#[[ spreads hands in a vague 'i'm not even sure' gesture ]]

[hyruleanlegends]

@unblemisheddesertflower liked for a starter (like a month ago)

Do not trust her little prince.

She will betray you, my liege.

She is envious of your power. She despises you. She will do everything in her power to take it from you.

Still... even a snake can be useful. It would be a mistake to get rid of her now.

The words of Koume and Kotake both echoed through his mind. They were his caretakers, his guardians, his mothers who had raised him after his own had died to tragically during childbirth. He knew that he owed them everything he had; they had been the ones to train him in his magic and teach him about the significance of his birth, and the power and prophecies he was meant to fulfill.

Ganondorf Dragmire was the King of the Gerudo. They must bow to him - it was their law. And had he not been born, it was likely that Nabooru would have been in his place instead.

She did not seem like a snake to him. She seemed smart and incredibly devoted to her people. But they said-

It was late, and the desert turned to near-ice when the sun was no longer up in the sky. Ganondorf had turned his gaze up to the sky as he thought, and it was only after a long moment that he voiced his words out loud.

"This war has gone on long enough. Surrender... is the best option for the future of our people."

[murdrdocs]

it's faye and uh you mentioned something abt joaquín taking virginities? yeah 😌 i'm gonna need u to expand on that

well yes ofc

joaquín is genuinely shocked. he's sitting beside you, elbows pressed into his knees, his head cocked to the side as he looks at you. "seriously?"

you nod once. "yeah. seriously."

he leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. staring off into the distance, blinking blankly, he lets out the tiniest wow and continues to exist in this stupor that he doesn't break out of until you giggle.

"why're you so—" you gesture vaguely with your hand, "about that?"

"no, i'm not trying to be rude or anything about it. i'm just shocked."

and things don't change immediately. briefly, you were worried that he would be oddly fragile with you after finding out, hold you at arms distance, overly ask for your permission to do things that you never had any trouble with doing before. but joaquín was still joaquín. things were still the same between you both, until you were standing in the center of your bedroom, chests pressed together, tension finally having come to a breaking point between both of you.

his hands aimlessly roam, fingers touching every single part of you even with your clothes on. and with your clothes off, it's ten times more glorious. laying back on your bed, completely at joaquín's mercy, you're letting him in on so many levels—letting him do what he thinks is best for your body, providing your input here and there. letting him alter the aura of your bedroom, letting him make a memory that you're sure you'll never forget.

obviously, he checks up on you throughout. either verbally through curt sentences that are easy to digest and even easier to answer ("this okay?" "like that?" "'m gonna go here, is that okay?"), or through little glances. he communicates so much through his eyes, you aren't even sure if he's aware. with his eyes lifted to look at you and his eyebrows raised as his fingertips glide through your folds, he's gauging your reaction but there's a sense of pride within there as well. when your breath hitches and you sit up on your elbows when he scissors your entrance open, he squints for barely a second as if a smile was going to start from his eyes.

then his dick comes out and you can see the cockiness descend onto him. pride in his eyes, a sly grin on his lips that tugs one side up higher than the other. he licks his lips and sits back on his haunches in front of you, the warmth from his hand resting on your knee slowly heating you up. you've seen his dick before, the two of you have done some things in the weeks between you telling him about your virginity and this, but seeing joaquín bare in this capacity is something new entirely. you're cold and nervous, goosebumps prominent on your skin.

"you wanna help me out here?" he's already hard. his cock is keeled over from its own weight, resting over a thick and corded thigh that you have got to sit on one day. but you still nod and scoot closer, spitting in your hand throughout the journey so by the time you're right in front of him you can just wrap your hand around the tip and glide your hand down his length.

joaquín sighs immediately upon contact, his head lolling to the side. the hand on your knee slides up to your thigh and then your back, his other hand resting on your jaw. he pulls your face closer to his, kissing you once and letting it linger before he speaks. "you ready?"

you nod, and after letting yourself indulge in the feeling of stroking him a couple more times, you lay back while he puts the condom on.

and you know what to expect. you've heard stories, good and bad. your expectations have been set at a comfortable spot, not too high or too low, but your experience with joaquín is still better than you could've hoped.

not just because of the way he physically fucks you, which is something you can quickly see yourself getting addicted to, but because of his demeanor throughout the entire thing. when he's using his hips to glide his cock in and out of you in a steady rhythm, reaching deeper and deeper each time, he has this manner about him that makes it obvious that he's enjoying himself even despite your inexperience and reliance on him. actually, you think he's enjoying himself so much because you’re relying on him.

joaquín is nothing if not a pleaser. he quite literally lives to making sure other people are safe and happy, it's his job and his self-proclaimed purpose in life. so this, fucking you for the very first time, and making sure your experience is as good as it could possibly be, is everything to him.

he's so obviously grateful that you're willing to share this with him. his forehead rests against yours at one point, your noses nudging, and you both just breathe together. it's so intimate, more intimate than you could've imagined.

there was a moment there, though, one where you can see the beginnings of joaquín losing himself. when you've loosened up completely, having gotten used to being opened up for him, and you were steadily being guided towards the edge, you asked him for more. no, you begged. and joaquín gave you just what you wanted.

his hips snapped with each drive, his movements sharper than they'd been throughout the entire ordeal. messily, he swiped across your clit with his thumb, pushing you closer and closer towards his goal and not straying far behind you. it was rougher, but not careless at all. you wanted more of that for another time, you wanted him to completely lose it with you. but for now, you completely reveled in the way joaquín gave you an orgasm, one that only began to fade when he stuffed his cock completely in you with one final shove, his pelvis notched against yours and his balls resting against your ass.

by the time you came down and everything was cleaned up, distantly, you were ready to do it again.

[bvrnesher]

Percy is the kind of boy that if he sees the amount of blood that comes out of you when you're on your period, he would say that you're having a hemorrhage and would say that you should go to the infirmary so that the children of Apollo can take a look at you... write something about it??? I'm on my period and Idk, I'm not very well

𝝑𓏲 — ¡! Silly Worries

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: none ! just percy being a silly boyfriend in the sweetest way <3

ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ percy jackson ! reader

summary: period cramps are killing you, and, for your good—or bad—luck, all you can do is cuddle up with a Percy who makes silly comments.

"𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞..." 𝗬��𝗨 𝗚𝗥𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗗, 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗨𝗣 tighter on Percy’s bed as another cramp tore through you, a miserable attempt to will the pain away.

Percy walked out of the bathroom at the sound of your suffering, brows furrowed, thumb jerking behind him, looking just as confused as he was concerned.

"Huh... Babe, you good?" he asked, stepping closer, a couple of extra blankets draped over his arm.

"Have mercy and kill me," you mumbled, pouting as he carefully spread the blankets over you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to your forehead. He had no idea why—it just seemed like the logical thing to do.

You squinted up at him. "What are you doing?"

He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. "The amount of blood I just saw in there is not normal," he said, staring at you like you were on the verge of passing out.

"How are you even alive?" he blurted, still in shock over the sight of your very full pad in the trash. "That—that can’t be normal. That’s like—worse than a stab wound." Because, of course, that was his only frame of reference.

"Are you bleeding out?" he pressed slightly.

You rolled your eyes. "Percy, I get my period every month. Do you know what that is? Do you? Because it’s kinda important to me that you do."

Percy scoffed. "Yeah, obviously, but—have you seen how much blood that is? How are you not dead?"

"Yes, Percy, I saw it," you muttered, shifting in search of a comfortable position.

Percy didn’t miss the way your face twisted in pain, the way soft little whimpers slipped out when you moved. His frown deepened. "I really think you should go to the infirmary," he said, completely serious.

You blinked at him. Was he for real right now?

After a few seconds of looking into those worried sea-green eyes, yeah. Yeah, he was for real.

"I don’t need Apollo’s kids poking me with needles and shoving ambrosia down my throat. I’m fine. I just need cuddles and maybe a heating pad," you grumbled, watching as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Your definition of ‘fine’ is literally writhing in pain on my bed?" he deadpanned. "Because I’m pretty sure if I lost that much blood, Chiron wouldn’t let me leave the infirmary."

You let out a slow breath, a mix of frustration and fondness bubbling in your chest. With a quiet huff, you scooted over and patted the empty space next to you.

"My definition of ‘fine’ is you in this bed with me, and us not moving all day," you said, raising a brow. "How about that?"

Percy didn’t even hesitate before climbing in next to you, pulling you against him, letting you bury your head in his chest as your hand slipped under his hoodie, curling around his waist. You slung a leg over his, and he immediately started running his fingers through your hair, slow and soothing.

He sighed, warm and content, holding you a little closer.

"Yeah," he murmured after a moment. "I like this plan better."

Despite the pain still twisting in your stomach, a small smile tugged at your lips. You nuzzled into his warmth, mumbling a quiet "I love you" against his skin. Percy melted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

The two of you curled up under the blankets, tangled up in each other, Percy’s fingers gently combing through your hair.

"Though," he added suddenly, "I still think you should go to the infirmary."

That earned him a soft pinch.

"Shut up."

"Make me," he shot back, smirking.

xoxo, s.

[solxamber]

hi hiii can i request kevin kaslana, 4, fluff please!! thank you and have a happy holidays <3333

i'll take any chance i get to mention elysia in a fic

Tied by Jealousy || Kevin Kaslana

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Fluff

Kevin wasn’t sure when he started to despise Elysia’s constant presence around you, but today was his breaking point. She was hovering again, a playful lilt in her voice as she praised you about your laugh, your smile—basically everything that made you you. And the worst part? You didn’t seem to mind. You laughed along, oblivious to the way Kevin’s jaw tightened with every passing second.

Before he could even process what he was doing, he grabbed your wrist and muttered a clipped, “Come with me,” dragging you away.

“Kevin? What—” you tried to ask, but his pace didn’t falter.

Behind you, Elysia’s giggles echoed, her cheeky “Have fun, you two!” only making his irritation worse.

He didn’t stop until he reached a quiet corner of the lab, where he sat down at his desk and gestured for you to sit in the chair beside him. No explanations. No words. Just a pointed silence as he pulled out some files and began working as if nothing had happened.

“Okay,” you said after a few moments, crossing your arms. “Care to explain why you just dragged me halfway across the base?”

“I didn’t drag you,” he replied without looking up.

“Oh, so I just teleported here?”

Kevin’s pen froze mid-sentence, but he still refused to meet your gaze. “You were spending too much time with Elysia. Don’t you have other things to do?”

It clicked. You blinked at him, stunned for a second, before a sly grin spread across your face. “Wait a second. Kevin Kaslana… are you jealous?”

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “No.”

“You totally are!”

“I’m not.” His ears turned a faint pink as he looked back at his work, his voice defensive. “You’ve just been… hanging out with her too much. She’s distracting.”

“Distracting me from what?”

He faltered, his fingers tightening around the pen. “From… me.”

That did it. You burst into laughter, leaning forward to rest your chin on your palm as you looked at him with amused affection. “Kevin, you’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

He scowled, but the red creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’m not ridiculous. Elysia’s—she’s always teasing you, and you just—” He gestured vaguely, his words trailing off.

“And you thought the solution was to kidnap me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

You leaned closer, your voice softening as your teasing smile turned into something more genuine. “You could’ve just said you wanted to spend time with me, you know.”

Kevin finally looked at you, his usual stoic expression cracking ever so slightly. “I thought that was obvious.”

You shook your head, laughing again as you reached out to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his blush under your palm. “You’re hopeless, Kevin.”

He didn’t protest when you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, your laughter fading into something gentler. When you pulled away, his hand lingered on yours, holding it against his cheek as he whispered, “I’m still not jealous.”

“Sure you aren’t,” you teased, grinning.

But the way his fingers tightened around yours and the faint smile that tugged at his lips said otherwise.

Masterlist

[dee-writes-anime]

Late Night Cravings with Toge Inumaki

FEATURING Toge Inumaki x Reader

SUMMARY It's 3am and you could really go for some nachos

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy trope, Toge being the biggest sweetheart, cutie fluffy stuff, I desperately need a nap, DETAILED mansplain of how I like my nachos mmmmm, cod roe :0

AUTHORS NOTE I promise I'm not dead, I've just been a little preoccupied with mental breakdowns and my coursework. ANYWHO, I hope you all enjoy this short little Toge shaped treat as my apology. I promise I will get to your requests soon, I've just been a little busy rotting away.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The clock on your nightstand read 3:24 a.m., and there you were, wide awake with an undeniable craving gnawing at you. It started as a faint whisper in your mind, a vague notion of something savory and warm. But within moments, it was as if your whole body was practically screaming for it. You tried to ignore it, rolling onto your other side and taking a few deep breaths, hoping you might fall back asleep. But the craving just got stronger. It was nachos that you wanted, and not just any nachos—ones with thick, gooey layers of cheese, topped with plenty of spicy jalapeños, all seasoned perfectly.

Sighing, you glanced at Toge, who was fast asleep beside you. You knew waking him up at this hour was ridiculous, but at the same time, there was no way you could satisfy the craving yourself. Your feet were sore, your back ached, and standing in the kitchen for that long just felt out of the question. So, after a moment of consideration, you gently nudged him. “Toge, honey,” you whispered softly, your fingers grazing his arm.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, squinting at you in the dim light of the room. “Salmon?” he murmured, his voice groggy but with a hint of concern. He shifted slightly, reaching for your hand with sleepy gentleness.

“I know it’s silly,” you whispered, your cheeks heating. “But I really need some nachos. Like, really cheesy ones, with jalapeños and a little extra salt. And I need them right now.”

There was a moment of silence as Toge took in your words, processing your request in his half-asleep state. And then, in typical Toge fashion, his mouth curved into the smallest, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Tuna mayo,” he responded in a soft voice, which you knew translated to don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and stretched, giving you a quick, sleepy peck on your forehead before slipping out of bed. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to come with him. Smiling, you slipped your hand in his, letting him lead you to the kitchen. The quiet warmth of his presence made you feel like waking him up wasn’t such a selfish idea after all.

In the kitchen, he quickly assessed what he’d need, giving you a gentle nudge toward a bar stool at the counter so you could sit and relax. His hand grazed your belly as you settled, and you felt the baby kick lightly, almost as if they were getting excited along with you. Toge noticed the movement too, his eyes lighting up as he pressed a soft palm against your stomach, feeling the tiny kick. He chuckled softly, his expression turning playful as he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Nachos for both of you, huh?

He went to work with silent efficiency, pulling out a bag of tortilla chips, a block of sharp cheddar, a handful of shredded mozzarella, and a little container of jalapeños. You watched as he grated the cheese with the focus and dedication he brought to everything, making sure each piece was perfectly even. You couldn’t help but admire how his hands moved, steady and precise, as he worked through his drowsiness.

A few minutes later, Toge spread the chips evenly on a baking sheet, layering them carefully with cheese and jalapeños. He added a few special touches he knew you’d love: a sprinkle of smoky paprika, a dash of garlic powder, and a little drizzle of honey, which he knew balanced out the spice and added a unique sweetness. You hadn’t even thought of that last part, but the smell alone made your mouth water.

When the nachos were finally in the oven, he came over to stand beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you both leaned against the counter. He had this peaceful look on his face, and he squeezed you gently, pressing a light kiss to your temple. You could tell he wasn’t annoyed or even inconvenienced by the request. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself, glad to have a reason to take care of you and, by extension, the baby.

While the nachos baked, you both waited in companionable silence, Toge occasionally glancing at you with a warm look in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. Eventually, the oven timer beeped, and he moved to pull out the tray. The aroma of melted cheese, spicy jalapeños, and a hint of honey filled the air, and you could practically feel your mouth watering.

Toge carefully plated the nachos, making sure to spread them out so each chip had a balanced mix of toppings. He set the plate in front of you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection and pride, as if he’d just finished creating a masterpiece.

You took a deep breath, savoring the smell, then reached for a nacho, giving him a thankful glance before you took your first bite. The mix of salty cheese, spicy jalapeño, and that touch of honey was perfect. Toge had gotten every single element just right, down to the exact amount of salt you were craving. You sighed contentedly, the happiness you felt translating into a soft, grateful smile.

“Mm, this is amazing,” you mumbled around a mouthful of nachos, your eyes half-closed in bliss. Toge watched you with a quiet laugh, his own expression softened, clearly pleased by how happy you looked. He pulled a stool closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you eat, every so often reaching over to swipe a chip himself.

As you both continued to munch away, you felt a gentle flutter from your belly, a little kick from the baby, as if they, too, were grateful for the midnight snack. Toge’s eyes darted to your stomach, his smile widening as he placed a gentle hand there, feeling the tiny movements under his palm. He looked up at you, a silent exchange passing between you as he leaned in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, then on your belly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection. Toge’s hand found yours, his fingers warm as they laced with yours, his violet eyes soft and full of love. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he cared; it was in every little action, in every quiet smile, and in every nacho he made just the way you liked.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[bangchansdirty-slut]

I Need A Little Assistance

Paring: Top Boss!Bang Chan x Bottom Personal assistant!Male reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Chan needs a little help in his office

More: Masterlist

A/n: This is my first time writing smut and first post, also Requests are opened.

The first thing you notice as you step into Bang Chan's office is the tension thick in the air. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, working as his personal assistant for the past few years, but something about today feels different. He's pacing back and forth, hands thrust deep into his pockets, a frown marring his usually handsome features. You hesitate for a moment, wondering what could possibly have him this worked up, before he finally addresses you. "Hey, I could use your help with something." His voice is strained, almost hoarse. "Would you mind closing the door on your way in?"

You do as you're told, glancing around the room as you close the door behind you. The space is large and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city skyline. A massive mahogany desk dominates the center of the room, and behind it sits Bang Chan, looking even more unsettled than before.

"It's about this… this thing," he mutters, gesturing vaguely downward. You follow his gaze and notice that his pants are tented, a telltale bulge pressing against the fabric. His cheeks are flushed, and he's trying to adjust himself awkwardly in his seat. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling a mixture of confusion and arousal.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Bang? Maybe I can help," you offer cautiously, inching closer to his desk. You're not sure what's going on, but you know that Bang Chan isn't one to usually show this much discomfort. He glances up at you, relief flashing briefly across his features before being replaced by a look of determination.

"My wife can't seem to help with this," he says, gesturing to the bulge in his pants again. "She just… can't handle it." You bite your lip, feeling a wave of sympathy wash over you. It's not uncommon for married couples to have these kinds of issues, but it's still an awkward situation for both of them.

"I'm not sure if it's something I should be doing," you say hesitantly. "But I could try, if you want me to." His eyes meet yours, hopeful and grateful. "I mean, I'm not an expert or anything, but I could give it a shot."

You take a deep breath and move closer to his desk, standing in front of where his legs are spread. You place your hands gently on his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. "Just relax, Mr. Bang," you whisper. "I'm here to help you."

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he lets out a shaky breath. You can feel the length of him pressing against your stomach as you lean forward, guiding his cock away from your body with one hand while using the other to stroke him gently through his pants. He gasps, and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen tense beneath your fingertips.

"That feels good," he whispers hoarsely. "Just like that." You smile, taking this as your cue to continue. Your grip on him tightens slightly, and you begin to stroke faster, feeling the warmth and length of him in your hand. His hips begin to rock forward, grinding against your palm, and he lets out a moan that vibrates against your skin.

You can tell that he's getting close, and you know that he needs some release. You unbutton his pants and free his cock, letting it spring free and stand at full attention. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire. "You're so good at this," he pants. "I needed this."

You kneel down in front of him, taking his cock into your hand. It's thick and hard, and the pre-cum is already starting to drip onto your palm. You lean forward, closing your eyes as you taste him for the first time. His salty flavor fills your mouth, and you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently at first before taking him deeper. He groans, thrusting his hips forward as you take more of him into your mouth.

Your hand continues to stroke him in time with your movements, and you can feel the tension building in his thighs. His hips begin to move erratically, his moans filling the room. You can feel the warmth of him, the weight of him in your hand, and you know that he's close. You increase the pace of your sucking, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock as you milk him, feeling the first spurt of hot cum hit the back of your throat.

He groans, thrusting his hips forward and coming harder, filling your mouth with his seed. You swallow every drop, relishing the taste of him as he shudders and gasps for air. When he finally pulls away, he's flushed and breathing heavily. His eyes meet yours, and there's a mix of gratitude and arousal in his gaze.

He turned you around and gently pushed you down on the table. Your heart raced with anticipation as he slowly pulled down my pants, exposing your throbbing cock. You couldn't help but let out a moan as his hand wrapped around your member,

"Ahhhhhh…" You moan as he teases you. "Fuck… that feels so good…"

His fingers are expertly manipulating your cock, rubbing in just the right way. You feel yourself growing harder, more desperate for release. You try to focus on the sensation of his fingers against your skin, but the way he's looking at you is almost too much. His eyes are intense, filled with desire, and you can feel the heat emanating from his body as he leans in closer.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear. "You look so good," he whispers. "I want to feel inside of you." His hand moves away from your cock, leaving you momentarily bereft of sensation, and then he reaches around, guiding your hips forward. Your cock presses against his fingertips, and he lubes himself up with saliva before pressing his cock against your entrance.

There's a brief moment of resistance, but then he pushes forward, and you feel him slide inside of you. You cry out, arching your back as he fills you up. He starts to thrust gently, his movements slow and deliberate at first. "Is this okay?" he asks, concern etched in his features.

"It's perfect," you breathe, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Don't stop." He nods, taking your encouragement as permission to go deeper. His hips begin to move faster, his cock thrusting in and out of you in a rhythmic motion. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you can feel the tension building inside you.

Chris leans forward, his chest pressing against yours as he kisses you roughly. His tongue darts into your mouth, tangling with yours as he continues to fuck you. His hands grip your hips, guiding you up and down with each thrust. You can feel the head of his cock brushing against something deep inside of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

He picks up the pace, moving faster and harder as he loses control. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and his muscles tense as he gets closer to the edge. You can feel the wet heat of his cum building inside of you, and with every thrust, it pushes you closer to your own release. You arch your back, moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you in a wave of pleasure.

Your body tenses, gripping him tightly as you come, and Chris follows soon after, groaning out your name as he fills you up. His hips buck wildly, driving his cock deeper inside of you, and you can feel the warmth of his release spread through your body. His weight presses down on you, pinning you to the table, and you can feel the strength and power in his arms as he holds you.

For several moments, you're lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, feeling the gentle thrusts of his hips as he continues to move inside of you. The air in the room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, and the sounds of your bodies moving together are almost hypnotic. He leans in, kissing you tenderly, his lips soft against yours.

"I think I need to sit down," he murmurs, breaking the intimacy of the moment. With a gentle groan, he pulls out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet, sucking sound. You feel the loss of him inside of you, but the warmth of his cum spreading through your body is a delicious reminder of what just happened. He turns you around, helps you to your feet, and leads you over to the table.

He sits down, panting heavily, and motions for you to join him. As you slide onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips, you can feel the evidence of what just transpired between you. Your cock is still hard, and the warmth of your skin where he touched you is a stark contrast to the cool air in the room. He reaches up, cupping your cheek in his hand, and studies your face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion. You nod, unable to find the words to express how you feel right now. He leans in, kissing you softly, and then nips at your lower lip. His hand moves down, caressing your chest, before sliding lower, tracing a line down your stomach. He looks up at you as his fingers brush against your inner thigh.

"Do you want to do that again?" he asks, his voice husky. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the thought. The idea of him inside of you again is almost too much to bear. You nod eagerly, and he smiles. He helps you stand up, guiding you over to the couch.

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

New You Gym - 19

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Michael watched Kylee as her short frame waddled in front of him, large infantile diaper sagging wetly between her legs. Michael wondered to himself whether she even knew her diaper was wet.

As Michael's eyes lingered on his wife's padded ass, he could feel his member growing, making his pants tighter. Michael knew he should be concerned for his wife and maybe even disgusted by the fact that she can't keep her pants dry. However, Michael could feel a new fantasy being awaken in him.

Imagining Kylee humiliated, diapered, and treated like nothing more than a un-potty-trained toddler made him feel more aroused then he could ever remember.

However, as Kylee turned the corner towards their bedroom, Michael tried to shake off his feelings. He knew that Kylee had to be mortified by the situation, and that it was his job as her husband to support her through the struggle.

Readjusting the new pink gym bag Emily had handed him, he put on as supportive face as he could muster, suppressed his growing arousal as best he could, and followed Kylee into their bedroom.

As Michael walked in, he saw Kylee standing, legs spread, inspecting her diaper closely with both hands. As Michael looked at her, he noticed tears starting to form in her eyes.

"I… I'm… I mean… It… The diaper… It's wet?" Kylee said, turning to Michael confused.

When Kylee went to untape her diaper, she noticed for the first time that she had wet herself sometime during her trip home from the gym. The fact she was unaware she had pissed herself scared her almost more than the fact that her husband was seeing her in a wet diaper.

Michael walked up to Kylee and embraced her in a hug.

"Yeah, baby, it looks like you had another little accident today. But, I'm sure it was just from the stress of the gym. Do you want me to help you get out of… um… that?" Michael said, gesturing vaguely towards Kylee's diaper.

Kylee wanted to say no. She wanted to run away and hide in shame. She wanted to be anywhere else but here, with the man she loved, dressed like this.

But, she also wanted his attention. She craved experiencing that close, vulnerable feeling she had when Julie had changed her diaper earlier that day, with Michael. She also knew that if things kept progressing as Julie told her they would, it wouldn't be long until this was going to be a more common occurrence.

So, with her mind made up, Kylee's cheeks turned red as she answered her husband. "Yes, please," she said.

"Alright, sweetheart, why don't you lay on the floor. Do we have any wipes anywhere?" Michael asked.

Kylee blushed again. "I think you'll find everything you need in my new… uh… gym bag."

Michael grabbed the bag and looked in. It was now his turn to blush.

The pink satchel clearly wasn't the gym bag of an adult. The only thing it could be reasonably described as was a diaper bag.

Despite the warning he'd received from Emily, Michael hadn't really put together that Kylee would be required to wear diapers to the gym for the foreseeable future. The idea of his wife being forced to continue to wear diapers caused his penis to swell again.

"Oh, wow! They really, uh, set you up here," Michael said, grabbing the wipes from his wife's diaper bag while trying to hide his growing erection, "I know Emily said you'd need protection for the gym, but they really set you up with a lot of dia… I mean… protective underwear."

Kylee turned her head to the side, looking away in embarrassment.

"It's okay. Call them what they are… they're diapers," Kylee responded, trying to bravely face her predicament, "How can I call this wet thing wrapped around my ass anything else?"

"Should I grab out another one… uh… diaper? Or, do you think you can keep your panties dry?" Michael asked hesitantly.

Kylee glared at Michael, her embarrassment overtaken by her indignation.

"Can I keep my panties dry? Of course I can! I'm not a child!" Kylee growled.

Michael raised his hands defensively, then gestured towards Kylee's wet groin.

"I mean, it seems like a fair question, given the circumstances," Michael said, a little more confidence shining through in his tone, "I am not the one lying on the floor, waiting for my husband to change me out of a wet diaper."

"Fine! If you're going to act like this, I don't need your help!" Kylee said starting to sit up, face scrunched in disgust as she felt the wet padding surrounding her crotch squelch as she shifted her weight.

Michael, wipes in hand, kneeled down next to Kylee, placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

"Oh, hush! No need to throw a tantrum. Lay down so I can get you out of that wet thing then you can put your panties back on," Michael said, his assertiveness growing along with erection.

Being given this excuse to baby his wife really turned him on.

Kylee complied with his direction. As she laid down, she also found that, despite her embarrassment and anger at her situation, she was also being turned on by the "Daddy" energy her husband was starting to exhude.

"Fine," Kylee said as she laid back down with an exaggerated huff.

"Good girl," Michael responded.

Those words sent a shiver through Kylee's pussy.

Michael patted Kylee's diapered crotch twice and stated, "Let's do this."

Michael carefully ripped open the tapes of Kyle's diaper and pulled the front of the diaper open. The smell of ammonia and rash cream quickly hit his nose, causing him to briefly scrunch his face in disgust before continuing on. What he saw when he opened the diaper though, he wasn't expecting.

"Kylee! Your skin is so red and angry down here? What's going on? Is this what's causing your sudden accidents? Do we need to see a doctor?" Michael asked, staring at the diaper rash covering his wife's most intimate areas but too inexperienced in diapering to know what he was looking at.

A fresh wave of embarrassment pulsed through Kylee, who suddenly remembered the diaper rash she had from her earlier, poopy diaper. Julie's cream really worked wonders on her discomfort, Kylee thought to herself.

"No, it's, it's not causing my accidents," Kylee said, quietly. "I, I fell asleep in a diaper earlier at the gym and woke up with a… uh… rash because of it."

"A diaper rash? Seriously, Kylee?" Michael guffawed. "Let's check your bag. Ah, here it is, some rash cream," Michael said, pulling out some diaper rash cream from Kyle's gym bag. "Are you sure you don't need another diaper? How many times have you wet yourself today?"

Kylee looked up at Michael as defiantly. "Only a couple! But it was just because of stress at the gym! I don't need another, stinking diaper!"

Micheal couldn't help but laugh to himself a little. Kylee, despite her demand to the contrary, sure looked like a woman who needed a diaper. She was laying on the ground, legs splayed apart, rash covered ass laying on a wet diaper, waiting to be wiped clean by another person.

"Sure, baby," Michael said as he began to wipe Kylee's tender skin with the baby wipes.

As Michael wiped the urine off of Kylee's waist, Kylee couldn't help but be surprised from his delicate, caring touch. As Michael wiped, Kylee squirmed as it became clear she was still very sore from her diaper rash. However, Michael did a good job at both being thorough and gentle with Kylee's delicate skin.

Then Michael made his way to Kylee's slit and she started to squirm for another reason. The feeling of Michael's fingers through the wet wipe felt so good to Kylee. It brought back the recent memories of Julie's 'special' changes back at the gym. She started to buck her hips into Michael's hand.

"Oh, baby likes that, huh?" Michael said as he started to pay more attention to Kyle's vagina.

"Don't… call… me… baby!" Kylee moaned out as Michael started to rub her clit more intentionally.

"What should I call you then? Your the one laying here on the ground getting your pissy little pampers changed, aren't you?" Michael asked with a seductively dominant tone.

"Ye… yes…" Kylee moaned out.

"Then what does that make you?" Michael asked as he started to thrust his middle and index finger into Kylee's pussy, while continuing to rub her clit with his thumb.

"A… a… a…" Kylee moaned in rhythm with Michael's fingers.

"A what?" Michael demanded, his cock throbbing at his wife's humiliation and his own sense of power.

"A… a… a… BABY!" Kylee screamed as her body convulsed in pleasure with an epic orgasm.

"That's right," Michael said as he removed his fingers from Kylee and wiped them on a new baby wipe. "But, since you were a good girl and admitted it, I guess we can let you try panties again today," he continued cheekily.

"Thank you, Daddy," Kylee said as Michael finished cleaning her up, helped her stand up, and balled up her diaper.

"Of course sweetheart, why don't you go take a shower though? I got most of it off, but let's not take a risk with that rash," Michael suggested.

Kylee complied.

As Kylee showered, Michael took care of his own arousal. He laid on his bed, put his hand down his pants, and stroked himself, imagining Kylee, sitting in a crib at the end of the bed, looking at him longingly in a wet diaper and childish onesie as he fucked Emily doggy style.

It didn't take long before Michael made a sticky mess in his hand. He used another of Kylee's wipes to clean himself up.

The rest of the day went fairly normally for Kylee and Michael. Kylee put back on a pair of panties, but not before slathering her ass in rash cream. She and Michael went about their normal daily tasks.

The only changes were minimal. Michael would occasionally throw glances at her crotch suspiciously, as if he was making sure she didn't have any more accidents. Kylee also found it a little uncomfortable to sit down due to her diaper rash.

However, with normalcy overtaking her day once again, Kylee almost forgot about the events of the morning when it was time to get ready for bed.

NEXT CHAPTER

[weralika]

so what about suicidal Kevin...

pt 1

“Say something,” Kevin almost pleads, suffocated by buffling silence, “That you hate me or…”

“I don't,” Andrew interrupts him before he can come up with something even more stupid, “Why would I hate you?”

Kevin lowers his gaze, shrugging and making a thoughtful noise.

“Because I did…” he gestures vaguely, wincing when pain starts to bloom under his skin yet again, “This.”

“You didn't,” Andrew's voice is impassible but Kevin can hear the slight trembling under his toneless words, “You didn't quite manage to.”

Kevin feels nausea at the bottom of his throat and it serves him just right — he survived to have one shitty opportunity more.

Another chance to fuck everything up, another trial and another error, till he finally learns the lesson. Andrew doesn't even look surprised, a little worried, maybe, but not tricked by Kevin's unpredictable decisions, though perhaps Andrew's foreseen that long ago, and since then waited for the shoe to drop.

“Need something?” he asks, and Kevin realizes that he was frowning for a couple of minutes already. He nods at the glass on the nightstand and Andrew brings it carefully to his lips.

The water does not help in his urge to throw up, but it is a distraction ot sort, he sips the cold liquid slowly, looking at Andrew's soft hands.

He wants to tell him everything. He really wanted to tell him everything since they met, but was cowardly afraid of being mocked. Now he knows, it was dumb as hell — Andrew would never laugh at him, not only because he doesn't have a habit of doing so, but because he understands him so deeply it's almost terrifying. He seems to be the one and the only person who knows him well, even better than Kevin does, for how incredible it may sound. He would tell him, if he asked. He would say all the I'm losts and I want to have someone heres, but it was their everlasting problem — you are too gentle to interrogate, I'm too afraid to speak up.

Though Andrew asks now, making Kevin question the reality of the situation:

“Were you planning this?” he says it quietly, just to trick Kevin to look up, because he always knew how to lip read. There was no need to speak hushly, Kevin had his own private hospital ward, paid off by Andrew himself.

“No,” he brings himself to answer, but not to meet Andrew's eyes, “I was drunk and lo- alone. In my flat, that is.”

It is the most awkward situation he can imagine himself being in — accepting his own flaws, because he was careless enough not to die when so eager to do so.

“You said you'd quit,” Andrew doesn't accuse him of anything, Kevin knows for sure, but he can feel a blush of shame on his face, “You promised not to lie.”

“I did quit.” he tries to defend himself, “Everything was too much that day. I had- I thought I had no one to talk to, I don't remember much, but I was sad.”

Andrew sighs deeply and cups his face in his palms, still cold from the glass.

“You, pouting motherfucker.” Kevin lets a small smile spread across his face, wincing from pain once again, ���If you were not in fucking Texas, we'd be by your fucking ugly side.”

Kevin only chuckles at that, imagining that picture — Neil and Andrew by his side, sipping their coffees in mornings and watching soap operas in evenings.

He's smiling, looking Andrew in the eyes but the moment is broken by a strange noise. Something shuffles outside and Kevin's heart drops low.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

[izzy2210]

Moles

Steve's lying with his back on their bed, pastel blue button-up open, loosely hanging only by the sleeves. Meanwhile Eddie’s laying on top of him, one hand on his chest, the other in his hair, kissing him softly. Steve leans his head back, his lips slipping away from Eddie’s, and he presses a kiss down on his throat instead. 

"You look so pretty all splayed out for me, darling." Eddie smirks, and Steve just whimpers, his eyes tearing up, but Eddie didn’t even touch him yet. "What's wrong, my love?" He cups Steve’s face, a concerned look spreading over his. "I just- I don't.." he stutters. "Take your time, love." He smiles, and feels his boyfriend relax under him. 

"I've just been so.. y'know when you're overwhelmed? That, exactly that, but the opposite. Everything felt so dull, and now you’re here, and you’re doing all these things, and I like 'em! I do, but it's all coming in so heavy. After a while of nothing, anything is too much, y'know? I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense, I-" He gets silenced by a gentle but firm kiss. 

"Okay." Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, "Do you want me to take it slow? Be careful with you?" That makes him pout, nothing like that, but he’s not exactly sure what he does want. "S'alright, pretty boy, you take your time." He reassures, and it takes a while for Steve to speak again. Meanwhile Eddie's been drawing soothing circles on every patch of skin that he can reach. 

"I.. I don't want to have sex right now." He braces for a bad reaction, but instead he gets another peck on his lips. "Proud that you told me that, baby. That's okay, s'not what I wanted from this, I just wanted you to feel good. How do I do that, mh?" He asks, and Steve's mouth falls open a little, he can't believe how lucky he is. 

"Can you.. kiss me? But.. not only my lips. Just," he gestures vaguely, "everywhere. And, keep laying on me. I like the-uh, pressure, on me. Please." Eddie’s smile grows wider, and Steve giggles a little. "You're doing so well for me, sweetheart, telling me what you want," he kisses Steve’s collarbone, "saying please all by yourself.. You’re so perfect for me." Steve whimpers again, and this is a better one. 

Eddie pecks the two moles in his neck, licking a broad, wet stripe, and Steve shivers. "That okay, pretty boy?" He murmurs against his skin, and he nods. 

"Can you say it for me?" 

Steve gulps, gulps again, and Eddie has to keep himself from biting at his Adam's apple, it's bobbing up and down so nicely.. "Yes, that’s good." He sighs, so Eddie licks him again, along his jawline this time.

His kisses move down, until his lips are pressed against the constellations of moles on his abdomen, and then they move back up again, to the tiny little spot on the side of his pec. "Your boobs are freckled." He announces, and Steve's chest shakes when he laughs. Eddie can't do anything but look at how he scrunches up his nose, how his mouth's wide open, and he smiles, and he smiles. He quickly moves back up, pecking the little wrinkles next to his eyes, they disappear under his lips, until he hears a soft "oh" in his ear. 

"I love you, Stevie. " he says, still giggling a little. Steve's smile is still plastered on his face when he returns the promise, sealing it with a kiss. "I love you too, Eds."

---

@steddieas-shegoes hehe i did a thing

[finniestoncrane]

Dano!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 1k giveaway commission: thank you @cml-san for an excuse to get back to this loser boy!! eddie is released from arkham on advise of his psychologist and is transferred into the care of a stranger from his past who has been inspired by him in their own life as an aspiring actress/singer🐀💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: it's kind of unhealthy attachment fluff i guess!!

He'd been granted parole, much to his own surprise. Edward was smart though. He'd studied psychology, books upon books in his apartment, trying to figure out what he might say in order to convince them he was sane, that he was safe to be returned back to society. And he'd tricked the psychologists, his doctors, the warden. The one hurdle, however, that he wasn't sure how he had navigated it, was the supervisory element of his freedom.

There had to be someone on the outside who was willing to take responsibility for his wellbeing, to facilitate his reacclimating to the world, and Ed had no one.

But someone out there had agreed to take him on. A gesture he'd never known. No one had offered to take him from the orphanage. No one had offered to take him out of the low level position he'd slaved at for years. So why would someone offer now?

Long gone were his hopes that it might have been Batman, looking to help Eddie find redemption, to have him as his assistant, finally understanding what it was that Eddie was doing for him.

As he was ushered out through the last of the doors that kept him prisoner, Eddie looked out towards the wrought iron gates. The last threshold. And just beyond them, a woman standing by a car. Someone vaguely familiar.

He had managed to place you by the time he was walking out of the Arkham grounds. You had gone to college with him. His quiet, unspoken crush. There you were, reaching your arms out to hold him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"Eddie! I'm so glad to see you. I don't know if you remember me, but-"

"Of course I remember you."

You blushed at his words, a warm smile spreading into your cheeks. For a brief moment, Eddie wondered if he was actually dreaming. Freedom, reconnecting with a cute girl he'd been madly in love with? It didn't feel real. Even when you had driven back into the city, settling in at a booth at the back of a diner, he was certain he was going to wake up at any moment. But he kept himself invested in the conversation.

"So... you know what I've been doing lately..."

The topic was a difficult one, but he had to at least reference it, quickly, before changing the subject.

"... What have you been doing since school?"

As awkward as the topic might have been for him, it was just as uncomfortable for you.

"Well... truthfully, not much. There was a lot that I wanted to do. I wanted to act, but I never made it past any local commercials. And then I thought I could sing, but I'm kind of stuck at the lounge right now, doing late nights... only on week days."

You twiddled your thumbs, trying to turn things around, not wanting to sound so down on life now that Eddie had his back.

"I have a radio show too! In fact, I was inspired by you... by your words. Your streams."

Eddie choked on his sip of coffee, completely surprised by not only his effect on you, but the fact you were so casually bringing it up.

"R-really?"

"Yeah! I uh... I usually just talk, play some music, break some stories where I can. When I came across your streams, though... I knew there was more I could be doing. Like you. You're kind of my muse, Eddie."

You reached over the table, taking his hand in yours. It was warm and clammy, and you could see the nerves on his face, in his eyes.

"You know, I haven't done what I wanted to in life either. And anything I have done, it's been because of your inspiration. When I'm singing, it's like I'm serenading you, making a promise to you. And I owe you for all of this."

Eddie's eyes were wider now, dark pupils almost covering the iris as he watched your lips move with your words, not quite believing what he was hearing. Deciding that the silence couldn't get any more awkward, you made the choice to confess a long held secret to him.

"You know... I had a huge crush on you in college. I think we only shared two classes together, but those were my favourites. You never reciprocated though, which is fine of course, I just-"

"I thought it was a joke."

Your hand was still on his, but you let your grip loosen just a little, surprised by his statement.

"Eddie... I would never..."

Making up for the slight lack of contact, Eddie found it in him to squeeze your hand back.

"I know that. Now."

Another prolonged silence, one that felt a little more comfortable this time. You both finished your coffee, picking at the food on your plates as you both tried to figure out what to say next. Eddie was still wondering why you had offered your time up for him, and you were wondering how to tell him why. It was you that broke first, realising that he was vulnerable, confused, and deserved to know the truth.

"Eddie, you and I have a lot of work to do."

"What... what work?"

"I know what you want from life, Eddie. You want to complete your goal. Your mission. And I want... well, I want you.

He was staring intently, unblinking, a slight smile crossing his lips as the understanding sank in.

"You don't get many second chances in life. At love. At fate. At revenge. But I think if we work together, we can make it work for us. Don't you?"

Eddie nodded, his hand squeezing yours tighter than ever now. A giddy feeling pulsing through his chest. He'd been offered a second chance at everything, and he wasn't going to fail twice.

"I think we can. Just you and I. Real partners. Together."

Grinning, you sipped the last bit of coffee from your mug and held his hand as you left the booth, pulling him after you.

"Let's go get started then."

[musette22]

Random thought I think you might enjoy--I feel like Sebastian catches Chris being a romantic goober all the the fucking time, especially during the fall. Like, Seb will realize Chris has been outside with Dodger for a suspicious amount of time for just a quick pee break for Dodg and so he peers out the window to see Chris standing in the yard staring into space, or not even staring, his eyes might be closed, head tilted ever so slightly back, feeling the chilly-but-still-vaguely-warm fall breeze on his face or listening to the rustling leaves. Seb looks over when they're on a long cab drive home in NYC traffic and Chris will be longingly looking out the windows, between the buildings, and tearing up at the sunset. Just, y'know, Chris being a big feeler, all sweet even when he's pretty sure no one is looking.

(More romantic Chris I thought of immediately after sending the previous ask) There's a patch of wildflowers that inexplicably grows at the bottom corner of their Boston home's yard, resurfacing every year, and Chris will, just because, go over there and carefully cut a few for a vase, leaving behind enough to spread their seeds for next year. He doesn't even mention it to Seb (when he gets Sebastian flowers, it's flowers, a whole, special-ordered bouquet), he just brings them inside, sets them in a windowsill, and leans down to smell them every time he walks past. (2/3)

((Okay, I'll stop after this, I promise, lol, there's just too many thoughts)) Chris starts to fulfill his own passive dream of several years now, wanting to have "real" hobbies that engage his hands and brain, and starts working with wood. His first project is a rough-looking but functioning birdhouse. He elects to paint it the same color as their house and puts it on the big tree out back. Sebastian only catches it when they restock their bird feed and Chris makes mention, under his own breath almost, of making sure they're feeding the neighbors. What neighbors? The birds in their birdhouse. (3/3)

S......... I am literally so unwell about these headcanons 😭😭😭 I'm just............ a ball of softness and feelings being blown around in the wind like tumbleweed right now 🥺🥹 Oh my god, IT'S SO SOFT. IT'S SO SOFT AND WARM AND ADORABLE. I want to live in these headcanons. They have cured my everything.

Chris being a big feeler, all sweet even when he's pretty sure no one is looking.

STOP 😭 Illegally sweet 😭😭

Aarrrghhh but I love it, Chris living in the moment, cherishing the little natural wonders he's surrounded by, tending to flowers and building birdhouses with his own two hands and appreciating the little things with his whole entire big dumb golden heart 😭❤️

And soft-hearted Chris and adoring Sebastian being happy and cozy and soft together? It's all I want. And you know that Chris would be ridiculously soft-hearted and romantic about Sebastian most of all. Always gazing at him with the puppiest of heart-eyes, smiling softly when Sebastian does something he thinks is adorable (which is pretty much everything), clutching his heart when Sebastian smiles at him, showering Sebastian in soft, sweet kisses whenever he can, just because, and surprising him with those giant bouquets of flowers you mentioned, or with lovely little gestures that never fail to get Sebastian all choked up, just because it's so wonderful to be so known, so loved and cherished by this wonderful, soft-hearted man of his 😭❤️

I LOVE THEM, okay? And I love you for sending me these, I seriously adore everything about this and I'm going to go to sleep with a smile on my face now ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

(This chapter contains both POVs)

Chapter 11

Warning: This chapter contains a heated argument. (I'm not sure if I should add a warning for it but I'll do it just in case). Use of strong language. Chan is a bit rough (almost violent but he doesn't harm her). It's part of the story.

Aria & Bang Chan

.

Aria

Growing hope for an ice glacier to thaw overnight was like expecting a desert to bloom with flowers after a sudden rainstorm.

Every time Chris was closer to being open, to try to communicate, he steps back refusing to have a hard conversation. His elusive behavior was becoming a pattern, each glimmer of openness quickly fading into silence or distraction.

It felt like he was stimulating emotions during sex. When we're outside of the bedroom, he almost treats me like a goddamn stranger living under his roof. It makes me want to pull my hair out.

I longed for him to open up, try to share his thoughts with me, but every attempt seemed to hit a wall. He kept shutting himself behind the door to his study or his room or other times asking for space because he spent his nights with his friends than with his wife.

It irritated me to the core.

As I was stacking a new pile of books and other ornaments on the huge shelf, I couldn't shake the feeling of frustration that had been building inside me.

I paused, tracing my hand on the spine, the title blurring and letters floating into a jumble before my eyes. Winter made it's way to the mansion and even though the heating was on, the house felt like walking in the Arctic whether or not Chris was home.

With a sigh, I decided to talk to him once more. And if this last bit of hope I have in me is meant to be broken, well, then at least I know I tried.

Walking through the quiet halls of the mansion, I found Chris in his study, a stack of papers spread out before him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

"Chris," I began softly, knocking the door leaning against the doorway. He looked up, his expression guarded yet curious. "Yes? Come in."

"Can we talk?" I swallowed hard, knowing he didn't like being disturbed when he worked from home but one conversation won't do any harm.

"If, if you're free—" I said quickly.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist and got up from his chair, approaching towards me standing near the doorway, his presence engulfing me like an impending storm.

"What's wrong?" I hated every time I went to him to talk, he always replied with a what's wrong as if he only wanted to save me out of trouble.

"I just wanted to talk to you about...about where we are going with this..." I vaguely gestured between us.

Chris rolled his eyes, scoffing and running a hand through his hair. That small thing clenched something in my chest, I kept hating him more, than trying to find a way or a reason to continue.

"We've had not one but two conversations about that Aria. Why do you want to talk about the same thing over and over again hmm?" His Australian accent was rough and thick as he spoke, we did converse about the agreement but this was killing me.

Three months into this marriage, and I was getting sick of the constant tension every day. One day he'll be lovable, we have three meals together and have a small talk and the next he'll be an arrogant bastard.

"You know why, Chris," I replied, my voice tinged with exasperation. "Because it matters to me. Because I want to understand where we stand."

He scoffed again, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face me. "What's there to understand? It's a contract, Aria. Clear and simple. We agreed, it ends in a year."

"But things change, Chris," I insisted, frustration boiling over. "I thought maybe we could discuss what happens while we're here. Right now."

Chris shook his head, his expression hardening. "There's nothing to discuss. This was a temporary arrangement."

I quietly but carefully walked towards him, his back was now facing me, I myself couldn't believe what I was about to say next.

"If it's temporary for you, why do you come seek pleasure from me?"

Chris turned back to me, his chest rose and fell with the force of his anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes burned with an intensity that could have ignited a wildfire.

His piercing gaze held me in place, but I refused to back down. I had to say it. I had to know.

"Answer me, Chris," I demanded, my voice trembling despite my attempt to stay strong. "If this marriage means so little to you, why do you keep coming back to me, seeking comfort, seeking...me?"

"Seek pleasure?" He retorted, his voice low and edged with fury, goosebumps pebbled up my skin as he spoke. "Is that all you think this is?"

I stood my ground, my own rage flaring. "What else is it? You come home late, you barely talk to me during the day, and when you do, it's like you're checking off a list. But in bed—"

"In bed, what?" Chris interrupted sharply, stepping closer until we were almost chest to chest. "You think that's all there is between us?"

"You tell me!" I shot back, frustration and hurt driving my words. "Because from where I'm standing, you only care about the contract, to have sex and nothing else. You'll be nice one day and the next you become cold and distant."

His jaw tightened. "You don't know what I'm dealing with, Aria. I have a company and my responsibilities—"

"And what about me?" I challenged, my voice rising, stopping him from finishing what he wanted to say.

"I agree that you have a company to lead but don't I matter at all? I'm human and I have feelings Chris! Unlike you who has buried them under a mountain of paperwork, deadlines and alcohol."

Chris grunted, shaking his head and touching his forehead, his eyes narrowing with irritation spread all over his face. "I'm not heartless Aria. And of course you matter. But you knew what you signed up for."

I couldn't speak a word or argue back at him. I did sign up for this. I sealed my fate away to this man 3 months ago, as temporary partner.

And fuck my life for even thinking I could change his heart.

His gaze turned icy, meeting mine with a fierce, unyielding glare. "We both know why we're here. Don't start twisting it into something it's not. Maybe you should have thought about that before agreeing."

"So until this ends are you going to treat me like I'm some—"

Before I could finish, Chris moved faster than I could react. His hand clasped around my neck, not hard enough to choke me but enough to shut my mouth from the words that was about to come out. His glare sent a shiver down my spine as he pinned me against the wall, with his hand still wrapped around my neck, my heart pounded in my ears.

"Don't you dare fucking say that." He growled, his voice low and dangerously controlled. His eyes bore into mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I’d never seen him this angry, this intense, and it terrified me.

He held me for second and released me, oxygen rushed into my lungs even though his grip wasn't that tight.

"You're confronting me as if I touched you without your consent!" he snarled, anger coating his voice like thick gravel.

"I never kept a hand on you without making sure you feel comfortable around me and now you go and speak of me as if I was only using you? How little do you think of me?"

I shivered at the tone of his voice. I’d never seen this side of him before, this raw, unfiltered anger. It was as if the mask he usually wore had slipped, revealing the storm that raged beneath the surface.

But before I could respond, before I could find the words to defend myself, Chris leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "But don't lie Aria, you liked it too"

The accusation hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. Guilt, fear, sadness, frustration, a tsunami of emotions rushed through me, I momenterily lost my voice. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, each more overwhelming than the last.

Chris scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "What did you expect, Aria? This was never supposed to be a Disney movie. Princess finds her prince."

Tears welled up in my eyes, my hands trembling at my sides, curling into fists. Every word he said, every syllable that came out of his mouth pierced my chest like a knife twisting in my heart, each twist deepening the wound.

"I thought..." My voice cracked, I could feel the taste of pennies in my mouth as I spoke. "Maybe you could see beyond the contract," I managed to say, my voice wavering.

I wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at him, to make him see what he was doing to me, to us. But the words were lodged in my throat, choked off by the whirlwind of emotions that I couldn’t seem to control.

"See that there's more to us than just an agreement." Every word I spoke, the crack just dug deeper and deeper.

He took a step closer, his eyes blazing with intensity. "And what if I can't?" he demanded, his voice low and harsh. "What if this is all I can give you?"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have married me!" I cried, the words escaping before I could stop them. Chris's expression darkened, his jaw clenched.

"Yeah. I really shouldn't have," he muttered, almost to himself.

"But I didn't have a damn choice! Fuck it! I should have shown you the contract the day my father introduced you to me. Or maybe I should have just walked away,"

He continued, his voice dripping with bitterness. "But I didn't, and now we're both stuck in this mess."

That was it. The final blow. Something inside me shattered like a bullet to a glass window. The venom in his tone was more painful than I could have imagined.

Cold, glistening streaks ran down my cheeks.

"Why..." Swallowing the lump in my throat felt like a jagged stone scraping its way down.

"Why are you so cold...?" I whispered, searching his face for any sign of the man who had held me so tenderly just last night.

The way he made me feel so good, wrapping me with his arms and protected me with his warmth. But it wasn't that man in front of me anymore. He was replaced by someone mean, arrogant and stubborn.

"Am I?" he replied harshly. "You wanted the truth, Aria. There it is."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Anger and sorrow twisted inside me, tightening my chest until each heartbeat felt like a bruise against my ribcage.

I stared at him, my vision blurring with tears. "You're right," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"I wanted the truth. But I also wanted to believe that there was something more to us. That maybe, you felt might have something for me."

Chris kept running his hand through his hair, then his face frustration etched on as he spoke looking at me over his shoulder. "This isn't about feelings, Aria. This was never about feelings. This is about responsibility, about fulfilling a contract."

I sobbed uncontrollably, my eyes stung as the tears kept gushing out like a never ending waterfall, blurring my vision. I couldn't breath anymore. I needed air. The emotions were too heavy as they overwhelmed me, drowning in the vast ocean would have felt better than this.

"Do you even care?" I whispered again, not even understanding the point of my own question. He has said everything he had to say, what was the use anymore?

He slowly spun back around, his eyes locking onto mine. "I do care," he said fiercely. "But I can't give you what you want."

"And what is it that I want?" I challenged, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. I wanted to shake him and make him see how much he was hurting me, but I felt utterly powerless.

"Love? Affection? Something real?"

His eyes almost softened but a flicker of anger was still spread across his face. "I...I can't promise you..." he said quietly but before he finished his sentence, I wiped away my tears, feeling defeated and heartbroken and left his office, running upstairs to my room.

I fell on the bed and buried my face in the pillows, I cried till I was numb, till I felt like I had no more tears to cry out. Letting everything overwhelm and consume me till my vision slowly blacked out...

~

Bang Chan

CRASH!

The glass flew through the air, crashing against the wall with a violent force like a gunshot, reverberating through the room and shattering on impact, sending sharp shards exploding in every direction.

My chest rose and fell heavily as I sank onto my chair, sliding both my hands up my hair trying to put out the strands. Irritation, anger, rage crawled up my skin, a toxic mixture that felt like it was going to consume me. I pushed away the documents lying on my desk, watching as they scattered across the room, fluttering like defeated soldiers.

Defeated and lifeless.

"Why did it have to come to this?" I muttered under my breath, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. I had always prided myself on my control, on my ability to keep my emotions in check.

But with Aria, everything was different. She had a way of breaking through the walls I had built, had found a crack, slipped through the defenses I had carefully constructed.

I had told her what this was. I had made it clear from the beginning, hadn’t I? But the memory of her eyes—red-rimmed, filled with hurt—stabbed at me. The way she looked at me, her expression twisted with pain and accusation, as if I had taken something vital from her, something I didn’t even know how to give back.

A strong pang of guilt gnawed in my chest, her sunshine personality overtaken by hatred, neglect and despair. Everytime I wanted to speak to her, I backed off, refusing to let her overtake my mind, heart and soul.

I hated that I hated her��for making me lose control. Some part buried in the depths of my chest hated that I had treated her in a way that made her question me for only using her. And I hated that I had hurt her.

Every part of my body burned in an inextinguishable fire, eating me alive.

Her words echoed in my mind, haunting me. The pain in her eyes cut deeper than any physical wound I had ever felt. I didn't go upstairs to find her nor to my room. Staying in my study with a chaotic mess surrounding me, I sighed in frustration, the weight of what happened settling heavily on my shoulders.

***

I had fallen asleep on the couch of my study. The morning sunglight shone directly at my face as I woke up, remembering the events from last night like a relentless waves crashing against the shore.

The floor was scattered with documents and shards of glass, I slowly got up and grabbed my phone from the desk, it was in the morning. I opened the camera app on the phone and saw my reflection, I looked HORRENDOUS.

Dark circles under my eyes, disheveled hair, and a faint stubble on my face hinting at a night of unrest. Last night replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment etched with regret and frustration. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the pounding headache that accompanied my thoughts.

Carefully making my to the door, trying not to step on any glass pieces, I exited my study and went to the living room. It was hollow and empty, like walking into a graveyard. No sign of Aria or Deliah, before I turned around and spotted Daniel entering the mansion from the entrance to the pool in the back.

"Oh Mr. Bang, good morning" He said as he spotted me, nodding gently. "Morning, Daniel," I greeted, my voice rough from the night's turmoil.

I glanced around the somber room, noting the absence of life that had usually filled these halls for the past three months.

"Where is everyone?"

Daniel hesitated, his usually calm demeanor faltering slightly. "I believe Mrs. Bang is still in her room sir. She is usually down here during the morning" My heart sank for some reason, but I maintained my composure.

"And Deliah?"

"She's in the kitchen, sir. Would you like me to prepare breakfast?" Daniel offered, his expression sympathetic.

I nodded, ruffling my hair "Yes, please. Just coffee for now."

I pulled a chair from the dining table, waiting for Daniel to bring my coffee, when I heard the sound of soft footsteps descending the stairs.

A few seconds later, Aria entered the room, her eyes widening as she saw me. Her eyes fell on me, then the floor, she turned around to go back upstairs, probably wanting me to leave.

I got up my seat, pushing the chair against the wooden floor and strode towards her. "Aria, wait," I called her but she ignored like she didn't hear me.

I was too tired and sleep deprived to recieve her silent treatment, taking two steps at a time, I caught upto her as she made it upstairs.

"Aria." The tone of my voice made her stop, her hand hesitating on the glass railing.

She looked at me over her shoulder, I could feel her expression guarded yet vulnerable. The distance between us felt like an unspoken chasm, filled with unsaid words and emotions tangled in a web of misunderstanding.

I went up and stood in front of her, her eyes avoiding direct contact with mine. "What do you want, Chris?" Aria's voice was soft but edged with a hint of defiance.

I took a deep breath, the weight of last night's argument still heavy on my chest. "I want to talk," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Aria bit her lip, her eyes finally meeting mine, I finally saw her face up close. Swollen and puffy eyes with a hint of dark circles and flushed cheeks, her usually vibrant expression was replaced with a look of exhaustion and sadness.

Her fingers tightened on the railing. "There's nothing left to talk about," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "You made yourself pretty clear last night."

"I didn't—"

She cut me off, raising a hand up infront of my face, her voice rising in frustration.

"You meant every word, so don't try to take it back. What do you want from me?"

A painful shot of guilt pierced through my chest again, leaving me with no room for defense. If only she knew how much I hated that I made her feel this way but I couldn't say it out loud. I leaned closer to her, reaching out instinctively to hold her hand, but she backed a step, another sharp sting of rejection slicing in my chest.

"I want..." My voice wavered, grappling with the chaos inside. Nothing I say would fix but I still said it. "I want to fix this."

"You can't fix empty words Chris. You made your stance clear." She shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and determination.

"Now please, if you can let me go". She turned and walked away from me, closing the door to her room, shutting behind her, leaving me regretting and grappling with the conflict in me.

I went back downstairs and grabbed my coffee, heading to my room to get ready for work. An hour later I drove to the headquarters, and as I arrived, Lee Know was outside my office room, looking up his phone as he saw me approaching.

"Hey," he greeted, his face remained neutral and emotionless like always.

"Morning. What brings you here?" I asked as I unlocked the door with the passcode, he followed me from closely behind, but my mind was racing with weight of the argument with Aria.

"Just checking in to see if your ass is doing anything useful instead of fuming all day" A knowing smug grin played across his face as I glared at him, tossing my keys on the desk.

"Fuck off." I shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. I was too tired, too drained to muster any real anger.

He let out a deep chuckle, rolling his eyes. I could feel a tension between us but it was familiar. "Really. I'm just checking since I'm off today. You looked like shit yesterday, which you always are, and looks like today isn't better either"

I exhaled audibly, sinking into my chair and so did Lee Know taking a seat in front of me. "Aria and I had an argument last night." I said as he cocked an eyebrow.

"About what?" He replied unimpressed.

I let out a bitter laugh at his response, shaking my head as I recounted what had happened, the whole damn mess spilling out. Lee Know listened, his expression unreadable at first, but as I spoke, I could see the irritation growing in his eyes. When I finished, he rubbed his forehead, clearly exasperated.

"You're a real genius you know that?" he groaned, his tone laced with frustration.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"It means," He said, leaning forward, "that you have the emotional intelligence of a brick. You really thought telling her she knew what she signed up for was a good idea?"

"What else was I supposed to say?" I shot back.

He snorted, giving me a look of disbelief. "Oh, I don't know? Maybe not remind her constantly that your marriage is just a one-year contract with no feelings involved? You could've thrown in a romantic 'I never loved you anyway' for good measure."

I glared at him. "Very helpful. Thanks." Annoyance coating in my voice.

He shrugged, unfazed. "I'm just saying, you managed to turn an already shitty situation into a full-blown disaster. Congratulations."

"I was trying to be honest," I muttered, frustration boiling over.

"Your honesty is stupidity." Lee Know retorted. "You're supposed to at least pretend to care about her feelings."

"I do care about her feelings," I insisted.

"Sure doesn't sound like it," He said dryly.

A few minutes of stretching silence passed, the air in my office felt thick and suffocating. It was so silent, I could hear my watch ticking.

"Start by apologising,"Lee Know broke the silence after God know's how many minutes passed, I looked at him cocking an eyebrow. "I don't know what the fuck you're gonna do or to tell you, so figure it out. Maybe get some flowers or something." He kept talking while he doodled something on my memo pad.

"Great advice Dr.Phil."

"You can't just treat people like chess pieces. She's not a pawn in your grand plan, Chris. She's your wife."

I rubbed a hand over my face as he looked up from his doodles, leaning back on the chair.

"And I don't need explain more."

"I'll figure something out," I grabbed the water bottle on my desk and glupped down the whole thing.

He looked up with a sly but irritated smirk. "Good. Fix it and try not to fuck up this time."

"Thanks," I huffed.

"Anytime," he replied, standing up. "You're lucky I can play a therapist. Or else you'll have to pay a good amount for someone to listen to your bullshit"

I let out a lazy laugh as Lee Know turned towards the exit, waving his hand over the shoulder, leaving me alone in my office. And as he left, I felt a strange mix of irritation and clarity. But for the first time, I kind of felt like I had a plan.

------------------------

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Next Chapter

[rendy-a]

Congrats on the followers 🥳

For the self aware au with Malleus's thing about not being invited to events what about reader making sure he gets an invite by inviting him to the dance with them

Writing this one sure was a roller coaster! I wrote half of it with some random plot that I had no plans for. I'm glad I got a sudden inspiration on how to tie it together! Thanks for joining my event. I hope you like it!

You’d never have suspected that you’d become a member of the fashion police in another world.  Not that you’d put in any effort into it.  People just seemed to ask your opinion on things.  Ever since the dance was announced, the number of random students who would stop you in the hall to pull out a handkerchief or pair of socks and eagerly request your opinion on the color or material was growing.  You weren’t sure you were even qualified to give expert opinions on otherworldly fashion, but it didn’t seem to matter.  Any item you deemed nice was shown off like a treasure.  If you should happen to pause or trail off instead, the article in question was quickly hidden from view and the unfortunate student requesting evaluation of such an inferior item scurried off equally as quick. 

It surprised you greatly when the requests began and even more when you started to notice some of the names requesting a moment of your time.  Azul asked you to weigh in on a tie.  Kalim came with an armful of bangles that only you could possibly select the best from.  Even Vil had one day haughtily remarked he was going to wear his hair up to the dance and subtly prodded you for an opinion on that.  You had no business giving Savanaclaw A advice on his fashion, let alone Vil, but each time you were requested an opinion, you answered honestly.  Overtime, you’d come to give just about every member of the main cast advice, including the teachers!

Professor Crewel smiled at you like you’d preformed a wonderful trick, “Well done, pup.”  You smiled back indulgently, used to the unique way he addressed his students.  “You may go, Prefect,” Crewel replied, still gazing at the boots you’d said suit him well.  You’d almost made it to the door when Crewel’s voice stopped you, “Matching colors.”  You paused and turned toward him, “What was that?”  Crewel turned his sharp gaze to you, “Everyone is waiting to see whom you attempt to coordinate with.  Such a show of favoritism means a great deal to a young man.  And if it’s with you…”  Oh, well.  That was a complication you didn’t need.

---

“Get this junk out of here!” Grim complained for the third time tonight.  You look up from the assortment of notes you have spread out over the floor and remind him, “I can’t do that Grim.  If I pick someone to favor, I’m only going to trigger…I don’t know what.  Mass overblot?  Chaos in the streets?  Who knows!”  Grim opens his mouth to disagree but then appears to think twice about it.  “So, what are you gonna do about it then?” he asks softly.  You gesture to the massive network of notes, “I just have to find it here; a color that no one is wearing and pick that one.  Then no one can get offended or misunderstand.” 

From all the fashion advice you’d been giving out, you had a vague idea of what each character of the main cast and good portion of the general student body would be wearing.  That information was spread out on notecards across the Ramshackle Dorm’s floor.  Only, finding the thing you needed was harder than you anticipated.  You’d tried organizing the students by color family, school years and dorms before looking for that elusive missing shade.  Maybe it was Grim walking over your notes or perhaps it was the Ramshackle ghosts playing tricks but every time you think you have it; a card will turn up with your chosen color, turning your unique shade into a matching pair.  

“Ugh,” you toss a handful of cards up, “This is hopeless.”  Grim looks at you from the table where he eats his tuna, avoiding your little project as much as he is able, “So don’t go then.”  You sit up and consider, is that an option?  You tried to picture it.  ‘What do you mean They aren’t coming!  Let’s start a riot!  Everyone to Ramshackle, let’s drag Them out!’  Ok, you were probably being dramatic but still, people in this world weren’t normal about you.  “So, I guess everyone has to go then,” you say as you throw an arm across your eyes and moan to Grim about your ordeal.  He endures your antics for a moment before he mutters, “Not everyone,” under his breath.

You drop your arm and look at him, “What do you mean, Grim?”  He gestures with his eating utensil to your pile of cards, “Tsunataro isn’t there.  Why do I hafta attend a dance if he doesn’t?” Grim scrunches his face and shouts, “I only wanna go to the banquet!  The party ends when the food is gone!”  You’d already tuned out Grim’s complaint on food, instead focusing on Malleus’s omission.  That can’t be right.  You’d have noticed if Malleus wasn’t in your notes, wouldn’t you?  You head over to the Diasomina stack and rifle through them, no Malleus.  Could it be mis-sorted?  You check the entire collection again but still no Malleus.    “How can this happen?  I get that he doesn’t get invited in the game but why didn’t I notice?” you gesture dramatically, “I mean I even sorted them by dorm, for crying out loud!”  Grim slowly chews a bite of tuna as he watches you, “You know, I don’t like to bring it up since you are who you are and all but…why do you think you are so special that you can go against the Will of the World?” 

You consider that point.  When you’d first met Grim, well, you’d sort of freaked out at him.  He’d listened to your ravings about games and characters before calming you down.  He was the only ‘person’ you actually spoke to about the game world and, somehow, he seemed to both believe you and guide you through your unusual situation.  So, when Grim suggests that you are also being restricted by the game plot, you have to give the idea merit and it made you profoundly sad.  You had a soft spot for Malleus, he was one of your favorite characters, and now you might end up forgetting about him like the rest of the cast? 

You put aside your quest for the perfect color, having grown frustrated with that anyway, and pulled out your phone.  Unsurprisingly, you didn’t have Malleus’s number.  Nor Lilia’s, which was odder considering what a social butterfly he was.  You scrolled through your contacts, searching for someone you thought might know his number and settled on Cater.  You seemed to recall a vignette where Cater forgot to invite Malleus to a party, which was not the best of signs, but at least it suggested he had a method of contacting him.

[Hey, Cater!  It’s just me.]

[YES]

[I mean hi there Great One]

[I mean buddy…great buddy]

[What can Cay-Cay do for you?]

[Do you have Malleus’s number by chance?]

[Oh noes!  I don’t!  So sorry!]

[But I do have Lills number!]

[Want Cay-Cay to hook you up?]

If you texted Lilia, then he’d have your number.  He can be…rather odd sometimes.  Perhaps it was best not to let more people have access to your number.

[Can you just pass a message along?  Ask him to make sure Malleus is invited to the dance?]

[Sure!  You can count on me!]

You couldn’t count on him.  It wasn’t until the very night of the dance that you pulled out your phone to plan where to meet up with your friends and saw the old text.  You felt a foreboding sense of dread for you had fully forgotten about the situation until that very moment.  The power of the plot was no joke.

[Hey Cater]

[Hiiii]

[Are you here?]

[Where are you?]

[Do you need me?  I’ll do anything you need]

Of course, he was freaking out.  You interrupted his text stream.

[Focus!]

[Did you get that message to Malleus about the dance?]

[Ah, Malleus.  Of course.  Let me check]

You didn’t consider texting to be particularly personal, but you can feel disappointment through the text.  You’d have to make it up to him.  While you were waiting, you took a selfie and sent it to Cater. #readytodance.  There, that should cheer him up a bit.

[Ah!  You look so cute in that!]

[I’m totes jealous of your style]

You can picture him making his signature v hand sign as he says that.  At least you could count on Cater to be easy to distract.

[Lils says Malleus was out when he got the text and he forgot]

[I’m SOOOO sorry!]

Dammit.  So, after all your bravado, you’d let him get left out of a social event again.  Some all-knowing Player you were. You sigh and look at the ceiling for a long moment until you hear your phone’s notification chime again.

[So…are you still coming?]

You look at the question puzzled.  What else would you be doing?  You’d spent all this time finding this horrid shade of pink to wear just to attend.  Why did he think your plans might change?  Then you had it.  A smile came over your lips as you knew exactly what you should be doing instead.

[Yeah, tell the guys I’m just going to be a little late.]

---

The towers of Diasomnia gave off an imposing aura, like that of their master.  The sudden and frequent lightning strikes did nothing to tone down the atmosphere.  He clearly realized he’d been forgotten again and was deep into a sulk.  You kept a wary eye on the sky as you crept closer to the castle gates and finally felt less dread once you were inside.  You didn’t exactly know where Malleus would be but sort of figured you’d try the top of the tallest tower and see how that went.  This was a storybook inspired world, after all.  True to tale, that was where you found him, gazing deep into the darkening night from his window with a sever frown set upon his face.

You knocked carefully on the doorframe.  “Hey,” you called out gently, gaining his attention.  “It’s you,” he says in surprise, “Why, whatever are you doing here alone?” You give him a mournful smile, “That’s what I was going to ask you.”  He clicks his teeth in annoyance, “Where else would I be?  I’m not wanted at their little celebration.  I’ve not such bad manners to attend a party I’m not invited to.  Even if everyone else has been.  The royalty, the nobility, the gentry…” You gesture to yourself and finish for him, “Even the rabble.”   At that, he looks upset, “Certainly not.  I’ll let no one refer to you so.”  You waive your hand, calming down the ire of your draconian friend.

“It was a joke!” you assure him, “I just…thought this color didn’t suit me is all.”  He considers your pink formal wear.  “Is it not to your liking?” he asks musingly.  “Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that.  It’s more that I didn’t really pick it out totally myself,” you sigh, “There was a whole situation there.  I couldn’t let anyone think I was showing favor or inviting a date or…”  You trailed off, getting an idea.  “Actually, Malleus, what do you think if we…”

---

You stood at the door to the gardens where the ballroom venue had been set up.  You smiled at Malleus, who stands by your side, and give his hand a nervous squeeze.  “Are you ready for this?”  You were worried about the reaction this entrance is going to cause but apparently Malleus is unphased, “With you by my side, Prefect, I am prepared for anything.”  Perhaps this should have made you happy to hear but all it did was to remind you that even a great dragon mage like Malleus believed ordinary you were capable of amazing feats because you were the famed Player.  Well, if you manage to open this door without setting off a riot, maybe he was right.  You stepped in front of the door, grasped the handle, pulled it open and entered the ballroom.

Two things happened immediately.  Firstly, you looked in shock at the sea of pink filling the ballroom.  You’d spent weeks helping the students of NRC choose outfits and sneakily collecting notes on what they planned to wear only to have basically everyone change their formal wear last minute.  And to pink, surprisingly.  At the same time you were entering the ballroom and taking in the array of pink, the gathered students were noticing you.  And how you weren’t wearing pink.

“GREEN!” Epel shouts, “Why’m I wearin’ PINK if the Prefect is wearin’ GREEN!”  The aggravated boy isn’t alone.  A crowd of angry students gather around Cater.  Azul pushes his glasses up and peers at Cater from between his fingers as he speaks enquiringly, “Were you attempting to make fools of us, Cater?”  The nervous third year glances at the menacing Leech twins that accompany Azul, all three in matching pink suits and fedoras.  “Of course not!” Cater stammers with his hands up, “Why would I be dressed like this otherwise?”  The formidable crowd of pink adorned students considers Cater and his equally pink formal wear carefully.

“Hey guys,” you say as you carefully push your way through the crowd, Malleus following in your wake, “What…what’s going on here?”  Cater clutches onto your sleeve and exclaims, “PREFECT!  I’m SO GLAD to see you HERE.  In…in green.  Wha, what happened to the pink from that pic?  You…you looked so good in that.”  You give him a sheepish smile, “Ah yes, about that…”  You gesture to Malleus who smiles proudly at your side, “I thought it would be better to match with Malleus, since he is always getting left out of things like this.  So, I had him use some color-changing magic to change my clothes to Diasomnia green!” 

There is a moment of silence as everyone takes that in.  Then that silence is broken when Jamil smiles a most devious smile and remarks, “Color-changing magic?  Is that so?”  Then several other students look slyly at each other and draw their magic pens.  “Hey,” you say backing away slowly, “Let’s not go crazy here…”  It’s not surprising when Deuce, who rarely thinks things over, is first to shout his spell.  It is unfortunate though, that his magic is so unpracticed, resulting in your garment taking over a spattered pattern of blue; much like paint covering the cloth. 

“That won’t do,” you hear Riddle tut from the side of you, “I’ll fix that up for you.  My apologies, Prefect.”  With that, a much firmer wave of magic washes over you and you see that your formal wear is now a vibrant red.  “Red?” you say questioningly before looking up to see a sly smiling Riddle has also changed his own garment back to the original Queen’s Red.  “I see how you want to play this,” Vil remarks sharply, “Well, if you want a challenge, you’ve got one! Rook!” The deviously smiling huntsman barely joins the Dorm leader of Pomefiore before an utter cacophony of spells begins.  In just a few moments, you were hit with at least fifty spells, causing you no harm but nearly knocking you off your feet. 

Malleus catches you, lending you a supporting hand and you look up at him gratefully.  Then you sadly consider the state of your formal wear.  So many spells landing at once seems to have caused an unexpected reaction.  Now, instead of your garment being one color, it shifted from one to the next as each spell fought for dominance over your clothes.  You look beseechingly at Crowley, who is chaperoning the dance.  He sighs, “There isn’t anything to be done until it settles, I’m afraid.”  You look at Malleus for confirmation but he only frowns, not able to meet your disappointed gaze.  You feel a pat on your back and Lilia remarks, “You know, it has a certain charm this way.  Yes, I rather like it.” 

You give him an exasperated sigh, shaking the hem of your color shifting garment, “I can barely look at it.”  Lilia laughs and suggests, “Well then don’t look!  You’re not meant to look down when dancing anyway.”  Such practical advice from Lilia makes you snort at him, but his words have reached you.  Fine then, you can’t change the situation, but you could control how the rest of the night went.  The three fae waited patiently for you to respond.   You turn and calmly ask, “Malleus, may I invite you to dance?”  With a glad smile, he takes your hand and leads you to the floor.  You glide through the dance with your prince and color changing garment.  First pink, then green and now blue.  It’s a sight like something from a tale you’d heard long ago.  A tale you’d make end happily ever after.  It was up to you to decide; you were the Player, after all.

---

Malleus happily opens his shrine to the Player and adds a scrap of unusual color shifting fabric to the collection.  For now, his treasure would sparkle and change; offering him a reminder of the first dance he’d ever been invited to (and by the Player, no less!).  Someday, he knew the magic would fade and the small scrap of fabric would settle on one color.  No matter what color that was, Malleus knew that he’d change it to green.  Afterall, it didn’t matter how the story began, just that it ended with you and him paired in Diasomnia green.  He had to honor your decisions.  You’d chosen him and you were the Player, after all.

[leftoverbriocheloaf]

Going to say number 4 for the fic snippit thing

(honeslty impressive how many wips you have)

Oooooh I'm v excited for this one in particular

Here's the snippet, and I'll post more about the au at the bottom!!

“Solved it!”

Edgar freezes, his train of thought entirely cut off as he turns to his competitor. He doesn't notice the files slip out of his hands, fluttering to the ground. That's… impossible. There was barely enough time to look at the clues individually, much less solve the case. He can't be telling the truth. A voice in the back of his mind urges Edgar to look back at the papers, to ignore the man who had to be lying and solve the case and win. But he finds himself frozen, his eyes glued to the detective standing only meters away.

“It was easy, really,” the man starts, shrugging. His shawl flutters with the movement, and his glasses reflect the harsh fluorescent lights beating down on them both. “It was supposed to be a suicide, but she messed up the steps. The killer, her boyfriend, found her dying in a suuuuper painful way, and he knew the only way to help her was to end her suffering. That’s why there wasn’t a struggle.”

The man gestures flippantly as he talks, pushing up his glasses every few movements, and Edgar can only watch in growing disbelief and horror as he talks about which files and what seemingly innocuous blood spatters led him to his decision. He sounds bored, as if he were doing them a favor by explaining his thought process. It makes Edgar's blood boil.

When the man ends his tirade, the room is silent. Edgar can’t help but think that he must be a performer; he weaves a story with the barest of threads and tells it like undeniable truth, leaving the audience hanging on to his every word.

“H– How?” Edgar is the first to speak, his mouth moving before his mind can figure out whether it wants the answer or not. It’s a quiet question, barely loud enough for even him to hear. Even still, the man turns to him with a self-satisfied grin.

“How?” he repeats, his smile wide as he opens his eyes, which are startlingly green even behind his glasses. “I’m the greatest detective in the world! It's obvious to someone like me.”

The man's gaze burns. Edgar feels it crawl under his skin, and he’s sure in that moment that even if he scratched down his very bones, it wouldn’t disappear. Shame spreads like a brand along his spine, creeping up his neck and burning behind his eyes. He bites his tongue to avoid embarrassing himself further, but a fiery pain lingers, dotting across his shoulder blades like pin pricks. 

Vaguely, Edgar hears the judge stand, shock in his voice as he offers congratulations to–

“The first place winner, Ranpo Edogawa!”

-------------

Basically this is a soulmate au where the first time you speak to your soulmate, an image (kind of like a tattoo?) is branded on some portion of your body. It can be an animal or just smth that resonates with them, like a flower or item. But Edgar thinks that the pain that comes with its formation (bc the image literally burns itself onto some people) is just a manifestation of his anger, so he deludes himself into thinking that if he kills Ranpo, it will stop hurting

(Really, the problem is that his hatred is so ingrained that his "brand" can't heal and become what it's supposed to be)

But this one is definitely going to be an angstier one, because I'm trying to write some more heavy fics to contrast a lot of my fluffier stuff (but tbh I always end up w fluffy stuff anyway so,,) but the crux of it is Edgar letting himself heal, even if its a VERY bumpy road

I love soulmate aus, and this is one I thought of randomly and HAD to write lmfao, and kudos to you if you read this far!! Ty for the ask @hemlocksweetcandy <3333

(and thank you aslkdjs I live in a WIP prison of my own making)

[2nd2ndalto]

You Deserve a Break Today

I started this months ago and finally hauled it out to finish it this week. Inspired by this post from @coldbasementruins:

~~~~~

Will is halfway up a ladder in the storeroom when he hears raised voices from the front of the restaurant. He sighs, frustrated. This is usually a quiet point in the day, and he'd been hoping to get some work done. As he climbs down and makes his way to the front counter, Will notes that the raised voice is Octavian's. Not a complete surprise.

Octavian's not a bad employee, exactly. But he tends to get too caught up in minutiae, often at the expense of getting along with his colleagues. And sometimes the customers.

On one level, Will get it. Customer service can be a bitch. But while Will doesn't want to manage this McDonalds for the rest of his life, that's no reason to be a dick about it while he's here.

"Hey Octavian," Will says mildly, sidling up to the murderous-looking young man at the front counter. "What's up?"

"This customer," (Octavian says the word as one might say pedophile, and Will restrains himself from rolling his eyes) "wants to order a Happy Meal."

"Yeah, and?" Will says tiredly.

"Just look at him," Octavian hisses.

Will does, and... wow, he's really pretty. Like, breathtaking. All dark wide eyes and delicate features and glossy dark hair falling into his face. Will realizes he’s staring and quickly wrenches his gaze back to Octavian.

"Well?" Octavian asks.

"Well, uh... well what?" Will stammers, trying to collect himself. He's pretty sure Octavian didn't just want him to see how hot this guy is. But he's having trouble remembering the other reason. Because, like, Will's heard people described as breathtaking before. But he's never experienced it quite so... immersively. He feels lightheaded.

"Happy Meals are for children. He’s not a child," Octavian seethes.

"He's - you..." Will squeezes the bridge of his nose. "Octavian, look. Why don't you head into the back and help Kayla with the shipment?" Will says, keeping his tone as even as he can manage. "I'll take over up here."

Octavian shoots one more dark look at the poor (gorgeous, flawless) boy standing on the other side of the counter, but he complies.

Will sighs, turning back to the dark-haired boy. God, those eyes are incredibly distracting. What was he going to say again?

Will clears his throat. "You will have a Happy Meal," Will announces, too loud, too bossy.

The boy looks startled, and two customers seated at a nearby table turn their heads in surprise.

Shit.

"Um. I mean. Would you like a Happy Meal?" Will cringes. He can feel his ears burning, and fervently hopes he can finish this interaction before the flush spreads to his entire face.

"Um, yeah. If that's okay," the boy says tentatively. "Cheeseburger?"

"Yeah, of course," Will shakes his head, punching in the order. "I'm sorry about..." he waves his hand vaguely in the direction that Octavian disappeared. "I'm sorry about Octavian. Just between you and me, he’s... well, he might not be cut out for customer service," Will admits.

The boy lets out a small laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up and Jesus he's even prettier when he smiles. This really isn’t fair. Will has a restaurant to run, for god's sake.

“Book or toy?” Will asks weakly.

“Um. Toy,” the boy answers, sounding a little embarrassed. “I’m uh… I’m trying to get Squirtle.” He nods towards the display of miniature Pokemon stuffies.

Will grins. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The boy ducks his head, looking shy. “Thanks.” He pulls out his wallet.

“Oh, no,” Will waves him off. “It’s on the house. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s the least he can do after this poor guy had to deal with Octavian, right? That’s definitely the only reason.

The boy glances back up, surprised. “Thank you,” he says. His gaze lingers on Will a moment longer. It’s magnetic, mesmerizing. Will realizes he’s not breathing.

“I’ll uh - I’ll bring it out to you,” Will manages. “Go… make yourself at home.” He gestures to the seating area.

Make yourself at home, Will’s brain helpfully echoes as he walks back to the kitchen. What a stupid fucking thing to say.

It’s Austin who catches him with his forehead pressed to the cool tile wall next to the walk-in cooler.

Austin chuckles. “Octavian getting to you?”

Will turns, a little desperate. “Yeah. I mean, always. But there’s… there’s this really cute guy,” he chokes, waving vaguely towards the front of the restaurant.

Austin shrugs. “So ask for his number.”

“But he’s a customer. Isn’t that like… it seems… unethical,” Will protests.

“Will.” Austin grabs him by the shoulders. “This is a McDonalds. It’s not like you’re his doctor.”

But after a brief and intense internal battle, Will finds he just… can’t.

He does find the Squirtle, though, after a panicked search through the storeroom. He throws in an apple pie for good measure. Hovering surreptitiously behind the coffee machines, Will delights in the smile that blooms on the boy’s face as he opens the Happy Meal box.

Will’s just kicking himself for the dozenth time for being a chicken and an idiot as he grabs a cloth and spray bottle and heads out to wipe tables. Mostly to get further away from the growing tension between Octavian and Kayla.

He scans the restaurant, his heart sinking a little when he realizes it’s empty. Not that he likely would have worked up the nerve to ask the boy for his number this time, either.

But then a hand catches his arm, gentle. Will whirls, nearly losing his balance.

Dark eyes widen in dismay and the boy tightens his grip as Will rights himself.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says.

Will’s already shaking his head, his face heating. “No, it’s fine. I’m… a little twitchy.”

And there’s that heartstopping smile again. Jesus Christ.

Will swallows. “Is um - is everything okay? “Was there a problem with your meal?”

“No, it was great,” the boy says. “Um...” He holds Will’s gaze again, all dark liquid eyes and long lashes. It feels like falling. Like flying.

The boy’s nose scrunches adorably. “This might sound stupid,” he says, “but I was having a really shitty day - I failed a chem exam and my roommate nearly burnt down our apartment last night. And then with your co-worker there –” he continues, and Will interrupts.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that –”

“No,” the boy shakes his head, smiling. “I just wanted to say - I thought that was going to be the last straw and I was going to burst into tears in the middle of a McDonalds. But then you - you were just…” He swallows, his brow furrowed. “Thanks for being nice to me,” he finishes softly. “It might not seem like much, but… it meant a lot.”

“Oh.” Will smiles. “Sure. Of course. I’m glad I could help.”

Now that they’re standing without a counter between them, Will realizes that the other boy is almost a head shorter than him. He’s slight-shouldered and slim, and though he’s a little intimidating in his leather jacket and combat boots, there’s something undeniably soft about him. Will kind of wants to pull him into his arms and smell his hair. Or maybe shove him up against the muffin display and kiss him senseless. But that would be really unprofessional. Probably.

The boy takes a deep breath, shifting nervously. “This might sound stupid too, and please don’t feel bad about saying no, but um. Would you maybe want to go out sometime? With me?”

Will can feel himself grinning like an absolute idiot. “Yeah,” he says. “I would.”

“Okay, cool,” the other boy breathes, looking relieved.

“I’m Nico, by the way,” he says as they exchange numbers.

“Nico.” Will repeats, smiling. Nico. He likes the way the name feels on his tongue. Nico. He’d like to say it a lot, he thinks.

“I’m Will,” Will says, tapping his nametag.

Nico smiles shyly. “Yeah. I noticed.” He sticks out his hand, like he’s suddenly remembered to do it. “Nice to meet you.”

Nico’s hand is warm. A bit smaller than Will’s. It’s stupid to think so, but it feels as if they fit perfectly together.

“Um…” Will begins, gazing again into those dark eyes. But then there’s a crash and a shout from the back, and Will sighs, not really sure what he was going to say anyway.

Nico grimaces. “I should let you go.”

“Yeah,” Will says reluctantly. He glances at his watch. “Ninety-two more minutes.”

Nico laughs. “You could text me when you’re done. Like, if you wanted to.”

Will beams.

As he makes his way towards the sound of raised voices in the back of the restaurant, he muses that shifts with Octavian are almost always eventful. But he doesn’t mind how this one has turned out in the least.

~~~~~

Notes:

Thank you @coldbasementruins for the prompt!

I've never worked at a McDonalds. I do eat there too often.

This was supposed to be 1000 words! It is not.

Thanks for reading!