#//she's so mellow dramatic

[lovesickeros]

Hiii just popping out to say thank you for feeding my sagau reader x furina brainroot by small interactions in "Even the Gods bleed." (Sorry if I wrote it incorrectly, I didn't get proper sleep.)

They way reader tugged at Furina's cheek— hell yeah your Grace I understand you.

i am always down to feed other furina enjoyers. at some point i need to give furi her own solo fic with reader but i know im gonna make it like triple the length of everything else..favoritism at its finest!! and proud of it. furina gets priority in everything.

[arminsumi]

★ Satoru's undercut

★ Synopsis : He fears the hairdresser like it's the dentist. One day, he accidentally gets an undercut style. He would have thrown a tantrum if it weren't for your positive response — because all he really cares about is that you enjoy his haircut.

★ Content : soft fluff, romantic tension, some mutual pining??

★ Library ★ reblog for a cake slice! 🍰

"This will ruin my life..."

"It will not ruin your life."

"I'm gonna die!"

"You're not gonna die."

"Yes, I'm gonna die! They're gonna cut my head off."

"They're not gonna cut your head off."

Satoru had a haircut appointment which you were accompanying him to as per his desperate demand request. Suguru was there also, helping Shoko with something technical on her phone. He laughed when Satoru was whining to you.

The four of you were on the train; Suguru and Shoko stood tightly packed with their backs facing other people as if they were the group shield. And Satoru sat next to you, clinging to your arm as if he were a kid on his way to the dentist.

"Don't laugh. You know I feel the same about hairdressers as people feel about dentists!" he pouted.

"Satoru, you're so weird." you said.

“I'm not!”

You shook your head at him. Satoru grumbled.

"No one understands me!" he said dramatically.

Suguru commented, "I do understand why you dislike hairdressers, Satoru; most of them don't cut your hair how you want."

Shoko nodded and chimed in, "— yup, and you usually leave with a fake smile and say "oh wowww... I love it!" but you actually hate it." then she went back to frowning at her phone with Suguru.

“My hair is important, I can't afford to have a bad haircut." Satoru said.

"Haha, you make it sound like if you have a bad haircut it could cost you millions." you laughed.

Satoru sat up straighter and spoke seriously, "It may as well cost me millions!"

You didn't understand why Satoru was being so dramatic.

****

The hairdresser looked at you, Shoko and Suguru and then wondered why so many people were accompanying this grown man to his haircut, as if he were about to get a root canal for the first time.

Suguru whispered into her ear, and she blushed at his alluring charm like anyone would.

"He's scared of bad haircuts... so please do your best, he has a girl to impress. See that one sitting there?” Suguru pointed to you, “Yeah, that's the one."

He accidentally flustered her, and he smirked about it when he returned to you and Shoko.

"Suguru, your head looks as big as a bubble about ready to pop." you joked, noticing his smug demeanor as he took a waiting seat with you.

"I think I just flustered the hairdresser on accident." he said.

Shoko chuckled, "Is it ever an accident? I think you do it on purpose — oh, Y/n, I think Satoru is trying to get your attention. Give him some comfort."

Satoru recoiled when the cold blade of the scissors touched his neck, and looked distressed when the hairdresser touched his hair.

You knew he was highly sensitive to touch, especially his hair — he hated people touching his hair (reason X for hating hairdressers). The only person who was allowed to touch his hair was you. Suguru and Shoko needed a "valid reason" for touching Satoru's hair.

But you could comb your fingers through his hair any time, any place for no reason and Satoru would go limp with a smile on his face, completely melting for the act of affection.

Sometimes when it was just you and him alone together in his apartment, especially during his sleepless nights, Satoru would lay his tired head on your lap and ask you to play with his hair. Each stroke of your hand mellowed him out. He especially loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair when it was fluffy and long.

So really, he feared not the hairdresser or even the bad haircut, but the fact that it might be too short or not fluffy enough for you to enjoy. It had to be just right. He had to maintain his fluffy hair for you.

He wanted to make sure that when you saw him at every party and get-together, you'd think "Wow, Satoru's hair looks so good.". He wanted you to compliment his hair and make him feel good and blushy.

And most of all, he just wanted to please your eyes. He wanted you to be starstruck when you looked at him.

So, a good haircut was critical.

****

Satoru's panic calmed after you took the empty seat next to him. He watched in admiration as you struck up a friendly conversation with the hairdresser. She turned out to be kind. She was an apprentice (picture nervous Satoru stiffening his shoulders when he learned this) and her mother owned the establishment next door.

Satoru was mostly quiet and focused on his reflection in the mirror. He squinted in suspicion when the lady brought out a hair buzzer.

But then you distracted Satoru by asking about what the four of you were doing after this. He stuttered a bit, half-looking at the hair buzzer and jumping a little when it turned on.

You talked so much that Satoru was completely distracted, and the lady could work. Though, it was hard, because Satoru didn't really specify what he wanted... so she winged it.

She thought hey, this guy would look good with an undercut. So, she cut an undercut for Satoru, and looked at you and smirked. His girlfriend will appreciate it, she thought as she looked at you and Satoru talking with hearts in your eyes.

You weren't his girlfriend. But you may as well have been. The two of you were anyways soulmates since kindergarten. Sure, you went away for five years to work abroad, but the link between you and Satoru wasn't broken by the distance.

****

Satoru gasped and nearly fainted when he saw how short his hair had been buzzed at the bottom. His neck felt exposed and suddenly it felt more drafty.

"What the—"

"— oh, you look hot, Satoru." You said.

He immediately shut up and went red in the face.

"Thanks, yeah it looks... yeah." Satoru hesitantly complimented the hairdresser's work.

She beamed proudly and wrapped up the haircutting session. Satoru took off the black dressing gown and stood up and shimmied the white hair off his pants.

"The cat is shedding." you joked, making Satoru grin with sealed lips.

You picked a white strand of his hair off the back of his shirt when he stood in line to pay at the checkout. He didn't notice. Such a cute boy.

Satoru was just grumbling to himself about how he'd need a scarf or turtleneck to compensate for his "practically naked" hairstyle now.

You stared at his undercut and felt your heartbeat get a bit frantic.

Then you kept staring as you left the barber shop.

Satoru wrapped an arm around your shoulders out of habit, as if he were your boyfriend, so the hairdresser felt sure that you two were dating and said something as you two left that really made you and Satoru blush;

"Your girlfriend loves it." she winked.

"I'm not his—"

"She's not my—"

"She sure does! Thanks for everything, see ya." Shoko cut off you and Satoru from responding and shoved the two of you out the door.

****

That comment lingered in the back of yours and Satoru's minds for the rest of the day.

On the train home, you grazed your fingers over Satoru's undercut and it elicited the funniest reaction out of him; he shivered like a cat that had just been scratched in a sweet spot.

"Haha, does that feel good?" you asked.

"It does. But my neck feels naked." Satoru shrugged.

Oh my god, do that again, he thought. It felt so good.

"Aw, then Y/n should wrap her arms around your neck." Suguru said in a flirtatious murmur.

Shoko laughed and propped a cigarette between her lips.

The four of you got off the train, you parted ways. Suguru and Shoko lived in different places and had to wait for their respective trains to take them home. So, you said your goodbyes and went with Satoru.

When you and Satoru moved out of your university housing, you both decided to live on the same street. You can say it was for X reasons, like oh it's a good neighborhood or oh the prices are great or oh the apartment walls aren't thin... but let's be honest; you and Satoru just didn't want to live too far from each other. You were inseparable, even cry-babies whenever the two of you were separated.

Satoru was always clinging or touching you in some way – hanging off your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head, draping an arm around you, holding your hand, snuggling into your neck. The closeness brought him more comfort than his own bed. He even claimed once that he could fall asleep on you more readily than on his bed.

Sometimes he was just shy of kissing you when you two met up, or when he knocked on your apartment door some mornings. His lips would graze over yours by accident in some circumstances, and though the two of you would laugh it off, there was an unmistakable spark in the air between you and him.

****

“Do you like it?” Satoru asked.

“I love it. You look really good.” You replied.

Satoru smiled to himself, hiding his face in your lap.

The TV was playing the most recent episode of that trashy romance soap opera – the episode where the two love interests kissed in the rain. Satoru stared hard at their lips connecting, and thought of why he hasn’t attempted to kiss you again. He didn’t want to ruin anything, so he kept his confession to himself even if it was obvious that he liked you.

You noticed he went a bit silent as you ran your fingers through his hair. He made a soft, long groan when your fingertips tickled up the back of his neck and over his prickly undercut.

“You sound like a cat.” You laughed.

His eyes were closed, brows relaxed into a sleepy arch. Whenever he got drowsy in your lap, his lips would part and show his two front teeth.

****

After getting an undercut hairstyle, Satoru was living in heaven with how much attention you gave his hair. Every day you’d find an excuse to play with his hair.

It made his heart beat harder and his mind go blank whenever you touched his neck and hair. He’d get shivers and close his eyes each time you did it, and would even stop talking mid-sentence.

In time it grew out. He refused to go back to the hairdresser, and instead insisted that you cut his hair for him. At first, he attempted to do it himself, but then he wimped out as soon as he held the scissors to his hair.

So, after he practically begged you on his knees and voiced his fear for the hairdresser, you agreed.

Cutting Satoru’s hair was a whole event. You invited Suguru and Shoko over to your apartment, and the four of you were laughing in the cramped bathroom together.

You had no idea what you were doing, and the online tutorials didn’t help much.

Satoru was dramatic when he thought you were cutting it too short or jagged, and he was so very picky that it drove you nuts to the point of putting the scissors down and leaving. But then he hugged your legs and apologized cutely, so you came back. Suguru and Shoko had to get it on camera because it was pure comedy.

“Alright, fairy princess. How did I do?” you asked Satoru.

He checked himself out in the mirror. His jawline and shorter hair drove you a bit wild, it was hard to contain yourself.

“It’s okay.” He replied cheekily.

“Just “okay”?! I put my soul into this!”

He grinned. “I’m just teasing.” He said, “I like it. Now let’s test it out.”

You looked confused. “Test it out?”

“Play with my hair.” He explained, “And tell me you like how it feels or else I’ll cry.” He added dramatically.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[petrovna-zamo]

Russian pop music recommendations by Katya

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

[thedoubteriswise]

screenshotting because this person is correct and having fun so I don't want to harsh their mellow, but to me it Does Not Count if it's new guys playing them. I'm so sorry. if you make a high budget star trek where kirk and spock are played by dudes who are 2020s handsome then they simply will not be in love the same way. I don't think jim can literally glow at spock if he's not played by a 60s pulp novel cover looking guy who is perpetually sweaty, on actual film and under soft yet dramatic lighting. doesn't matter if he's a good actor. bill shatner isn't a good actor. that's not the point because he can do one thing, and that thing is look twitterpated and say shit like "why, mr. Spock! 😍😳🥰" And Yes You Can Hear The Emojis even though they hadn't been invented yet. no one is ever going to get spock right other than leonard nimoy. no one has his weird little stance and precise combination of warmth and creaturely vibes. no one else is going to wear basic purple eyeshadow with the unaffected confidence of a no-nonsense 70 year old woman who's been wearing her red lipstick and tasteful dash of mascara since she was 16 and just considers it part of getting dressed. where am I going with this. Oh yeah basically I don't care what 21st century reboots do with them because I Do Not Know Those Men

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ pt. 2 Franco x Reader

Summary: As the Brazilian Grand Prix descends into a chaotic rain-soaked race, Y/N finds herself torn between her concern for Lewis and an undeniable pull toward Franco. When a crash sidelines Franco, Y/N rushes to check on him, leading to a moment that neither of them anticipated. But as Lewis’s presence re-enters the picture, Y/N is faced with emotions she can’t quite ignore and a tension that grows harder to resist.

WC: 1,300

The rain poured down relentlessly, transforming the Brazilian Grand Prix into a complete mess of chaos and slippery turns. I held my breath, glued to the screens in the Mercedes garage as the race continued in its unpredictable fashion. The anxiety gnawed at me, torn between the worry I felt for Lewis out on that rain-soaked track and the worry I felt for someone else entirely. Someone I hadn’t expected to care this much about.

Franco Colapinto.

The screen flickered to his car just in time for me to see it spin out of control, the water on the track creating a blur of chaos as he crashed into the barriers. I sucked in a breath, my heart racing. The medics and track staff hurried to his car, and after what felt like an eternity, the radio confirmed he was okay. But that wasn’t enough. I needed to see him.

Without a second thought, I found myself making my way to the medical area, weaving through the frantic crowd. There was something so primal about the worry that gripped me—a need to see him, to know for myself that he was safe. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, the high stakes of the race, or the connection we’d been building… I couldn’t tell anymore.

When I arrived at the medical area, I spotted him sitting on the edge of a bed, his hair damp and disheveled, looking exhausted but somehow still managing a lopsided grin when he saw me.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing tone even though he was clearly winded. “Did you come all the way here just for me?”

I let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and exasperation. “You scared the hell out of me, Franco. You’re lucky you got out of that car in one piece.” I say as I feel a slight flush on my face, just by looking at him.

He chuckled, wincing slightly as he shifted his position. “I’ll take that as a compliment. At least you care.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my composure, but there was something about the way he looked at me, even in this moment, that made it hard to stay serious. “Maybe I care a little,” I admitted, feeling a warmth creep into my cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean you get to be reckless.”

He grinned, leaning forward slightly. “Reckless? Nah. I just like to live on the edge. You understand, right?”

The intensity of his gaze left me momentarily speechless. He had that boyish charm, an almost reckless bravery that contrasted sharply with the usual careful, controlled demeanor of Lewis. Franco was raw and full of life, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was drawn to it.

A nurse came in, reminding me that I probably shouldn’t stay much longer. The media was already swarming around the Williams motorhome, eager for a word from Franco after his dramatic crash. Without a second thought, I made a decision.

“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll take you somewhere you can hide from the press for a while.”

He blinked, looking slightly surprised but curious. “Where to?”

“Lewis’s driver’s room,” I said with a smirk. “They won’t bother looking for you there.”

He let out a low whistle, standing up and wincing slightly as he stretched. “Using Hamilton’s private space to hide a rookie? You’re bold, Y/N. I like it.”

I ignored the flutter in my stomach as we made our way to Lewis’s driver’s room, where it was quiet and isolated, away from the chaos outside. Franco sank onto the small couch, his face still flushed, his energy mellowing as he finally got a chance to breathe.

“I owe you one,” he murmured, looking up at me with those greenish-blue eyes that always seemed to hold a hint of mischief. “Not every day a rookie gets treated like this.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just don’t make it a habit, okay? One rescue is enough for me.”

He chuckled, leaning back and giving me a playful look. “Who knows? Maybe I like being saved by you.”

There was a beat of silence, an unspoken tension in the air.

After a while, the race had ended, unbeknownst to me. Me and Franco were caught up in our own world of chatting, flirting… everything I probably shouldn’t be doing. Just as I opened my mouth to reply, the door swung open. We both turned to see Lewis standing there, his eyes scanning the room before landing on us.

“Oh, there you are,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of irritation. “I didn’t see you in the garage.”

I straightened, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I was just… checking on Franco. He had a rough race.” I say softly, hoping not to see any flicker of suspicion on Lewis’s face.

Lewis’s gaze shifted to Franco, his expression softening slightly. “Tough luck out there, kid. That rain was brutal.”

Franco’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to sit up straighter, suddenly looking shy and almost starstruck. “Thanks, Lewis. It… it was really intense. I’m surprised they didn’t call a red flag earlier..,.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the way he looked at Lewis, all wide-eyed admiration and boyish excitement. It was cute, endearing even, to see him so genuinely in awe. But a part of me couldn’t ignore the growing annoyance bubbling inside me. Every time we shared a moment, it seemed like Lewis was there, unknowingly reminding me that he was the center of it all. The admiration, the attention—it always came back to him.

Lewis nodded, clapping Franco on the shoulder. “Insane for sure, glad nobody got hurt.”

Franco beamed, nodding eagerly. “Yes, super intense.”

Lewis glanced at me, his irritation from earlier seemingly gone. “You should join me and Y/N for dinner tonight. Might as well end this weekend on a high note.” I look at Lewis when he says that. My stomach swirls with confusion and slight anxiety. These two… together? I’m going to have to be careful.

Franco’s eyes lit up, his excitement almost infectious. “Dinner with you and Y/N? That would be… incredible.”

Lewis smiled, clearly amused by Franco’s enthusiasm. “It’s nothing special. Just us unwinding.”

As if on cue, a Mercedes engineer popped his head in, signaling for Lewis to come over. He gave me a quick smile, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Need to talk to the mechanics for a bit.”

As soon as he walked out, Franco turned to me, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous spark. He reached out, plucking my phone from my hand before I could react.

“Franco!” I protested, grabbing at it, but he held it out of reach, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen.

“Relax,” he said with a grin, handing the phone back after a moment. “I just saved my number. In case you ever need to check in on me after another crash.”

I felt a blush creeping up my neck, my heart racing as I took the phone back. His confidence was infectious, and I couldn’t deny the thrill it gave me, knowing he’d put his number in my phone.

“You’re way too bold for your own good,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He leaned in, his gaze intense, a sly grin spreading across his face. “And yet, you’re still here.”

There was something about his tone, the way he looked at me, that made it impossible to look away. The sound of footsteps approaching broke the moment, and we both straightened just as Lewis walked back into the room, oblivious to the electric tension that had just filled the air.

“Ready to go?” he asked, glancing between the two of us.

I forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As we walked out, Franco’s number still burning a hole in my phone, I knew one thing for certain. This wasn’t over. And as dangerous as it felt, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.

—————————————————————-

Note: I’m so glad you guys like this! It’s pretty fun to write! Lmk if you like it in the comments 😇 and I’ll be sure to post more if you enjoy it! ❤️

Please like and follow so you can keep up! 🏎️

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

The Dojo Gojo Casa House

Hi guys, here’s a gojo x reader that I started writing months ago. The title literally gripped me by my neck and wouldn’t let go so gaze upon this monstrosity >:3

Satoru never played fair. That was a fact of life. But he also never cheated. It was unnecessary when everything he tried came like second nature. He was athletic, he was smart, he could sing, and he could charm himself out of just about any situation he wasn’t supposed to be in. It would have been fine if he was humble. More down to earth like Nanami or Shoko. But he wasn’t. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend like the world didn’t come to a halt the day he was born. He was cocky. He was brash, and he was fucking annoying to make matters worse. He picked a target and he wore them down until they weren’t any fun to play with anymore. Once Nanami had left the jujutsu world in pursuit of college you wish you had gone with him because Satoru was insufferable. You were only a second grade, you weren’t terribly strong and you knew that, but Satoru just needed to remind you any chance he could get. He’s always been insufferable, for as long as you can remember, every memory you’ve had of him revolved around him teasing someone. It was something he was known for; yet he still managed to get under your skin.

This job was stressful, anyone could tell you that. It’s why Shoko smoked a pack a day, why Suguru defected, and why Nanami had left. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, yet you ended up staying; persuaded by some fluffed up speech on how much good you would be doing. It was hard to see the good when you ended each day exhausted and crying in Shoko’s office about how awful it was. Everyone had their vices, and yours was staying even though it made you sick. The tears weren’t too bad, you had always been on the more sensitive side and it was cathartic really. Shoko never made you feel bad and if she was annoyed by your daily visits she didn’t show it. Maybe she was just happy enough to see a sorcerer retain their humanity. The only person who seemed to even acknowledge it was Satoru, appearing at the worst times when your eyes were still red and puffy and he would tease you. It wasn’t cruel in hindsight because Satoru wasn’t cruel per say, but he was insensitive. Cooing and pouting dramatically at your teary eyes, patting your head in a way so condescending you would have swung on him if infinity wasn’t in the way. You were pissed, your hands shaking and your face hot. His taunting words and sardonic laughter only seemed to bring a fresh set of tears to your eyes and you wanted to disappear. You were never getting out of this, where Satoru perceived weakness, he saw an opportunity to have his fun.

You were fucked.

“Cute,” he laughed, squishing your cheeks together; only laughing harder when you batted at his hands.

That was three years ago. Things have changed, the jujutsu world was busier than ever with the emergence of Sukuna’s vessel, even leading Nanami out of hiding and back to his death sentence. You’ve changed, spending the last two of these years teaching at the Kyoto school; only having been transferred back over to take over the second years while Satoru dealt with the Itadori case. Everyone seemed to mellow out, even Satoru. Being a teacher seems to have finally jump-started the part of his frontal lobe that produced empathy. He was calmer, almost nicer, in a way. He didn’t wear white bandages anymore, instead swapping them out for a black blindfold. It was nice. Things felt nice and almost complete in a way they haven’t for a very long time. You still chat with Shoko, but now you have Nanami to hang out with again; catching up on some four odd years and how you’ve both been doing.

Satoru still seemed to tail you but in a very different way. He was busier now, still taking on missions and teaching his classes, but wherever you were he didn’t seem to be far behind. Especially if Nanami was there.

“My two favorite Kouhai!” You hear yelled from down the hall. You groan letting your head slump against the table and Nanami sighs following suit, today was definitely not the day. Doing shots and getting ramen at 3 am seemed like a great idea: but god was hindsight twenty-twenty. Your head was pounding.

It didn’t take long for him to burst into the teacher’s lounge, only pausing when he saw the two of you face down. You heard it, if only for a second; but it made your blood run cold. That fucking laughter. You feel your stomach churn and you let out a shuddery breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You were not going to cry. You had been working on it these last few years. Challenging yourself, trying to find different outlets; but when it came to Satoru nobody could ever seem to win. You feel the lump in your throat and a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh?” His voice intones, sounding delighted. “Thought some time away would do you good, didn’t know you were still a crybaby.” You could hear him smirking.

“Gojo, I don’t think that comment is very appropriate.” Nanami says, his voice gravelly and warning.

“Lighten up,” Satoru chuckles, “I’m just teasing her.”

“You’re as incorrigible as I remember,” Nanami sighs, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “They let you teach the youth?”

“Nanamin,” he coos, “Bold of you to assume I need permission to do anything.”

Scratch that, nothing has changed. He was just as annoying as he was in high school, and he’ll continue to be annoying until something strong enough crawls out of hell to kill him.

“Woah, calm down sweetheart,” he says, pulling his hand off of you, “I can feel you spiking, you wanna fight me or something?”

“Don’t,” Nanami warns, giving you a tired glare. He’s played this game before and he knows how it ends.

You did. You absolutely did. Even if it meant getting your ass blasted halfway across the dojo, if you could land even one punch you’d be satisfied. You lift your head up and turn to glare at him, ignoring the inertia of your hangover. Your eyes were watering in rage, and you could feel your heart racing and your cursed energy practically boiling below the surface.

His lips part a bit before they curl in into a smirk.

“Oh. You do wanna fight me.” He says. He bends down to sit on his haunches, even going as far to lift the blindfold up so you’re truly eye to eye.

“That’s cute,” he says, smiling in a way that seems dangerous. “You sure you’re not gonna cry if I hit you?”

“Go to hell.” You spit, you’re seething, this wasn’t good. He looks you over once, then twice, before laughing. That same laugh that made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t describe. He reaches a hand forward, cold against your cheek wiping one of your tears.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing the tear between his fingers. “You wouldn’t last a second. You’re weak.”

You snap. You’re bringing a hand forward to slap him but it’s grabbed in the blink of an eye, shoved back against your chest with a force that pushes the table. You could see Nanami out of the corner of your eye reaching for the nata, but he stops, because Satoru is laughing again.

“Really cute,” he laughs, “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He lets go of your hand and stands up stretching. “This was fun, I've gotta run though; the students should be done with their laps right about now. If you really wanna try that again, meet me in the training room after school.”

He’s just about out of the room before he shoots an eerie glance at Nanami. “And if you come, come alone.”

“What…the fuck was that?” You whisper, dropping your head into your hands. The adrenaline coursing through your body made you feel almost nauseous. You heard Nanami sigh and feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Is he gonna—”

“He wants to sleep with you.” He says bluntly.

What.

“What?” You say, almost ready to flip the table because nothing makes sense today. “He wants to beat my ass!”

“Beat? No.” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “But as someone who was subjected to the boys dormitory, I am painfully aware of how Gojo-san flirts, it seems like nothing about him has changed.”

“What are you saying?” You say.

“I’m saying,” he says, fully sitting up, “He used to taunt Geto-san in a very similar way, he’s got a very… roundabout way of flirting. As juvenile as it is, this is him flirting. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“You mean this is a pattern for him?” You groan.

“Once again, you weren’t subjected to the boys dormitory,” he says and shivers a bit. “Those fights in the courtyard took very interesting… turns.”

“He’s going to kill me,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“You’re going?” He asks, raising a brow. You can feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head.

“I-I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

“Did not.”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

———————-

The day seemed to drag on as you waited for the clock to strike three. Maybe if you had been better distracted it would have flown by faster, but Satoru seemed to want you fired up long before your little meeting. He took your fucking students. Walked right into the classroom, and decided today was the day he wanted to take them on a day trip to Korea. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to ask if you wanted to go. Just waltzing in like he owned the place and poofing away with your kids. It makes your blood boil even hotter, because he knows the second years have state tests coming up soon. You couldn’t even remember the last time one of them has scored above a fifty, the highest score was Panda, and you couldn’t even document his work without looking insane.

So here you were, in the lounge with Ijichi going over reports because you weren’t salaried yet and you’d rather die than let Satoru keep you from a full day's pay. The poor man was practically shaking next to you, hoping you didn’t snap and test out your black flash on him. He wasn’t too far off either, you were wired, the knots in your stomach growing tighter each time you replayed the events of the day. You wouldn’t hurt him, intentionally; but you were seconds away from asking Yaga for a cursed corpse to blow off some steam.

The problem is, it wouldn’t even be satisfying. You only had one target in mind, and he was frolicking around doing God knows what in Korea. The clock struck three, and Satoru still hadn’t returned.

He didn’t show until almost six, you had already trained and warmed up; even going as far as sparring with Nanami to prepare yourself. You now owed him dinner and a bottle of brandy, but you felt ready.

Your blood was pumping and you felt alive.

Satoru waltzed in just like he had to your classroom, and you saw blue; all you could see was blue. His cursed energy illuminated the room which set to piss you off even further. There was no urgency in his steps, no sense of duty; he walked in like he was perusing the convenience store.

“Sorry,” he snickers, raising his hand in greeting. “Got a little carried away, forgive me?” A condescending pout plastered on his lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“You’re sorry?” You breathe in disbelief.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He says, stripping off his jacket revealing a shirt that had no business being so tight.

“You’re so fucking--” you say, cutting yourself off with a groan. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t just leave people waiting--”

“You came alone,” he says, cutting you off. “Didn’t bring your bodyguard?”

“Bodyguard? What the fuck are you talking abou—”

“Please,” he scoffs, “Like Nanami-kun doesn’t trail you like a dog?”

“Oh so he’s the one trailing me?”you scoff. “Satoru, I can barely get away from you.”

He takes a step closer, his breath tickling your neck. “Yeah? So you’ve noticed, can’t get enough of you—”

“Oh give it a rest”You groan, taking a step back. “Flirt with the wall, are we gonna fight or what?”

He chuckles, taking a step forward. “You still wanna fight?”

“What else would I come here for?”you scoff, “You said if I was still up for it we would, so let’s fight”

“Let’s fight…”he chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright”

He takes a step forward, you can feel the cursed energy radiating off of him barely contained.

“I’ll raise you something better, sweetheart” he continues, flashing a pointed grin. “I’ll take this” he says, snapping his fingers and the aura of the room shifted; feeling lighter. “Off.” He was closer now, the gap between you two slim to nothing, you could feel his breath he was so close. Was it…? You reached forward tentatively and recoiled when you actually touched skin.

It was.

Infinity was off. He smirked, giving you a nod. “And, I’ll even let you strike first. I heard from a little birdie that you’re close contact”

“I don’t need your pity” you scoff, raising your hands. “Don’t hold back”

“Oh sweetheart,”he laughs. In the blink of an eye he was surging forward and your legs were kicked from underneath you. Before you could hit the ground he was right there to catch you.

“You won’t make it out alive if I actually fought you” he says, there was another surge and you were thumping your head against the mat while he stood over you, extending a hand. “and we need this pretty head attached that pretty body…y’know, in case we need backup”

“You’re such a bastard!—“you exclaim and yelp when he phases in front of you again, grabbing your hands and pinning them. This wasn’t fair, he was too fucking fast you could barely see him; trying to track him with your eyes made you sick.

“Fight with your hands, sweetheart”he goads, appearing behind you and pushing you to the floor, his foot on the small of your back. “Not your mouth”

Another flash of cursed energy and he’s crouched down in front of you, holding out his hand again. “Awww, already tired?”

You don’t take his hand instead swerving to kick his ankles, hoping that would take him down. He falters a bit to your elation, but you weren’t fast enough for the kill. You should’ve brought a cursed weapon, what the fuck were you thinking? The moment you’re on your feet you’re swept off of them again.

You’re panting, unable to even strike and spending most of your time on the defense avoiding his blows. He’s close again, right against your ear.

“Still want me to play fai-”

You crack your fist back instinctively, surprised when it actually makes contact with his jaw. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the adrenaline making your body tremble. You could barely breathe, every ounce of your being going into not ending up thrown across the room.

“Hah”he says, rubbing his jaw. “Cute. You call that little love tap a punch?”

“Stop calling me cute”You spit out through gritted teeth, gripping his arm and digging your nails in causing him to wince. If you couldn’t land another hit you surely weren’t going to let go.

“Get your fuckin claws out of me”he grunts, gripping your other arm so you’re both at a standstill.

“Stop calling me cute then,”you repeat, digging your nails in deeper; you’d break skin if you kept going, you kind of wanted to.

“Ah”he grunts, the pain turning into laughter. “Can’t I call it how I see it, baby?”

He grips your arm tighter to pull you closer. “So fucking cute”he says, his breath against your cheek. “The way you squirm…god”

“I fucking hate you”you seethe, trying to pull your arm away. His hands were so cold, but they felt nice against your skin.

“Do you?”he asks, “you fucking hate me?”he purrs, pulling you even closer. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the adrenaline churning in your stomach and making your knees weak.

“Yeah”you breathe. He pulls up his blindfold revealing those bright blue eyes that have your heart beating even faster.

“Then show me how much you hate me”he says, one last tug pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel his heart beating, and you couldn’t pinpoint why it felt surreal. Satoru was untouchable in a way that had him seen as less than human. To confirm he did in fact have a heartbeat throws your world on its axis again. The rhythmic thumping against his chest lulled you into a trance.

“Come on”he says again, his breath fanning over your head. “If you hate me so much then show me”

“Maybe you can’t?”he muses. “What is it? Tell me, I’m listening”

“I hate you”you repeat, your voice taking on a shaky tone.

“Aw baby”he coos, letting go of your arm to squish your cheeks. “This doesn’t feel like hate, now does it? You’re all over me”

“Let go of me!”you grunt, swinging blindly. Your heart was thumping rapidly and you could hardly breathe.

“Do you really want me to?”he asks, his touch light now, ready to back off if you gave him the word. And you couldn’t.

Time paused.

Did you really want him to?

Your breathing falters and your stomach churns as his lips turn up in a feral grin, his canines sharper than any person’s should be. You wanted to feel them against your throat. You could feel his cursed energy buzzing against your skin, it felt electric. His grip softened a bit and his eyes took on a lighter gaze.

“Really”he says, his voice low and serious in a way you’ve never heard. “Tell me to stop and I will. It’s all your call.”

Did you want him to stop?

One look in his eyes and you knew things would never be the same.

Thanks for reading the inner workings of my mind with this fucker. It’s not my best or even good but it’s honest work🥹

If you want a pt.2 with the actual smut lmk but it might take me seven to eight business months to finish.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Can we have Andrew and Reader transforming into half demon?

You can do it with Ashley together with Reader (separately) if you want.

Reader would have been with the Graves family since episode 1, as she was an exchange student but ended up being abandoned along with her Graves siblings.

She would be a cold, relaxed, indifferent person, a little sociopathic, a little temperamental but kind when they meet.

Reader would have been injured in the Hitman confrontation when she went to save Andrew (let's be honest, this kid would never be able to shoot the Hitman the first time with him being all nervous).

So to treat her injuries correctly they decided to use the demon to heal her, the demon doesn't like the idea of healing someone but he decides to heal her but still angry with this 'disrespect' the demon turns her into a half demon (similar to Jennifer Body the film).

That if she wants to stay alive she has to eat human flesh or drink blood.

If I had a nickel for every time I was requested to write a reader who’s an exchange student staying with the Graves Family- I’d have 4 nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened 4 times already

Andrew Graves x Half Demon!Reader

Andrew’s head was pounding

His eyes were wide with terror as he stared down at you in his arms

The events kept playing in his head, over and over like a broken record

He had found the hitman in Ashley’s spontaneously stupid game of hide-and-seek

Although, what was she expecting?

It was an amateur with a gun against a skilled killer with a knife

Of course he wasn’t going to do well!

So, you did the only thing you could think of to save him

Save the boy who you’ve lived alongside since high school

Who’s been nothing but kind and patient to you..

Push him away as the hitman lunged

So, here you lay..

Barely breathing in his arms

While the hitman laid dead nearby

Andrew, in a blind rage finally fired the gun. Draining it dry of any bullets in there in hopes of killing him

And, he achieved his goal

The hitman was dead

And it didn’t look like long til you’d be you…

“Well- you’ve successfully wasted all of our ammo.” Ashley grumbled, picking up her discarded gun. She wiped off any grass blades or dirt that stuck to the pristine silver of it.

If Andrew wasn’t still in shock, he would yell at her. Yell at her for having the audacity to worry more about her gun’s ammo than their dead friend! Yell at her for foolishly trusting him to kill the hitman and then running off! If you hadn’t jumped in, he would be dead…

He should be dead.

Andrew furrowed his brow, tears forming much to his dismay. As he shut his eyes, they fell in twin streams. His hands shook, gripping on to your body as it slowly lost its warmth. He quietly sobbed, trying his best to not make them too loud or pathetic. If he had been better with the gun…if he didn’t hesitate…you would still be…

“Andy!” He felt something cold tap the back of his head, breaking him from his mellow dramatic moment. Ashley stared down at him with frustration, “Come on! Let’s ditch the bodies, someone was bound to hear your bitch crying by now..”

“Are you serious?!” Andrew stood up, still holding you in his arms. He thrusted his arms forward, pushing Ashley back with your dead weight, “Look at her! She’s dying!” He was emotional. Erratic. But he didn’t care.

“I can see that!” His sister pushed his arms back, and Andrew held you close to his chest, “Now put her down before anyone comes by!”

“…no.”

He wasn’t yelling anymore, just staring down at you. Ashley’s eyes widened, before her face became a scowl.

“No?”

“No!”

Ashley, pinched the bridge of her nose, “Okay- yeah- ssuuurreeee! Let’s just carry a dead body around! Want me to stick my hand up her ass and sit her on my lap like a puppet so you can pretend you’re talking with her?” She roughly poked Andrew’s forehead, “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“Well I’m not leaving her!” Andrew snapped back, making Ashley flinch ever so slightly. He didn’t seem to care though as he turned his attention back down to you.

Both were quiet for a while, probably longer than they should have because people would be coming by soon to see the commotion. Ashley could see the thoughts running behind her brother’s eyes, clearly thinking of something to fix this…to fix you.

She didn’t understand what the fuss was about though. You were just dead weight before, and now you are literally. Plus, she never liked the looks her brother gave you. You were better off dead in her eyes, and if anyone was going to kick the bucket, it would’ve been you…

But Andrew didn’t want to leave you behind. Sentimental bastard. What was he expecting? You to just- snap out of being dead? It wasn’t that easy!

….or….was it?

Ashley’s hand drifted over the front pocket of her shorts, the imprint of the demon trinket visible. Andrew saw her subconscious motions out of the corner of his eye and perked up. Where hope formed on his face, Ashley scowled.

“No!”

“Give it here!”

Andrew set your body down, lunging for his sister for the trinket. The pair fell to the ground, wrestling one another for the trinket.

“Let! Go!”

“No! It’s mine!”

In the end, Ashley didn’t win. Andrew, for as gangly as he is, was still stronger than her and managed to get the trinket away. He cupped it in his hands, standing up and observing it quizzically. There was an ominous aura to this dream catch esc thing, but he didn’t care.

“The demon..”

“Andrew, no!”

“Let’s take Y/N to the cultists lair—“

“Andrew!”

“Summon the demon—“

“You asshole- are you even listening?!”

“And get her back!”

Andrew grinned from ear to ear, his arms held out at the genius of his plan.

So- this is what it felt like to be Andrew, Ashley lamented. She got why he was such a stick in the mud all the time now.

Before she could object, Andrew was already picking up your body.

“Come on! Let’s go! Everyone should be gone by now!”

Despite Ashley’s insistence that it wouldn’t work and they should cut their losses, Andrew persisted

Eventually the two snuck you into the cultists’ meeting room

Shockingly, everything was still set up from when Andrew had previously visited.

It made for a quick and easy ritual

Ashley’s demon friend was less than happy to be bothered though….

“tAr SoUl….wHaT iS tHiS?”

The dark, red eyed blob stared angrily up at Ashley- who gestured to your dead corpse like a game show assistant would show off a car.

“A body?…”

“I rEqUiRe FrEsH sOuLs..” the demon skittered around the body, prodding it with its tendrils, “tHiS iS aLrEaDy DeAd!”

“I know but-“ Ashley groaned, pointing to Andrew with her thumb, “My dumbass brother draws the line at necrophilia and wants her back.”

“I’m sorry- WHAT?!”

Andrew objected, completely disregarding the fact that they were in the presence of a demon, “Do you REALLY think the only reason I want to bring her back is so I can have sex with her?!”

“Well?” Ashley looked at him blankly, “Isn’t it?”

“…..” Andrew adverted his eyes to the ground, “It’s…partly true…”

“I fucking knew it.” Ashley sighed, completely exasperated by her brother’s idiocy, “I can’t believe you’re using MY demon connections so you can get your dick wet without feeling like a bad person! News flash Annnddyyyyy~” she gave him that shit eating grin she knew he despised, “You’ve done much worse.”

“Shut your whore mouth!”

“Make me pussy!”

“EnOuGh!”

The siblings stopped their bickering, Andrew pausing as he had grabbed the collar of Ashley’s shirt. They stared at the demon, looking more like their parent just scolded them than a demon yelling at them to stop their bickering.

The demon floated very close to Andrew’s face, causing him to release his sister and step back, “yOu WiSh To UsE mY pOwErS tO rEvIvE tHe MoRtAl?”

Andrew nodded.

“tHeN wHaT iS iT yOu OfFeR?..”

Andrew’s face contorted as he tried to think, “Uhhhh…”

Ashley stood behind the demon, smugly smiling at her cornered brother, “Haha! Bet ya didn’t think this far, didya?”

“Shut up woman!—“

Andrew immediately regretted raising his voice, as the demon’s red eyes glowed menacingly- almost staring holes into his retinas. He gulped, wishing he could tell Ashley to call off her guard demon- but that would only make things worse for him. Here he was, with no souls to offer a demon- and the demon already didn’t like him for his foolish request and yelling at his ‘tar soul’.

“wElL?…” the demon broke the silence that wafted through the air.

Andrew’s eyes widened, “O-Okay! Ummm..” he searched his brain for anything, any idea on how to revive you when he blurted out the first thing he landed on, “Souls! I can get you two souls for bringing back Y/N’s!”

“aNd WhErE aRe ThEsE sOuLs?”

“Well, I don’t have them now-“ The demon growled and Andrew tensed, “But! But! I can get them to you very soon! Yeah! How’s that sound?”

The red eyed blob stared at Andrew for a few moments, clearly considering his deal before it turned around and made its way to your corpse, “VeRy WeLl…BuT yOuR fAiLuRe FoR pAyMeNt UpFrOnT wIlL cOmE wItH cOnSeQuEnCeS..”

With those words, the room went pitch black. By the time the fluorescent lights returned, the demon was gone. Andrew lunged for your body, kneeling down beside you.

“Y/N?…” he shook you a little, “Y/N?”

His face faltered for a moment, fear coursing through him before he felt your body move. Your breathing was slow…but you were breathing! He cupped your face in his hands, waiting anxiously for you to open your eyes.

And you did.

And then you spoke.

“..A-….Andrew?”

And like that- you were back!

Sore, with some blood gone

But back nonetheless!

You felt….strange though

Upon coming down from his high of overwhelming joy, Andrew noticed just how cold you were

You didn’t feel chilly at all

But you felt cold to the touch

Along with that, you couldn’t get the taste of blood out of your mouth

It was hard to decipher which was the result of having been a corpse for half an hour…

…or what was from being brought back by a demon

But, Andrew had a debt to pay

So that can be worked out later

Returning to the motel parking lot, the hitman’s car was still there

And no one was around yet

So you took that and set off

You slept most of the ride

It was a rough night of…ya know

Dying

So you deserved to sleep

Though your dreams were…strange

Images of red

Blood spewing as you bit into the neck of a screaming person

You didn’t get a good look at them until their body was a mangled mess of torn limbs with bits of flesh taken out of them

Your face stained with blood

The delicious sensation filling your mouth

At first you chalked this up to a guilt dream

You feeling bad for eating that cultist a while back

But…no

This wasn’t a guilt dream

You never feasted on that man like an animal

You never went back for seconds, depraved of the taste

And in those dreams you never felt what you were feeling in that moment

…desire for more

Your concerning dream was interrupted by a sudden sensation of pain as a projectile was thrown at your head.

“Ow!” You sat up, your hand shooting to the assaulted spot on your head, “What the?..”

“I told you to wake her!” Andrew hissed.

“I did!” Ashley objected, “My shoe woke her up!”

“You little..”

Andrew’s grumbling trailed off, turning to look at you from the driver’s seat. You gave him a reassuring nod to let him know you were okay. He sighed in slight relief. How that the- initial pain in your head was gone, you looked out the window to see just where you three were. The backseat passenger window showed you a parking with cars lining the spots as far as you could see.

“Where…are we?” You asked, turning back to look at the siblings, “And what are we doing here?”

“Cheapskate here says it’s free parking.” Ashley replied bluntly, not even giving Andrew’s annoyed look a glance.

You looked between them, “Don’t we- need to pay that demon back? How’s free parking going to get us two souls?”

“Go on Annnndddd—“ Ashley paused as Andrew gave her a look, “…drew. Andrew. Tell Y/N your brilliant plan!”

Andrew sighed, resting his hands on the wheel as he tried to explain the plan, “Alright, so…we need two souls for that demon. We- are also running low on money. So…we’re going to kill two birds with one stone.”

You nodded, though his and Ashley’s drastically different expressions told you there was more. So- you prodded.

“And those birds arreee?”

“…our parents.”

The rational thing was to claim that they couldn’t do such a thing! Their parents took you in after all!

…although you’d be lying

Mrs Graves really only agreed because she’d get a cut of the exchange student program funds

Other than provide you a roof, she ignored you like she did her other children

Same goes for her husband, who didn’t do much of anything beside give you awkward hellos before he went to work

So you weren’t really against robbing and killing them

The events played as normal, pretending the fire that “killed everyone” was sensational news coverage and you all were fine!

You’re “politely” told to go to bed early, bunking with Ashley in the basement while Andrew took the couch.

Though, being honest…

You didn’t trust yourself around Ashley alone

Ever since you’ve been alive you’d had this…animalistic urge to tear into someone like a carnivorous animal

To hold them to the ground and watch the light leave their fear filled eyes as you tore out their throat

And Ashley was defenseless

Sleeping just inches from you in the spare bed

Her gun was empty, you knew this

So she wouldn’t shoot you

So you did the both of you a favor, and got out of there

Your eyes lingered on the basement stairs, the bed and Ashley’s sleeping form still very in much in your view. You had to tear your eyes away to avoid running back down there and giving in to the voice in your head telling- no, demanding you devour her.

Your relationship with her was complicated enough, and you knew with enough convincing you would. She was always cold with you, trying to tear a wedge between you and Andrew as you both got closer. But she also was the closest thing you had to a sister or any actual familial connection. You don’t think you could bear that guilt.

You drew your eyes to the couch, Andrew fast asleep on it. You could trust yourself around him, you know you could. The voice had nothing against Andrew. So you crossed over to the couch, kneeling down beside it.

Andrew’s unconscious state was fragile, stirring almost immediately as he felt a presence join him. His eyes opened with some strain, his voice littered with tiredness.

“Y/N?…” he sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Did Ashley kick you out?..”

“No.” You responded. You debated telling him why you were here if Ashley hadn’t kicked you out, but what could you tell him? ‘Hey I wanted to eat your sister’? You couldn’t do that. So instead you asked, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, as he nodded slightly. He pulled the covers aside, scooting closer to the back of the couch so you’d have room. You climbed onto the couch with him, your arms wrapping around his torso. You felt him shiver from the closeness, almost forgetting how cold you were. You didn’t care though. You craved the closeness more than you craved tearing into Andrew’s flesh and eating his heart in front of him.

You furrowed your brow, pushing those thoughts down as Andrew slowly covered you two up.

“You…alright?” Andrew tentatively asked. Obviously you weren’t alright, by this time last night you were dead.

You racked your mind about what to say, nuzzling into his sweater for comfort as you spoke, “I’m- fine….just ever since I….”

“Died?”

“Yeah, that….I’ve had….urges.”

“Like- what?”

“…like devouring someone like an animal.”

He went quiet after that. You can’t exactly say what you expected reaction wise. Disgust? Fear? Silence felt appropriate to be fair. You weren’t anticipating his next words when he processed the information…

“…three birds with one stone then.”

The plan went as the siblings had- semi planned.

Scaring the parents with an unloaded gun into the basement

Removing the limit from Mrs Graves credit card so they’d have some cash

Handing their souls to the demon

And Andrew leaving you to enjoy your meal

You felt like an animal. A hungry, ravenous animal.

Your breath was shaky, eyes wide with horror at what you’d done. You and the basement were bloodied mess, and your host parents were mangled beyond recognition.

It didn’t help that you were on your hands and knees, chin drenched with blood as what you had done replayed in your mind. The sounds of the basement stairs creaking broke you out of your trance. You cowered momentarily before realizing it was Andrew.

“Wow- you..” he paused, covering his mouth as he gagged from the smell of blood, “Really did a number on them..”

Hot tears welled in your eyes as you stared up at him. You trembled, falling further to the ground than you already were. Your forehead met the basement floor as you sobbed.

“I’m sorry!” You wailed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

It was all you could say. What else could you? You shook and sobbed like the wounded animal you were as Andrew slowly approached you. He fell to his knees in front of you, and pulled you into a hug. His parents’ blood stained his sweater, but he didn’t care. He’ll wash it later.

You trembled in his arms as he rubbed gentle circles into your back, soft shushes filling your ears as he comforted you. You buried your face into his shoulder, shaking and crying from what you’d done. This was different than when you ate the cultist back at the apartment, then you didn’t feel so….dehumanized.

He was prepared like a dish. Not bitten into like a wolf delivering the killing blow to a deer. He was eaten for survival. They were eaten to satiate this desire you had.

Though to Andrew, this downside was worth it, so long as he could hold you again.

[peaches2217]

Anyone order some Expectant Papa Mario? No? Too bad, I'm in brainrot tonight.

I'm so sorry.

Mario's the kinda guy that will drop EVERYTHING to go coo and make faces at and play with any baby that crosses his path, so it's really no surprise that he starts doing the exact same with his own kid... before she's even born.

It starts when Peach excitedly calls him into the bathroom while she's getting ready to shower one night and shows him the absolute tiniest, least noticeable bump in her abdomen, so small it took getting naked and looking at herself in profile in the mirror to even recognize it. It's been a few weeks since they got the news, but this is when it really hits both of them that Oh, there's a baby in there. And suddenly Mario's kneeling down so he can kiss and press his cheek against Peach's stomach, talking to it like whatever's within can actually hear him yet — "Look at you! Already getting so big! You keep getting big and strong for us, okie-dokie? Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!" And Peach eventually has to push him away through fits of laughter because that area is way too ticklish for all that kissing. The nightly ritual of Storytime (amended to Daddy-Daughter Storytime when finding out they're having a girl some months later) begins the following evening and is religiously observed to the day of her birth.

The first time he feels their daughter kick, it's in response to Peach's voice. Mario spends the next several nights with his head against Peach's chest and his hand on her belly, singing lullabies and telling their baby all sorts of stories, jumping back and forth between English and Italian, trying to see what will get her to react to his voice. But Peach's voice is the only one to get a response out of her for a while, leading Mario to, of all things, start making bribes. He'll get her a whole stable of Yoshis, she'll never have to so much as touch a vegetable if she doesn't want, he'll have an entire castle built from scratch just for her, and all she has to do is kick his palm, right now. Peach tries to offer suggestions for his bribes, but he dramatically shushes her if she speaks any louder than a whisper. The offers are only valid if she kicks for him and him alone!

One such night, after much giggling between the couple but little success, Mario gives up for the evening, assuring his little albicoccetta that he'll spoil her no matter how stubborn she insists on being. "Papà ti vuole tanto bene," he tells her. And then he feels a nudge against his hand, just as he finishes speaking. He proceeds to tell her this exact phrase every night before bed for the rest of his natural life.

The bribes make a return as Peach enters her third trimester and their little girl's nighttime activities prevent her from getting a decent night's rest. It's annoying, yes, but still those nights always feel worth it; whether it's at 10 PM or 3 AM, Mario will get her a warm drink, help her get comfortable again, and proceed to offer impractical material riches to their baby in exchange for settling down for the night. Sometimes that's enough, and he'll ask Peach to remind him to add everything he's offered tonight to their ever-growing imaginary list of things they're obligated to give their child once she's born. Other nights, just hearing his voice won't calm her down, or Peach will be sincerely uncomfortable to the point of pain, or they'll both be too tired to keep up the comical charade, so he'll just hold his wife close and hum songs or mutter half-awake nothings to soothe both of his girls.

(One night in particular, he tries the gentler approach of kissing her belly and asking their baby nicely if she'll consider mellowing out. The resulting kick to the face is shockingly strong, enough that it actually kind of hurts; he and Peach just stare at each other in dumbfounded shock for a moment before collapsing into laughter. "Rude!" he chastises, wagging his finger at her stomach. "You're grounded! You're not allowed to leave your room for the next two months, capito?")

Mario's in an absolute panic by the time he reaches Peach's bedside, berating himself for leaving her side for even a SECOND, asking her how she's managing the pain, reminding her to breathe, he's here, he'll see her through this — but her water just broke like ten minutes ago and the contractions are easily manageable, so if anyone needs all that attention and comfort, it's him. After assuring him that she's alright, Peach takes his hand and presses it to her belly, where he quickly feels a feeble kick. "She's saying she can't wait to meet you," she tells Mario, and yeah, that's enough to calm him down for now. "You be good for Mama," he answers back with a cheeky grin. "Don't give her too much trouble, alrighty?"

The request ultimately goes unheeded, because it's another ten hours before it's over, and it's almost surreal to think something that small could cause so much agony. Half a day's worth of tension and fear and helplessness comes crashing down watching their daughter take her first breaths against Peach's chest, hearing her first tiny cries, and the rush of all these huge and conflicting feelings makes Mario's legs feel weak. "Combinaguai!" he finds himself saying, hovering a hand nearby but not quite close enough to touch her. She looks so fragile. "What did I say? 'Don't give Mama too much trouble!' That was a lot of trouble!" His teasing makes Peach laugh, and hearing that carefree laugh after she's endured so much suffering brings him so much relief that his throat closes up, and suddenly he can't say anything else.

"Hey," he manages a short time later, cradling his daughter for the first time while nurses see to Peach. She looks even smaller all swaddled and clean, fast asleep in his arms, and for the first time since he began talking to her, he's at a complete loss for words. That is, until she stirs at his timid greeting, blinking up at him with drowsy topaz eyes. Peach's eyes. And suddenly Mario has everything to say. There's so much he wants to tell her, so many promises he wants to make, so many stories he wants to recount, so many jokes he wants to crack, and he wants to do it all right now. But he doesn't even know where to begin. So, for the time being, he tells her the one thing his exhausted brain can actually put into words right now, choked between joyful tears and the heaviest, most overwhelming affection he's ever felt in his life:

"Ti voglio bene. Ti voglio bene. Papà ti vuole tanto bene."

[morganski-19]

The One with the Cold

Robin walks out of her bedroom to find Steve wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Face down in the pillows.

“Robs, I’m dying.”

“You just have a cold, calm down.”

“Then why am I dying.” He rolls over with a groan, pouting at Robin.

She crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’re the one who decided to work with germ ridden six-year-olds.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I know.”

“Like seriously, I’m surprised you don’t get sick more. You practically get sneezed on daily.”

“I have a strong immune system.”

Robin glares at him.

“Normally. I normally have a strong immune system.”

Robin takes her hand and places it on his forehead. He’s slightly warm. “On a scale of dying to dead, how sick are you?”

“Just regular dying.”

She goes to the bathroom to get the thermometer out of the first aid kit. Putting it in his mouth, she walks away to get a glass of water and some cold medicine. When the thermometer beeps, she looks at it and hands him the pills.

“Just a slight fever, it should be fine. Want some tea or something?”

“Tea would be nice,” Steve says as he retreats back under the blanket.

Robin finds the empty tea box in the cabinet, cursing Steve for leaving it in there. If he wasn’t sick, she’d let him hear it. It’s a bad habit of his. She lets him know that she’s running across the hall to see if they have any.

Nancy’s door is unlocked, like it normally is. She opens it to find Nancy walking around the apartment with cleaning wipes in her hand. Scrubbing at the remotes and surfaces.

“Yours too?” Robin groans.

Nancy turns to her with an annoyed face. “Well, now I know where he got it from. Steve being a giant baby over it too?”

“What do you think? Came over to see if you had any tea, we’re out.”

Nancy throws out the wipe in her hand, placing the container on the counter. “We should, but Eddie always puts the empty boxes back on the shelf.”

“Wow, they were really made for each other,” Robin jokes. “If only they would do something about it.”

Nancy hands Robin a tea bag. “Maybe lay off the teasing for now, Eddie’s claiming he’s dead.”

Robin huffs. “That’s worse than Steve. He’s just regular dying. Do you happen to have a can of soup I can borrow too. I know we don’t have any.”

“Probably.” Nancy roots around in a separate cabinet, pulling out a can of chicken noodle soup. “Here. I just hope I don’t get sick because of this. I can’t miss work this week.”

“I mean, you just sanitized the entire apartment. And probably barred him to his room. You’ll be fine.”

Nancy knocks three times on the table. “Just in case.”

Robin heads back to her apartment after thanking Nancy for the food. “Guess who else your grubby kids got sick. Eddie. But he’s either more dramatic than you are or generally worse. He’s claiming he’s dead. Nancy’s busy cleaning so she doesn’t get sick either.”

She’s cut off when a choked snore comes from the couch. Robin laughs to herself, taking the kettle off the stove before it starts boiling. He won’t be awake for a while anyway. She grabs a book from her room and sits on the armchair, waiting for him to wake up.

It’s a few hours before he does. And the only real reason he wakes up is because he can’t breathe out of his nose anymore. Robin gets him more of the cold meds as he sits up. Shivering as the blanket falls off his shoulders. She actually makes the tea this time.

“Thank you,” he whispers when she hands it to him. Wincing when he burns his tongue.

“I just made that, dingus, it’s going to be hot.”

He shoots her a half-baked glare. “Can’t you save the insults for when I don’t feel like shit.”

Robin smiles. “Nope.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 17)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Eve night

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SIXTEEN

Drew had never been perceptive of his emotions that weren’t obvious and easy to identify, and he was never ready to internalize the big emotions—the ones such as fear or grief—until it was too late to stop the feelings from infiltrating his mind and body. He’d been that way all of his life, and age had done nothing to change that. It was sort of like getting hit with a wall bricks, and not registering until the feeling of the harsh solid is piercing, scratching, and abusing your skin. And the breath is knocked out of you.

Drew reluctantly pulled his lips away from Isobel’s only to suck in one gust of air before reconnecting their lips once more. This kiss was different than the ones before, but this one, just like the others, fueled that foreign feeling he felt deep inside his chest for Isobel. It felt like he was somehow getting closer and in that moment he realized on a tipping scale of how close he could get to Isobel whether it was intimately or emotionally, he’d barely brushed the surface.

They fought for the first time as two people who were intimately involved. It was dramatic and tumultuous and everything he tried to avoid when it came to other women he’d been with before, but he would do it again if the person he was fighting for was Isobel. If having to experience that new found fear of possibly losing her meant he got to have her in his embrace after it all mellowed out. Because like the kiss, just simply having her in his arms again felt better than it ever has before.

Isobel felt so good in his hands he couldn’t help the groans of satisfaction rumbling in his throat from just running them across her thighs and over her silk pajamas that were driving him insane. “Show me your little outfit, baby.” Drew mumbled in her ear while grabbing a handful of her ass causing her mouth to fall agape against his cheek before slipping from under her and tossing her gently onto the center of the bed. Drew stood there as his eyes roam over every inch of her body. He absolutely could not figure out how someone could look so adorable yet sexy all at the same time, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She grinned up at him, baring all of her pretty white teeth and he melted at the sight. That toothy smile alone always knocked the breath out of him, even before that day in her apartment.

He’d been such an asshole earlier in the day to her and now he couldn’t imagine how he could ever say the things he did to the same sweet girl lying before him. It actually made him sick to the think about, so he backed away and twisted away from her. She told him the last thing she wanted was any of their parents finding out about them, and when she reacted like she deserved to he couldn’t handle it.

“Drew what are you doing?” Isobel asked with her eyebrows furrowed in concern. She saw something pass over his blue eyes before he turned around, how whatever it was that dawned on him happened as he was gazing at her.

Isobel and Drew weren’t the same and the mental voice inside of her told her that’s why they were good together. Drew let her walk away from him the previous night for his own reasonings they had yet to discuss. Isobel, on the other had, never let him get away from her without a fight whether it was something as little as him trying to pump the breaks on a heated kiss or something such as this moment where she could tell he was second guessing everything between them.

“You said you couldn’t do this.” Drew motioned his pointer finger between the two of them after he turned back towards her where she was now sitting up, “I need to give you space-”

“I don’t want space, Drew.” She interrupted, her voice was full of varying emotion. She usually hated it—how her voice betrayed her and revealed what she was truly feeling inside—but she didn’t hate it when it came to him. Because it gave opportunity for her to see that Drew really did know her like he said that he did, that he’d been paying attention, and absorbing everything he could about her because he cared that much. She could see it now in the way he flinched at her words as if he didn’t expect them and then in the softening of his twinkling eyes as he interrupted her thoughts through her chocolate orbs.

“-we have to stop making decisions for the both of us and focus on what is happening right now.” She continued on, the conversation with Charlotte still fresh on her mind, “I want you, Drew.”

He began to walk back over and she got up to stand on her knees at the edge of the bed so they were facing each other. His hands slowly found her hips and squeezed so tightly she gasped. Her arms sliding over his shoulders and around his neck and just like that they were practically in the same position as when she first walked in and he pulled her into his lap.

“I want you, Isobel.” He stated while staring deep into her eyes. He said it with generality like he wasn’t saying it just to agree with her, but to convey that he wanted her now and he would continue to want her when she left this room.

Isobel’s hands found either side of his face and rubbed his cheek bones with the pads of her thumbs, her tinted orbs looking up at him through her eyelashes with her teeth piercing her bottom lip. Then in a bat of an eye Drew was leaning in and carefully running his tongue in a linear swipe across her teeth trapping that lip. As soon as she released it, they were kissing once more, tongues immediately involved as they sensually swiped against each other. Isobel’s fingers conservatively scratched the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck while his large hands ate up every inch of her waist and thighs just grabbing and squeezing his favorite parts of her.

Isobel was the one to pull away this time and Drew was about to chase hers until the feeling of her moistened lips under his jaw registered and his eyes wrenched open. Her little kisses felt cold to the touch but it made it feel like his skin was on fire, “You always feel so damn good, Is.”

She just hums and continues to leave sweet pecks with her full lips as she moves on to his throat and eventually his shoulders. Drew watched intently while her hands spread and rubbed his chest, “Fuck.” He grunted when her nails grazed his nipple on their descent down to his stomach.

The girl was obsessed with his body and the energy he gave off around her. He just always felt so manly when they were with each other like this. It was how he was always towering over her, that predatory look he had in his eyes even when he was telling her they needed to stop, and how he was so lean yet stacked with muscle—muscle she wanted sticking to her sweaty skin when he finally gave himself to her. It was absurd how hesitant she was to address her feelings when it came to Drew, but was so willing to be with him in intimacy.

Suddenly, Isobel lowered her body back onto the bed, her gaze unwavering until she slowly twisted her body around and arched her long, slender back so her ass was pressed against the front of his pants. “Drew.” She dragged out in a needy whine, the thin material of her shorts and his thin pajamas doing nothing to prevent the feeling of his arousal from nudging her dampening silk covered cunt.

“You’re so fucking nasty, Isobel.” Drew said through clenched teeth as he harshly ran a hand down his face as if he were in disbelief at what he was seeing.

Desperate for some friction, Isobel shook her ass against him until the fat of it being began to ripple from the sensual motion. When she turned her head to the side to get a glimpse, Drew seemed to be in a trance—God, she loved teasing him. “You like that?”

“You know I like it.” Drew managed to get out before he placed his hands on her mesmerizing backside and watched as his hands moved along with her. He had always preferred a nice ass when it came to women, but Isobel turned that preference into a necessity. After about a minute he moved southward between her legs, his thumbs entering her shorts through the leg holes and rubbing circles into the skin just outside the crotch of her panties. Isobel’s movements stalled and now he could just barely hear little high pitched pants leaving her mouth, “I’m not going to fuck you like this, Izzy.”

Isobel was fully prepared to throw a temper tantrum at this point, all the times Drew had stopped them from going further flashing through her mind and their last time together when she got to get a taste of what he was holding back from her. But when she opened her mouth she could only blubber in protest, “No, Drew please.”

“What is it, baby? You don’t want me to stop?” She heard him asking behind her and his tone of voice, the slight taunting, had her pushing her hips back for more contact as she shook her head in protest. “I’m not gonna stop Isobel, but I’m also not fucking you like this.”

Isobel sucked in a breath when she felt his knee dip into the bed then remove his thumbs from her shorts to grab her hips and flip her over, moving them both up to the top of the bed. Drew placed himself on top of her so that his chest just barely brushed over her breasts and his face was hovering directly above her own.

The smirk on Drew’s face fell before he murmured his next words like some sort of vow, “I’m not going to fuck you in a position where I can’t see your pretty eyes.”

“I want to see you too.” Isobel whispered.

He leaned down and gave her a kiss before disconnecting and leaning in once more just like he always did. Giving her at least three more pecks to the lips before lingering on the last one and finally pulling away with satisfied groan vibrating in his throat. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that night in your room, how good you took my dick.” Drew spoke into her ear as he somehow made it even more unbearably hot in the room.

Isobel was dying from his teasing, her legs squeezing together as an attempt to release some of the tension. And she was about to complain like a brat until his pointer and middle fingers founds her top lip, tracing it then doing the same to the bottom. They were both silent, Drew seemingly calm while she was panting from anticipation. All the while their eyes remained on each other and he slipped his fingers between her lips. It was so quiet in the room that they both could hear the saliva in her mouth as he tried to fit his long fingers in there. When he spread them and closed them on her tongue and she gagged around him, she swore she felt his dick twitch against her hip.

Isobel’s eyes were already watering from his fingers just simply sitting on her tongue but she began to suck the flesh, twisting her tongue all around and between them, and grabbing his wrist to push them further into her mouth making herself retch again. Drew’s eyes screwed shut for a few seconds as he cursed to himself before returning her gaze and slid his fingers from her lips. “I love doing that for you.” Isobel told him.

“Sucking off my fingers?” He asked with a squint in his eyes.

Isobel giggled at the question and pulled him down to kiss him quickly before pulling away to speak, “No, Drew, just you in my mouth in general.”

She could visibly see his eyes darken to a deeper blue just as the sea does when the moon replaces the sun. They both remained quiet even when he began running the same fingers he had in her mouth down her stomach until he reached the top of her shorts where he rubbed the skin there in a horizontal motion for a few moments.

“Lift the waistband of your shorts for me.” He directed and watched carefully when she reached down to do as told, his eyes falling on the red underwear he knew was probably barely covering anything.

Using the opening she was making for him, Drew slid his hand inside of her shorts then slipped them under her panties. When his fingers traveled deeper and found the pool of arousal soaking her cunt she was instantly a moaning mess. That was the first time since she’d entered his room that she remembered there were other people in the house with them, but it did nothing to shut her up not with his fingers teasingly rubbing and prodding her slit.

“You gotta quiet down just a little, Izzy.” He warned and she listened for the most part. She laid there holding her shorts out of the way while he played with her pussy. Her moans were quiet and mainly in his ears then suddenly he was sliding a finger inside of her. When he began pumping into her she tucked her face into his neck knowing she wasn’t going to be able to keep it down.

“So damn tight.” He sighed to himself.

She knew there was probably a smirk on his lips as she whined into his skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up and glare at him. She just continued hiding her face while he picked up speed inside of her and eventually he added another finger—slowly easing in and giving a few experimental thrusts before fucking her with them just like he did in his truck weeks ago. “Drew.” She sounded like she was sobbing when really she was just breathless and turned on which made for uncontrollably loud cries to leave her lips.

She’d let go of her shorts by then and was using both of her hands to blindly grasp on to his arms, desperate to find something to anchor herself to. When her moans were back to a dangerous octave he didn’t stop, he just moved her face from his neck with his free hand and place his mouth on hers.

His kisses and the lewd swipes of his tongue distracted her from how deep he was inside of her until he created a scissor motion hitting that sensitive spot and erasing all the progress they’d made keeping her quiet. Her mouth was now agape, though still pressed against his lips as he repeatedly brushed over the spot until she was gasping from the feeling of it. Now, he was pulling away, shaking his head in amusement at her incompetency, “How am I supposed to eat it if you can’t stay quiet, baby?”

Isobel squeezed her legs together at his words, which still has his hands between them, making his eyebrows to raise in mirth. The thought of having his tongue on her and inside her made her entire body convulse. This was new territory, he’d never been able to touch her like this because they never had the opportunity. And now wasn’t the best opportunity seeing as their entire families were probably fast asleep and completely unaware of their actions.

Still, Isobel gave Drew an innocent look and moved to wrap her legs around his waist, “I’ll be good.”

“You promise?” He was looking at her with eager eyes as if her agreeing would dictate his next move, but she could also see how captivated he was and knew he would have her regardless. She nodded her head with their eyes locked, and that was all it took have him dragging his lips down her body.

Isobel had been with one other person who showed her how bad they wanted her, he swept her off her feet and made her think she was the best thing he’d ever had. It took a lot of trust and naivety to believe that someone can think so fondly of you, and just as quickly as she’d given away her trust he stamped on it, on her hands, on everything she’d given in love until she remained like a child who’d put those hands somewhere they weren’t supposed to.

Drew made her feel the same way, making it easy to trust that he really wanted her as bad as he made it seem. And it scared her to see a man be so infatuated with her again. It would be different if Drew didn’t always look at her with so much emotion, if this was what it was supposed to be, just two people hooking up—but it wasn’t. They both knew it, it was obvious in their gazes, in the way they disagreed, and most importantly the way they risked it all to be together despite their families.

There was so much history between them that they could ruin, yet they proceeded despite it. Isobel had loved blindly before, but with Drew it was like getting on the same rollercoaster they’d been on together since they were barely teenagers—that had been stagnantly moving for close to a decade in a route they’d grown accustomed to—but now they’d chosen to take a different route and speed. One that was new and unfamiliar but they were still together just moving through life differently, learning how to be together under different conditions until it wasn’t so scary anymore.

The silk fabric of her shorts tickled her smooth legs as he slid them down her body, throwing them on the floor beside the bed when he got them off completely, “Sit up a little for me, Isobel.”

She immediately obeyed and slid herself up so her shoulders were resting on the pillow leaning against the bottom of the headboard. In this position her hips were angled up so her panty covered heat was directly in his line sight, and when he grabbed her knees to spread her legs open the girl was practically gnawing at her bottom lip from the way he was gazing at her cunt.

“You’re just pretty all over aren’t you?”

If Drew was truly shameless he would let the drool seep from his mouth, that’s how pretty Isobel’s pussy looked spread out for him. She was dripping and puffing from his invading fingers, and the way the red material of her panties looked to be suffocating her was a provocative sight. He’d never seen her like this, lying before him like a soliciting invitation asking him to take her. Drew was greedy when it came to women before Isobel, but he had never felt such greed for just one woman like he did with her. Never wanting someone to himself so desperately that he couldn’t stand the sight of his brother hugging them, so desperate it had him recklessly thinking that this was who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

A languid, wet lick of his tongue over her underwear was all it took to have her babbling again and covering her mouth with her hand because she didn’t want it to end. From there he was all in swiping his tongue, sucking her clit with his slobbery lips, and spitting globs of saliva on her pussy all without pulling down her panties. Isobel was spiraling like she’d taken just a shot too many or taken one too many hits of a joint that would send her to the point of no return.

Her legs closed around his face, and he welcomed them with his hands squeezing her thighs in encouragement as she trapped him against her core. She felt him groaning and mumbling incoherent sentences while eating her like he couldn’t keep quiet either. Then his tongue expertly slipped past her underwear and circled her throbbing clit just one time and she was falling, her legs shook around him as he continued to lap at her bare cunt.

This particular orgasm felt as if the blood running through her veins had been replaced with concrete as her body tensed and her back froze into an arch off the mattress. She was silent, all ability to produce sound had been stripped from her by the man below her as she just held her mouth open in pleasure. She could feel him watching her like a predator watching in awe as his prey fell apart right in front of him.

Drew stopped licking her when she relaxed again into the bed and her breathing mellowed. He left wet kisses up the inside of her thigh, he could still taste her in his mouth and his dick thumped with arousal at the feeling.

“Drew.” Isobel pathetically called out his name and reached out for him with her arms. Drew immediately abandoned her thighs and moved back up the bed where she was, wrapping his arms around her waist when he was back above her and looking into her deep, brown eyes. She kissed him softly for a few seconds tasting herself on his lips, but eventually pulled away and rested her head on the pillow still breathless from her orgasm.

His body rolled off hers onto the bed, trying to ignore the heavy feeling of his dick in between his legs. He hissed when Isobel threw her leg over his lap just as soon as he dropped down beside her. She looked so tired and innocent, but her hands were grazing his lower abdomen—driving him mad.

“I want more, Drew, I want you.” She murmured, pressing her mouth onto his shoulder as she spoke, “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Drew just stared at her having an internal battle with himself on what to do, what to do with Isobel. It had been convenient for him to always stop Isobel before they went too far while being home, but he really did need that control because he had a feeling that when they had sex only one of them wouldn’t be able to go on as normal. He knew that he wouldn’t be the same Drew he was before Isobel.

“Isobel, are you sure?” He had to ask because her answer would determine how things went from here.

She didn’t have to consider the question at all, Isobel had been wanting Drew since they left for home. So much so that she was the one making the first moves despite telling him they were putting a pause on their physical relationship, and every intimate moment they’d shared since then had brought her to now. Wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible, in a way that she knew would be emotional, in a way she knew would change things but for some reason she wasn’t afraid, “Yes, Drew.”

Isobel exhaled when he hungrily kissed her waiting lips, so hard she could feel the tip of his nose nudging the side of her own. His kisses were desperate, but his hands were shy on her body. He took his time trailing them down her body before slightly lifting her to cup her ass and blindly dragging her underwear down her hips with his thumbs. Isobel snaked an arm around his neck when his tongue entered her mouth and moved the other between them to tug at his pants. Drew ignored her silent request and dropped his hips down so his dick was nestled right against her core. Then he began to rock them slowly, the cotton fabric of his pajamas quickly being soaked by her arousal and slipping easily up and down the mess between her legs.

“Fuck.” Isobel dragged out in a curse as Drew’s groans harmonized with the sounds she was emitting.

“That’s it, Isobel.” He panted when her hips began to lift to meet his thrust, only adding to the building pressure, he sped up his movements causing the bed to creak beneath them, “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me.”

Isobel watched him as if she was in a trance, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration, his mouth open as his breaths escaped him, and his blue eyes when he opened them and found her brown ones already on him.

“Fuck, we have to stop, you’re going to make me come.” He rasped and got off of her.

He stalled for a minute or two to calm down she presumed, then he grabbed his wallet off of the night stand beside her where his condoms obviously were, and she rolled her eyes at how much of a guy he was.

“Wanna put it on for me, Izzy?” He offered while taking off his pants, and she nodded before snatching the condom from him.

Drew chuckled, letting her push his boxers down his hips, and she watched awestruck when his hard cock slipped out and tapped his stomach. It looked angry and sensitive just like it did before she had it deep in her mouth last week, so she figured she’d be gentle as she rolled the condom onto his hot flesh—but he was already moaning by the halfway point. She loved how he couldn’t control himself when it came to this, how she could turn him on so much it was incomparable to his other experiences. Drew got back on the bed when she finished, and grabbed her thighs so they were wrapped around his hips.

He kissed her neck and lingered there for a moment before moving to her jaw then forehead like he was leaving something behind with each kiss. She felt a flutter in her chest by the time he claimed her mouth until the feeling of the tip of his dick on her pussy claimed her attention. He smirked when she gasped against his lips as he slightly pushed into her before pulling out again.

“Are you hot, baby? I don’t want you to get uncomfortable in this.” He mumbled into her as his hands moved to her top and began unfastening the buttons. When he finished the last he pulled the fabric away from her chest and broke their kiss to look down at her heavy breast, her dark nipples erect from his touch, “Isobel, fuck.”

She needed him to do something, anything or she was going to scream in frustration.

“Drew-“

Isobel barely got out his name before the sensation of him pushing inside of her rendered her speechless. He was slow yet deliberate like he wanted to be balls deep, but also wanted to be gentle with her because this was Drew and he was probably considering the fact she hasn’t been with anyone in almost three years. When he was fully inside he just waited as she remained beneath him trying to adjust, “You okay, Izzy?”

She bit her lip and hummed because she was afraid if she were to actually open her mouth she would wake the entire house—that’s how deep he felt. Drew began to move when she kissed him, giving her slow strokes as he rolled his hips into her slick opening making her moan uncontrollably against his mouth.

Drew was choking, he wanted to say so much but the feeling of her melting on his cock was too much. She felt so good to him, she always did. That showed in the ways he couldn’t help but slide into her so unhurriedly his mouth widened with each thrust because he was feeling all of her. She let him have her in the most intimate way possible and the feeling and the simple thought of it was overwhelming.

“You feel so good, Drew.”

Her praise made him snap his hips into her just a little harsher making the bed began to creak again. Her moans grew and he couldn’t help himself as he sped up his thrust even more, her cries and the sounds of the bed groaning with them spurring him on. He leaned in her ear and gave her comforting shush, hoping she would keep it down for both of their sakes.

She didn’t stop moaning but her hips did began to roll, meeting his every stroke as if him telling her to be quiet turned her on even more. He was moaning along with her, and losing all control despite being in such a dominant position.

“Baby.” He moaned in her neck at the sound of her squelching each time he plunged into her pussy. All of his senses were heightened when he was with Isobel, she made him feel so good so fast to the point where it was too much and he hated that she knew that.

Isobel’s hands sensually rubbed Drew’s back watching him with his eyes trained on her bouncing breasts and eventually his thrusts grew erratic telling her he was close, “You gonna come with your dick inside me, Bear?”

“You can’t do that to me, Is.” His forehead was resting on hers and they just stared into each other’s eyes only heightening what they were already feeling.

Drew reach down her body and found her clit and all her movements stopped, the grinding, her hands on his back, all of her teasing ceased. She allowed him two final strokes before she was coming on his cock. This time she came with his name leaving her mouth in breathless chants all the while her pussy convulsed around him as he ground into her. And just as her orgasm ended his began, his hips wildly thrusting into her. He clung onto Isobel at the high he was getting, the high that wasn’t ending despite the seconds that had passed and him slowing his movements, “I’m still coming, fuck.” He wheezed and started thrusting his hips again.

Isobel watched enthralled as he grabbed her ass and used her to fuck himself through what seemed to be another orgasm, drinking in every detail so she could commit his face while coming to memory. She could get addicted to this, she thought to herself.

Drew finally collapsed on top of her after pulling out, feeling depleted. Isobel had just unknowingly ruined him, he’d never be able to fuck another girl, not after tonight. His eyes found the digital clock and she followed his gaze where it showed it being well past midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Isobel.” He kissed her cheek and because he couldn’t help himself he said the one thing that had been caught in his throat the moment he slid inside her—what had the man at a loss for words, “I love you.”

Drew felt an invisible weight lift from his body, one he had no idea accompanied the feelings he had for Isobel. How it was getting heavier and heavier the more time he spent with her. He felt her stiffen beneath him, so he moved over and laid beside her.

“Look at me, please?” He tried and she resisted for a little before finally peering over at him, “You don’t have to say anything, just look at me.”

He needed to see her eyes because where her words strayed, her eyes spoke volumes—he wondered if she knew that. Her pretty, brown eyes didn’t make him regret his confession, they gave him hope for the future, just as they always did.

“Are you scared?” Drew whispered and she nodded but continued looking into his eyes.

“Yeah, me too.”

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART EIGHTEEN

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Same anon from last time, but skskfjd I have so much to yap about?? Especially about my personal favs

The last Ritsu fic just make me think of Leo version, for some reason. Because like, this man, this guy, this Satan spawn if he was sent to the future and somehow, miraculously ended with Leo, he straight up the type to go into denial.

Like, him?? Leo?? The 600k influencer?? Where all of his fans is dying to be with him and a much better option (dramatic ass) somehow ended up with the NPC?? He's having an identity crisis because did he lose his taste in people already?? He blame Darkwick for not allowing to leave all the time because he ended up settle down for the "Honor Roll" or the "Useless NPC"

He probably think or believe he ended up with MC because she must've been desperate to be in a relationship. Of course, he's the Leo after all, everyone would wanted to be with him, even the basic NPC themselves. (Spoiler alert; he's the one who fell first and hard. Who's the one into the chick now, Leo?)

The diabolical streamer gets married?? (No click bait)

Leo wakes up in an unknown yet familiar room where he discovers some things about the future

Wc: 2,1K

Notes: it's implied you two were about to have sex.

No beta, if I have to close the document again I will die. Who would have guessed rewriting the same thing three times would make you fed up with it? /S

If leo is kinda ooc let's just say the anomaly made him more mellow jsjs

The thumping pulsation of his heartbeat inside his skull, pushing against the bone seeking to burst, does an unsurprising better work at waking him than any alarm clock, the pain ripping the sleep away from Leo in each of its quick waves.

One of his hands falls between his eyebrows, applying force against them that rolled down his temporal to the occipital where it pooled as honey-thick pleasurable pressure, even though it did an underwhelming job at soothing the ache to say the least. It's unlike any hangover he had ever gotten.

“Why in hell does my head hurt so fucking much?” It isn't like he has been drinking lately, ever since coming to darkwick the only chance at getting drinks was when he gets an R&R accepted, which Alan hasn't done in a good few days. At one point he thought that obscuary’s bar might sell him booze, given Romeo's complaints about a ‘drunk’ Haru, but they were just anomalous drinks that mimicked it so he wouldn't get a hangover either way.

Extending his hand towards the nightstand Leo starts patting around trying to find his phone to call Sho so he gets him some aspirin or something. After a few failed attempts he reluctantly starts opening his eyes slowly only to see that his phone wasn't there. Did he forget it at the bar? Or maybe sober designated driver Sho decided to take it away so he wouldn't embarrass himself?

Before he can even start cussing his friend out a whiff of sweet chocolate catches his nose. Could it be that he finally caved in and made him the trendy chocolate pastries shaped like dachshunds he has been asking him to? He always refused to, saying things like ‘cooking isn't the same as baking’ or ‘it’s really precise, I can't just throw things in a bowl and hope it works out’ but it seems he is humoring Leo again.

Now in a better mood, he peeks a leg under the unusually nice and heavy comforter and starts looking for his slippers still laying down. When he finds one he sits up and follows the smell.

Dragging his feet across the tiled floors Leo doesn't notice how different the floorplan -or everything really- is to Vagastorm, the white paint on the walls pristine rather than dirty with dubious substances and the hallway has a lingering scent of bergamot and sage clinging to clean AC cooled breeze, totally different to the drowning rust and oil hanging in suffocating hot air. Strangely enough he doesn't notice either how naturally he navigates without even one though forming, almost as if he was familiar with it.

Stopping just under the arch leading to the dining room, his enthusiasm falters as the white plate on the glass table was holding, disappointingly, not his pastries but cut up brownies with some red flakes over, maybe chili flakes? It would still be a spicy dessert so curious he reaches a hand over but before his fingers even graze it a playful voice scolds him like a little child.

“They are still hot! I don't want you whining about stomach ache”

If ghouls weren't more sturdy than humans Leo is 100 percent sure he would have gotten whiplash with the way his head snapped towards the right, surprised at your presence. Despite what he might have normally done, going on and on about how much of an obsessive fan you were for hanging out around his room and how he would make Darkwick get a restraining order on you, something inclined him to do nothing, almost feeling like it was obviously natural for you to be here.

It isn't until you start walking towards him, a playful smirk on your face, that he notices that there is a baby no older than ten months hanging on your hip.

Now beside him, your hand combs his bed hair, raking his scalp with the blunt end of your nails, the few times his ashy gray hair tangled around your fingers and got pulled, his nerves and spine trembled slightly. Even if he reasons pulling away –He cares so much about his hair, spending a good amount of money and time on it only for a nobody NPC to spread skin oils on it?!– the surprising ease that came with your touch urged him to stay and rest against the warmth

“Did Emmy wake you up? it's unusual for you to wake up so early” looking through his eyelashes, the black minimalist asymmetrical clock with cherry red arms points to 7:30. How come he woke up so early? When he spends the night editing or doxxing he barely can stand at 12:45. The sleep still hanging to his yellow eyes reminds him of when Alan bangs on his door to force him to train “were you editing that video up late?”

“Video?”

Putting your daughter in the highchair you start tinkering inside the kitchen, cutting some berries and fruit, grabbing a plastic bowl shaped like a panda and putting a dollop of yogurt before sprinkling chia seeds “weren't you doing a summary video for our anniversary? Your fans are kind of pushy about it, and I know you defend them saying they are mostly teens but…”

Tuning out the rambling as background noise, Leo's yellow eyes meet matching ones on the high chair, looking up to him with such an innocent love he can feel awkwardness seeping out of his bones, seeing something so small and weak put so much trust on someone who regularly scams rich old men.

“But I guess it's whatever” coming back to the table you settle the bowl in front of the toddler and face him again, now slightly worried “are you feeling alright, Leo?”

“I must be missing too much sleep lately” the words leave his mouth before he can even think about them

“Sho mentioned sending you some things for it if you wanted them”

“Hmm… guess I should see if I can finish it already” Leo reaches for his phone that was laying on the table and unlock it as he walks to his study, a big desk with a three monitor setup and a green screen. Throwing himself on the couch Leo opens his Whatsapp and sees that his chat with Sho has a bunch of notifications, most if not all videos.

Leisurely scrolling through the miniature one of them catches his eye.

It's an off centered video inside his Vagastorm dorm, very obviously taken as a prank on him.

Both of you are laying down on his bed and seeing something on his phone.

“I don't like that one, you look weirder than usual” without giving you a chance to refuse he scrolls to the next picture.

“We have gone through 45 pictures, what is the fuss about?”

“A makeup brand wants to send a PR package for Valentine's so you need a proper headshot” scrolling away 5 or more photos in rapid fire he sighs into your shoulder.

“Why don't we take a few in my phone?”

“No way, your camera sucks”

“If it's so much of a drag why not just decline? It isn't like you need some spare cash ”

“If I don't post -anything- for Valentine's my fans are going to think we are going through a hard patch and you already saw how weird they can be” it is very obvious for you that he means last Valentine's when a swarm of fans chased after you two like paparazzi. Even then he digs his head deeper in the junction of your neck and his arms hug you closer.

“Is that all?” You ask teasingly and he mumbles something into your skin “hum? I didn't catch that”

“I want all those bastards to know you are mine”

For a second it almost seems like the video froze but suddenly the half of his body he can see is dragged off screen to the right side of the bed.

“Aren't you too sweet to be the demonic influencer~~?” The phone's audio managed to catch some soft mwahs.

“Stop slobbering over my face I have to meet-! Oh~ I don't mind this too much actually”

And the video cuts to black.

A curse towards his friend slips from his mouth before wondering why exactly he has a slight memory of the event like staring at a rock under muddy water.

Sighing and turning off his phone Leo's devilish yellow eyes turn to the monitor displaying the screensaver. It isn't even one second before his natural curiosity takes over and wants to start snooping, wanting to see any future trends or blackmail he could use -would it even be snooping if it's his own computer?- and as soon as the wireless mouse moves the oh so famous video pops on the editing app.

The frame he left it at was the ending of the wedding ceremony, just after the telling of vows. At the beginning it is quite far away, just enough to distinguish who they are by rough features but as the couple -or some reason it's less embarrassing to say couple than say you and him- get closer to kiss so does the camarographer, quickly panning closer until both of your faces are encased in the frame. His caramel eyes dripping with such sweetness it reaches out from the screen to his tongue and makes him sick.

“Aww, looking kind of sour over here” your hands smooth the shoulders of his pajamas before digging each thumb under his shoulder blade attempting to undo years of hunching over work and making him sit up straight “feeling kind of jealous I haven't been paying much attention to you lately?”

Sliding a hand up the column of his neck, the nails softly scraping the skin making him sigh and almost inaudible “NPC” Through half open eyes Leo sees your face getting closer and how your lips curve into a smile.

“Back to that stupid name like back at the academy? Last time I checked I was LI” hot lips climb up and around his neck and behind his left ear “reminiscing about those times now? How about we reenact something else from back then?” slowly he moves his head to the side, Instigated by the thumb pressing on his cheek. Instinctually he opens his mouth.

Something wet enters his mouth and his hair is pulled up dragging his head above water.

“dude, are you okay?!” Sho yelps, patting him harshly on the back to get the water out of his lungs “I knew this wasn't a good idea”

Roughly Leo elbows Sho let him go and he sits on the floor feeling his lungs and nose burn each time he breathes in.

As his sight stops being obscured by thick black fog his surroundings get clearer. It was supposed to be an offhanded mention by their teacher but, after the class insisted, he took them to an exceptionally big marble bird pond he claimed a person could see their future in if they dipped their head in yet he refused to allow any of the students to do so.

Unsurprisingly Leo's curiosity got the better of him and Sho fell alongside him, sneaking in to see if it was true.

Just behind Sho someone he wishes didn't have to see in a while appears, you.

“What is the NPC doing here?”The question fell from his lips almost like a hiss.

“Alan saw you two leaving Vagastorm after curfew and asked me to check” given how Leo seemed still too winded to stand sho tells you to help him drag him back to their dorm. As you hunch besides him and slide his arm behind your neck you notice something under his shirt “Leo, you have a cut there!” it isn't weird noting how he was positioned and the somewhat sharp edge of the birdpond.

Your fingers dance over the thin but long cut just above his clavicle, the white skin irritated red.

Regardless of how innocent this touch around his neck was, it was impossible to separate it from the previous sight into the future with the current one.

Now with newly gained strength he swats your hand away “don't get so handsy so quickly, NPC” and slides both arms over Sho's shoulders who just sighs and carries him princess style.

“Bye, senpai” Sho shoots you a quick goodbye before going away with Leo who he notices is far too quiet than usual but as he looks down he finds him blushing and even his ears dusted with cherry red “why are you even red faced? It isn't even the first time I hold you like this… Oh don't tell me-”

“Shut the fuck up”

“First bet you lose”

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Part 4

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, murder, abuse, trauma, dubcon, CNC, smut, daddy kink, dom!kai, p in v, degradation, humiliation, rough sex, age gap, unhealthy!dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia, fingering, biting, choking, innocence kink, hair pulling, edging, overstimulation, safe word, aftercare, manipulation. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 1.7k

K.P. Masterlist

Their hips rolled together, breathy moans and vocal praises tickling her ear as her nails scraped down his back. Kai would work her over for hours with unyielding stamina until the ecstasy of their cumulative passions mellowed her into post-sex bliss and utter exhaustion. She’d snore softly after drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat while he’d stay up and watch her breathing slow and her body snuggle into his chest for warmth. Completely vulnerable, too easy to wrap his arm around her little neck and squeeze the life out of her but Kai resisted those intrusive thoughts only because for his plans, he needed her alive.

He had her trust by playing the “nice guy”. Sure, it was boringly cliché and there was only so much that vanilla sex would do to satisfy his darker urges but he’d be whatever she wanted if it got him out of this hell hole by the next eclipse.

Rose lost track of where she ended and Kai began, his possessive hands always on her body. Following her around like a lost puppy before pulling her close and resting his head on her shoulder, his unspoken way of telling her to hurry up so they could get back to spooning. If they were in the car, he drove with his left hand while his right slipped under the hem of her skirt, fingertips tapping rhythmically on her inner thigh until it drove her crazy. And he loved to grab her ass, enjoying the adorable squeals that escaped her when she was caught off guard.

All alone in the bathroom, she reclined back in the tub, steamy suds soothing every aching muscle he gave her. She felt naked without him on her body, yet cherished the short periods of privacy she could carve out for herself.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Yes, Kai…” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t get too annoyed. He usually came knocking after 20 minutes but this time, at least half an hour passed before his impatience got the best of him.

“Rosyyy… are you almost done? You’ve been in there foreverrr…” he whined through the door.

“I’ll be out soon,” she sighed, sinking deeper into the water.

He groaned dramatically, hesitating before retreating to her room to wait. Plopping down on the bed, he immediately took notice of a dark leatherbound book peeking out from under her pillow. Did she have a secret grimoire, perhaps she was planning to cross him after all and wasn’t as clueless as she seemed? He flipped through the pages, but there weren’t any Latin incantations, just dates and little entries.

He read the first line that caught his eye:

The first time he fucked me, I knew he was holding back, so afraid he’d break me but I was too afraid to let him know I loved the pain.

“No fucking way...” This was too good to be true, just to be sure, he flipped to the end where he found her frilly signature. With confirmation, he eagerly read another passage.

I want him to ruin me. Split me on his cock until I cry and push him away then choke me and fuck into me harder, push my face down and suffocate my sobs in my pillow. I wanna be reminded exactly who I belong to.

Her confessions became more depraved with visceral descriptions of her needs, filthy fantasies contrasting with the adorable way she curled her letters and dotted her I’s with little hearts. He was so focused that he didn’t notice her come in.

“Hey, give me that!” He got up and blocked her attempts to reach her journal with one hand while he read on. “Kai, stop it. You’re invading my privacy!” She bleated. his eyes flashed to her with a stifled laugh.

“Relax, Rosy… you’re the one who left your diary open on the bed. I just came in here to wait for you and I almost sat on it. When I looked down, let’s just say some of the things you wrote were… enlightening.”

Shame broiled her face and tightened her throat but maybe she could lie her way out of this, “I-It’s not mine… I found it…” She squeaked. His brow raised, clearly not buying it. An exasperated sigh left her. "Just give it back, Kai… I need to get dressed because I have laundry to do and I have to start the marinade for the-"

He snapped the book shut, reached out and squished her hot cheeks in his hold, wrenching her face upwards to meet his burning gaze. “Look at me.” Instantly she obeyed, the sudden base in his voice sending a pulse directly to her needy cunt. “Guess what? I know all your little secrets, and you're not going anywhere until you tell me everything. Every kink, every need, I wanna hear it all from your pretty lips.”

In one motion, he released her, ripping the towel from her dripping body, her back hitting the mattress with little effort. His hand snaked up her thigh, fingers meeting her clit, drawing little moans as he rubbed out slow figure 8s.

“I-I didn’t-”

“Don’t deny it.” Two fingers slipped inside her while his eyes returned to the page, flipping through until he found what he was looking for. “... It says here, you want me to ruin you. What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t k-”

Kai grunted and bit down on her earlobe, hard enough to shock her and elicite a ragged whimper from the back of her throat. He released it and growled, “If you lie to me one more time, I’ll flip you over and make your pretty ass all red..” He loved the way that made her quiver, “But you’d like that wouldn’t you?” His warm minty breath fanned across her cheek.

She bit her lip and looked away, so he pinched her clit until she cried out her response, “YES, I’D LIKE THAT!”

“Mm, that’s my kinky girl. Now answer the first question."

“… I-I want you to be rough w-with me,” she stuttered in a small voice.

“Tell me how..”

Rose swallowed down her last bit of pride. “I- I want.. want you to use me… push me to my knees and f-fuck my throat… bend me over and rail me so hard I can’t think straight��� want you to pull my hair and bite my shoulder when you.. cum inside m-me...” She continued until he gave a satisfied hum.

“Good girl, see how easy that was?” He cooed, moving to release her hair from its loose bun, allowing the caramel tendrils to messily fall around her face. The sudden tenderness made her dizzy.

He pumped in and out while rolling her clit between his fingers, drawing out one confession after another until her lips parted, eyes blown wide as he dangled her between pleasure and desperation, so tempted to grind her hips and take it, ride his hand to her heart’s content, yet too afraid of the punishment he’d inflict on her if she dared. Arousal soaked the sheets beneath her thighs, he had her right where he wanted her.

“There’s one more thing, isn’t there?” His lips formed a cocky smirk.

“huh…?” She uttered, too overwhelmed to understand.

“C'mon, you know what you want... to be overpowered, held down and punished when you try to struggle… I’d make you take it all at once and you couldn’t do anything to stop me,” he summarized smugly, licking his lips.

“Oh god, you read that part too..” The embarrassment made her want to recoil and disappear in the mattress, her hands raised to cover her face.

He yanked her wrists down. “No, none of that, no hiding. I honestly find it impressive you managed to convince me you’re a vanilla angel when you’re really just a perverted slut.”

Her jaw slackened, the shock of his degradating words biting into her. “Kai-”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not my name. What’s my name, Rosy?” Her melted brain buffered as he took to scissoring her walls apart, preparing her. “What’s my name, hmm?.. the name you wrote on every page…”

Just as she realized, he sped up. “..daADDY!” She yelped as her belly tightened violently.

He removed his digits when she clenched down, chuckling at her little whines and whimpers, cruelly denying her another orgasm.

“Damn right I’m your daddy… but if you insist on being treated like a brainless fucktoy, we should have a.. what do you call it?”

“… a s-safe word?” she uttered.

“Exactly that! How about… ‘eclipse’ ? If you want to stop for whatever reason, just say it and that's your way out, understood?”

She nodded her head slowly but he frowned, not satisfied with her lack of response.

He lifted her chin. “Use your words, princess.”

“Yes daddy,” she mewled sweetly, making his hard cock swell in his shorts.

“Now that we have that sorted out,” he stuffed his slick covered fingers down her throat, stroking her tongue as she keened at the flavor, “I should let you know I’ve been keeping my own secrets, but you wouldn’t have any idea because I’m not a silly girl who writes them down for anyone to read. I know you hide this part of yourself because you're afraid people will judge you but I don’t. I want to know everything so I can do all those things to you and more that you couldn’t even think up in your dirty little diary...”

He had her flipped on her stomach and raised her hips, her only warning the rattle of his belt before he slammed into her sensitive core, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. It hurt so good the pain tore a ragged cry from her throat as her tiny cunt struggled to take all of him but he didn’t have to pretend he cared anymore because he knew she loved it, evident by the way she leaked down his balls while holding onto the quilted comforter for dear life.

He yanked her up by the base of her hair. “Isn’t this what you wanted, babe?” He husked. Her response, an indiscernible whine. His tongue darted out to taste the tears that already streaked her pretty face. “Aw baby, did I ruin you already? What a shame, I’m just getting started.”

Holding her by the back of the neck granted him more leverage to pull her into each thrust reaching deeper, pounding her gummy cervix. "Fuckkk.." he groaned.

“Daddy, please,” she sobbed out, walls writhing around him, the intensity rendering her with barely enough strength to reach back and splay her fingers across his lower abdomen, arms turned to jelly just before she could try to push at him.

"Stop that. You practically begged for this," he growled, snatching her wrists in one bruising grip while landing two harsh slaps to her right cheek in a show of dominance. She screamed.

Her juices squelched between their bodies but she was too far gone to feel ashamed. “I know you're close... just let go, cum on my cock, baby... just like that," he whispered, breath hitching as she came on command, her little back arching into him by pure instinct as her brain had long gone gooey. He got off on the control. Strong arms linked around her convulsing body as he fucked her through her release while warding off his own, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer.

He let her top half melt into the mattress, her face buried in the pillow while his powerful hands captured her pelvis, continuing the assault on her battered cunt. She pulled at the bedsheets with white knuckles.

“One more… I know you’ve got it in you.. just one more princess, c'mon, wanna’ feel you cum hard this time.” He groaned through clenched teeth, snapping his hips at just the right angle that had her keen with each thrust. Her cunt hugged him like a slippery glove made just for him. Sweat dripped down his brow and gravely moans escaped his lips as she tightened and creamed around him with a muffled cry.

Her glossy eyes fixated on the ceiling as she regulated her breathing, not blinking yet not at all focused. Kai carefully wiped her down with a damp rag. Her silence made him worry that he’d taken it too far. Hurt her. Scared her, so much she’d never let him touch her again- or at worst, refuse to help him leave. He was desperate to know what she was thinking or at the very least hear her voice to ease his mind.

“Hey Rosy..” he reached down and caressed her soft cheek, “Rosalina?” he whispered softly.

She nestled her face into his palm, the corners of her lips raising weakly as she breathed out.

“Thank you, daddy.”

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

♡ Hiya Blusy! hope ur not too overwhelmed with requests, sendin' love, support and appreciation over from the great land of Chuck-E-Cheese. ♡

anyways, onto the request.

Prompt where Hyper-femme, Fem!Reader, (obviously) who is already in an established relationship with Donna, who always likes to dress cute, as to look vaguely like a porcelaine doll for Donna (and Angie, because, that doll just loves sneaking into Readers poofy petticoats and scaring the living shit out of Reader when they grab the petticoat out of the closet, for wearing), one day, decides to up her (Readers) game by going into town, or in this case, village, buying some cute, ruffly, pastel (pink, white, yellow, ya name it!) fabrics, with a variety of textures, and colours, and means of usage (such as, fabric for a bonnet, fabric for a dress, thin, stretchy material cloth for stockings), sewing (Reader knows how to sew) themselves a VERRRYYY doll looking outfit (poofy tea dress, bonnet, bright colours that clash yet dont clash, curled hair, to resemble those antique dolls with bottle-curled locks, -- Imagine Lolita-wear, basically),

Reader also gets prim-and-proper, by fluffing on those white powder, makeup thingies (the one lottie uses in princess and the frog?? Sorry, non-english speaker, dunno what that is) and whatnot, to REALLY drive into that doll-y aesthetic

Reader suprises Donna, who, at the time, was just innocently reading,

Donna looks at Reader and just starts like, violently sobbing, because of how, 'Reader did so much to look like the stuff she likes!! She doesnt deserve them!!' (If that makes you uncomftorable to write, replace it with something more mellow)

Reader comforts Donna, through giggles, because of how ridiculous she sounded, -- reassuring Donna that she wasnt laughing at her, but at how stupid her reasoning for crying was, because, ofcourse she would dress cute if Donna liked it?? Reader would wear a trash bag if Donna had asked them to, no questions asked! (Okay.. maybe a little bit dramatic, Reader is an eloquent, feminine, 'pink! Pink! Pink!' lady that wouldnt dare to approach black clothing to wear herself, but, you get the point)

Reader promises to Donna that it was no hassel to make herself so pretty, -- 'sewing is a breeze! I love makeup! I just really like those doll vibes..'

Reader also promises Donna that, she'd love to doll (aha, get it?) herself up for Donna every once in awhile, because Reader just loves Donna, and how cute they feel in their respective style, so much, that they just HAVE to.

After Donna had calmed down from that whole 'you sewed yourself stuff for me??!!??! You put on makeup for me??!?@ you did your hair for me?!??!?@??@?!' crisis (again, if that makes you uncomftorable, mellow it down!! No worries!! 💞), and, plopped Reader onto her lap whilst she finished working on her dolls, taking pauses to kiss, and appreciate, and maybe shed some more self-concious, overly-thankful, singular tears, every once in a while --

The end result? A doll that, for some reason, really resembled how reader looked .. down to every scar, and fold, and pocket on Readers body, or bonnet, or dress.

Huh.. weird!

I ask of you to make this just mildly-sfw (meaning, kisses, carresses, etc are okay), -- not smutty or anything, if thats okay! Just cotton-candishly fluffy.

Hope my writing isnt too confusing? Dyslexic, non-english speaking, neurodivergant mess. Aha, please laugh! Anyways, write-ya later, alligator!

-- Chuck-E-Cheese employee, Anon 🐭

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your funny words :D and also for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Doll face

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff,

Word count: 7,440

Summary: She loved you, she loved her dolls... Maybe it was time to put those two things together...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Another day began and you walked slowly towards the living room. The sound of your heels bounced off the wood like an elegant music that accompanied each morning. Before getting close enough, you looked at yourself in the mirror to make sure everything was in its place. You couldn't help it, you were always like that.

Every morning was a confirmation for you that your life went on, that you could continue to light up that dark mansion with your joy. The bright colors of your dress always contrasted with the sadness of those dilapidated walls, with the darkness that you, every day, tried to eliminate.

Being born with the gift of joy and color could seem strange in a place like that. The village always played with the same color palette, everything was white, black, gray... There was nothing that could stand out, that could change the sinister atmosphere of the place where you were born.

You always went against those principles, against the gray, the black, the darkness. Your friends envied you and you knew it. It wasn't your beauty, your intelligence or your skills, no, they envied your colorful way of facing life.

Proud of your femininity, you always looked for a way to put on makeup, to dress in an elegant and striking way. It was your style, yes, but also a hobby. Playing with darkness, facing it became almost an addiction.

You spent your days sewing, putting on makeup, telling the world that if it wanted to be black it would have to walk all over you. Joy, elegance and the desire to feel different, that was your motivation when you got up every morning.

The masses, the Black Gods didn't seem bothered, quite the opposite. Everything in your life went well, or so you thought, since you always saw the good side of things. Being happy was quite an achievement in a place like that and appearance was the first step to prove it, to stand out in a world of shadows.

But that different attitude had consequences. You were not shunned by the village. They didn't look at you with dangerous eyes, quite the opposite. Wherever you went, you attracted attention, you caught the eyes of everyone who was present, villager or even...Lord.

Yes, you noticed how the gazes of the four of them were fixed on you. One of them seemed more interested, unable to take her gaze off you.

Like a ghost, like the complete opposite of you, that black figure always followed you with its gaze. You couldn't know how, you couldn't see her eyes. A woman in mourning, covered by a black veil, a sinister doll... The dollmaker, Donna Beneviento.

At first you thought it was just another look, that the always bright tones of your clothes blinded her vision, bothered her. It didn't take long for you to find out that it was precisely the opposite.

Your joy, your determination to look good, to stand out from the boring crowd was what really caught her attention, what made her approach you with curiosity. That was the first step towards a perfect future.

It might seem that you two were like water and oil, like light and darkness, but perhaps that was precisely what made you slowly become addicted to her. You had much more in common than it might seem at first.

 You both loved sewing, beauty... Well, really, when that black veil disappeared, when Lady Beneviento showed her deformed face to you, you began to know what beauty really was.

She was a beautiful woman, really beautiful, she just didn't know it. You did, and you wouldn't let a second go by without reminding her, always. That contrast of black and pink, of paleness and color was perfect, a perfect mix that ended up leading to a kiss, a kiss that said much more than any clumsy word.

And so, time went by and your relationship settled comfortably. You even left your old home for that sad and dull mansion, with the certain objective that your presence would bring the light that it needed, that joy that was missing in that place, in that woman.

Donna was a dark just like her clothes. Her problems and misfortunes turned her into a wandering spirit, into a lonely entity waiting for the days to end. Your arrival didn’t change that erratic attitude, nor her inevitable madness.

You weren’t going to lose her. You were not going to let the darkness invade you too. You would be like a lifeguard, like the light that illuminates a dark path, showing the way out of a labyrinth of sadness and bitterness.

Despite those problems, despite the constant mockery of the Angie doll, you were happy, you couldn’t help being happier than ever. You would do anything for Donna and she would do it for you. An unexpected love, but one you would never let go of, ever.

“Good morning,” you hummed as you approached the table, always sporting the same bright smile. A fake smile to look elegant or to pretend? No, not at all, it was a genuine smile, one that always achieved the desired effect, that the lady in black would return one of hers.

“Ciao, tesoro…” Donna replied, leaving her coffee cup to extend her hand towards you, one that you took and caressed, letting yourself be carried away by the subtle pull that took you to her lips, placing them on yours cautiously. “Good morning…”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, reluctantly abandoning those lips, going around the table and sitting in your chair.

Her gaze rose to yours, nodding as she poured you a cup of coffee.

“As always when I'm with you,” the lady said, with a slight blush on her cheeks, a reaction of her body that, despite all the time, she couldn't avoid.

“Mm, okay,” you said amused, causing a shy laugh from the woman in black. “Today is a splendid day.”

“Yes, it really is,” she murmured, nodding slowly.

“We could go for a walk,” you suggested, spreading jam on one of the toasts, a strawberry jam that, unintentionally, matched perfectly with your clothes, as always.

Maybe the color and you had a much more special relationship than you thought.

Donna shook her head, making that smile she always put on when she saw you, disappear.

“I have a lot of work, (Y/N), I don't think I can,” she commented with a serious tone.

You tilted your head, frowning.

“What a shame, because I have to go to the village and it would have been great if you came with me… So I could show off a little bit about you,” you said, pretending to pout as the lady laughed again.

“In any case, tesoro, I would be the one to show off about you,” Donna murmured, looking at you with a mischievous smile behind her cup.

You bit your lip and sighed, blinking in a petulant and romantic way.

“You never get tired of being adorable, do you?” you said amused. “Anyway, I really have to go to the village.”

“Do you have to go? What do you need?” she asked curiously, continuing with her breakfast, repressing all those words and flattery that always interrupted any conversation.

“Look at this dress,” you said frowning and pointing at your clothes. “It's already pretty old.”

“Old?” the lady asked, looking at you confused. “I thought you got it last year.”

“Mm yeah, but… I don’t know, today I woke up really, really wanting to sew,” you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, remembering all the designs you had thought of while you were taking a shower.

“Oh,” she murmured, arching her eyebrow. “If you’re so willing to sew, you could help me with my dolls.”

“Really?” you asked surprised. It was the first time she asked you something like that. Her dolls were something almost sacred to her. She would never let a stranger intervene in their creations.

“You sew very well, I think you could be of help to me,” she commented passively, taking a toast, looking away in a subtle way. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Donna,” you said enthusiastically.

Actually, going down to that dark workshop was something you tried to avoid, but at first you had no choice. Your love for sewing forced you to hide your pride and spend hours with Donna in that sinister place.

Over time, the lady in black agreed to let you use the guest room for your sewing work, one blessed with sunlight, much better.

But that day you had no choice but to go down to that horrible basement.

“Are you comfortable, tesoro?” Donna asked, putting a chair next to hers and indicating you to sit down.

You nodded, earning a soft kiss on the lips, one that you deepened, making the lady in black give a shy laugh to your ears.

“Take these fabrics,” she indicated, sitting in front of the old sewing machine and giving you an assortment of dark fabric that you looked at with disdain.

It didn't matter how much you loved Donna. You liked how that black dress framed her figure but that color was still your worst enemy.

“Let's see…” you whispered, looking at each of the colors with reluctance. “Hey, Donna, are you going to use these colors?”

“Mm, I always use those colors,” she explained, looking for something in the notes of an old notebook and showing it to you. “Look, I'm sure that dress over there won't be a problem for you, do you understand what it says?”

You looked at the notes and with a small effort, you nodded pleased.

“Luckily Angie has taught me,” you commented amused, translating those elegant words written in Italian. Donna smiled pleased, getting a little closer to you.

“Always try to embroider it…Mm… This way,” she indicated, turning a few pages and showing you the designs.

“Okay…” you sighed in an exaggerated way, looking sideways at the black fabrics.

“Is something wrong, tesoro?” the lady asked, alerted by your sudden reluctance. “You, you don't have to help me… If, if you want to go to the village…”

“Oh no, it's not that, I'd love to help you Donna, but it's just…” you whispered, biting your lip and picking up one of the cloths. “Does it really have to be black?”

“Yes,” she said, with a concentrated expression, moving away a little and observing a porcelain head. “If you don't like it you can make it grey, I don't really care.”

“Grey…” you sighed with a tired look, glancing at a few dolls on a shelf, all of them sad, dark, depressing… “Have you never thought about giving them a bit of color?”

“Color?” she asked in a low voice, skillfully mixing paint and cleaning the imperfections of that lifeless head. “I don't understand you.”

“Always grey, black… Donna…” you sighed, drawing her attention. “What harm can it do to a doll to not look like it has in a funeral?”

“Explain yourself,” the lady murmured, painting the lips of that head, barely listening to you.

“You should use pink, or white for your dolls' dresses, they would surely look much better,” you said, nodding, touching the soft black fabric and hoping that the darkness wouldn't spread to your dress.

“Oh, I didn't know you made dolls,” Donna said with irony and a mocking smile.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Donna, color gives a lot of joy to everything,” you said, leaning on the table and guiding her head to look at you. She sighed annoyed, putting down the head and crossing her arms.

“If I want to see colors, I just need to look at you,” she joked, frowning, with an intriguing smile.

“Thanks,” you said amused, blinking flirtatiously.

Donna laughed too, but looked away.

“I like my dolls just the way they are,” she said quietly, going back to painting the head. “It’s my style.”

“Oh, okay…” you said with a mocking look, starting to draw patterns on the black fabric. “Well, your style is very bland, honey.”

“Bland… have you come to help or criticize me?” she asked, her tone a bit colder, but with her smile telling you she wasn’t upset.

“It’s constructive criticism,” you commented, getting up from your chair and walking over to one of the shelves, picking up a random doll. “Look at this one. Isn’t she supposed to be having tea?”

Donna turned to look at you and tilted her head with a sigh.

“It seems so,” she murmured.

“Well, she should have a white and red frilly dress with a matching pretty hat, not a boring dark grey dress,” you said, looking at the doll's fabric.

“Then she would look like you,” she said as you sat back down, shrugging.

“Oh, you don't like the way I dress?” you asked with a feigned look of shock and offense, cutting the black fabric to shape that boring dress.

“You're not a doll,” Donna whispered, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

A wide smile spread across your face and you leaned towards her ear.

“Oh, would you like it?” you whispered, kissing her ear softly before returning to your task.

The lady in black looked at you briefly, about to say something. She apparently changed her mind at the last moment and laughed softly, shaking her head.

“If you were my doll…” Donna murmured, after a moment of calm and silent work. It seemed that this innocent question was floating around in her head, something that caught your attention. “You would wear black clothes.”

“Mm, that's what you say now,” you said defiantly, sewing the sleeves of the black dress, afraid that this horrible color would cause an allergic reaction on your skin. “I'm convinced that once you try to leave the safety of these horrible colors you will no longer want to go back to black.”

“You are very sure of yourself,” she murmured amused, coming closer to kiss you slowly, something she always did when she couldn't prove you were wrong. “But I'm afraid you're not a doll.”

“Well, that can be possible,” you said to yourself. The lady blinked in confusion, but returned to her work.

The morning passed quietly. You sighed in relief when you finished that hideous black dress, one that Donna looked at closely.

“Do you like it?” you asked expectantly.

She nodded pleased.

“Good job, (Y/N)…” she sighed, placing the dress to give it some final touches.

“Brr…” you said, pretending to shiver. “I think I need a walk, that horrible color has stressed me out.”

“You're so exaggerated, tesoro,” Donna joked as you stood up, pretending disgust at that black fabric. “Are you going to the village?”

“Yes…” you sighed, stretching in an exaggerated way. “Do you want something?”

“No,” she said with a dry tone, looking away.

“Are you sure you don't want some colored fabrics?” you asked, leaning over one of her shoulders, opening your eyes like a puppy.

She smiled, pinching your cheek and kissing you before shaking her head.

“Whatever, don’t complain if people stop buying your dolls,” you said in an ironic tone, slowly moving away, stopped by a hand in yours, which kept you in place.

“All my dolls are sold, (Y/N),” she told you, in a somber tone, indicating that you had managed to offend her. Luckily, you were used to playing with the doll maker.

“Right, maybe it's because you're the only doll maker in the village and also a Lord. You could put a ball of wool on a stick, call it a doll, and the village children would buy it,” you joked, blinking cockily.

Donna growled, letting your hand go abruptly.

“Why don't you just leave now?” she asked in a dark tone, turning away so as not to make eye contact with you.

“Oh, are you kicking me out?” you said defiantly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Don't tell me how to do my job.”

“I'm just advising you... If you make all your dolls the same, where's the originality?” you asked, insisting without fear. Donna would never blow up over something like that, and you knew it.

“(Y/N)…” the lady hissed.

“Okay, okay, I'm leaving,” you said amused, approaching again, surrounding her by the shoulders in an annoying hug and repeatedly kissing her cheek, causing her to laugh as she tried to escape from your kissing attack.

“Hey, lasciami…” she protested while laughing.

You obeyed, but when you moved away you felt a strong tug on your wrist that brought you back to the lady, kissing you in a deeper way.

“Actually, I would like you to be a doll…”

“Oh, would you?” you asked amused, playing with her hands. She nodded with a dark look, pulling you closer to her ear.

“Mm, if you were a doll you surely wouldn't say nonsense,” she joked with a sensual tone.

You responded by giving her shoulder a protest hit while she laughed amused.

“Oh, okay, okay,” you sighed, crossing your arms and walking towards the doors. “But you know what? I would be the prettiest doll, and the most colorful…”

Donna shook her head, sighing, giving you a tender smile, a completely in love look.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” she said without looking at you.

“Oh, Donna…” you murmured, with all your cheesy side forcing you to get closer again, giving one last kiss to the brunette. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Go away,” she said amused, struggling again with your excessive affection.

You nodded and obeyed, walking happily towards the bedroom. Of course, you couldn't leave the mansion without putting on makeup and spending excessive time to find something that matched your clothes.

You sighed as you carelessly opened the closet. You'll be wondering ‘Why careless?’ simple, because there was someone else in that house, someone who liked to scare you.

“Are you looking for something?” a sinister voice came out of the closet, hidden among your clothes. “Because if you were looking for me, you've found me, you fool!”

“Ah, Angie!” you said with a hand on your chest, startled by the sudden appearance of Donna's doll, peeking out from your clothes like every morning.

You didn't know if Angie scared you because she hated you, or because it was her way of having fun. You really doubted that doll had anything against you, after all, you came into Donna's life to make her happy and that is something that, discreetly, Angie would always thank you for.

“Scare, scare...” the doll mocked, humming triumphantly.

You smiled, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

“You're going to wrinkle my clothes,” you said amused, gesturing to the doll to get out of there.

“What are you looking for, silly? An accessory?” Angie asked, shuffling through your colorful dresses.

“A coat that matches this,” you said with disinterest while the doll continued to shuffle through the clothes. “Oh, wait, that one,” you interrupted, taking the garment that the doll held expectantly.

“Another day in which Great Angie helps you with your clothes,” the doll said laughing and getting off the furniture with a comical jump. “You're welcome, loser.”

“Thanks…” you said with a falsely elegant tone, putting that pink coat on the bed.

Then you walked to the old dresser, thus beginning another of your makeup sessions.

“Can I help you, silly?” Angie asked, sitting at the small table and taking your utensils.

“Okay,” you said smiling, gathering your hair. “Bring me that powder over there.”

The doll obeyed and silence reigned again in the mansion.

“Hey, Angie,” you said, glancing at the doll, at her white dress. “I think you're the only doll that doesn't wear black. It doesn't seem that Donna made you.”

“Donna didn't make me, you fool!” the puppet protested, startling you, making you growl. That was the moment when you were putting on eye makeup, it was dangerous.

“No? I thought so,” you commented, getting a little closer to the mirror.

“No, silly, silly, her father made me,” Angie commented, watching you from very close, watching you put on makeup.

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you commented, preparing the blush. “But I shouldn't be surprised. She would never make a doll in a color different than black or gray.”

“Do you have a problem with the way my Donna works? Because if so, get ready for a fight,” she said, moving her fists comically.

“No, no,” you said amused, moving your hands away from the doll as you put the blush on your cheeks. “I just can't explain her aversion to color.”

“Donna doesn't have an aversion to color,” Angie said, leaving you some room.

“Mm, well, it seems like it... Has she never made a doll in a different color...? A more cheerful one?” you asked curiously, distracting you too much from your makeup session.

“No,” the doll said shrugging. “But why would she want to do that? She already has you.”

“I'm not a doll,” you said amused, shaking your head, looking at yourself in the mirror, puzzled.

“Are you sure? Because you look like one…” Angie said amused, pointing at the mirror.

“What's wrong?” you asked, frowning. “Oh, too much lipstick…”

“Too much blush…” the doll added, making you sigh and take a piece of cotton to fix that mess.

“Yes…”

“Now you are a doll,” she said amused, making you look at her confused. “I'm sure Donna will go crazy if she sees you like this.”

“Oh, you think so?” you asked, looking at yourself carefully and correcting some imperfections in your makeup. “She already has hundreds of dolls. She doesn't need another one… right?”

“What nonsense, if Donna is obsessed with those dolls it's because she loves them,” Angie commented. “I don't understand why, I'm infinitely better than them, in every way.”

You laughed amused, with an absurd idea going through your head. If Donna liked dolls that much… How would she react if you really looked like one of them? Curiosity was much stronger than rational thought and it was never a bad chance to make the lady in black smile.

“So…” you murmured, putting away your makeup. “Do you think Donna will love seeing me like this?”

“Oh, sure,” the doll nodded, crossing your arms. “But, but, wait, I didn't say anything. Don't tell her…” she said hastily. “Donna hates when I read her mind.”

“Mm…” you murmured thoughtfully, excited by the idea of ​​testing that statement. If you were successful… Well, your mind was already taking care of the rest.

After putting on your bright and elegant coat, you went up the elevator, finding Donna by surprise. She seemed to be reading something at her desk.

“Honey,” you said with a wide smile, walking slowly towards her and leaning over the furniture. “Weren't you with your dolls?”

“No, obviously I’m not anymore,” she said, with a cold tone, reluctantly letting you kiss her cheek softly, accidentally marking it with your lipstick.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you said amused, running a hand over her painted cheek. “What are you reading?”

“Niente,” the lady said, nervously covering a strange catalogue, something that made you suspicious.

“That seems like a lie to me, dolcezza…” you joked. “Let me see, please, please…” you said insistently with a high-pitched, pleading tone.

Your extremely cheesy and affectionate gestures had an effect on the brunette, forcing her to give in with an annoyed grunt.

“Wow…” you whispered, looking at that old catalogue of dolls, some very different from Donna's. “I see that my words have had an effect.”

“Sometimes I think you're a witch,” the lady commented while you looked at one of those dolls, one with a white dress, with ruffles, terribly adorable. Your mind was already working on ideas, but you still didn't know exactly which ones.

“A witch?” you asked amused, bringing the catalogue closer to your eyes, memorizing every detail of that pompous doll. “I'm just saying what I think.”

“Mm, yes, and you make me think,” Donna whispered, looking up and opening her eye wide when it made contact with yours. “(Y/N), tesoro…” she sighed, mouth agape.

“What's wrong, darling?” you asked passively, leaving the magazine on the desk again, meeting the doll maker's dazed gaze.

“You look… beautiful…” she said in a surprised voice, looking at each and every detail of your exaggerated makeup. “You look beautiful, today, tesoro…”

“Do you really think so?” you asked, surprised by that unexpected reaction. Donna nodded softly, with a tender look.

“Yes, you are, I don't know, different,” ​​the lady commented, taking your hands and swinging them with hers. “I, I like the way you've put on your makeup.”

“Oh…” you sighed, blushing at the compliment and at the reaction that your doll look had the desired effect, even better. “Well, I thought it was too much blush…”

“No, you look, you look gorgeous…” Donna said, pulling your body so she could kiss you softly.

“Donna, the lipstick…” you joked, moving away from that tender kiss.

“I'm sorry, I got carried away,” the lady in black apologized. “Your beauty never ceases to amaze me.”

“Mm, could it be that I remind you of a doll?” you asked amused, tilting your head with your hands on your waist.

“Maybe,” she murmured, distracted again by that catalogue, confirming your suspicions. “La mia bellisima bambola”

Well, now you could put into practice those ideas that were traveling alone through your mind.

 “Okay, Don, I could spend the rest of the day letting you tell me such nice things but… I'm afraid I have to go to the village.”

“Don't call me Don, I hate it,” she protested, receiving in response a wink and an elegant turn that made your dress dance in a hypnotic way.

“Okay, you grumpy spaghetti…” you sighed amused, looking at Angie. “Are you coming with me, Angie?”

“Bah, I don't think so, the Duke has the wool balls counted …” the doll said, sitting on the lap of her owner, who looked attentively at that catalogue, with a sweet smile.

Humming, you walked through the forest. The bright colors of your clothes illuminated you among the dull and pale white of the snow. You almost thought you were shining.

Your head worked remembering the colors, the shapes of that porcelain doll you saw in that old photograph. But what you really couldn't forget was Donna's face when she saw you made up like that, noticing your obvious resemblance to a doll.

Seeing that poor tormented woman happy was much more to your liking than sewing, much more than putting on makeup or matching clothes. Donna was your favorite hobby since you met her and besides, each of her smiles was a reward for you. The joy and tenderness of her gaze hid the pain, the suffering, everything she went through before becoming a Lord.

You were definitely completely determined to make her forget, to make every day with you special. It already was but... Maybe that makeup mistake could be useful in the near future.

“Oh, elegance itself approaching my humble carriage...” the Duke murmured when you walked towards him.

You nodded at him kindly, with your hands on your hips.

“Don't flatter me, Duke, I'm not going to pay you more for that,” you said amused. “Fabrics, I need fabrics.”

“Well…” he sighed, laughing satisfied. “Are they for you or for Lady Beneviento?” he asked, taking out a few rolls of fabrics of many colors.

“For me,” you said, coming closer to look for something similar to the doll in that catalog. “Do you have something with ruffles?” you asked curiously, running your hand over a fabric of a color very similar to the one you were looking for.

“Ruffles? Sure…” the merchant said, laughing pleased and showing you what you were looking for. “It doesn't seem like the typical fabric order you usually make me, Miss (Y/N).”

“No, it's for a personal project,” you commented, searching among those fabrics for something that could help you make a matching hat.

“Sounds interesting,” the man commented, with a gloomy look.

“No matter how much discount you give me, I'm not going to tell you anything,” you said amused, knowing the thirst for information that the greedy merchant always had. “Mm... Do you have this fabric in pastel pink?”

“Of course...” the man murmured, taking out the required roll. “By the way, let me tell you that you look beautiful this morning.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, smiling pleased by the compliment, checking the quality of an elastic fabric that you would use for stockings.

“There's no doubt why Lady Beneviento is completely crazy about you. I always thought that you looked like... Well, don't be offended, one of her dolls,” the Duke commented, laughing amused.

You smiled and raised your eyebrows.

“Mm, do you think that Donna loves me just because I look like one of her dolls?” you joked, crossing your arms.

“I didn't say that, Miss,” he said, making a gesture with his hand. “But it's clear that you know how to please her.”

“Of course,” you said satisfied, picking up a much thicker cloth, perfect for a matching bonnet. “But… I'm not going to tell you anything. I doubt you are interested in my way of pleasing Lady Beneviento.”

“I'm interested in everything, dear,” he joked, to which you gave him a dark but amused look. “Oh, I'm sure these bows are perfect for what you're looking for.”

“Mm, let me see…” you sighed, picking up those showy bows.

Of course that man couldn't even guess what you had in mind, but you shouldn't underestimate him. He wasn't exactly a naive fool.

Satisfied with your purchases, you returned to the mansion, ready to start your little game, one that sounded better and better in your head and that you were eager to put into practice.

Naturally, poor Donna didn't suspect anything. She always tried with all her might not to get involved in your affairs. She rarely succeeded, but that time, luckily, was one of them.

Little by little, taking advantage of a carelessness of the lady in black, you managed to get that old doll catalogue, carefully observing each of the details of that doll chosen for your plans.

An elegant hat surrounded by a yellow bow, white stockings matching patent leather shoes... Definitely a classic doll, but with touches of your own style, replacing that boring white of the original design with a deep pastel pink color.

“Mm…” you hummed as you sewed, with the atypical blessing of sunlight streaming through your makeshift workshop. That guest never-used room that was something like your secret lair. “Let's see…” you murmured, checking the size of the hat, checking that it fit your features perfectly. “Yes, perfect.”

Satisfied, you put that pompous bonnet away in a place where Donna couldn't look and continued with the dress, the part that would take you much longer.

“(Y/N), tesoro,” a voice interrupted your sewing along with some soft knocks on the door. “Amore mio, are you there?”

“Oh, Donna, yes, w-wait a minute,” you said, hastily putting away all your work and opening the door, trying to put your hair up first.

What you were doing didn't matter, you always had to be perfect for her, and you loved being that way.

“Ciao…” she said with a sweet voice when you opened the door, looking at you with that bright eye.

Of course, your makeup didn't change since that day. You always tried to perfect the doll look that provoked those tender sighs, those caresses...

“Hola,” you said amused, enjoying how her gaze ran satisfied over your features. “Do you want something, my love?”

“Oh, well, I wanted to see you but...” she whispered, grabbing you by the waist, lightly pressing your body against hers. “I actually wanted to ask if you were hungry.”

“Hungry? Oh, well, now that you mention it...” you said with a tender smile, biting your lip at the gentle rocking of your bodies. “I’m a bit hungry.”

“You're distracted lately,” the lady commented, placing a lock of hair behind your ear. “What are you up to?”

“Me? Nothing,” you whispered innocently.

Donna smiled mockingly, arching her eyebrow and leaning in to kiss you slowly again.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered playfully, releasing you from her romantic hold. “You spend a lot of time locked up in here, tesoro…”

“Well, spring is coming and I have to hurry if I want to be up to date,” you said in a calm voice, closing the door when the lady in black peeked in to see what was inside.

“Don’t give it so much importance. You look beautiful in anything you wear, cara mia…” Donna whispered romantically, stealing another kiss from you again.

“Hey, I can make something for you if you want… How old is that dress?” you asked playfully, subtly changing the subject and playing with the black fabric. “Don’t you want me to make you a…? I don’t know, a red, or an orange one, or…”

“No, tesoro,” she said, laughing playfully, like every time you hinted at her taking off her horrible mourning dress. “I like this dress.”

“Okay, okay…” you sighed, hanging onto his neck. “But some embroidered flowers…” you murmured, running a hand over her chest.

“I'm not going to put flowers on my dress,” she said, with a more serious look, crossing her arms.

“As you wish, grumpy…” you whispered jokingly, getting her to grab you by the waist again while you resisted, laughing shyly.

“Maybe you don't want me to cook for you,” she mocked, pretending to pout.

“Oh, no, no, um… let's go to the kitchen and I'll help you, okay?” you said, apologizing in a soft tone, earning a kiss on your made-up cheek.

“It'll be a pleasure, doll face…” she whispered, immediately paralyzing and putting on a nervous look. Surely she didn't want to say that, but she said it, to your ears’ delight.

“Mm, what did you call me?” you said, biting your lip and approaching her seductively.

“I'm, I'm sorry,” she apologized nervously. “I didn't mean…”

“You didn't mean to? Well, I liked it, Donna,” you said, turning around, making your dress dance like you knew she liked and walking towards the stairs.

That was one of the many proofs that your doll makeup was working perfectly. Donna looked like she had just met you, she was more in love than ever, watching you whenever she could, telling you those things that made you melt and replacing little by little her usual ‘tesoro’ or ‘dolcezza’ with ‘doll face’, something that wasn’t unpleasant for you at all.

The days went by and your project was almost finished. A last embroidery on your dress was the last piece for your plan.

“Okay… what do you think?” you asked the doll that sat on the small bed, watching your work.

Angie never said anything to her owner under the threat of revealing that, indeed, reading the lady's thoughts was one of her favorite hobbies, as well as scaring you.

“A cheesy, cheesy, cheesy thing,” she said amused. “Aren't there too many ruffles?”

“No… Look, it's almost identical to the model,” you commented, running your hands over the newly finished fabric, playing with those ruffles, caressing them while you turned the magazine so Angie could take a look.

“Hey, but that dress is white!” the puppet protested. “Why did you turn it pink?”

“Look here, it has white fabric underneath, do you see?” you explained, showing the parts inside of the dress, which matched perfectly with the stockings. “Besides, I wanted to give it my own style.”

“Yes, your silly, cheesy, cheesy style,” Angie mocked, moving your new dress curiously.

“Donna likes me being cheesy,” you said, moving the doll away from your new creation and hanging it on under the bonnet, observing the outfit from afar.

“Donna likes anything that has to do with you or her dolls,” Angie corrected, observing the outfit, imitating your posture in a comical way.

“So if we put the two things together…” you said with an expectant voice, satisfied with the final result.

“She's going to have a heart attack, for sure… Uh… That's not your intention, is it?” Angie commented, pointing at you accusingly, to which you simply rolled your eyes, taking the hanger and walking towards the exit.

“Do me a favor and distract Donna, she's reading downstairs, right?” you asked, opening the door cautiously.

“Yes, she is, silly,” the doll said, crossing her arms. “Relax, I'll take care of the silly Donna…”

As expected, Angie kept her word, forcing the lady to chase her after stealing her book. You took advantage of that distraction to go down to the basement and get dressed and well… put the finishing touches on your plan.

“Okay…” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror while putting on your makeup. At first your resemblance to a doll was more or less subtle, but that occasion required a little more powder on your face and blush, more striking lips and of course, a beautiful curly hairstyle.

You already had the golden hair color naturally, but it used to fall down, so curling it was perhaps the most complicated part, but nothing that was out of your reach.

“Perfect, it's wrong for me to say it but... I'm a genius,” you said, adjusting your hat, looking at yourself dressed completely as a doll. “Now let's see what you say, dolcezza...”

The sound of your handmade shoes was pleasant. The clothes were really comfortable, even forgetting about the whole doll thing, it was a beautiful dress that would undoubtedly accompany you from time to time, well, if Donna liked it, of course.

“Honey...” you hummed as you went up the elevator, walking slowly to where the lady in black was, reading innocently.

“Ciao,” she sighed, turning a page, without looking at you. “I thought you were upstairs.”

You laughed shyly, holding the sides of your dress so they moved elegantly as you approached the couch, slowly lowering the brunette's book.

Donna glanced at you briefly and then went back to her book, but that only lasted a second, the second it took her brain to process your change.

“Mamma mia… (Y/N)…” she sighed with her eye wide open, her jaw dropping slightly. Just for that face, it was worth all the work.

“Do you like my new outfit?” you asked amused, turning around to move your dress, to further hypnotize the paralyzed lady in black. “I've given it a little more personal touch…”

“But, but, but…” Donna stammered, slowly getting up. “(Y/N)… Sei come una bambola…”

“Yeah, well, it's just that I used a doll for the design, I don't know why, I thought you would like it, what do you think, honey?” you said passively, not giving importance to Donna's apparent nervousness.

“It's, it's incredible…” she stammered, grabbing your hand and giving you an elegant spin, touching, brushing the fabric, caressing your curls. “D-Did you make it?”

“Of course,” you said smiling, enjoying her exploratory caresses. “I know how much you like your dolls, so I thought that maybe seeing me almost turned into one of them would make you happy,” you explained, putting a hand on her cheek so she would look into your eyes. “Do you like it, my love?”

“W-Wait,” she said, blinking confusedly, moving away. “Do you mean that you…? That you… You did it this for me?” she asked, increasingly nervous, a reaction that you didn’t expect.

“Of course, darling… I like to make you happy. I'm not going to say that it has not taken me a lot of work but, well, you already know how easy it is for me to sew and… Donna?”

You stopped talking when you heard a sob, when you saw the sadness in the brunette's eye, an inexplicable one. You got a little closer to her. Poor Donna seemed unable to stop crying.

“My love, what's wrong?” you asked with a sweet voice, worried about her reaction. “Don't cry, Donna…”

“Y-You have, have, have you done that…? For me?” the lady in black repeated, with a voice broken by that irrational crying. “Just for me? But, but… You, you've been sewing for weeks and… You've put on makeup like that and… And… Just for me?”

When you realized what the reason for her crying was, you sighed in relief, lifting her chin and laughing amused.

“Donna… Of course I did it for you…” you said between soft laughs, wiping away her tears.

“But, but, tesoro… You didn't have to… You didn't have to try that hard… For, for me…” she stammered again, shaking her head.

You laughed a bit louder, causing the lady in black to protest by kicking the floor.

“Don't laugh at me,” she hissed, wiping her tears herself, looking at you in annoyance.

“I'm not laughing at you, darling,” you said, cupping her face in your hands. “I laugh at how absurd those tears are,” you whispered in a soft voice, coming closer to lightly place your lips on hers, in an almost imperceptible kiss.

“How do you want me not to cry? You, you know how much I like dolls and, and, you, you sewed that for me, you put on that outfit for me… Just to make me happy… I, I don't deserve you, (Y/N), I don't deserve you!”

“Shhh, don't yell, my precious Donna…” you said, calming that incipient crisis with more kisses, with more caresses. “When will you learn that I would do anything for you? Anything…  I don't know, if you asked me to wear a trash bag instead of clothes, I would do it without thinking, or even worse, I would be able to wear something black for you, my love…”

Donna smiled, calming her crying and shaking her head, taking a moment to contemplate you before hugging you lovingly, with all the love she dared to express.

“You are perfect, (Y/N)… Perfect…” she whispered lovingly in your ear, playing with your curls, calming the sobs that still came out of her lips.

“Just because I'm with you,” you said, smiling adorably, perfectly matching your doll look.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo…” the lady repeated, showering you with kisses, caresses… Smiling after that little moment of crisis.

“Hey, the makeup, Donna,” you joked, gently pushing her away. “I love you too, so much…”

The lady looked you up and down again and suddenly frowned.

“I have, I have an idea…” she murmured, taking your hand and starting to walk. “Come with me.”

The two of you went down to the basement and entered the workshop. Donna didn’t say anything, but she seemed nervous, rummaging through her stuff for something you didn’t know about. When she apparently found it, she sat down on her chair, pulling your hand.

“Will you sit with me, doll face?” she asked you kindly, guiding you to sit on her lap, which you did happily.

Without saying anything to you, she began to work on a porcelain body. She seemed focused, but she was easily distracted by your kisses, the ones she gave you from time to time, with a tear running down her cheek.

“Mm,” you murmured, dying of love for those displays of affection, for those tender kisses that soothed your skin.

“(Y/N), do you have any fabric left in that color?” Donna asked pointing to your dress, after shaping the curly mane of an upcoming doll.

You brought her everything she asked for and as the hours passed, which seemed too short for you, you began to sense what she was doing. Your same hairstyle, your same dress, the stockings, the hat… Everything was reflected in miniature in that doll.

“Is it me?” you asked in a sweet voice, placing yourself well on her lap. She looked at you and nodded pleased, handing you the doll. “Donna, it's incredible… She has the same spot as me,” you said amazed by her mastery, by having replicated you in such a perfect way.

“You were right, (Y/N), the color suits the dolls well,” she said, kissing you sweetly on the lips. “It's a gift for you, amore mio…”

“Wow… It's amazing, Donna, I don't know what to say…”

“Just say that you will continue being the way you are… That you will be my favorite doll forever…”

[forlorn-crows]

one time someone asked me for a little something about cirrus and mountain's friendship. i don't know where that ask ran off to, but. tagging @askingforthesun bc i think i mentioned this to you randomly one day.

sometimes cirrus asks mountain to help her shave. gives them a chance to spend some alone time together and catch up. slice of life & banter for a sleepy sunday.

words: 680

“Ah, there it is,” Mountain hums, running his thumb along the newly shaven patch of skin.

“There’s what?”

“Your cute little mole.”

“Oh,” Cirrus snorts, thwacking him with the end of her tail. 

“Whaaat,” Mountain complains. He swishes the razor in the dish of water on the nightstand, laying it on the towel so he can go back to admiring the little blobby heart-like mark nestled in the fold of her upper thigh. “I love it. One of my favorite kissy spots.” The earth ghoul dips down as if to do just that, only to get a hiss and a face full of feathers.

“Uh uh,” she scolds. “No. You’re gonna give me pimples.” As if Mountain doesn’t already know this.

He sighs dramatically, resting his cheek on the opposite thigh. “Can you blame a ghoul for wanting to kiss such a perfect spot?”

“For an untrimmed bush? Yes. Because we both know once you start, you’re gonna get all horn-dog on me and I’ll be left indecent,” she pouts. 

Mountain tuts and rolls his eyes. “Would not,” he protests. He’s terrible at lying. With a pointed glare, Cirrus says as much. “Okay, maybe I would.”

“You have,” she corrects. “And I am not in the mood.” It’s not malicious, the way she says it. More haughty, teasing, and matter-of-fact, re-settling herself against the pillows with a wriggle of her shoulders. 

Mountain chuckles, placing a kiss to her bare thigh instead. “Alright, darling.” He runs the pads of his fingers lightly over the edge of her hair, feeling for rough spots or stray hairs. Pulls the thin skin to check in the creases too, mentally taking note of where to pick back up. 

“Thank you,” Cirrus chirps, crossing her arms playfully. 

Mountain just smiles and picks up the safety blade again. He shaves carefully along the crease of her thigh, brow furrowing as he concentrates. Cirrus has dark hair, so it’s easy to see, but he always vows to be precise when she’s asked him for help.

He cleans the blade again. “How’s mentoring going?” They’ve been talking about everything and nothing, mainly Cirrus’ newly developed finger joint pain (“So stupid, I’m how old and this vessel is just now deciding to fuck with me?” “You have been going hard on that baby grand recently, though, Cir.” “It’s new, it needs breaking in!” “Little harder on the hands, isn’t it?” “Well–”).

“Aurora?” Mountain hums an affirmative. “She’s . . .” Cirrus interrupts herself with a laugh. “She’s a handful, I won’t lie. In the best of ways.”

“She’s an eager one. Maybe more than Sunshine,” he muses.

“Yes,” she sighs. “So eager. She makes me feel like an old woman sometimes.”

“A wise old owl.” Mountain’s smirk earns him another tail smack. “You are going to make me miss a spot,” he accuses. 

Cirrus ignores him. “She has so much energy. She fits in wonderfully, and Sunny is taking well to mentoring, too. But Lucifer, that inner fire of hers . . . somehow it’s more pronounced than Sunny’s, if that were possible.”

“She’ll mellow out,” Mountain assures. “Sunny did, too. You and Lus have a calming influence.” The earth ghoul sets the razor aside and surveys his work. He hums, considering. “How’s the shape for you? I know you wanted a bit less this time, but I didn’t want to take too much off before I trim.”

“Hmm . . .” She peeks over her torso, assessing. Mountain hands her the mirror so she doesn’t have to crane her neck. She palpates her mound, pulling away hair from the shaved perimeter and spreading her thighs to see the rest. Tilting the mirror this way and that. 

“No, that’s great, sunflower, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, darling.” Mountain takes the mirror back and trades it out for the comb and scissors. “Same as usual for length?” 

Cirrus nods. “You know I can always bring you my clippers too, right?” 

“Call me old fashioned,” Mountain shrugs. “Sometimes it’s nice to slow down. More time to catch up.” He offers her a smile, one that she mirrors fondly.

“Can’t argue with that.” 

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket two

Propaganda:

For Kiku:

She is almost 10 feet/3 meters tall and is a gorgeous trans woman and samurai, who is very loyal to her allies. She gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being one of the most resilient badasses in the entire series. Helps break said main character out of the enemy's prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff. She stands up to a tyrant who enslaved her country, said tyrant can also turn into a giant dragon. When the highest ranked sumo in the area is abusing class privilege and harassing both the townsfolks and her, she cuts his top knot off in public, effectively ending his career. Then after cutting the sumo's not knot, she uses her great acting skills to win the crowd to her side by playing the innocent maiden and being all "oh, no, what have I done?" (She knew exactly what she did >:) After her country is free, she also gets to enjoy being girly and mellow once everyone is able to relax, and everyone respects that side of her too. All of this at just 22 years of age, what a cool lady

She's a samurai who's great with a sword and she's also trans.

She is cannonically trans and is a very cool swordswoman!

Trans samurai!! Kenshi is gender neutral, but this is a swordsWOMAN

One of the most powerful samurai in her country, also a trans icon.

She’s canonically trans and awesome and pretty and she’s so tall! 🏳️‍⚧️

For Luo Binghe:

This boy not just studied the blade, he learned the blade FROM HIS CRUSH. And not only that but he actually has tons of symbolism around BOTH of the swords he wields over the course of the novel. His childhood sword gets broken when he's about to be thrown into his corruption arc, but the pieces are carefully preserved by his crush, and later he rebuilds the sword in question. Once he is fully freed from corrupting influence of his other sword, he uses this one again! It represents his inner goodness that gets broken, but is never really gone. The other is a cursed sword representing toxic masculinity that corrupts his mind and pushes him to harm himself and others. It gets destroyed in the end thru the power of gay love!

His sword is first broken symbolizing his trauma and loss of innocence when he is kicked into hell. Then his other sword, Xin Mo, which he finds in hell, represents toxic masculinity and he breaks it at the climax of the novel. It can also dimension travel and is evil.

Binghe has two different songs in this book and a complicated relationship with both of them. First there is Zhen Yang which breaks at a dramatic moment and is mourned over by his teacher/love interest "like a grieving widow". And then there's Xin Mo! His "golden finger". The most ridiculously overpowered sword in the world, it can even cut rifts in the fabric of the world. It also runs on sex and violence and drives him to madness which can only be cured by the aforementioned love interest sacrificing himself... or by sex!