you say, taken aback by his response.

"Well, I'm not most guys," he points out before leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back.

"We should get out of here or we'll never make it to dinner."

"Why don't we just skip to dessert first?" His nose nudges against yours as his hands slide down to your ass.

"You mean the chocolate lava cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that I know you're gonna get?" you tease.

"You know what I mean."

"Already? Was shower sex not enough to hold you through until after dinner?"

"Seeing you in this dress got me all excited again." He tries to kiss you again but you dodge him.

"Nah ah," you shake your head.

"Not even a kiss?" His eyebrows shoot up to his graying hairline.

You stare at him for a few moments with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you finally press your lips against his. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body against his as he deepens the kiss. You can feel a bulge poking you, making you giggle. You pull back, breaking the kiss and leaving you both breathless.

"Now go put on a tie while I throw on some make up and fix my hair," you tell him.

"Yes, ma'am!"

***

You weren't expecting live music, as the many times you've dined there, there never was. It's been a while and they've updated the place, adding a dedicated space for live entertainment for evening service and a Frank Sinatra cover band is setting the mood of the room. During dinner, you find yourselves being very touchy with each other. You toe at his ankle underneath his slacks and his hand caresses yours. Flirty eyes dart back and forth as you banter in innuendos. It's like when you first started dating over two decades ago. You're both falling in love with each other all over again, except with someone different. He's no longer a potential partner; he's your husband, father of your daughter and your best friend. At the core, he's still who you first fell in love with, but he's so much more now. He’s the man you've built a life with, who has walked beside you for the last twenty years of marriage. With Lucy going away for college, this feels like a preview of what your marriage could be like having all this sudden free time, getting to re-discover each other together.

“Mm, that is good, but not as good as mine,” Will reacts after you feed him a spoonful of your tiramisu.

"What is it?" he asks after catching you glancing at him.

"Hm?" you hum.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't look at my handsome husband?" you ask with a mischievous smirk.

"You mean your old and graying husband?" he jokes.

"You're still handsome," you tell him. "Maybe even more so now than when we first met."

"Oh yeah? How so?" he questions, indulging you.

"You're like fine wine. As you age, the tastier you get." You bite into your lower lip.

"Is that so?" He leans in with his elbows on the table, intrigued by your analysis.

“You’re in your prime. You’re older, but wiser. You see graying hair and wrinkles, but I see experience and maturity. I mean, your charm and personality also adds to it," you reply. "Fatherhood probably has something to do with it too, but in a way that gets me all hot and bothered.”

"Your opinion is biased because you're married to me and I'm your child's father," he points out.

"Why don't we go ask the young hostess? She was totally giving you googly eyes when we walked in," you challenge.

"What? No, she wasn't! She was just being friendly and courteous. It's her job."

"Babe, you're so adorably oblivious sometimes. She totally was! She never once made eye contact with me, only addressed you the whole time with a goofy smile - the same one you gave me when we first met."

"Hi! How were your desserts?" Your waiter comes over to check on you.

"They were delicious!" Will pulls back from the table as the waiter takes the empty plates.

"Yes, they were," you agree.

"Anything else I can get for you?" the waiter asks.

“No, we are good. I think we're just going to finish our coffee. Thank you!"

"Sure, here is the check whenever you're ready. Take your time, enjoy the music!”

"Your handsome husband also can't read small letters," Will adds as he pulls out his reading glasses and then perches them on his face for a second to look at the bill.

As quickly as he had put them on, he pulls them off and places his credit card with the bill. The cover band starts playing "Fly Me To The Moon". Will suddenly stands up and offers his hand.

"Care to dance with this tall bottle of fine wine?"

"Where are we going to dance?" you ask, glancing around at the other tables surrounding you.

"We can do it right here. We're not gonna bother anyone. There's enough space for us."

You finally take his hand and he leads you to the space beside the table. With one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand up, he starts slowly swaying. Your other hand rests on his broad shoulder.

"I wined and dined you and wanna give you a dance too," he tells you, pulling you in closer to him.

"Yeah, we haven't danced in a while," you realize.

He senses your hesitance as you're dancing a bit stiff and still glancing around.

"Don't worry about those other people. Let them watch,” he whispers. “I want everyone in this restaurant to know how much I love and adore my wife.”

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours. You let out a chuckle. Feeling a bit more relaxed, you're finally enjoying this intimate moment.

"In other words...I love you," Will sings along.

When the song ends, there's a round of applause. Will nudges the tip of his nose at yours before giving you a small peck on your lips.

"Give it up for this beautiful couple!" the singer announces and the applause gets louder.

After settling the bill, as the two of you make your way to the front door, Will notices you lingering behind.

"Are you okay? Are your heels bothering you?" he asks, pausing to wait for you to catch up.

"No. I just like watching you walk away." You flash him a wide smile and a corner of his lips turn up as well.

He offers you his elbow when you finally reach him, which you take, but not before quickly grabbing a handful of his butt. When you finally reach the entrance, the hostess thanks you for coming and hopes you had a great experience.

"We sure did. My beautiful wife here thought the tiramisu was to die for, wasn't it, sweetheart?" He turns to you, giving you that goofy grin you had mentioned to him earlier.

"Yes, it was amazing," you confirm. "We will definitely come back again."

"Anything you want," he adds.

"Are you okay to drive?" you whisper, looking at him suspiciously. "You only had one drink."

"I'm drunk on you," he replies, his eyes never leaving you.

You roll your eyes at his silly antics and turn to the hostess to wish her a good night, which Will also does before you whisk him out to the restaurant.

***

When you finally arrive home, you kick off your heels and groan, feeling the relief. As you bend down to pick them up, Will stops you.

"I got them, babe," he says as he loosens his tie and finally releases himself from the constriction.

“Why, thank you!"

He bends down to grab them for you as you start walking up the stairs. His eyes follow you before his body does, enjoying the view as you ascend. Before both of your feet can touch down inside the bedroom, your husband is already all over you.

"Babe!"

You squeal as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls your back against the front of his body, groaning while he presses his crotch against your ass. He tosses your shoes into a corner while latching his mouth onto your neck.

"Mm," you purr. "You complain about getting old and gray, but your sex drive is still that of a teenager," you giggle.

"We've talked about this. You're my Viagra," he replies and gently bites your neck.

You reach back between the two of you and palm his crotch, feeling him starting to engorge. He moans into your neck, sucking harder, in turn making you slip out a moan as well. Your other hand creeps up to the back of his neck, fingering his blondes and grays at the nape. His palm glides up from your waist to one of your breasts, giving it a healthy squeeze. Sighing, your back arches and you cup his bulge, giving it a gentle tug. He moans against your skin and sinks his teeth into you. Your bottom lip finds its way between your own teeth while also eliciting a pleasurable sound.

Wanting to take control, you find the willpower to pull away from his touch. Whipping around to face him, you grab the edges of his shirt collar and pull him closer to you, smashing your painted lips against his. His hands snake from your waist to your lower back, pressing your body against his as he deepens the kiss, almost continuing where you left off earlier. You gently guide him to the bed until the edge hits the back of his knees, causing him to fall back.

You hike your dress up so you can climb over him and straddle him. Starting on his neck, you suck and kiss on his delicate flesh, leaving light pink marks. You then start unbuttoning his shirt, taking your time with it. As each button gets undone and his chest gets revealed, you place a soft kiss on his smooth skin. You give some extra attention to his scars as you come across each of them. He's always been self conscious of them, but you always tell him you like how it reminds you how rugged he can be. There have been times you've imagined what it could have been like to have met Will while he was still in the military, thinking about your man in uniform.

The scars are also reminders of how far he's come, his life experiences marked on his body. He's told you how he earned each and every one of them. Some are from protecting the country, some are a result of being careless as both a man and boy, and then there's the most recent one still so prominent on his lower abs. It's been so long, but he's got a constant reminder of one of the things that haunt him the most. You give it a tender kiss before continuing down his body.

When you reach his belt, you tug on his shirt until it gets untucked. Will looks down at you as you continue making your way down to undress him. He takes in an audible sharp breath and his abs tighten when you brush your lips on it. You look up at him and keep eye contact as you lower yourself, following his faint blonde trail until your knees touch the floor.

"Babe, wait."

Will quickly grabs a pillow and places it on the floor in front of you.

"I don't want you to hurt your knees," he tells you.

"Always so considerate, even when it comes to getting a blowjob," you chuckle.

"I always want you to be comfortable, especially when you're giving me a blowjob."

The pad of his thumb brushes against your cheek.

You reach for his belt and slide the leather out of the buckle. You can feel his erection growing as it brushes up against your palms. Once you have his fly undone, you grab the top of his pants and boxer briefs, gently but firmly pulling them down. He tilts his hips up and his thick cock springs out. Will groans when you give attention to the creases where his leg and crotch meets, kissing and licking the delicate spots, causing his cock to twitch. When you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, you run the tip of your tongue from the bottom to the top of his shaft. His blue eyes twinkle as he watches you kiss and lick him up and down.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," he growls. “How did I get so lucky?”

He cups your cheek as you take him into your mouth, making him hiss. Satisfied with his reaction, you're encouraged to go deeper. You relax your throat and push down further until you feel your gag reflex a hair trigger away from bringing your dinner back up.

"You don't have to do that, babe," he says, sensing your hesitance. "I appreciate you trying though."

You keep eye contact as you continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks when you pull back. Will takes in a sharp breath watching himself disappear deep into your warm and wet mouth again until he taps the back of your throat. He fists your hair and grunts.

“Fuck,” he whispers. "Baby, you keep this up, I'm going to cum in your mouth.”

Taking that as a sign of encouragement, you move up and down on him, sliding him in and out between your lips.

"You want that, don't you?" he teases.

You pull his cock out of your mouth with a pop and slurp up the drool that dribbles down your bottom lip and corners of your mouth.

"It has been a while, huh?” you ask while licking him like a lollipop.

“You really want me to cum in your mouth?” He asks genuinely after studying your face for a moment, thumbing the apple of your cheek.

“Hm…” You take a moment to consider it. “Nah ah, I’m not done with you yet.”

You start to pull the rest of his bottoms down until they’re down to his ankles.

“Scoot back,” you command as you slip his trousers and boxers off his feet, leaving him in his dress shirt and crew socks.

As he follows your instructions, you stand up from between his legs and hike up your dress. You then crawl over him, straddling him again along the way, and lean down to kiss him. He eagerly kisses back as his hands grip your hips and then slide back to your ass.

As you continue to make out, Will’s hands move further down, teasing the hem of your dress until he slips his hands up under. He pushes the dress up as his palms press into your skin until he finds your ass again, this time bare and giving it a big squeeze. You grind down on him as his hips thrusts up, rubbing your covered slit against his hard cock.

Will’s fingers find their way between your legs, making you twitch when he lands on your wet opening beneath the thin fabric. He teases you, rubbing slow small circles, coaxing out your arousal. You moan into his mouth when you feel his fingers putting gentle pressure, threatening to penetrate you. Your hips start rolling, wanting more, but he just proceeds to tease you.

You continue to rock against him, but break the kiss. With noses touching, you gaze into his eyes, intentionally dragging your damp panties up and down his length. A sudden gasp escapes you when Will plunges his middle finger inside you. You bite your lower lip and push back as he pumps into you.

Taking back control, you reach down and lightly run your fingernails along his hard cock.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he pants. His lust-filled eyes turn darker as you wrap your fingers around him and stroke.

Will dips another finger in as he thrusts into your hand. You stifle a moan and after a few moments, finally end the torture. Hopping off of him once more, you do a quick strip tease, unzipping your dress first and then pulling down the straps off your shoulders before shimmying out of it, letting it pool at your feet. The whole time you are amused by your husband who is watching while jerking himself. Tonight you wanted to make it all about him and to boost his ego, but somehow he always manages to boost yours even in the smallest ways.

Since he’s enjoying the show, you take your time stripping off your lingerie set. You turn around to show your backside and then unhook your bra. Coyly looking over your shoulder, you pull your bra off and toss it aside. With your arms crossed over your breasts, you turn to face him again. You release your arms, letting your breasts hang freely, to finally slide your thong off your hips and letting them fall to the floor.

Returning to the position you were before, you straddle him and grab his rock hard erection, guiding it to your aching pussy. You rub the tip against your dripping opening, coating it with your lubrication.

“Babe…” Will croaks.

When you’re ready, you finally sink down onto him and he lets out a guttural moan, your own voice joining his as he fills you up. With your palms on his chest, you start moving up and down, riding him slowly at first to get adjusted. You then bear down, sitting as deep as you can. You stay still to really soak in the fullness as he stretches you out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, drawing another guttural noise from the back of Will’s throat.

“I can stay like this forever,” you groan.

After getting accustomed to his size, you start moving up and down again, but only giving him short strokes, teasing just the tip. Will’s shaky breath hitches. You watch him as you continue the torture, seeing how he reacts to every move. Feeling yourself clench from all that teasing, you sink down further again, deep down, letting him stretch you out in all directions. Will reaches for your breasts and massages them while teasing your nipples, making your hips twitch.

“Mm, you feel so good,” you tell him.

You then start rocking back and forth, feeling it out and finding the perfect position and rhythm. It doesn’t take long for you to do as you’ve done this probably literally hundreds of times. Your hips move a little quicker, but not quite enough. Drawing out the tease, you move up and down on him, only letting the head penetrate you before sinking down all the way again, repeating the movements.

Getting impatient, Will grips your hips and keeps you still after you envelope him again, and thrusts up to push himself even deeper. Bracing yourself on his chest feeling his muscles flex under your palms, you let him take over for a bit. He pounds into you from beneath, with so much force you’re practically bouncing on his lap. You help him out by rocking against him. His hands glide behind you and he squeezes your ass, pumping up inside of you.

When he bottoms out, you take the reins again, repositioning yourself so you’re squatting over him. It’s one of his favorite views, watching you spread open for him as he disappears inside you. You slip him back inside and place your hands on his chest for support. Slowly at first, you start bouncing on him. As you pick up speed, you’re quickly reminded your knees aren’t what they used to be.

“Okay, this might’ve been a bad idea,” you laugh as you shift your weight behind you to ease the pressure on your knees and balance yourself.

“I got you, baby.”

Will grips the bottom of your thighs to assist you in dismounting him, but finding yourself in this new sexy position, you start carefully bouncing on him again with your weight mostly on your hips and arms, and with Will’s help, it’s effortless. From the twinkles in his eyes, you can see how mesmerized he is by what’s in front of him.

His hand wanders between your legs and his thumb brushes over your clit, spreading your arousal all around and making your elevated hips stutter. You are getting slicker as your orgasm starts quickly building.

“Mm, look at you, my sexy little mama.”

There he goes again with the ego stroking. You start moving a little faster and Will matches your rhythm, getting his second wind and thrusting up again. In the midst of the excitement, he slips out of you and you nearly crush his cock and balls.

“Whoopsie!”

“Are you okay?” he chuckles.

You nod and attempt to reposition yourself.

“Come here.”

He offers you his hands and you take them. He pulls you up towards him so you’re properly straddling him again with your knees planted on each side of his torso as your body prefers. After pulling you against his chest and stealing a kiss from you, he flips you onto your back and then practically tears his shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He props himself with his tattooed forearms, each of them on either side of your head. His head dips down to latch onto the side of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. He then makes his way down and pulls one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging on it and swirling his tongue around it.

You sigh as you gyrate against him. His attention turns to the other one, but only briefly. His knees spread your legs wider as he settles in the space, reaching down to align his cock with your opening. He shoves himself deep into you and you grab onto his broad shoulders as he drives into you over and over again. Your gut gets tighter with each stroke so you wrap your legs around his waist and start moving with him.

"You know, you keep complaining you’re getting older, but you sure don't fuck like you are,” you compliment.

Feeling encouraged, he hooks his elbows behind your knees and nearly folds you in half. The new position forces you to release his shoulders and allows him to penetrate you even deeper. Your eyes roll back when he hits your g-spot.

"I still can't believe you're my wife sometimes, even after all these years,” Will tells you, then leans down to capture your lips, slowing his hips for a moment to really savor the kiss.

He picks up the pace and slams into you with purpose. You clench up and instinctively find his hands which are planted beside your head. A few of your fingers hook onto his and you hold on as you chase your release.

“Come on, baby. I know you’re getting close.”

You start to unravel as he continues to pound into you. A cry shoots out of you and one leaves Will shortly after as you both come together. He doesn’t stop moving against you until your orgasms subside, slowing down to a halt.

He collapses on top of you to catch his breath. After a minute or so, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead before rolling off of you. You turn to him to lay on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. The two of you remain silent as you let your hearts come back down to resting rate.

“You know, there is one thing I do enjoy about growing older,” he starts as his fingers caress your spine.

“Oh yeah? What?” You ask, cuddling against his chest.

“That I’m doing it with you.”

He looks down at you to meet your rolling eyes, but your already glowing face brightens up even more.

“We should implement a date night every Friday. How does that sound?” He asks.

“That sounds wonderful,” you answer with a wide lazy grin.

“I love you so much.”

Before you can respond, Will cranes his neck and lays a passionate kiss on you while pulling you in closer to his body where you remain to have a lazy post-bliss make out session.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic heart - (3)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Ken's dealing with some feelings too 🥺

---

“So what are the symptoms?”, weird Barbie questioned and you were trying not to stare at the markings on her face or the asymmetrical manner in which her hair was cut.

“Burnt food, loss of appetite and motivation. Also this pain in my chest.”, you stated your common issues.

“How about dizziness?”, she asked further tapping a pen against a clipboard as she narrowed her eyes at you.

You didn’t get nauseous often but that nervous sensation was only ever when Ken was around.

“Not often.”, you contemplated.

“No, does it happen when a Ken is around?”, she asked and you couldn’t mask your surprise.

“Ah I know what you’ve got.”, she eased and it got you to feel comfortable too. She could give you a cure and everything would go back to being normal.

“But only time can fix it though.”, she shrugged her  shoulder but it only stirred up confusion within you. Nothing took too long to heal here in barbieland. In fact nothing broke in the first place.

“You’re heartbroken.”, she turned to you with her diagnosis. You didn’t believe her and so huffed a laugh, no wonder she was the odd one out.

“That can’t be it.”, you said confidently folding your arms.

“Fine. When does your day feel the best?”, she asked and as you thought back to certain moments of the day, you come only think of the moments he smiled at you.

“Ok, different question.”, she shifted her stance once she knew you hadn’t answered the first one.

“Where do feel at ease?”, she asked and the answer was instant.

“The beach.”, you lit up just thinking of the warm sand and salty air.

“Why?”, she asked and as the question settled it was as though your mind was not your own. Because all you could think of was him, his surf board, his platinum blonde hair being ruffled by the breeze, the smell of sea salt on him as his skin gleamed under the sun but as the other facts poured in, his eagerness to do foolish things just so he could impress Barbie, him passing you by at every turn, your head began to feel heavy.

It all fell into place now. You were heartbroken. Somehow in the high of it, this pain had found it’s way in.

“Unusual though, no Barbie worries about a Ken. He’s just another accessory.”, she turned away but it sparked an anger within you.

“How could you say that?”, you got up.

“Ken is so much more than that.”, you pressed your fingers on your forehead.

“I’m just stating facts.”, she said calmly while digging around for something.

But the facts seemed wrong. He wasn’t just an add on, he was just overlooked. Although many wouldn't agree, that was how you saw it, I'm every great even, he was left out.

“Alright, so you’ve got two options.”, she had a pair of rollerblades in one hand and in the other a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Why don't you try the first one? Tell him how you feel.”, she gave you the chocolate box and patted your arm but somehow it was the worst possible solution.

“He’s a Ken. He’s bound to fall in love with you.”, she clicked her tongue and all you could feel was panic.

“What’s the second option?”, you asked and she pursed her lips.

“He’s in love with someone else.”, you argued.

“Well in that case –

But she was interrupted when you could hear the sound of heels clicking against the tiles on the stairs.

You turn to see stereotypical Barbie walk in, her complexion a little pale and her skin not so glossy under this light.

“Two Barbies in a day. That’s a record.”, weird Barbie commented as she moved to inspect her and you knew that you had to do your best effort with the first option because now that she was here, she couldn’t know why you were here to. So you gave her a smile and she returned it as you turned to leave. Thanking weird Barbie for her support, you walked down those stairs, clutching onto those box of chocolates like they were your cure.

*

Any outfit you had didn’t feel like the best, the nervousness was eating you away as you took a stroll down the streets near dream house. You knew where he would be, if he wasn’t on the beach, then he was sitting out by the steps of her house waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

And as you had predicted, he was there. Sitting in the middle, his long legs stretched out beneath the twilight sky as he fiddled with his thumbs as though he was bored. But the closer you approached, the quicker you spotted the forlorn expression on his face.

“You look a bit sad this evening.”, you stated, it got him to look up and you stopped to smooth down your skirt, knowing why you were here.

“Do I?”, he asked with confusion drenching the tone of his voice. You took a seat next to him but he looked like he was preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I don’t know why.”, he shook his head as he was slowly slipping back into his innocent and cheerful personality.

“Does being sad mess up your hair or crinkle your shirt?”, he turned to you suddenly, with worry etched in his eyes.

“I don’t think it does.”, you couldn’t help but smile because you knew nothing more than him when it came to feelings.

“Close call.”, he gave a low whistle as he set his already combed hair into place.

“I need to be perfect.”, he mumbled, his focus now on fixing his shirt.

And you thought that maybe this was the best time. To tell him that he didn’t have to be.

You pushed the chocolate box to him. Your actions getting his attention to flit back to you.

“You are perfect.”, you said not feeling strong enough to catch his gaze.

“and I like you as you are.”, you looked up at him only to see that his eyes were boring into yours, his elegant face wrinkling at the edges when various emotions flickered across his face. When it finally settled to one.

“But I’m not yours.”, he said quickly with an indifference but as a second passed his brows furrowed together and for the first time, Ken was angry.

“I’m not yours to like.”, he furrowed his brows and there wasn’t a particular moment you could point out but somewhere between hearing him say those words and the anger in his voice, it felt as though your heart had plummeted into the unknown depths of emptiness. The pain wasn’t just in your chest anymore. It was everywhere.

Barbie was heard talking to her friends a few feet away as she was approaching her house and all the bitterness on his face vanished as he turned to her.

“I have to leave to the real world.”, you could hear her and as your gaze followed Ken, you watched as the same hurt you felt, mirrored on his face. He had forgotten all about you and you just wanted to stay here, frozen forever.

“You’re leaving?”, he jogged up to her, you took the chocolate box used this diversion to walk away till the curb.

Once in the clear, you began to run, you wanted to leave everything behind.

---

Tags:

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000

[qvrcll]

fluff, mention of alcohol + ib @sourcherryandsprinkles (check out their fic 🫶🏽)

coriolanus snow feels the sweltering heat of the hob reach up to him. he’s barely made it in two steps past the entrance, when sejanus takes off to a darker part of the activities. snow swivels his head, taking a mental note of where sejanus perches himself against a bar, but chooses against joining him.

no, he would much rather lie back here, where the music could reach him just fine. like waves.

he picks up a glass that seems full enough to the eye: the liquid swishes violently when he shoots it down his mouth and he needs a minute to savour the taste. he’s not inclined to remembering much of the academy here, choosing to focus on only getting out, but something feels familiar. an act he is piecing together carefully, meticulously, as bodies rush past him to join onto the dance floor. he feels himself already getting light with the facade he’s wringing raw. bloody, even, between his fingers.

would they believe him? would they let him go home? let him see trigris and grand’maam one more time? would a class act ever profess to the same standards twice?

amongst his own, rotting worries, is when he sees you. not much quieter than the covey band on stage, not much louder than the crowd that followed - no, he could have lost you easily to the ruffles and the swills and the laughter. a mere stranger, much too adjusted with her tongue. but he’s curious as you approach his table.

“hi, boys. what can i get you for today?” you click your tongue, inserting a pen between your fingers and jotting down what the other men present as options of drinks. he tries to focus, clears his throat and nods along some common choice of beverage and ah, there’s polish on your nails. scarlet and running dark, a noteworthy shade amongst that of other district folk. were you like lucy gray, a performer? or were you much like what he ran from, a class act?

but he’s far too taken to knowing who exactly you are when he sees you cut a smirk in his direction. it’s subtle and over in quick succession, but it makes him oddly glad for the shift.

“what?” he asks with a charm rebuilt, barely concealed fortitude crumbling when you play with your notepad. the edges of the papers you taunt with your fingernail are frayed and tearing slightly, but you still work a quick smile that sets his alarms and worries for the brighter horizon that will surely come tomorrow. really, your pretty face has him forgetting all of the quells for a minute and, instead, scope out what exactly you want from him.

you shift your garments about, meeting his eye with some supposed challenge, “haven’t seen someone like you around these parts of the district. you new?”

he nods, “yeah, i’m… new to this peacekeeper business.”

“you been to the hob before?”

“no… not exactly, no.”

“not exactly?”

he plays with his fingers, itching the skin softly, “just heard a lot about this place. it’s nice.”

“more than nice, just you see,” your pen clips to the notepad and you hark a smile at him, working your way around the men and onto the next table. your eyes beat with a play he isn’t familiar with, one that makes him follow you with his eyes alone, “you have a good time now, mr. peacekeeper.”

“it’s snow. coriolanus snow.”

“coriolanus,” you seem to taste the name beneath your teeth, testing it tolerably and nicely, “has a nice ring to it.”

it’s the rest of the sickly sweet night that he’s thinking of you. you’ve got a sweet demeanour, a smart mouth - something worth thinking about over a drink. the hob is not quiet but not bustling either, with patrons filtering out one after another. some drunk, warm faces sit still at tables, some dance to a slow rhythm up front. sejanus leaves for a while, but snow leaves it as unnoticed. what he does notice is you in his peripheral.

you’re wiping tables, which strikes him suddenly as odd. odd that he still has the chance to catch you whilst you’re on hours. surely, you still remember him? he’d told you his name, but never breathed so much as yours. would you be freaked by his interference?

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” your voice is suddenly closer. you’d crossed across the bar whilst he was meandering between freakish and urbanity, and now stood smiling at him, a rag clutched at the hip. he swears his breath catches against a row in his throat, but snow catches himself quickly.

“me? must’ve overestimated my ability to drink,” he smiles, genuine since his days of relegation and spite, missing and borrowing, “are you still working?”

“hm, but i got a few minutes on the clock. then, i’m free as a bird” when he hears you say this, his ears redden with attention. you’d be off in a few minutes?

“why, you wanna take me on a date?” you ask. and he spirals. and you let out a bark as he goes red from head to feet, his fingers itching his temple as he smiles. all polite and bucking at the seams, “i’m only joking, coriolanus. coriolanus - did i say it right?”

he finds your chatter endearing, meaning in every bit of movement between the two of you, “you say it just perfect.”

he could’ve sworn he saw a flush work up those cheeks of yours, but then again, he could be losing more than just his mind. some level of sensibility, too, maybe. still, he rises to a level of action he has never been since the poor tributes, the days of reaping - maybe its initiative. maybe its the want. maybe its you between his fingers like gold.

he licks his lips, feels the wet of them against each other, “can you i have a drink? two, actually.”

“two? the other…?”

he smiles, tries to imitate your sweetness and only lets it come off half baked, “for you.”

but really, he couldn’t care less. the smile that tears across your face is warm, your laugh hearty.

“mr. snow, you’ve got your tricks,” the smile spills into your words, he can hear it, “well, i’ve got mine.”

and he needs to ask, what are they? can i see? am i allowed? when you kiss his cheek. nothing vehement or raunchy in the least, a thing recounted as a peck, but as you swivel towards the bar in a confident front-step, snow touches the warm part of his cheek like he’d been burnt. like he was burning still, under the pustule of the soft, flaxen light the hob had to offer. burning still, when he smiles under his hand, grinning under the gap of his fingers.

burning, still, in the grasp of wanting you beneath two drinks and a kiss.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[tapedeckshoard]

Hello there lovely! I know you said mostly human centered so I'll leave a human alternative beneath this one if you don't feel up to it ^^

But the basic concept goes like this, Decepticon Reader (GN) is captured by the Autobots for intel. They refuse to spill which leads to interrogations, after which Ratchet typically patches them up. I'm thinking good old enemies to lovers, and as a bonus I think its more fun if reader is on the "crazy" side. As in, the smiley-type with a unnerving tiny amount of sadism.

If your not feeling up to it then simple headcanons revolving around a Human Decepticon reader with Kleptomania is also fine. Take your time with these darling <3

-🩹

Oooo, interesting idea! I tried my best! It's more enemies than enemies to lovers but oh well! This was fun to write! I kind of ran out of steam near the end. . .

-

Patching Up

Ratchet x GN!Cybertronian!Reader

SFW

1852 Words

-

You never pegged the Autobots as the sort to do interrogations. Violent ones, at least. But you supposed war brings out the worst in everyone, including those like the bots standing before you. How long had this been going on? You hadn’t bothered to keep track. It’s not like it mattered. You were trapped here until you either managed to escape, died, or by some miracle, Megatron decided to save you. You sincerely doubted the third option was happening. So that left two.

The first option was preferred. Escaping would allow you to get away with your spark still intact. But the Autobots were deceptively good at keeping you contained. When you weren’t getting scolded for information, they kept you locked in a warehouse storage unit of sorts, something you noticed they had a lot of in their base of operations. Normally, you’d be able to bust out with no problems, but they reinforced the thing, making the door nearly impossible to break. Not that your servos were free to break them. Cuffs kept them firmly together. You were just thankful cuffs were all they put on you.

Of course, there was always the second option. Dying wasn’t the ideal solution, but at least it would get you out of this situation. And who knows? Maybe Primus would be a better conversationalist than these Autobots. 

You slumped against the wall, helm clicking against the hard concrete behind you. Above all, being a prisoner was boring. You supposed that was the point. Keeping you locked alone for long periods of time, only to drag you out and interrogate you until they got bored of you. 

They were no strangers to violence, either. They tried to keep up their calm facade. But when push came to shove, they were no different than your faction. You had the gashes to prove it. 

Energon stained your exterior, metal bent and faded, wires shoved out of place.

It was a miracle you hadn’t fully shut down. Well, you supposed you shouldn’t call it a miracle. The Autobot medic kept you well enough to continue the interrogations. He barely spoke to you, optics staring at whatever injury he was working on at the moment.

You tried to get under his skin, tease him a bit, but that only led to him cutting his operations short and leaving you to leak energon. So you learned to keep your mouth shut.

After months of this nonsense, you knew Megatron was never going to save you. He probably thought you had already perished. And you also knew that the Autobots were not going to stop their interrogations, either. And with Ratchet constantly patching you up, you weren’t dying anytime soon. 

All of these thoughts led you to come to one conclusion. You either had to give up the information, or die. 

You stood up, pushing yourself off the wall. You banged your cuffs against the door of your makeshift cell.

“Hey!” you called out, loud enough that you knew they could hear. “I’ll talk! Just let me out of here!”

It didn’t take long for you to be dragged out of your cell, Bulkhead pushing your back any time you paused or lost pace with the others. They kept your cuffs on, all optics on you as you were brought to the main silo.

“You wish to disclose what you know?” Optimus questioned you, optics narrowed skeptically. 

“Do I really have a choice here?” you spat back, leading Bulkhead to nudge your back none-too-gently. You growled, shooting him a glare. “Push me again, and I’ll bite your arm off,” you threatened.

Bulkhead reared his servo back, ready to strike, before Ratchet intervened.

“Can we focus here?” he snapped out, looking between you and Bulkhead angrily. He focused on you. “We’ve been at this for cycles. Why change your mind now?” 

“I’m not allowed to change my mind?” you questioned almost teasingly, barely stifling a smirk.

“I don’t believe you,” Ratchet replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“What? You don’t trust me?” 

“You know I don’t,” Ratchet sneered. 

You faked a frown. “You’ve been patching me up for cycles. And not once have I tried to end your life. And you know I could if I wanted to.” 

“You’re not stupid enough to make an attempt on my life, you’d have nowhere to run.”

“You think I’m smart?” you cooed out. “D’aww, thanks.”

“Enough,” Optimus demanded, and the room fell silent. You weren’t crazy enough to interrupt a Prime. “Will you reveal the information we seek?”

You scoffed. “Fine. What do you want to know?” 

“The location of the Decepticon warship,” Ratchet told you. You shot him a look. 

“The sky, probably,” you snarked out. 

“We know you have the ability to find the Decepticon warship. You’re the best tracker the Decepticons have,” Ratchet pointed out. 

“I used to have the ability,” you replied with a huff. “Now? Who knows. It’s not like I’ve had the time to brush up on my tracking skills.”

“Will you make the attempt or not?” Ratchet snapped at you, clearly growing tired of your snark. 

You rolled your optics. “Fine,” you told him. You looked around, spotting the Autobots’ pathetic excuse for a computer system. “I’ll need access to that piece of scrap. Give me a few cycles, and I’ll have the location pinpointed, at least temporarily.” 

It was hard to work with an Autobot constantly hovering around you. You knew they didn’t trust you. They wanted to make sure you weren’t sending some sort of signal to the Decepticons. Not that you would. At least not now. Maybe back when you first got captured, but you grew to realize that your fellow Decepticons did not care about you. You were another cog in the machine. 

You let your annoyance fuel you, your desire for revenge against those who had led you rot in this silo.

Most of the time, the bot watching you was Ratchet. The others still had duties to attend to. They came and went, but Ratchet stayed. You grew used to his presence. He didn’t talk much, which was a relief. The only time he spoke was if he suspected you were up to something. But that became less and less frequent.

It was quiet, save for the sound of your digits tapping against the digital keyboard. The others were not present, so it left just you and Ratchet. He hovered behind you, as always.

“I’ve found it,” you spoke up, breaking the silence, watching the blinking dot on the screen coast lazily across the sky. 

Ratchet looked past you, optics scanning the information. “Hmph,” he finally said after a moment of silence. “Took you long enough.”

You turned, scowling at him. “I did it, didn’t I?” you snapped.

He looked at you skeptically. “Yes, I suppose you did,” he murmured.

You huffed, walking away from the screens you’d been stationed at for the longest time. “I’ve done my job,” you told him. “Am I free to go?”

“Free to go where?” Ratchet replied. “You’ve betrayed the Decepticons. You’ll be melted down for scrap if you return.”

“Anywhere but here,” you spat.

Ratchet huffed incredulously. “You think we’re going to just let you leave?”

Your steps were hard against the silo floor as you marched up to him, close enough to reach out and strangle him. “Who is going to stop me?” you questioned.

Ratchet didn’t back down, meeting your heated gaze. You watched his servos ball into fists at his sides. “You will remain here until Optimus and the others return.”

Before you realized what you were doing, you raced forward, using your body weight to throw him onto the floor. You stumbled atop him, quickly caging him underneath you. Your weapon activated, and you pointed it directly at his spark.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snarled.

Ratchet was stunned for a few moments before attempting to push you off of him. You didn’t budge.

His optics narrowed, and you felt a burning sensation on your side, realizing he’d activated his welder. You could smell burning metal. 

You scurried off of him, clutching your side, feeling the residual heat still lingering. 

He stumbled, regaining his footing, and you two stared at each other, nobody making the next move. You walked slowly around him.

“You’re injured,” he pointed out, making you scowl.

“And whose fault is that?” 

“You attacked me first.”

You scoffed. “I may not be a Decepticon anymore, but I am not an Autobot. And I refuse to stay in this silo any longer.” 

“That decision is not yours to make,” he replied.

You wanted to tackle him again, but you didn’t. This entire fight was stupid. Even if you managed to fight your way outside the silo, you couldn’t get far without the Autobots on your tail. They’d just drag you back here.

You huffed, turning your back. You stormed over to a medical berth, sitting down stubbornly. “Fine.”

He followed behind you, optics trained on the burn he’d given you during your fight. 

You noticed and shot him a dirty look. “Admiring your handiwork?” you spat.

“Let me take a look,” he said.

You kept your servos firmly covering most of the melted metal. “Why?”

“I should make sure you aren’t permanently injured.”

You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, but you also knew that he was a medic, and that you shouldn’t let your anger get in the way of him looking at an injury. You knew he was skilled at patching you up. He’d shown that before.

You begrudgingly moved your servos, optics trained on the burnt and melted metal staining your side.

He crouched down, looking over the injury. “Does it hurt?” 

You fought back a humorless laugh. “Yes, it hurts.”

“It’s still burning, then,” he concludes. “I need to cool down the injury.”

“Then quit talking and do it,” you told him, annoyed. 

He pulls a metal tin from his subspace, opening the cap and pouring some of the clear salve onto his servo. “Are you going to kill me if I apply this?” he asked you.

You huffed, making sure your servos were fully clear of your injury as you shot him a glare. “I’m still deciding,” you hissed.

The paste was cold, but it did get rid of the burning sensation that plagued your exterior. You let out a quiet sigh. “Thanks,” you murmured out, almost inaudible. “I guess.” 

He scoffed. “I’m a medic, it’s my job.” 

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at the amount of ‘cons who don’t do their job,” you quipped, rolling your optics. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he replied. 

You shot him a glare. Just because you weren’t a Decepticon doesn’t mean you’d stand for him slandering your former allies. Even when you brought it up in the first place.

“Anyway,” you said. “Does this mean you’re going to shove me back in that cell now that I’ve pinpointed the warship for you?” 

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

You hummed, a small smirk appearing on your lips. “You got that right.” 

[luvsunarin]

[ megumi fushiguro x fem!reader ] ෴ IN WHICH⠀your roommate tries to convince you to join her band.

warnings・CORNY CORNY CORNY. i wrote this at 3 in the morning and did not proof read or edit this so my apologies if it makes no sense LOL

wc・1.1k || short read lolz. p2 mayb!?

APART OF⠀⠀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. BAND AUS [ the collection ]

you laid on your arm chair in the living room with your head resting on the arm rest, while your legs dangled over the armrest on the opposite side of the small couch meanwhile your roommate sat on the floor in front of you while some of her band mates sat on the couch and some on the floor.

"c'mon y/n! we need a drummer, and you're the perfect option!" nobara pleaded you.

"look nobara, i'm truly flattered but i don't know." you sighed and shrugged.

"why not? didn't you tell me you used to be in a band in high school with megumi at one point?" she glanced between the two of you.

your eyes widened for a subtle second, "no? i never told you that." you told her and squinted at megumi.

"well then megumi did! he said that you were the drummer and that you played like no one else." she repeated his words dramatically which made megumi roll his eyes.

"didn't i tell you to not bring that up?" he scoffed.

"desperate times call for desperate measures." itadori reasoned with a shrug.

"well he's being dramatic. i really was an average drummer. our lead singer would always get mad at me 'cause i'd constantly fuck up during practices."

"yet you played flawlessly at shows." megumi added, staring at you intensely.

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"you rarely played good at practice but whenever it came to shows, you played perfectly." he said. "oh but ya know, it has been a while so i understand if you got even worse." a smirk formed on his features.

you raise an eyebrow at him and send him a brief glare, which he returned.

itadori cleared his throat and stared between the two of you who were staring very intensely at each other then glanced at nobara. "maybe this isn't such a good idea–"

"no, you know what? i'll do it." you scoffed.

they all went wide-eyed, "what?!"

"i'll be your drummer," you specified. "then i'll prove to fushiguro that i've only gotten better at drumming."

itadori and nobara's bright features dropped when you said that, "seriously? just for competition?"

"nah. she's just saying that 'cause she misses playing the drums. and she misses being in a band with me." megumi teased.

you scoffed, "in your dreams."

"yeah, i dreamt about it every night so much to the point it became reality."

your features relaxed and you adjusted your legs on the arm chair, "whatever."

"i'll let our manager know then!" nobara cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence that grew upon them and she pulled out her phone. "gojo'll be thrilled."

"seriously? megumi's dad is the manager of this band too?" you stiffled your laughter.

"he's not my dad–"

"yet he's changed your diapers more than toji ever did." you cut him off and shrugged.

he scoffed, "whatever."

nobara clicked on gojo's contact and pressed call. "gojo, you won't believe it!"

you heard gojo's muffled voice through the phone, "what? wait, let me guess– you got y/n to be your drummer?"

"yup! she said she's only doing it to prove to fushiguro that she's still an amazing drummer but i know that's bullshit." nobara whispered followed by a chuckle.

"i heard that kugisaki." you called out.

itadori rushed over to the phone as well, "yup, they probably miss each other a lot." he whispered.

"you guys are right in front of us." megumi pointed out.

the other three rolled their eyes. three because you just know that gojo rolled his eyes as well. "fine then we'll go somewhere you can't hear us!" they made their way to the kitchen and continued to gossip there with gojo.

which left you and megumi.

the silence wasn't awkward. the air felt stuffy but not awkward. however you broke the silence by asking megumi a question, "do you seriously think i'm the best drummer or were you over-exaggerating 'cause you missed being in a band with me?" you teased as a smirk tugged on your lips.

megumi clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, "are you seriously joining the band because you wanna prove to me you're still the best drummer or 'cause you missed being in a band with me?" he mocked you.

you thought for a moment, "neither. i miss playing the drums." you told him confidently.

"i'm heart broken, really." he said dramatically. "you didn't miss me?"

"sure i did," you chuckled at him. "i missed throwing my drum sticks at your head before a show."

"i'd always keep it in my pocket during the show for goodluck."

"aw, was i your good luck charm?" you mocked him and laughed.

"you could say that if it makes you happy." he rolled his eyes.

"nah, i'd rather think of it that you had my drum stick in your pocket so that you could always have a reminder that i'm putting you under pressure." you looked at him.

he laughed softly, "i'd prefer the good luck thing."

"i wouldn't. if i kept one of your guitar strings in my pocket, i'd pressure myself to play ten times better." you spoke, "but then again, you don't like being put under pressure. so i see why you prefer the good luck thing." you smirked at him.

he looked at you weirdly while a smile subconsciously snuck onto his features, "i'd put myself under pressure for you."

"gross," you looked at him with a playfully disgusted look. "that's corny."

"it was a joke asshole," he shook his head. "hey but didn't you notice that i played better with your drumstick in my pocket than when i didn't?"

"under pressure."

"whatever." he sighed. "i'm glad you joined the band." he told you, changing the topic.

you hummed, "oh yeah? so you did miss being in a band with me." you confirmed.

"whatever helps you sleep at night. you sleep deprived fuck."

you looked at him playfully offended, "sleep deprived fuck?" you repeated his words. "i can't believe you."

"sure y/n. remind me of how many hours of sleep you get?"

"too far buddy, too far," you joked followed by a laugh. "anyway, how have you been?"

"better now that you joined the band." he smirked.

"oh? so you really missed me?" you joked.

"yeah," he finally admitted. "i didn't just miss being in a band with you but i missed you." he added.

you stared at him, "oh yeah? i missed you too actually." you admitted as well.

"sure you did. wasn't i the reason you left our old band?"

"well now you're the reason i'm joining your new one." you chuckled, "you gotta quit doing that– letting the past interfere with the future."

he sighed in defeat, "so you did miss me, huh?"

"oh shut up." you gave in and smiled.

﹫heartshapedjewls' work! do not copy! || xtra words frm jules: im contemplating whether or not i should make a prt2 butttt idk... MORE BAND AUS TO COMEEE!! im so excited to write for star treatment 🫂. anyway have a good day yall, and stay hydrated!

[ddejavvu]

hiiii

soulmate au with Aaron Hotchner in which your scars show up on each other’s bodies?

love you 🤍🤍

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

love you too my darling <3

--

You'd almost fallen over before your shower this morning. There was no warning, no pain in the night, you'd gone to sleep with a bare torso and woken up with scars. Nine of them, dotted around your abdomen like polka dots, but much less whimsical and far more sinister. They warp and glisten as you twist in the mirror, and you wonder how they look on whoever was unfortunate enough to receive them. While you only got the end result, surely wounds like this hadn't healed all too well on the actual victim.

Your phone rings, and you realized you've spent ten minutes surveying your new body.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Emily's on the other line, "I know you're not coming in for a bit, but can you call Hotch? He's not answering, and it's really weird for him to withdraw like this. I've gotta go, we've got a case, but I'll fill you in when you get here."

"Oh! Uh, yeah," You nod, hastily navigating your way to Hotch's contact before she hangs up so that you don't forget, "Bye, Em."

"Bye," You hear the click of the phone, then she's gone. You try to forget about your new scars, hoping that they weren't fatal to a victim. Bearing the scars of an attack that killed your soulmate would be emotional torture on you.

The line rings as you dial Aaron's number, but he doesn't pick up. His overly formal voicemail 'greets' you, and your voice is slightly shaky as you shake out your hair in preparation to wash it in the shower.

"Hey, Hotch," You tuck the phone to your ear, tugging off your sock as you speak, "Prentiss asked me to call you, she said you didn't pick up when she called, either. I, uh- I hope everything's alright, she says we've got a case. Are you going to be in later? Just- let us know, okay? See you then."

You're minorly worried about Hotch. You ponder in the shower, soaping up your hair and wincing as you feel the tender skin of your scars burn in the hot water, He's never late. Never. And he's never MIA either, completely detached from his phone and out of contact. You hope for his sake that he's just sleeping in, or maybe he's taken a vacation you haven't heard about.

Fortunately for you, a stalking case makes one hell of a distraction. Hotch's presence is definitely missed during the investigation, but Rossi and Morgan trade off authority, and you function fine without him. You're just debating a curious call to Strauss about him when you get one from Emily, and you pick up assuming she's got a new lead.

"Y/N," She pants, and you're instantly worried, "It's- it's Hotch. He's hurt, he-" Your eyes widen, and your stomach drops as she speaks, "He's been stabbed, nine times."

"In the torso," You breathe, nearly crushing the phone in your grip, "Emily, get him to a hospital, now. He- he has to be okay."

"Yeah, yeah, I- How... how did you know where he got stabbed?" She trails off, and you have two options. Reveal yourself as his soulmate, or implicate that you'd stabbed him yourself."

"Uh, lucky guess." You throw a protective hand over your stomach, real slick, "Just- I'll meet you there, okay? Don't you dare let him die on me, Prentiss."

[wandafiction]

I'm Her Wife - Part 1

Warnings: Little bit of angst, maybe getting arrested (but only for like a second or two), fluff

Today was Scarlett's birthday, she had invited her friends around for a small celebration wanting some company because you had told her you weren't able to make it. You had been sent on a last minute business trip, and as hard as you tried your boss had told you 'you're the best one for the job'. So after telling Scarlett you would make it up to her, you quickly packed and left her and Rose to get to the airport. Apparently you were trying to convince new investors to, well, invest in your company and you had 2 or 3 meetings a week each week with a new company. There were 4 companies in total.

You left two weeks ago. 

You and her have called and messaged each other everyday, Rose was always there with her because she didn't want to go to bed without you telling her a good night story. It was sometimes difficult because you were in England for this job, your boss wanted to go international with his logistical company. 

 You felt terrible. 

Of course you did. 

This is why you're currently in an uber on the way to your house. How? So one of the companies had double booked and hadn't realised until you showed up at the front desk, that night your boss got a very angry phone call; and you can only expect the company who cancelled on you did too. The last company had said that they had already given their answer and emailed it over to the person who was dealing with getting these meetings set up, after you phoned them to set up the meetings for two week in the future. That person had left a few weeks ago and never forwarded any emails onto her replacement. 

So now you were jetlagged, angry and just wanted to get home to your wife and Rose. You also wanted to try and get home before her friends turned up because none of them apart from Lizzie, who had caught you two in a make out session in Scarlett's trailer, know you are her wife. They know she is with someone because she will mention the words 'my partner' every once in a while, but they are respectful enough to not ask questions. 

However, traffic is awful and as your uber pulls up outside your house you can see movement through the windows of a few people inside. 

"Thanks." You give your driver a tight lipped smile, as you get out of the car and grab your suitcase from the trunk. 

You walk up the steps of the townhouse, picking up the sound of the party on the inside. Soft music playing being muffled by the windows and doors. You lean your head against the door taking in a deep breath unsure if you should enter or wait for everyone to leave. You didn't want to cause issues for Scarlett by just appearing home in front of all her work friends, but the feeling of your legs and body about to collapse from being so tired wins you over.

"It's fine I will just sneak upstairs." You whisper to yourself as you put your key in the lock and slowly open the door. 

You push it open slowly, poking your head through the gap to make sure no one is going to spot you. As you open the door you step into the house, lifting up your suitcase so it doesn't make any noise and put it down just inside the door. You turn to close the door, hearing the tiny click of the lock you lean against the door and let out a breath. 

"Now just to get upstairs." You look up the stairs which are just past the door to the kitchen where you assume everyone is. 

You decided trying to get your suitcase upstairs was not an option because it was heavy and it would hit every step. You removed your shoes and took a couple of steps forwards to just before the open door frame. You take a breath before quickly tip-toeing past the door making it to the bottom step you think you've made until a voice behind you stops you. 

"Hey! What are you doing?" You roll your eyes at the voice bowing your head as you don't dare turn around. "Hey, I asked you a question."

"I'm just here to see Scarlett." You know he wouldn't believe you, but it was worth a try you thought. 

"Yeah, good joke. Now tell me the truth." You feel a hand on your shoulder turn your body around and push you against the wall, the face you're met with is an annoyed looking Chris Evans. 

“It is the truth. Get your hands off of me and let me go upstairs.” You try pushing him off but his other hand moves to hold onto your other shoulder, and you hear the music turn off and see people walking out of the kitchen. “Oh for fuck sake.”

“Chris, who is this?” Robert asks, causing Chris to roll his eyes.

“That's what I am trying to find out.”

“Well, ask them then.” Robert replies in a duh tone causing Chris to grumble.

“I have asked them and they didn’t answer.” You lean your head back, with a small bang it hits the wall and you close your eyes.

“Actually you asked what I was doing here and I answered that question. But my answer didn’t seem truthful to you. If you just call Scarlett out here everything will be sorted.” You hear a laugh and peek your eyes open to see Jeremy shaking his head walking up to you.

“You think we are going to believe that. The minute we turn our backs you're going to run.” Once again the back of your head makes contact with the wall. “And anyway, Scarlett isn’t here so that trick isn’t going to work.”

“Wait, where is she?” Your eyes shoot open as panic overtakes your being, all those small voices in the back of your head becoming very loud and telling you something bad has happened.

“Why would we tell you that information? So you can stalk her. Is that what you are? Some psycho stalker who’s managed to break into her house.” Jeremy scoffs a look of disgust painted on his face, and all you could think was of course she had invited some of the men around and she wasn’t here to defend you against them.

“Look, I'm not a stalker. I’m not breaking into this place, I live here. But I wont answer anything else because it's not my place.” The three men look between one another before Robert pulls out his phone.

“Yeah, I believe this bullshit. I'm calling Scarlett.” 

“Oh thank god.” You relax slightly, taking a small breath knowing that everything is going to be sorted but Chris gives your shoulders a gentle shove causing you to wince slightly at the force he is using to hold you against the wall.

“Hey Scarlett. Yeah, yeah everything's fine. Well no it's not. No, we havent burnt your house down. No, we haven't drunk all the alcohol. No, no Chris isn’t drunk out of his mind.” You chuckle to yourself at the one sided conversation you are hearing. “No nothing like that. Just, someone has turned up looking for you and none of us know who they are. Uhm, no they aren’t someone from the black widow set and they look too young to be someone from a previous film.”

“Damn right I'm young, I’m 25.” You whisper to yourself proud that he has at least got something right in his assumptions about you.

“What? Uhm, they are in sweatpants and a hoodie. That’s what I thought, who turns up to a birthday in sweatpants and a hoodie. No they are being pretty stubborn. Sure, no problem. See you soon.” He hangs up, turning to look at Jeremy.

“She isn’t expecting anyone else. Call the police so they can come and deal with this. Scarlett is going to be another half an hour.” You feel the color drain from your face and your heart stops beating for a few moments hearing the words leave his lips.

“On it.” Your eyes dart to watch as Jeremy uses his phone, walking into the other room to talk to the person on the other end while Robert moves to stand next to Chris.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet. Caught red handed and you don’t even have an alibi.” You bite at your lip wanting to shout that you're Scarlett’s wife but know that it probably won’t help and she isn’t technically out to her friends so you don’t want to do that to her either. 

“Where is she?” You ask quietly in hope that they would actually tell you. You know she is on her way and she is safe, but you just want to know where she is because she hadn’t told you of any plans she had apart from spending it at home with Rose. “Wait, where's Rose?” 

“Yeah, not happening. Fucking creep asking after a child and her mother even after she just told us she doesn’t know you.” Chris spits through his teeth, his grip not loosening. 

“I’m her wife.” You blurt out, your hand rushing to your mouth too late to stop yourself.

“Yeah and I’m the easter bunny.” Robert snarks back. Before you can reply Jeremy walks back into the hallway.

“Police are 5 minutes out.”

♤♡◇♧

“Please come with me ma’am.” The officer pushes your hands into the small of your back, the chain of the handcuffs clinking together as you start walking. “My colleague will read you your rights while I gather statements.” 

He makes you sit down on the edge of the hood of the car, his colleague who looks nervous makes his way over to you and you can tell instantly that he was a rookie. He clicks his pen over and over as he mumbles a few words to himself as his eyes dart left to right looking at his notebook. You roll your eyes, grumbling to yourself knowing everything will take 10 times longer because the rookie would have to retake everyone's statements for training purposes. You huff out a small laugh as he finally looks up at you and makes his way over. 

“I'm Officer Stevenson. While my colleague gathers statements, I'm going to read you your rights and then we are going to put you in the car and take you to the station.” You roll your eyes at his quick ramblings as he blinks rapidly a few times. 

“Read that word for word, huh kid?” The rookies eyes flick up to yours and you see him swallow harshly giving you a quick nod,

“Protocol.” You hum with a small nod rolling your head around letting out a long sigh before looking back at the rookie,

“Okay, give it to me.” The rookies' brows scrunch at your words.

“Give you what?” You raise a brow in an ‘are you serious’ look.

“My rights, of course.” 

“Oh, right of course. Sorry.” You chuckle as he clicks his pen a few more times, closing his eyes for a second then opening them to look at you. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

“Done?” You ask just wanting to get this day over and done with. You would get a phone call at the station where you could phone Scarlett and get everything sorted, the main thing on your mind was that you could have a nap in the holding cell while you waited. You were so tired. 

“Uh, yeah.” The rookie quickly puts away his pen and notebook moving to pull you off the hood. 

“Are you not going to get their statements?” The rookie quickly shakes his head. 

“No, my mentor does all that. Says I'm still too nervous to even ask the right questions.” You hum to yourself nodding in silent agreement to his question. 

“Right, so straight to the station then?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Please stop calling me ma’am I am only 25.”

“Sorry Miss.”

“Still bad but not as awful.” You see the rookie laugh a little before a glare from his colleague makes him clear his throat and start leading you to the side of the car where he opens the door. 

“Watch your head.” He places his hand on your head to protect it from hitting the top of the door as you slowly lower yourself in but a shriek causes everyone to stop and turn to look down the road.

“Mama!” You breathe a sigh of relief when you see Rose running towards you, with Scarlett and Lizzie following quickly behind.

“Mama?” All the men turn to look at you in complete shock as Rose makes it to the door of the police car looking up at the rookie.

“Why are you taking my mama away?” She asks with her bottom lip quivering, using her sleeve to wipe at a few tears. The rookie's mouth opens and closes a few times before turning to his colleague.

“Er what do I do now?” You let out a small laugh, his complete confusion being the thing that brings a smile to your face. 

“We wait to see if the woman can identify her and if they can, then we can let her go if there is no suspicious activity.” The rookie nods, giving you an apologetic smile as he helps you back out of the car. 

Before you can even react you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, the force making you stumble backwards a few steps feeling grateful that the rookie manages to keep you both standing up. You feel Scarlett mumbling against your neck as her arms move to wrap around your neck pulling your head down slightly as her hands play with your baby hairs. You shuffle on your feet a little trying to get comfortable since your hands are still handcuffed behind your back.

“Mommy, why is Mama being taken away.” Scarlett pulls away from you, a few tears in her eyes, to look at Rose who is hugging Lizzie’s leg; Lizzie running a hand soothingly through Rose’s hair as she looks down to her.

“They aren't honey. It is just one big misunderstanding.” Scarlett wipes her eyes turning to the rookie;s colleague who never gave his name. “She’s my wife. You can let her go.”

“Wife?!” The men all question at the same time looking between you and Scarlett. 

“Yes, wife. Hi Lizzie.” You turn your attention to Rose and her godmother who has lifted Rose up onto her hip allowing the girl to bury her head in her neck. 

“Hey Y/n. Good to see you still like surprising your wife with getting home early.” Lizzie smiles as she watches as the rookie starts to uncuff you. “I would say it’s an odd way to catch up but I seem to remember bailing you out before this too.” 

“It was one time. Are you really going to hold it over me the rest of my life?” Lizzie giggles with a nod.

“You attacked Santa, in the mall on christmas eve.” You quickly shake your head.

“Firstly it wasn’t Santa it was an elf. Secondly, thank you for bailing me out. Thirdly, the elf deserved it, he jumped at me out of nowhere and didn’t expect me to punch him square in the face.” Your arms fall to your side as they are finally released from the cuffs and you give the rookie a small smile in thanks.

“Silly elf.” You smile as Rose removes her head from Lizzie’s neck and Scarlett rolls her eyes at you all.

“That’s right. Silly elf. Now is your godmother going to put you down so I can cuddle you or am I going to have to chase her again.” Lizzie quickly kisses Rose's forehead and puts her back down on the ground.

“Sorry sweet girl, but your mama can be very scary when chasing after you.” Rose looks up at Lizzie who is keeping her eyes on you to make sure you don’t run after her.

“Excuse me children, I am still right here.” You take your eyes off Lizzie to look down to your wife with a wide smile.

“Surprise.” You say in a squeaky voice turning your body to try and avoid Scarlett's hand, but she is too quick and hits your shoulder before you can even react. “Ow! What did I do?”

“You got arrested.”

“Because your friends wouldn’t listen to me.” Scarlett looks to the man before quickly walking over to each of them and giving each of their shoulders a smack.

While Scarlet is dealing with the men, Rose runs over to you and you bend down to catch her in your arms, your hands lifting her closer to you by her armpits. Rose's arms wrap around your neck and you quickly stand up, her legs wrapping around your waist to keep her in place. You move your arms under her legs and butt to keep her up as she buries her head into your neck; her body shakes slightly against yours. 

"Honey what's wrong?" You start to bounce her up and down gently, swaying side to side when you feel a few tears drip onto your neck. 

"I thought I was never going to see you again mama.” Rose hiccups a few times as she tries to calm herself down as you wipe away a few tears with your thumb that are rolling down her cheek. “I thought the police were going to take you away.”

“Nothing will ever take me away from you sweet angel.” Rose removes her head from your neck holding out her pinky finger in front of your face.

“Pwomise?” Her bottom lip juts out into a pout as her still tear filled eyes look up to yours.

“I promise.” You link your pinky with hers and kiss the top of your thumb as Rose does the same. 

“Okay, okay. This is sweet and all, and I love you so much but what are you doing here?” Scarlett’s voice brings your attention to the other people around you as she stands on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“Well I came to surprise you on your birthday. The trip was a bust so I had to leave early. I did try to get here before the party started so I could avoid….this.” You nod your head to the men who are still looking at you dumbfounded. “But traffic didn’t allow it, and me being me thought I could just sneak upstairs. I was wrong.”

“Well you’re home now and that is all that matters. Let's all head back inside and open a fresh bottle of wine, and enjoy the rest of the evening.” Scarlett rubs at her eyebrows, a sign you know means she is stressed or overwhelmed. 

“Of course my love.” You give her a quick peck on the lips before walking back up the steps to your house, Rose still clinging onto you. 

“Thank you officer and sorry for the inconvenience.” You chuckle to yourself when you hear Scarlett scolding the boys once more and seemingly ignoring their comments about how she said to phone them if there is a stranger in her house. 

♤♡◇♧

You and Scarlett are curled up on the love seat, Scarlett sat sideways in your lap with her head resting on your shoulder. Her fingers tracing softly at your collarbone as she smiles to herself. You look down to her, pressing a small kiss to her forehead before looking over to Lizzie who has Rose in her lap. The young girl starts to fall asleep in her arms as Lizzie soothingly rugs her back up and down.

Lizzie gives you a small smile, once she sees Rose’s tired state, standing up from the couch, holding Rose on her right hip and making her way over to the two of you. She leans down so you and Scarlett can both kiss Rose goodnight, you move your hand to place a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Goodnight sweet angel.” Rose rubs her eyes with the back of her hand as she smiles tiredly at you.

“Goodnight mama.” She barely manages to whisper out before looking at Scarlett. “Night mommy.”

“Goodnight honey, we will see you in the morning.” Scarlett places one last kiss on Rose's forehead before Lizzie stands back up straight. 

“Come one Rose bud, let's get you to bed.” Lizzie whispers softly rubbing her thumb over the tired girl's cheek.

“Can you read me a bedtime story?” Lizzie smiles brightly, nodding her head.

“Of course I can, honey.” Lizzie plants a small kiss on Rose’s forehead before walking out of the living room and heading upstairs, you turn to look at the man as they all sit up straighter now Rose is no longer present. 

 “Okay so explain everything because I thought you were dating that colin dude. And Rose calls you mama as well meaning you must have been together a while, because I know for a fact she is from when Scarlett was with Romain.” Chris scrunches his brows as you and Scarlett look at each other frowning at his statement.

“You thought I was dating Colin? And yes Romain is Rose’s dad, but Y/n has been a better parent to her than he ever will be and she chooses to call her mama; so that's the end of that conversion right now!” Scarlett looks at you then at Chris. 

“Well yeah there were all those articles last year of you out with Colin for months on end. I think it's amazing that she sees Y/n as a parent figure.” Robert points out before sending Chris a glare for even bringing up the whole mama thing.

“He was helping us with the wedding. He was my best man.” Scarlett easily explains as she looks up at you and gives the underside of your jaw a kiss; she always gets very sappy whenever you talk about your wedding. 

“He was her best man. Lizzie was my maid of honour.” You add on with a smirk as the men once again look between each other.

“Why did Lizzie get to know, and not us?” Jeremy complains as he takes a sip from his beer.

“Because Lizzie is family….. And she caught us kissing in my trailer and trying to make up an excuse wasn’t going to work but she promised not to say anything.” Scarlett turns her head slightly to look at the men who are all rubbing at their foreheads trying to wrap their heads around it.

“How long has she known for?” You attention once again back on Chris who seems to think he is Sherlock Holmes getting to the bottom of a murder mystery case with all the questions.

“Since we officially started dating basically.” You reply nonchalantly with a shrug.

“And when was that exactly?” 

“31st of October 2017.” Everyone's attention turns to Lizzie who is leaning against the doorframe. “At a halloween party I had organised. Had to sell the bed once I found out how they had made it official once I caught them in their trailer 2 weeks later.” 

“Lizzie!” You throw a cushion from the love seat at the woman, who is laughing as she takes in the faces of disgust from the men, hitting her square in the face but it only causes her to laugh more.

 “I’m joking but they did make it official at the party after seeing each other for most of the month.”

“I thought you were going to read Rose a bedtime story?” Scarlett mumbles quietly as she moves to bury her head in your neck, a telltale sign she is getting tired.

“She was out like a light before I could even put her into bed. I would have been reading to the spirits if I did.” You roll your eyes pulling Scarlett onto your lap more as Lizzie squeezes next to you on the love seat putting Scarlett’s legs on her lap. 

“What’s this?” Robert points between the three of you, you and Lizzie shrug at his question as Scarlett mumbles quietly. 

“She's like a third limb, can't get rid of her. She sticks around even though she can be a pain in the ass.” You laugh when Lizzie hits your shoulder in reply to your statement and you hit her thigh in retaliation.

"She loves me really, she just has a weird way of showing it." Lizzie pokes her tongue out at you before looking at Scarlett with a soft smile. 

"Right although I have enjoyed meeting you all, apart from the whole getting arrested part, I think we should call it a night. This one needs her beauty sleep otherwise she is a monster in the morning and my wife needs my cuddles." Once again Lizzie hits your shoulder with a look of fake hurt. 

"She is not lying Liz, you are a right monster if you don't get your 8 to 10." You stifle a laugh as Scarlett mumbles into your neck, looking to Lizzie to see if she goes to hit her but you scoff when Lizzie simply shrugs her shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. I will make sure the boys get their ubers but I'm staying the night." Lizzie lays her head on your shoulder and you move a hand to weave through her hair smiling when you feel her relax against you. 

"Of course. That's why you have your own room here you know." Lizzie giggles as you look back to the men who all still look very confused. 

"So is this like one of those throuple things that the kids are doing nowadays?" Robert deadpans and you and Lizzie look at each other, with scrunched nose and a slight look of disgust, before looking back at the boys. 

"You seriously don't know who she is?" Lizzie eyes look to the three men in front of her who all shake their heads, before looking back at you in silent question. 

"Might as well get all the secrets out." Lizzie’s eyes search yours as you give her a soft smile and a nod so she turns to look back at the boys. 

"She's my younger sister." You press your lips together trying to hold in a laugh as once again the men's jaws drop. 

"Wait, she's an olsen?" 

"Well I'm a Johansson now, but yes I'm an Olsen." 

"Okay, okay. One more question and we will leave you all alone." You nod at Jeremy for him to continue. "How did you two meet?" 

"All thanks to Lizzie. She invited me to set one day, and I was excited to see this side of her life. I tried my best to stay away from the Olsen name because I knew I wasn't ever going to go into acting so I didn't want any spotlight on me. Anyway, she was in Scotland doing that scene with Scarlett, Paul and Chris. I was over there for a work thing so it was the perfect opportunity. I was watching the whole scene in the train station go down and when they called cut Lizzie ran over to me all excited and rambling on about how fun it was to shoot. As we were making our way back to her trailer we bumped into Scarlett and the rest is history."

"Wait, how did I not spot you while we were in Scotland?" Chris rubs his hands down his face in slight frustration. 

"It kind of hurts you don't remember me Christopher." You put your hand to your chest in fake hurt and his eyes shoot to yours with a wide smile. 

"Holy shit you the food truck girl!" You smile with a nod, ignoring all the questioning looks as Chris chuckles to himself. 

"Baby I want to go to bed." You turn your attention to your wife who has turned her whole body so she is leaning against you completely and you send the boys an apologetic smile. 

"Okay. That's enough for tonight. We can do this again some other time but Scarlett is almost asleep and I'm exhausted from a day of travelling." You slowly stand up wrapping your arms underneath Scarlett's butt to keep her against you. "It's been lovely meeting you all. Good night."

A chorus of goodnights echo around the quiet living room as you make your way out. Scarlett's arms wrap around your neck a little more, her head buried in your neck and she takes a deep breath. You smile to yourself when you feel her place small gentle kisses across the skin of your neck, nothing sexual about the act just simply showing affection. 

"I love you." You feel it on your neck more than you hear her muffled voice but it makes you smile all the same as you start climbing the stairs. 

"I love you too cuddle bug." She giggles at the name, as she wiggles about in your hold trying to get closer to you. 

You make your way into the bedroom, the door already open, not even turning around as you kick it shut with the back of your foot. You make your way to the bed, bending down until Scarlett’s butt is on the mattress and you untangle yourself from her Koala like hold on you. You bite your lip to hide a giggle when Scarlett’s eyes flutter open and a pout makes its way onto her lips. 

“Why did you put me down? I was comfy.” Scarlett complains tiredly as she rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand as your hands move to rest on her knees.

“We need to get you changed. You can’t sleep in your jeans and blouse.” Scarlett only nods as she moves her arms above her head and you raise a brow at the action but don’t question it.

Instead, you stand up and undo the few buttons at the top of her blouse before moving your hands down to the hem of the item and slowly pull it up and over her head; chucking it on the floor to deal with later. You snake a hand around her back unclipping her bra with one hand as the other tilts her chin upwards so you can plant a few kisses on her forehead causing her to smile tiredly up at you. 

“Which shirt do you want?” Scarlett flops backwards onto the bed as you walk over to the chest of drawers opening up your drawer, when you don’t hear a reply you look over your shoulder to see Scarlett already looking at you. “What’s got you staring at my love?”

“Just you. I just love you so much. I’m sorry you had to meet my friends this way.” You smile softly as you shrug your shoulders.

“I love you too darling, and it’s okay we were planning on telling them soon anyway. Today was just very chaotic.” Scarlett hums with a nod, her eyes flicking from left to right as you hold up two of your button up shirts.

“The blue one.” You put the other shirt away and make your way back in front of Scarlett. 

You chuck the top over her face, a cute giggle passing her lips as her tired arms try to pry it off. You laugh as she struggles to pull it away from her face, the collar of the shirt stuck on her messy bun. Leaving her to struggle with the top, you unbutton her jeans and start pulling them off of her legs which she starts kicking out when the jeans get stuck on her ankles. You stumble backwards a few steps as the jeans suddenly become free from being trapped around her ankles and you are blinded at the same time as the top that was stuck on her head is now around yours not missing the laugh Scarlett lets out.

You drop the jeans onto the floor, and with ease remove the top from your head earning a middle finger from Scarlett. You roll your eyes as you take a few steps forward, ignoring the fact she just flipped you off, holding out your hand for Scarlett to grab onto. Once she lazily hits her hand into yours, you hoist her body back up so she is once again sitting up and you start to put her arms through the sleeve holes of the shirt. You crouch back down in front of her and start doing a few of the buttons up so it will stay on her in the night but not too many buttons that it feels like she cant move in it. 

“Knock, knock.” Lizzie’s voice is muffled through the door as she lightly taps on the wood, the fact she also says the words makes you and Scarlett giggle.

“Come in.” Scarlett replies as she starts to shuffle her body up to the top of the bed as Lizzie opens the door with a soft smile on her face.

“All the men are off in their uber’s so should be getting home safe. I just came to say goodnight to the two of you.” Lizzie shuffles over to you, wrapping her arms around your torso and pulling you into a small hug.

“Goodnight sis.” You  mumble quietly once she pulls away from the embrace , you make your way into the ensuite to get changed as Lizzie makes her way to the bed.

You quickly get changed out of your day clothes and into a baggy shirt knowing Scarlett will be craving the skin on skin contact. When you enter the bedroom you see Lizzie practically laying on top of Scarlett both of them falling into a light sleep. You roll your eyes making your way over to the bed hitting Lizzie’s foot with your hand causing her to jolt awake sending a scowl your way when Scarlett  groans and grumbles about being woken up….again. 

“Firstly, she is my wife, get your own Lizzie. Secondly, you need to clean your teeth my love. Thirdly, she is my wife so go cuddle someone else.” Lizzie rolls her eyes as she stands up from the bed, flipping you off before leaving the room and quietly shutting the door behind her, as Scarlett rolls out of bed so she can go into the ensuite and do her nightly routine. 

You climb into the bed while you wait for Scarlett to be done, almost falling asleep with how long she takes. Or it could be because you’re jetlagged and feel like you could sleep for the rest of your life. Either way you barely wake up when you feel the bed dip, before feeling Scarlett lay herself gently on top of you. 

Her legs tangle with yours as her head rests on your chest, one of her hands rests at the side of your torso while the other is placed on top of your collarbone; her finger tracing along the prominent bone. You smile when you feel her press a kiss onto your clothed chest before her body sinks into yours. Just before you can finally succumb to your sleep Scarlett’s soft voice fills your ears, your hand instinctively moving to the side of her abdomen at her words.

“When do you want to start telling people that Rose isn’t going to be an only child any more?”

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[ideas-4-stories]

Sfw omegaverse anon -

The "omega bestie" thing was smth Shanks probably told Luffy - ((Shanks sees a tiny unscented little pup all alone and went "Oh it's free real estate" /hj.)) In actuality, Makino raised Luffy for a good deal of time, but he is a rambunctious child, and I think he'd pester Shanks for stories and songs and all sorts of things. Shanks is a softie and so absolutely caved. Luffy learned a lot of the pirate's code from Shanks as a very small child and he treated it like GOSPEL, bc Shanks was, is and always will be his hero. So he definitely also got some very silly stories about Shanks' youth, and Buggy starred in more than a few, but never explicitly by name, it was always "my best friend" or "my packmate" or, on really sentimental evenings, "my baby brother".

When Luffy first met Buggy in Orangetown, the few braincells he has left sparked a connection - blue haired, sweet smelling, silly, greedy, trickster clown man? Blue haired, sweet smelling, silly, greedy, trickster omega packmate of his semi-adopted dad? Yes, that math is mathing. Small world. Anyway, gotta beat this clown. His hands are rated E for Everyone.

So yeah Luffy definitely knows Buggy is an omega, and when Buggy mentions "we served on the same crew", it just clicks. It's not really a big deal to him anyway, it feels stupid to care about that kind of stuff. You could not PAY him to care (but if you want to try, it's best to pay in food).

But yeah, Rayleigh and Crocus just both went "Ah, the kids will be fine" and then the kids went and were very much Not Fine At All. But that's a conversation for a different time.

Their parental instincts only kick in when Buggy gets flirted with or when Shanks gets hit on with complete seriousness for followup. It's both obnoxious and also funny.

Shanks gets a heart flutter, and by nightfall his denden is ringing bc Rayleigh is 🤏 close to swimming out there what is going on, red-?

When Crocodile and Mihawk finally get their shit straight and start the whole Courting Thing, the Dad Squad Of Remaining Rogers are in perfect synchrony detecting a Disturbance In The Sanctity Of Their Children.

Crocus calls Rayleigh. Rayleigh talks to Crocus. Neither have Buggy's number. How did that happen? Damn. If only Rayleigh lived with a woman who has an expansive information network where she can check for Buggy's contact information. If only Buggy was part of a widely known business with contact information for business needs. If only they considered this information and just how many options they DO have at hand.

Instead, they call Shanks - Shanks who is having a meltdown because "Bugs is growing up" and "two Alphas, really?!"

This does NOT bode well.

One prospective courtship is one thing. TWO simultaneous courtships are complicated. Those two Alphas enacting the courtship being former warlords, a mafia boss and the world's greatest swordsman, is something else entirely.

Crocus is sharpening his harpoon, debating his options. Rayleigh is seriously debating free swimming to the New World. Things are about to go DOWN and it's chaos all around.

Meanwhile, on Karai Bari, the Cross Guild Poly has finally hit the Holding Hands Stage, because they're stupid, silly and none of them are actually working with anything resembling game. Buggy blushes every time Mihawk pulls out his chair, he melts whenever Crocodile gets the door for him, and he's absolutely LOSING IT every time they ask him to spar.

Fighting has become their love language somehow and every time Buggy lands a hit of some kind, the others damn near swoon, which makes HIM swoon, and the crew and mercenaries are just watching this like the weirdest slow burn soap opera ever conceived.

Anyway yee I'm sleepy so I'm off, byyyeee~~~~

Shanks definitely did a Roger, looking at Luffy asks around who's child this is and proceeds to pick him up to Benn’s dismay (That is not paid enough to deal with his captain’s bullshit) Good thing Makino raising Luffy for a good bit of time. Luffy pestering Shanks for all sorts of things too, that's so Buggy.

Shanks talking about talking about Buggy without saying his name, I wonder why he won't say Buggy’s name to Luffy. Maybe Shanks didn't want Luffy to go and find his packmate, but that didn't matter when Luffy met Buggy. Good thing Luffy has some braincells after all that training Garp put him through. And the ‘Yes, that math is mathing. Small world. Anyway, gotta beat this clown. His hands are rated E for Everyone’ Yeah that's so Luffy, like damn he don't spare anyone.

Not Rayleigh and Crocus thinking that Buggy and Shanks will be fine. Indeed that is a conversation for a different time. I understand that Crocus would of given the kids a few things they would need in life while Rayleigh probably like I taught shit, you are good. And dips into the night without saying goodbye to grieve his captain and be with Shakky (for some reason that seems like he would do that. Its a headcanon)

THEN not their parental instincts kicking when Buggy gets flirted with or when Shanks gets hit on with complete seriousness for fucking followup. OH NOOOOOOOOOOO, that’s not how parental instincts should be (I mean to be fair, neither were planning on having kids probably, but then Roger metting those two happened, but like… dudes that’s not how it’s supposed to work)-(Indeed it’s obnoxious and also kind of funny if you ignore that’s not parental instincts should work…) Shanks getting scolded by Rayleigh when his heart’s fluttering, I wonder who that person is, anyway Mihawk and Crocodile getting their shit together and start trying to court Buggy (you know he’ll first think that they are threahing him, so it takes sometime)

Started laughing at ‘the Dad Squad Of Remaining Rogers are in perfect synchrony detecting a Disturbance In The Sanctity Of Their Children’ I love that, you know it’s not only Rayleigh and Cronus because most of the veteran Roger Pirates helped raised them too (hc/)

Crocus and Rayleigh not having Buggy’s number is so them… but what if it’s the same number he always had and they think it’s the wrong number now? Have they bothered to check? Or if they had, Buggy had openly said it wasn’t Buggy’s number? There could be so much more drama, but anyway yeah if ony Rayleigh lived with a woman that can find people’s numbers because she got that information network, if only Rayleigh knows where his child’s business is, oh no it’s too sad that they can’t find anything…

THEY CALLED SHANKS! Oh no! That’s the last place to call to find Buggy and to check if he’s alright! That man is fucking drunk, crying, ranting and raving about this! Oh dear! RIP to Crocodile and Mihawk, even the littlest teasing bullying their clown will land them in bad graces if those men see it (dear gods what if they found out they beat the shit of Buggy one day, that’s when shit would it the fan. Buggy’s followers will have a fucking telenovela to watch, they just need to be a safe distance away because holy shit someone might fucking died in the crossfire) Truly things are about to go DOWN and it's chaos all around… “Big News” Morgan would having the time of his fucking life with this.

Meanwhile on Karai Bari Island, where nobody knows about what might happened later down the line! Awwwwwwwwww, they are now in the Hand Holding Stage!!! That’s so cute! It took awhile because of so many things, good thing they worked it out.

Mihawk and Crocodile being gentlemen to Buggy is amazing, and them asking to spar is like BIG invalidation for him. Fighting and bullying each other (affectionately) is definitely one of their love language. Truly is like the weirdest slow burn soap opera ever conceived.