#{What even is the point to posting an open starter?} | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blainesebastian · 2 months ago

Text

unexpected (ccg universe)

words: 3,865 ship: austin butler x female reader rating: PG summary: i have gotten so many second baby pregnancy requests from anons that i can't even post them all lol but convos with @stylespresleyhearted finally pushed me over the edge 🤧 notes: ccg universe masterlist here, regular masterlist here

Here’s the thing—maybe at this point in your life, you should just assume that things aren’t going to happen as you expect they will.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

You didn’t expect to work on a movie set with Austin Butler. You didn’t expect to fall in love with him, that he’d love you in return. You didn’t expect to date, get married, or have a baby.

And you certainly didn’t expect to get pregnant for the second time.

Yet here you are.

Finding out you’re pregnant again is an absolute blur. For starters, you take three different (yes, three) tests to make sure. It wasn’t something you both were planning, but things happen, and there wasn’t any use in bringing it up to Austin until you were one hundred percent sure. Well—three tests later, two blue lines, one plus and one PREGNANT later…

You sit on the tests for about a day, unsure when and what to tell your husband. Which is…so silly because it’s not like you’re not happy? You’re just scared. You think you know how he’s going to react, but then again, things are crazy with Luci running around in her terrible twos and both of your schedules filled with films and meetings and outings.

Is there time for another baby?

You and Austin are making breakfast with Luci when you finally decide to just tell him. You hold onto your breath so long that you start to feel dizzy before passing him one of the tests when he asks for a fork.

His long fingers wrap around the test and he kinda blinks before his head snaps to you.

“Really?” He asks.

Your eyes fill with tears before you quickly nod, “Yeah,” You reply breathlessly, “Yeah.” You swallow, curling your hair around your ear, “I know it’s not something we really talked about but…if…if you’re happy—”

“Happy?” Austin interrupts, setting the test on the counter. He shakes his head, voice gruff with emotion. He knows you, knows you far too well. “Of course I’m happy,” He quickly moves to where you’re standing, cupping your face with both hands. “I couldn’t be happier.”

That seems to crack open a dam inside of you and you laugh, the sound coming out wet as your hands wrap around his wrists, “Really?”

He grins, nodding, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Really.” He says against them before slipping to the floor. He kneels in front of you, hugging you around your middle, pressing a few kisses that are way too ticklish to your belly.

Luci has no idea what’s going on other than she wanders over with her stuffed dino, sees her father kneeling on the floor, and then proceeds to make her dino kiss your leg.

“Kisses.”

Austin laughs softly, running a hand through his hair as he pulls back. He moves to scoop your daughter up, standing up off the floor.

“Can we give mama a kiss?” He asks her, leaning her forward until Luci plants a big kiss to your cheek.

Letting out a soft sound, you move to thread your fingers through one of Luci’s haphazard ponytails, “What do you think about havin’ a brother or sister, Luc?”

There’s a long moment, you’re not sure if she completely understands what you’re talking about. But then— “No thank you.” Honestly, you have no idea why you expected any other answer.

You and Austin can’t help but grin.

Turns out, ‘unexpected’ seems to be the theme for this entire pregnancy.

Something that you and Austin decided right away was that this pregnancy was going to be a bit different in terms of spotlight. Obviously family members and really close friends would get to know, but everything else? That’s last on the list. Neither of you have any regrets when it came to Luci, how public it all was. But keeping this more private this time around feels like a good change of pace, not to mention it’ll be a lot less stressful for you and the baby.

It seems to be exactly what you need, because—

“What are you saying?” You ask your doctor, your grip on Austin’s hand tight and unnerved.

The doctor draws in a soft breath, flipping through your chart, “It’s just something we want to keep an eye on,” He says gently, too gentle. Your hormones are already out of whack and you can’t handle someone babying you.

“You said I was high-risk.” Your voice takes on a grating edge you don’t recognize and Austin attempts to soothe you by drawing his thumb back and forth on your knuckles.

“I said the pregnancy was high-risk.” The doctor looks at you both, “It can happen sometimes with second times around. Not to mention that your stress levels tend to be a bit elevated in general.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. You know you’ve always had a bit of anxiety, usually when it came to making big decisions in your life—career paths, family moves, relationships, those sorts of things. Creating a space for yourself knee-deep in the film industry didn’t help that, either, but you’ve never had any regrets.

Not until this shadow of a doubt within this very moment.

“It’s just something to keep an eye on.” The doctor repeats, as if that’s helping anything.

Austin seems to sense that you’re about to have Luci-level tantrum with your doctor so he clears his throat and nods, “Thanks doc, we’ll be in touch.”

He nods, setting your chart down in the wall slot before heading out of the exam room, closing the door behind him.

You let out a long sigh, running both hands over your face, grateful that Jillian has Luci for the afternoon so you could go to this appointment without a two-year-old unleashing her antics in whatever room you’re in. Love her to death but there’s no way you’d be able to emotionally handle that, you’re barely keeping it together right now.

Scratch that—your lower lip wobbles as your eyes meet Austin’s.

“Oh babe,” Austin says softly, standing so that he can slip between your legs while you’re sitting on the exam table, “Don’t.” He cups your cheek, running his thumb along the bone.

“I can’t help it,” You reply, wanting to pull away from him, but he won’t let you. “I feel like this is my fault.”

“You can’t think like that,” Austin leans down and presses his lips along your forehead, “The important thing is that we know about it and we can plan for it.” He pulls away just enough to look down at your eyes, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“We wanted you further out of the spotlight with this one anyways, you know? This’ll work out.” His voice is soothing in a way you can’t describe, like it slips along your body like silk, pulling you close, hugging you.

You nod softly, your eyes closing as he cups your cheek again, his other arm wrapping around your frame.

“We’ll figure this out.” Austin promises, “Alright? You’re gonna be okay—the both of you.”

And maybe that’s what you really need to hear. You nod again, leaning forward to slide your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his chest. You face finds the familiar crook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent, something cologne and purely him.

You’re so unsure about everything, and yet within those few moments, you believe him and nothing else.

It’s frustrating but unfortunately necessary and you don’t fight it, even when you eventually (Austin pushes) talk to your agent about everything that’s going on. You feel like it’s bad luck to bring up a pregnancy to someone who isn’t family so early, but you need that open line of communication. You have to put some projects on hold—not everything, not yet. But some.

The more time that passes and the more pregnant you become, you begin to slowly slip out of the public eye. It’s a slow drip, but it increasingly becomes more noticeable with ridiculous social media headlines and TikTok theories.

You try not to dive head first into any of them (even though some are entertaining). The gossip and drama is that you and Austin are separated, getting divorced, that you haven’t been seen together out and about in a ‘really long time’, so naturally this is what’s happening.

“Did you hear?” You ask him one afternoon when he comes home with groceries. You smile at him from where you’re sprawled out over the couch, “I’m ‘taking you for all your worth’.”

Austin snorts an amused sound, toeing off his shoes. He wanders over to the couch and lets out a long sigh, gently laying himself down so that he slips between your legs. Your bump doesn’t allow him to rest fully against you, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He presses a few kisses to the swell, hand slipping to your side and fingers massaging a bit of your lower back. Honestly, bless him.

“You can have it all.” He teases.

The pitter-patter of tell-tale feet run down the hallway from one of the bedrooms, “Daaadddeeee.” Luci exclaims, rounding the couch covered in—

“Is that paint?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

She at least has a little bit of decency to look impish but her wide smile hasn’t left her father. You shake your head, running your fingers through Austin’s hair. He reaches an arm out and circles it around Luci, tugging her closer. She giggles instantly as he plants a kiss to where there isn’t paint, but honestly, there’s not many options.

“You paintin’ masterpieces in there, Picasso?”

“She’s gonna have to if we’re getting divorced.” You laugh, “My ‘high-priced’ lawyer will need paid.”

Austin rolls his eyes, tilting his head back to look at you, “Please stop readin’ that crap.”

You smile, trailing your fingers down the long lines of his jaw. You brush your thumb over a spackle of freckles under his one eye—beauty marks that you love. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s funnier than anything else. Besides, the fans are loyal and have a different theory. One that is more correct.”

A soft sigh leaves your husband’s nose. He doesn’t seem to be thrilled that you’re diving into those threads either but isn’t about to say anything about it. You get it, he’s protective, you’ve been burned and hurt by tabloids, quick media and nasty fan comments before. But…regardless that this second pregnancy is more delicate than the last, despite the fact that your feet hurt, you’re starting to feel uncomfortable all the time and your back is sore…you’re happy.

You’re really happy.

It doesn’t matter what anyone says, you know the truth.

Austin pulls away from you on the couch, much to your dismay, and scoops up your daughter. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead,

“I’m gonna give the gremlin a bath—”

“With bubbles!” Luci declares and Austin smirks.

“With bubbles,” He agrees, “And then I’m gonna give you a back rub.”

You groan softly because that sounds amazing, you can’t wait. “Did I mention the whole divorce thing is off, you’re the best husband a girl could ask for.”

Austin rolls his eyes again but at least he’s smiling this time as he leans down to kiss you. “Baby you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He says against your lips and presses another kiss to the corner before Luci smudges her fingers on your cheek.

Austin playfully taps her butt as he carries her away, “Mommy is not a canvas.”

You smirk, settling further into the couch and closing your eyes, listening to the hum of Austin’s muffled voice and Luci’s excitement as the water starts up in the bathroom. Thanks to your daughter, you now have an idea for the theme for a pregnancy photoshoot.

Second time around…why not, right?

Austin does his best to ignore the paps, he really does, but sometimes they dig under his skin in the worst ways. He's glad that you have been able to be home during this pregnancy, not only because it's a lot more relaxing, but because it's both healthier and less stressful for you and the baby. It's a boy, he's so sure of it. He's just got this feeling deep down in his chest, between his ribs, that you and him are gonna have a son. Time will tell. He holds Luci on his hip as he moves around Whole Foods, intending on getting some stuff to bring home. Your cravings have ranged from the things that make sense (ice cream, cheese) to things that don't (peanut butter on pickles...yeah that's a weird one). He lets out a long sigh, pushing the small cart with one hand as Luci dozes on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead, tugging Oreos off the shelf to set in the cart. She squiggles a little, letting out a breath and then continues to sleep. It's not a large list, he mostly just gets the essentials. He knows he could have this all delivered to the flat, but sometimes it's nice to get Luci out of there so she doesn't drive her mom crazy. Especially now since you don't move around as swiftly as you used to. He gets everything packed up into one grocery bag, moving to leave and head to the car. Not three minutes out, near the car, a swarm of paps are there. He lets out a long breath through his nose, figuring he should have expected it, given the dramatic stir up that's been happening since you have slowly disappeared from the public eye. And yet they're just as annoying as they've always been. Austin's always considered himself a nice guy, but nothing pisses him off like them snapping out questions about his family. "Austin!" One of them calls. He ignores them, trying to get the car door open to put Luci in her car seat. But of course, that doesn't stop them from asking questions. "Austin, can you tell us what's going on with Y/N?" "How's the divorce going!" "Are you talking about joint custody?" "What about Luci?" Austin feels a snap in his chest, something cold and unrelenting, because at the sound of his daughter's name, she begins to wake up. She's disoriented and confused, her hand coming up to rub one of her eyes. And he knows he shouldn't swear, but the questions feel like pinpricks in his skin, "Fuck off, guys." Luci whines softly and he gently bounces her against his hip. And then the cameras start snapping photos, flashes going off, and she turns her head quickly as Austin gets the door open. The series of movements, of men moving closer with those cameras, of the combined shouts of their voices asking too many questions—she squirms, those whines becoming little hiccups. Austin already knows what's coming as he tries to soothe her but it doesn't work. "Shhh," He whispers when Luci begins to cry, "I know baby, c'mon." He finally gets the door open, getting her in her car seat. He hates that he has to let her go but it's the only way they can get out of the fucking parking lot. He gets her strapped in, giving a look in the direction of the paps and reminds himself he can't go to jail because he decided to accidently run some of them over. He's already had to pay for a camera or two because he cracked them out of hands when they’ve shoved them into your face.

Checking his mirrors (begrudgingly), he pulls out of the spot and makes a turn to drive out, heading right towards home. There’s an underground parking garage that leads up to the loft and lots of security, so he knows it’s safe once the car slips underneath that gate that closes behind them.

He pulls into their designated spot, quickly getting out of the car and moving to open Luci’s door. She’s settled down into sniffles but once she gets her eyes on Austin, the waterworks start up again.

“I know,” He gentles his voice despite the annoyance he still feels, “I know. We got our nap interrupted, that’ll upset anyone.”

Austin reaches for her, hoisting her up into his arms to get her upstairs.

You can tell Austin’s annoyed when he comes in, the tension bracketing his shoulders, the way he carries your daughter into the kitchen to put down the groceries. You tug yourself up off the couch, swaying a moment before placing a hand on your stomach and moving towards where your husband has disappeared.

He’s put Luci down on the counter just long enough to grab a washcloth from a drawer and wet it with warm water, wandering back to carefully clean her face. You frown a little, seeing it tearstained. She’s fussy, pushing away her dad’s hands and that tells you more than enough—especially for Luci who tends to look at Austin like he’s hung the moon.

“What happened?” You ask softly, leaning against the counter.

Austin’s jaw works, “Paps.” Is all he says, all he’s willing to say right now.

You swallow over the lump in your throat, your hand moving back and forth over your belly, “I’m so—”

“No,” He cuts your apology off, firm but with no malice, “If anything this is just a good reminder about why we’re doin’ all of it this way.”

Letting out a breath, you nod—doesn’t mean you have to like it. Austin’s dealt with his fair share of paps before, but you know he gets riled up when it comes to them pushing buttons about you, about family.

You run your hand through Luci’s hair, pulling back to put away the groceries Austin brought home. Once he’s got her face wiped off, she begins asking for Cheerios and he raises his eyebrows,

“Thought you were gonna take a nap.”

Luci shakes her head, “No thank you.”

That seems to break the tension at least as Austin huffs out a light laugh and picks her up, putting her on the floor. “Of course not.”

You smirk, moving to grab her favorite plastic cereal cup and fill it with some dry Cheerios, handing them over.

Luci sprints out of the kitchen and heads down the hall to her bedroom, no doubt about to eat on the floor with her stuffed animals and begin playing with her dolls.

“We’re gonna miss when she was so agreeable.”

A laugh rumbles in Austin’s chest, “She’s already got a stubborn streak from you.”

You giggle so quickly that you nearly have to cover your mouth, “That comment is coming from you?”

Austin rolls his eyes but it’s with so much affection that it warms you up from the inside out. He lets out a long sigh and you can literally spot the moment that the tension disappears from his shoulders, rolls right off his body as he reaches for you to pull you close.

Or at the very least as close as he can with your belly between you both.

“You feeling alright today?” He asks, always checking.

You smile, nodding, “Only a month to go.” Hard to believe. “Think you can handle not punching anyone between now and then?”

Austin smirks and in one easy movement he picks you up to set you on the kitchen counter, his physicality making a heated pulse run down your spine and settle between your legs. Which is where Austin ends up, slipping between them. He brushes a kiss over the bridge of your nose, your cheekbone, and smiles against your lips.

“No promises.” Before kissing you.

You have a baby boy in August, and that is what you name him.

He’s perfect but that is unsurprising.

There are so many versions of Austin that you’ve easily fallen in love with—you once again decide that seeing him as a father is your favorite one.

Part of you wants to stay hidden away as you’ve done the past few months but you know at the end of the day that it’s not compatible with how often you and Austin are in the spotlight. And despite the nasty gossip and headlines you’ve seen circulating about how you and your husband were so obviously separating…it’s nice to see the reversal spin around the moment you post on your Instagram—

coffee.girl: the ratio is finally even in this house, austin is thrilled😉

jillian.mua: love you mama😭 austinbutler: ❤️ buzzfeedceleb: WE KNEW IT elvisfan: omg no way coffeecartgirlfan: Y/N really making news sources look like clowns today, we love to see it

You do, in fact, love to see it.

You swear that pregnancy hormones are still kicked into high gear because literally almost everything with this new baby makes you emotional, even a month later. Luci very passionately decides that the nursery needs to be painted a new color, which you and Austin don’t object to. Your husband chooses a variety of greens, things that range from avocado to seafoam and brings them all home. The ‘allure’ of choice for your daughter even though you and him have already picked the main color.

But Luci holds a few paint strips in front of August as he lays in a baby cushion on the floor that reminds you way too much of an oversized cat bed and shakes them enthusiastically.

“Which one?” She asks him, as if he could formulate a response. As if he doesn’t babble and grab his feet and giggle at his sister.

And that’s what makes you tear up because—Luci loves August, loves talking to him about everything, loves gently touching his hair and cheeks and…you can already tell she’s going to be a great, protective big sister. It’s more than you could have ever asked for.

Austin comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he watches the both of them. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Cryin’ over paint swatches now?” He teases.

You playfully elbow him in the side and he can’t help but let out a slight laugh, only pulling away to pick August up and settle him against his chest. He brushes a kiss over his still chubby cheek and Luci moves to hug around his leg.

“What’s the color choice?” He asks her and you move to lift Luci up too, smoothing some of her hair behind her ear.

“This one!” She grins, showing you both the seafoam color.

“Perfect.” You reply and August squeals out a wet giggle, clapping his hands together.

Austin moves to you, wrapping his one arm around your waist to keep you close and the conversation turns into plans about how this room is going to be painted, which shades of green go where. This might be the easiest decision you can make in a life that continues to have so many things that are unexpected.

But you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x female reader #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

150 notes · View notes

qiqi-media · 5 months ago

Text

Don't know if it's because of the new movie release but I've been seeing a lot more of descendants the og movies resurfacing on different social medias and the Audrey comments have started back up again. One in particular that I've never liked

"Why is she doing all of that over a high school break up?"

For starters Descendants was about teenagers, all of their relationships were high school relationships. The "true love" couple had their true love's kiss while they were both still in high school. So to refer to Audrey and Ben as a "high school" relationship that's purposely downplaying her feelings and their relationship. I get being confused because Descendants goes back and forth with the canon. At the end of D1 she was fine and in Wicked World her life didn't drastically change because of their breakup. But in D3 that is what happened, her life drastically changed and she was treated like shit.

She lost all of her friends "There's nothing to lose when you're lonely and friendless" & "Why is she here." There was no reason why that had to have happen, Audrey was never shown to be so terrible to the point where if she wasn't dating Ben that everyone had to abandon her. Especially in D1 her actions were no worse than Jane's and Jane still kept her friends and were friends with the VKs. Jane in my personal opinion was worse than Audrey, at least to the Vks in D1. Her worst crime was laughing at Jane's hair and I'm not understanding why that's unforgivable in comparison to Mal trying to manipulate her with said hair. Chad was even more social in Auradon but Audrey is completely shunned and for what? Because she's not dating Ben? People were straight up ignoring her when she spoke and in canon Audrey up until that point hadn't done anything so cruel to where that would make sense. She wasn't any snarkier than Chad or Jane on occasions and definitely not worse than things the Vks did. The only explanation we can come to is that when she wasn't Ben's girlfriend she didn't matter to people anymore.

That's not even addressing her shitty ass family, they treated her like dirt because she wasn't in line for the throne anymore. (those were never Audrey's intentions btw) Her cousin, her mother, her Grandma all acted like she was a failure because she wasn't with Ben and more specifically because she "lost" Ben to their Family's enemy. Like she had any choice in the matter, Ben didn't even have the choice of when and how they broke up. So if she couldn't turn to her friends or her family who did she have?? Nobody she was isolated and alone. Other adults? Look at Belle she talked shit about her too. She had Chad but because Audrey knew she couldn't return his feelings she stopped relying on him after a certain point.

All of this because she and Ben broke up, because she wasn't next in line to become Queen of Auradon. (That's another thing, her acknowledging that if she and Ben stayed together forever would end up with her being Queen isn't her being thirsty for the crown. It's her preparing for her future that, yes she was looking forward to but she wasn't thirsty to marry him because if she was, her family seemed more than open to an arranged marriage. But there was never one, they were simply boyfriend and girlfriend.)

She lost her life long best friend too: Ben. Even if they truly made up post D3 we know their relationship would never be the same.

So trying to act like Audrey had an entire breakdown over the simple fact of their high school relationship ending is false.

"How was she not supposed to tie her self worth in dating Ben when people started treating her like a waste of space when she wasn't with him?"

#anti mal bertha #anti mal #descendants #disney descendants #king benjamin #ben florian #audrey descendants #princess audrey #audrey rose #jane descendants #chad charming

207 notes · View notes

doctor-dusk · 4 months ago

Text

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes.

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days.

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel.

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.”

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him.

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.”

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)”

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for.

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that.

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way.

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear.

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please.

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.”

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.”

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly.

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.”

oh. now that was another level.

#doctor says #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x you

161 notes · View notes

izzysarchivedblogs · 2 years ago

Text

@mr-tony-stark liked for a starter (post here)! you get clint barton!

Visitors aren't unwelcome at the Barton-Pizza Dog residence. In fact, he gets more than he has fingers to count. Typically, there are two reasons that people come to his apartment unannounced.

They were angry with him, or they needed a place to lie low.

A secret third option which was really just option one was they were angry and they were his exes. That last part was important information because he's got a list of exes that were his fault things ended and they were relatively on good terms. For the most part, save for Jessica.

Clint's not even aware the door is being pounded on until Lucky is jumping on his chest and pestering to get to the door. It was suppose to be a lazy day albeit being a Monday.

Ugh, Mondays.

No one should be popping by, not even Kate. The super secret fourth option for reasons why people came to the apartment, Kate Bishop, mini-him with less mistakes.

"That's quite enough, Luck." He utters, knowing that the dog is barking as he saunters to the doorway and much to his surprise. It's Tony Stark.

What could he be doing here? He's not Kate Bishop, he is not an ex. There doesn't seem to be an angry expression on his brow, and Tony has money enough to buy a private island to lay low on.

Before he is standing there dumbstruck for too long, he points a finger up to his face. "Sign, text me, or let me gets the aids in." No way is he trying to lip read after waking from a nap, it'd be like fifteen percent less accurate than he normally could lip read and that was only about thirty percent accuracy most of the time anyways.

Wait. Tony would totally blow up his phone before showing up unannounced-

"Oh! Right, so my phone got dropped off a building."

Clint's leaving the door wide open, turning away to go retrieve his hearing aids from the kitchen while he lets Tony deal with Lucky whose sniffing at his knee and checking out the hallway.

"What's up? No Avenger business, right? I told you I'm off duty."

#IC; Clint Barton #i hope you enjoy this ! if you wanted pepper or johnny i could write you another if you'd like !#verse; clint barton; who shares your burdens (mrtonystark)

1K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 8 months ago

Note

please, PLEASE write a rollo x reader fic where rollo wakes up from a nightmare about his brother and where there to comfort him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

let it be known that the only reason I started playing this game was because they added frollo. rollo is like a cryptid in the HoND fandom

summary: nightmares and comfort type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, established relationship?, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread, rollo vaguely implied to have ptsd because I do and am a scholar in trauma nightmares ^-^

There's a certain point at which bad dreams and reality melt together.

Where the line blurs, and you can't be sure where the nightmare ends and you begin. They so often feel one in the same.

Rollo is familiar with bad dreams.

At one point, he thought there would be a solution. Something to hold them back, to release him from their sticky grasp. He journaled, for a while, but all that brought him was grief.

It happens like clockwork.

Four or five nightmares in one rest, for one to two weeks, at the same time every year. He keeps track of them. How could he not?

They culminate on a certain day, one he dreads in and of itself, and then slowly, painfully die off, leaving him wounded and alone.

It's dreadful.

And it's worse that he knows exactly why they happen.

You had once asked him what keeps him up at night, as a sort of conversation starter when you were first getting to know each other. What a strange question to ask someone, and in such a light-hearted tone.

He told you he sees no use for excess sleep when he can be diligent, instead.

Sloth is a vice, he said. Detestable.

You seemed to accept that as an answer, much to his relief. The truth was far too ugly for someone as pure as you to shoulder. He was only protecting your feelings, after all. And perhaps his.

Rollo hoped, for your sake, that you wouldn't notice. He was still getting used to the idea of sleeping beside another person, and the very last thing he wanted was to burden you with all of what he is.

To put it plainly, he didn't want to scare you off.

The first few nights were easy enough. Nasty imagery wrapped up in otherwise normal dreams, those of which could hardly be considered nightmares.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, and toss and turn until he could manage to fall back asleep, never stirring you.

This time is different.

He wakes, not quite jolting, but certainly thrashing himself back into the present moment like an animal caught in a trap.

His eyes snap open, and there's nothing but darkness, his breathing, and the uneasy feeling of his stomach. It takes a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings.

You're still asleep. Thankfully.

He liked to keep some distance between the two of you, anyway. Rollo had to ease himself into the idea of being physically close with someone without being utterly repulsed.

The only reason he'd entertained the idea in the first place was because it's you, you, pure and good, who would never do anything to discomfort him, you, who even now, sleeps like an angel in his bed.

There's something unclean about that thought, although it's not your doing.

Rollo gets up, careful not to disturb you, and paces around the room while he tries to get ahold of reality. He reminds himself of the date, the time, his full name, anything that will shake the lingering terror coursing through is body.

He does not cry. He hasn't since...

Well. Never mind, that.

Now is not the time to make a fuss. He's not a child, he's not fragile, he can handle his own nightmares without needing someone to tuck him back in.

The dream was so terrifyingly, disgustingly real, though.

The nightmares which aren't nightmares are the worst sorts of dreams, because he instantly feels silly for scaring himself over something so mundane, even if that looming sense of dread and fear still makes him feel ill.

This one was but a normal conversation, with...

...He didn't want to remember it.

The point was more so that it felt so utterly real that waking up like this, having it fall apart around him like the rotting pages of an old book, was like having his head dunked in freezing cold water repeatedly.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He paces, back and forth, in front of the now-dead fireplace, trying to regain his bearings.

He's quiet; he so often is; and yet, still, roused either by the sound of his footsteps or the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the air, you wake.

The sound of your voice nearly scares him.

Rollo turns to you, eyes wide as you sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. "What?"

"I asked if you're okay," you repeat, turning to the space beside you to check the time. "It's two in the morning."

His answer is immediate, as calm as he can muster, although there's a faint crack in his voice on the last word. "I'm well. I was just thinking,"

"Thinking? Now?"

He nods, and turns back to the mantle. His arms are crossed over his chest, acting as a sort of armor, protecting him.

You tilt your head to the side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He hates how perceptive you can be, sometimes. It takes him a moment to think of a suitable answer- is it worth telling you the truth?

"I have bad dreams all the time," you say. "Like... all the time. Weird ones, too. It's nothing to be embarrassed a-"

"I am not embarrassed," he snaps, whirling around on his heels to face you. His tone softens when he sees the perplexed expression on your face. "I was just trying to tire myself before returning to bed. I didn't want to disturb you."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't have minded if you did. I understand... do you want to talk about it?"

He's silent, looking away again, which is enough of an answer to you.

"Then will you at least come back to bed?"

Rollo supposes he should. He doesn't want to risk worrying you any further. That would only stir up more questions.

He settles himself in bed, lying flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, more cadaver than human. You always found that position so amusing, for whatever reason, and even now you can't contain a laugh.

"Are you cold? You're shaking,"

Damn it. He is. He hadn't even noticed... and though his tremors aren't from the temperature, he agrees with you anyway.

"Yes. It's rather cold tonight,"

You hum a small note of contemplation and inch closer to him. "May I?"

Rollo's face immediately turns red, although he can't help but indulge himself... just this once. For your sake, anyway.

He nods.

You come closer, resting your head on his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist in the most comfortable position you can manage while he's lying like this.

Your body is warm, soft, comforting... all things that would normally repulse him, but it's you...

He pats the back of your hand with one of his in a reassuring, though awkward gesture. As much as he expected to feel his heart pounding even harder at your closeness, there's something quite... safe about the embrace. He can't deny it.

"Good night," you murmur, already half-asleep.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax... just the tiniest bit.

"Good night,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #rollo flamme x reader

242 notes · View notes

themidnightcrimson · 2 years ago

Text

bump, set, spike ࿏ wm

summary: in which your new volleyball coach has a thing for degrading you.

words: 4.7K

warnings: volleyball coach!wanda, f!reader, degradation, I MEAN DEGRADATION, mommy kink, I SAID MOMMY KINK, slight dubcon/non-con, use of cumstrap, breeding kink, authority kink, yes i was a volleyball girl

this post is for 18+ only. minors: dni.

masterlist.

“I heard she’s a total hardass,” your teammate huffed as she bumped the volleyball to herself, staggering around to keep her balance as she bumped it into the air and down, then back up again.

The coach of your volleyball team had left in quite a hurry, leaving your college team without a proper coach for weeks on end. Finally, the university acquired one of the best coaches in the state, and this was your first scheduled practice with the coach whom you had no idea about except for the floating rumors that players were constantly passing out from her hard practices.

The wooden floor squeaked under your tennis shoes as you walked to the side of the gym, volleyball under your arm, to grab your water bottle and drink from it. Your teammates were casually bumping to each other, some lying around on the floor talking to each other as you waited for the new coach to arrive. It wasn’t customary for a coach to be so late to their first practice—your teammates had already set up the net in preparation. You sighed and sat down on the floor to relace your shoes.

Finally, the gym doors squealed open, and, as you sat on the floor with your shoelaces in hand, you glanced over to see your new coach walking in. She was wearing knee-length black tights and a fitted t-shirt that left no room for the imagination. Her brownish blonde hair was short and pinned halfway up, the curl of bangs resting over her brows that were arched in curiosity as she glanced over the room of girls, already analyzing and sorting out her new team at her hands.

“Good morning,” she called confidently, her dark green eyes flickering between the stunned faces of your teammates. She was a young woman, in her late twenties or early thirties, her body fit under her tight clothing and her face beautiful but stern. She seemed to suck up all the air in the large gym, everyone going suddenly silent.

Your fingers fumbled with your laces when her eyes finally landed on you. She stopped walking halfway down the length of the net to stare at you, her eyes boring into you like two sharp arrows. You felt your face getting hot under her viridescent stare, finding her rather formidable even with her obvious beauty.

“Why are you on the floor?” she asked evenly, her tone a sense of eerie calm.

You glanced down to your shoes then back up at her. “Tying my shoes.”

Her dark lips twitched into a half-smile. “What’s your name?”

Your heart started to unreasonably pound in your chest. “Y/n.”

She nodded instantly, as if she didn’t even listen to what you told her your name was, but it surprised you when she repeated it meticulously, “Y/n, are you a starter?”

There were some whispers from the other girls. Of course you were a starter. You were the team’s best hitter, earning them three-fourths of their offensive points every game. You only dumbly nodded, finding that your voice was incapable of escaping your throat.

The new coach hummed, nodding politely before the smile on her face faded. “If you spend one more second wasting practicing by lying around, you will not be a starter anymore.” Her words only had a millisecond to dumbfound you before she snapped, “Get up!”

Your body obeyed her clipped command instantaneously, jumping up to your feet and standing upright like you were in the military. You were thankful that you had just finished tying your laces. She only stared at you for a moment longer, turning slowly before she looked to the rest of the team who also were now all on their feet. “I’m Wanda Maximoff. You will call me Coach Maximoff.” Her hand grazed the net as she walked along it. “I was a little stunned at your statistics when they asked me to step in as coach. You guys hardly win a game.”

She turned around again, eyes dancing on you from across the room before they slipped away. Why were you sweaty all of a sudden?

“I can change that. If you give me respect, diligence, and consistency, I can help you guys out.” She paused, coming to a stop and placing her hands behind her back. “If you don’t, you will run suicides until the first person passes out.”

Some girls in the back giggled—the rumors were true, apparently.

Coach Maximoff smiled tightly, and then she asked for everyone to say their name and their position on the team, and whether they were a starter or not.

That practice was one of the toughest ones you’d ever had. She introduced advanced drills that none of you had ever done before, and every time someone messed up too badly, everyone had to run in a line around the gym for five minutes. Practices were usually only a couple hours long, but this one lasted until well into the afternoon.

You noticed that every time you glanced at Coach Maximoff, she was already looking at you. You must have pissed her off or something, because she called you up first for all the drills to “show them how it’s done,” only to reprimand and correct every single thing you do.

“Alright,” she began after she blew her whistle, looking at your team of sweating, panting, red-faced players from the other side of the net. She swooped under the net easily, looking at the lot of you. “Since you ladies are playing like junior varsity players, we’re going to do a simple practice that surely you can understand.” She took a ball from the stand beside her and held it up. “Bump, set, spike. I want you to get in a line, and I will serve the ball. The first person will bump it back to me. I will set it. The next person will spike it, and so forth. Got it?” There was only a pause of nodding and humming before she suddenly pointed to you. “Y/n. Up first.”

Why was she calling you first for every single drill? It was starting to aggravate you, especially since you were so tired and worn out from all the running and the tough drills. You bit back a groan and went to the first of the forming line, lowering down into receiving position.

Coach Maximoff smirked a little as she watched you lower down, raising the ball up into the air. You took a deep breath—your previous coach was always a soft server, but you didn’t know how Coach Maximoff was yet. Eyes pinned to you, smirk still set on her features, she tossed the ball up with one hand and quickly slapped her other hand over it, sending the ball spiraling quickly at you with a loud slapping sound that echoed in the gym.

It was so fast that you didn’t even see it before it hit you right in the knee and bounced away. There were some whispers from the girls behind you as your face turned red in embarrassment, and it only worsened when you looked up to the coach to see that she was staring at you with an expression of irritation.

“Why didn’t you get it?” she snapped coldly.

You blinked, rubbing your sweaty palms on your knee pads. “I—I don’t know, it came too fast. I wasn’t ready.”

“Wasn’t ready?” she echoed with a huff, amusement on her face. “Well get ready.” She grabbed another ball and you lowered again, hands spread in front of you, ready to receive. She tossed the ball up and hit it harder again, the sound slapping even louder than the last time. You expected it to be a low serve that you had to dig for like the first time, but this time it hurtled straight to your face. Normally, you would know to receive it with a set instead of a bump, but your hands fumbled and just went straight in front of your face, blocking yourself from the ball that slapped your hands and bounced to the floor limply.

Coach Maximoff rubbed her face over her hands and sighed in aggravation. “That’s it. Run.”

You stood there like an idiot, feeling fiery with shame. “Run?”

“Run!” she yelled, throwing her finger around the gym. “Run until I tell you to stop if you want to keep being a starter!” Her voice was like that of a snarl, low and vicious. Heart already pounding, you set off in a stumbly jog, running a lap along the wall of the gym.

Coach Maximoff continued the drill with the other girls, and you went green with jealousy at how easily they were receiving her serves and spikes, so seamlessly and perfectly. She even praised them, and something in your chest tugged.

You thought maybe after a couple laps, she would drag you back to the front of the line to redo the drill, but she never did. You ran for an uncounted amount of time, to the point where your legs were shaking and you were sweating through your shirt and finding it hard to breathe. Finally, she ended the drill and turned to see you jogging exhaustedly across the gym. “That’s enough!” she called, and you instantly fell to your knees, thankful that you had your kneepads on as they hit the floor hard. You bent over, gasping and wheezing loudly, wiping the abundance of sweat from your forehead.

With a blow of her whistle, she dismissed the practice, and you limped over across the gym to collect your things and get the hell out of there. “Practice tomorrow afternoon!” Coach Maximoff called to the team as other girls were already hurrying out the door, prepared to pass out or puke or both. You fell to the floor with a huff and began tugging off your shoes, feeling blisters forming around your feet.

Maximoff walked over to you as the other girls were leaving, and you looked up, seeing that she was standing close to you, towering over you. “I want you stay tomorrow night after practice. I think what you need is some one-on-one coaching.”

Dread filled you. Not only did you already have plans with friends tomorrow night, but you did not want to be around this villainous coach any more than you had to. She obviously had it out for you, and the embarrassment in front of your teammates was enough—you could only imagine how much she would belittle you alone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, still out of breath. “I have plans tomorrow night.”

Wanda’s lips pursed, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in slowly. Placing her hands on her knees, she crouched down in front of you incredibly close, her face only inches from yours. You froze, glancing around to see that everyone else had already left.

“It seems to me that you don’t care one bit about this sport or this team,” she said quietly, her voice rasping in a way that made your ears burn. You could see every shade of green in her eyes from this close, the curve and suppleness of her lips. “If you want to keep your position, you will see me tomorrow night after practice. If you don’t, I will have no choice but to reconsider your role on this team.”

Your eyes widened—was she threatening to kick you off the team?

Her hand reached out suddenly, placing itself on the middle of your thigh. You glanced down, seeing her long, nimble fingertips pressing into your skin. “And make sure you stretch before coming tomorrow. I need you to be flexible.”

A smirk curled at her lips, leaving you dumbfounded with an even redder face. She stood up and walked away, leaving you on the floor.

The hours leading up to the next day’s practice were unbearable. You were nervous about being alone with her, worried you would not meet her expectations and get yourself kicked off the team, but you also could not stop thinking about her hand on your thigh and the words she had said to you in such a low, raspy voice with that damning smirk on her lips. It was etched into your mind like a fire.

The practice went the same as the day before. She called you up first for every drill, which you failed miserably at. Why were you messing up so much around her? Of course, you were nervous, everyone was intimated by her, but no one else was messing up as much as you were. Your knees felt wobbly the whole time, your hands sweaty, your mind too distracted by the way she looked at you, and the way she moved, and her words still circling in your mind like a cyclone.

Practice was finally over, but that didn’t help your nerves one bit, because now you were going to be alone with her. While everyone else flooded out of the gym, some crying because Wanda made them run so many laps around the gym, you stayed sitting on the floor off to the side, rubbing your ankles that were blistered and nearly bleeding.

You watched Coach Maximoff go across the gym and pick up stray volleyballs that didn’t get picked up. She was wearing a pair of thick black sweatpants today and a tiny red shirt that showed her midsection every time she lifted her arm to serve the ball. She was so beautiful and confident, albeit mean, that you couldn’t help but wonder what she was like outside of being a coach, if she was actually a kind, gentle person who had hobbies like reading or art. Part of you thought maybe she ate the hearts of the innocent in her free time with how monstrous and unrelentingly cruel she was in the gym.

When she’d replaced all the balls back to the standing bag, she looked over at you expectantly. Her face lowered, eyes shadowing under the overhead gym lights, and she lifted a finger and curled it towards her.

You found yourself standing up to walk towards her, limping a little from the blisters on your ankles. When you came to a stop, her eyes flickered up and down your body, landing around your hips. “Do you usually wear shorts that short to practice?”

Glancing down, you looked at your tiny spandex shorts and shrugged. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Those are a little revealing, don’t you think?” she murmured, boldly reaching her hand out and running her fingertips under the hem of the tight shorts, tugging on the fabric and then letting it snap against your thigh, making you jump. She smirked and tilted her head, stepping closer to you. “And this shirt…” Her hand took the hem of your tight long-sleeved shirt and tugged at it. “Take it off.”

Heat swelled in your face as you blinked, making sure you heard her right. “What?”

“You’ll get too sweaty in that. You’re wearing a bra, right?” Her tongue peeked out of her mouth and ran across her lower lip. “It’s just us two in here. You can take it off so you won’t get too hot.”

Feeling somehow breathless, you looked down at your shirt and reluctantly took the hem. You had been just fine wearing it all during practice, and most of the girls wore long-sleeved shirts to help protect their arms from so much bumping. You wanted to say that, but her smirk turned into a stone gaze.

“I’m your Coach, y/n. There needs to be a level of trust between us—and respect. That means—” She leaned closer and whispered, “You do what I say.”

Gulping, you only nodded, taking the hem of your shirt in your hands and slowly peeling it over your head, leaving you only in your sports bra and shorts. She bit her lip and let her eyes run down your figure as she finally stepped away. “Good girl.”

Your face grew immeasurably hot. Wanda walked to the standing bag and took out a volleyball, holding it on her hip and pointing to a few feet in front of her. “Come here. We’re going to do bump, set, spike, until you get it.”

You wanted to tell her that was such a simple drill and that normally you would have no problem doing it but found it hard to keep your composure around her, but you didn’t. Instead, you let your voice die in your throat and walked to the spot on the floor, turning to face her.

“Get in position,” she commanded, so you did, bending your knees and spreading your hands. Without warning, she quickly tossed the ball up and spiked it towards you, sending it slapping across your thighs.

“Ow!” you instinctively exclaimed, clapping your hand over the red spot forming on your thigh, but Wanda was already getting another ball and served it to you twice as quick, and this time you had to jump out of the way before it smacked you in the face. “Jesus!”

Wanda gave a mixture between a sigh and a huff as she rubbed her hand over her forehead. Your face burned in shame as she stared at you, trying to think of what to do with you. Finally, she clicked her tongue and said, “You do not know how to receive a serve at all, do you?”

Feeling frustrated, you threw your hands up in the air. “I’m a hitter, not a libero!”

The coach ran her tongue over her teeth and stared at you for a moment. “Fine, since you somehow made it into college volleyball without knowing how to receive, I guess I’ll be the one to teach you.” She started towards you. “Get down into what you think a receiving position is.”

Huffing, you lowered down in the same way you had. Wanda neared you, eyes flickering over your body as she started walking a slow circle around you. You could feel her standing behind you, your heart starting to race.

Suddenly, her foot came and kicked at your ankle, forcing your legs to open wider. You gasped, nearly tripping, until you found you were lowered down even farther with your legs spread wider. “Keep ‘em open,” she murmured behind you, and you didn’t realize how close she had been standing behind you until you heard her lips right behind your ear.

Trying to remember how to breathe, you felt her hands come to rest at your elbows, adjusting your arms to a different position. “You want to keep them closer together,” she whispered, her breath moving strands of your hair. Her hands, once finished moving your arms, slowly slid up them and to your shoulders, tracing down your back. She pressed in at the middle of your back, causing it to arch into a curve. “Your hips…” she trailed, and you felt her hands leave you. It made you feel cold without her touch.

“W-What about them?” you asked in nearly a whisper, feeling like the large gym was suddenly half the size it usually felt like.

“You need to bring them back more,” she said in a husky tone, and then her hands were on your hips, squeezing the bones there before she jerked them backwards. You gasped when your ass pressed right against her crotch, and from the force of it you could tell she had bucked her hips towards you. You were about to start apologizing, but her hands held your hips still.

Then, when she moved her hips a little to get closer to you, you felt it—something hard and large tucked inside her sweatpants, bulging out right against your ass. Sharply, you stood straight, feeling your back hit her chest as you did. Her hands kept hold of your hips, digging herself into your ass and letting out a throaty moan that brought chills up your spine.

“Coach?” you whispered, panting as you felt yourself throbbing within. You could feel her breath on the back of your neck, her lips grazing your spinal cord as she pushed herself closer to you, grinding her hips into the swells of your behind.

“I don’t think you know how to respect your coach,” she husked into your ear, her lips pressing against the skin there. One of her hands left your hip to swerve around your tummy, diving up towards your chest. “Or how to obey.” Her hand grabbed at your breast from over your bra, bringing a sharp gasp of surprise from your throat.

You knew that it was incredibly wrong, letting her touch on you and press against you like that, but the rasp in her voice and the domineer in her hands was turning you on so much that you felt like you were rapidly growing a fever.

Her hand left your chest and dove straight down into your shorts, reaching past your thin pair of panties to grope at you between your legs. Your lips fell open, head falling back against her shoulder as her svelte fingers started to grab at your clit. She smelled like perfume and the rubber scent of volleyball material, her lips pressing against the corner of your jaw before biting there.

“Coach, please,” you groaned as her fingers started to rub hard at your clit, her cock pressing harder against your ass all the while.

“You can call me Mommy,” she whispered into your ear before biting it, inciting a moan from you. “You’re pathetic. All wet and needy for me.” She pulled her hand out of your shorts to show that her fingers were glistening under the gym lights. Reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, she yanked your head back so that your lips opened, and she dove her fingers inside your mouth. “Suck,” she demanded in a harsh whisper against your ear, so you did, sucking your own juices off her fingers as your face turned bright red, tasting your own arousal and the hint of salty sweat on her fingers.

When her fingers were all clean, she pulled them out and growled before she used her hand in your hair to push you forward so hard that you crumpled to the ground, your kneepads hitting the hard wood as she followed you down, kneeling between your legs.

“You want to be a starter, huh, little whore?” Wanda asked from behind you as her hands started grabbing at your shorts.

Dizzy from the fall and from the neediness throbbing within you, you let out a small, “Uh huh, Mommy.”

“Fuck,” Wanda hissed when you called her that, yanking down your shorts to expose your bare ass and pussy. “Then you will take all of Mommy’s cock so she will let you be a starter, won’t you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, the wooden floor cold against your face. “Yes, Mommy.”

“What a fucking slut,” Wanda murmured as she yanked her sweatpants down a little so she could take out her strap. You couldn’t see it, but you knew it was big when she started to rub the tip up and down your wet folds. “Listen to that, slut.” You could hear the wet sounds that your folds made when her strap parted them. “I didn’t make you out to be such a dirty whore.”

Keeping one hand in your hair, pushing your face onto the floor, she thrust her cock into you all at once, your walls opening for her as she slid through them.

You cried out at her size, grabbing helplessly at the floor as she pulled out before snapping her hips back into you, shoving herself hard inside you. It was so rough, and you felt so dirty lying on the floor as your coach took your pussy from behind, but you loved it, finding yourself lost in a whirlwind of primal pleasure as her grunts and your moans echoed in the loud gym.

“What would someone say if they walked in right now,” Wanda said between her thrusts, and you heard the sound of skin slapping together, “if they saw you lying on the floor getting fucked by your coach like this?” You could tell that she loved the position of power she had over you, both technically and physically. “Offering up your pussy to me so that you’ll be my favorite.” She tugged at your hair, lifting your upper body off the floor and hissing against your ear. “Do you think they’d call you a slut?”

Shame filled you just like it did when she had first seen you and scolded you for sitting on the floor. You could only give a string of unintelligible noises, so she yanked your hair harder, demanding you to speak. “Yes,” you finally gasped. “Yes, they would, Mommy.”

Wanda laughed at how pathetic you were, pushing your face back into the floor. Moving her hand to your ass, she grabbed at your flesh there, letting out an unashamed moan as she thrust her hips harder into you. You could feel your own juices sliding down your inner thighs, your eyes squeezing shut as her strap went deeper and deeper inside you, causing your legs to tremble.

“Fuck, I knew you’d have good pussy,” Wanda breathed, and her words were spinning a coil of pressure in the pit of your tummy, her own voice starting to falter as her thrusts grew wild and unrhythmic. “I wanted to throw you down and put my cock in you when I first saw you yesterday.”

Her words were making you burn so hot you thought you would melt right through the floor.

“You’ll make such a good fleshlight for Mommy—fuck—letting me bend you over just like this everyday after practice, won’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you squealed, mouth falling open as you felt an orgasm impeding upon you.

“That’s right, you will. If you want to be a starter, you have to be Mommy’s fucktoy first—ah!” She hissed, her hips snapping into you harder and sloppier. “Fuck, you gonna take Mommy’s cum?”

You let out a gasp when she hinted that it was a cumstrap she was wearing, and you knew that you were moments away from cumming helplessly all over her strap. “Yes, yes, Mommy,” you whined, feeling her hand tighten its grip in your hair.

Wanda reached down to grab the base of the strap right as her climax reached her, growling loudly and grabbing hard at any spot on you she could grab, squeezing the base and letting her cum squirt deep inside you, painting your inner walls and filling you up so that you came instantly, moaning and bucking your hips backwards against her.

Wanda sighed, grinding her strap slowly inside you as you rode out your own climax, watching some of her cum drip out of you each time she pulled her strap out a little. Grinning, she pulled out and stood, grabbing your shoulder and turning you over on your back. You looked up at her in a daze, legs still trembling as you panted.

“Open up,” she said with a wide grin as she kneeled over your face, her strap glistening with a mixture of juices that dripped from the end and splattered across your chin. Desperately wanting to obey her, you opened your mouth, and she lowered her hips, shoving her cock deep into your mouth. You choked at first, letting out a quiet gagging sound that she laughed at until you caught control of yourself and started dutifully sucking her clean. She looked down at you with her lip caught between her teeth, humming in appreciation at how cute you looked with her strap in her mouth.

Once it was clean, she pulled out of your mouth with a popping sound and pushed her strap back into her thick black sweatpants that easily concealed it. You were burning up and shaking, inebriated with all the degradation she’d poured upon you, feeling your pussy full of her cum that was slowly dripping out of you.

“Good girl,” she whispered as she stared down at you, reaching out and wiping the liquids away from your chin. “Same time tomorrow? Don’t wear underwear this time.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #wanda maximoff x f!reader #coach!wanda #elizabeth olsen

1K notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 8 months ago

Text

A Simpler Life [Part 1]

word count: 1585 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

When you decided on a clean break and moved to the little country home, you finally got your long harbored wish of a manageable veggie patch as well as a few fruit planters, breathing clear fresh air that the city life had you only dream about for so many years. At first, of course, the people were suspicious of the newcomer - the foreigner-city girl who came to their part of Hyogo with no clear intention but when you greeted each of them warmly around town and offered an open door if anyone ever needed help, they soon treated you as one of their own. The grandmothers of the neighborhood quickly kept an eye out for any eligible bachelors because “it‘d be such a shame if a pretty girl like ya would be all lonesome in that house of yers“ but while grateful for their concern, you were happy on your own.

Although, that didn‘t stop you from falling for your neighbor as soon as you met him.

Your first impression of Kita was that he was polite, caring and warm but maybe a bit shy. He bowed his head with a smile when he passed by your front yard in the evening heading to his house, looking exhausted but satisfied. You wondered if he lived alone, too, because no one else seemed to be going in or out of the modest traditional nouka.

You were privately looking forward to the evenings when you could catch a glimpse of him and bask even for just a second in the sunshine of his smile.

This went on for a week or so of you two simply exchanging nods, waves and smiles until, “Good evenin‘.“, he greeted.

The buzzing of cicadas filled the air. You were tending to your garden, having opted to weed in the milder evening rather than the afternoon sun. A straw hat on your head, muscles already straining from the unfamiliar work, you straightened, trying to suppress a groan. “And to you.“, you replied, using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, smearing some soil on your skin in the process.

“It‘s really comin‘ together.“, he noted and nodded towards the healthy green surrounding your ankles.

Don‘t blush, you told yourself. “Thank you.“, you beamed, “I am worried about my tomatoes, though. They look a bit peaked.“

You pointed to some sad little plants on the end of your veggie patch.

With professional eyes he wandered along the fence to inspect them.

“Oh, yea, they might have had a bit too much sun and not enough water. Don‘t worry, happens to all of us.“, he smiled, “I have some extra starters in my greenhouse. Ya can have a couple if ya like. I always grow more in case bugs get to ‘em.“

“Oh, really?“

“Sure, come by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.“

“Thank you so much!“

“What else have ya got here?“, he now leaned on the fence post, examining the rest of the plants. You listed the few you had.

“Ya might wanna add sugar snap peas. They‘re easy to grow and the yield is really good.“

“Noted! But I might have to wait until next season, I don‘t think I have enough space for any more.“

“Ya can grow ‘em nicely in planters. I can build ya one. It‘s not difficult.“

Your heart did a little jump. “Are you sure it‘s not too much trouble?“

“Neighbors gotta stick together, right?“, he grinned and stood back up, “I‘mma let ya get back to it.“ and he made to leave.

“W-wait!“

He turned back to you.

“One of the grannies in town gave me a bunch of fresh greens and tofu today. My fridge doesn‘t work yet so I‘m worried it’ll go bad. Would you like to join me for dinner?“

He blinked. For a moment you weren‘t sure if you hadn‘t been too forward but then Kita nodded and walked around the fence to your gate. Oh my, somehow the fence had underplayed his handsomeness. As he stood right in front of you, arms tan and taut with lean muscles from a day‘s work and a towel tied around his neck you forgot to talk for a second.

“This way.“, you gestured to the front door.

“Don‘t ya wanna finish up weedin’ first?“

“But…“

“I‘ll help ya.“

“But…“

And he got to work. Of course, his practiced hands got the job done so much faster than you and where you had only managed a fourth of the patch he finished up the rest in no time.

Kita knelt on a seating pillow you had laid out around your coffee table, patiently waiting for you to plate up the hearty stew alongside some grilled tofu and rice. You figured he must be starving after all that hard manual labor. But to your surprise he ate slowly, chewed carefully and seemed to savor the taste.

“It‘s delicious.“, he said and let out a small content sigh, “I usually don‘t have much energy to cook in the evenin’s. This is great, thank ya.“

So he did live alone. How the masses of overzealous grandmothers in town hadn‘t flocked together to feed this man yet was a mystery to you.

In all honesty, Kita didn‘t agree with the people in town who said you were “pretty“. “Pretty“ didn‘t do you justice. He thought you were breathtaking. Because that‘s how he felt when he talked to you for the first time. Like his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat. Your genuine smile when he complimented your cooking now had a permanent place in his mind - framed it hung at the very top where he could always admire it throughout his day. Where his thoughts were usually busy with plans for the following morning or simply quiet, while his hands moved automatically through the water in the fields, they were now interlaced with you. Your twinkling eyes when he told you he would build you a planter, your cute protests when he offered to help you weed that tiny little veggie patch as if it was the most daunting task ever encountered and your voice, bright and lively as you told him about yourself upon his request. His grandmother had told him many stories growing up, about right and wrong, patience, kindness and fate. She told him when two people were meant for each other, their souls would recognize it and be drawn to the other by some unseen force. Back then, young Kita wasn‘t exactly sure what to make of it. It sounded very fantastical and without any data to back it up he thought it was another one of his grandmother‘s folktales. Now he wasn‘t so sure anymore because you were his first and last thought of the day.

He doubted that someone as beautiful and worldly as you would consider him as a match but he was merely glad to know he could be of help and make your life a little easier. After dinner the previous night he had told you he had some business in the city the next day and you could please wait for him at his place in the afternoon to collect your promised tomato starters. He had spent the morning making sure the little plants were in top shape, selecting the very best of the bunch. He was eager to get back home but as per usual, city traffic had other ideas.

Every couple of seconds he glanced at the clock on the truck‘s dashboard, hoping he didn‘t make you wait too long.

When he finally pulled into his driveway he spotted you sitting on his porch, his black and white dog lounging in your lap, getting his ears massaged.

A bundle lay next to you.

The dog‘s tail thwacked on the wooden porch as he approached.

“Ya look comfortable.“ He had meant it to his (guard) dog but somehow it seemed like your full cheeks got a bit of color.

“I hope I haven't kept ya waitin‘.“

“It‘s fine.“, you said simply, “I had great company.“ You petted the dog's head again who let out a happy huff.

Kita grinned and looked towards one of his greenhouses. “I‘ll go grab the tomatoes.“

You were brushing some dog hairs off your pants when he returned. Without meaning to, he searched your hands for an indication of a wedding band but shook his head when he caught himself.

He held out the tray with the starters.

“Thank you so much! They look great. And here.“, you bent down to exchange the tray for the bundle, “Since you said you wouldn‘t accept any money for them I made you dinner instead.“

His eyes widened. “Ya didn‘t have to.“

You shrugged. “I know, but it wouldn‘t feel right otherwise. And it‘s not like it‘s even close to an equal trade once these start producing.“

He was a little disappointed. After all, he had practiced inviting you to have dinner with him his entire drive back, but having more of your cooking was the next best thing, he supposed.

The following morning you found the bundle neatly wrapped on your doorstep, the large square bento box inside had been thoroughly cleaned and a note replaced the food “It was really delicious. Thank you very much. - Kita“.

Your heart stumbled when you stared at the neatly written words and grinning so hard your cheeks started to hurt, you pinned it to a little cork board next to the door.

a/n: thank you so much to @makkir0ll for helping me hatch this ostrich-sized brain egg 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 2]

#kita x chubby reader #kita shinsuke x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #kita fluff #hq kita #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader #haikyuu x y/n

242 notes · View notes

twstfanblog · 2 months ago

Text

*~Toddler Chronicles-3rd Years PT.1~*

A/N: I have no excuses. I've just been hoarding my writing and trying to stack finished stories and post them out when I have depressive episodes—just to make sure I have something for you all! So anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this part. The series is going to be so full of cute baby shenanigans that you'll have a toothache. Thank you again to @bun-lapin for letting me use their wonderful OCs! They are so fun to chew on... Word Count: 6.3K Pairings: Alluded Ruggie/Leona Warnings: Needles, Children, Me typing out a country accent, Google translate french

Starter, Pt 1

Ruggie had only felt fear so strongly he could taste it twice in his life. The first was when he was five and awoke in his hut with his grandma nowhere in sight. The second was when he was twelve and a drunk man had gripped at his arm to the point it bruised him for days.

And now he can say he's tasted fear three times. The third being he realized the second prince of the Savanna had been turned into a four-year-old and was missing. Anyone left in Savanaclaw that weekend morning was out and searching, using every nose and ear in the dorm to hunt down their missing leader.

Ruggie had to stop after an hour, his panicked breathing pulling in the scent of his search party more than the sandy flora he was looking for. He stood to the side, his head in his hands while his thoughts raced on what could have befallen the defenseless toddler that a pack couldn't find him.

“Ruggie!”

He looks up, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. A rhino beastman, a third-year who heard Leona was missing and the pure distress in Ruggie’s voice quickly helped mobilize the dorm, stood before him. He shook his head, “We've searched the gardens side to side, we've got teams combing the woods. The school and coliseum are next for the beta teams, but we haven’t found anything.”

Ruggie’s sigh was ragged, dropping his head back down to grip at his hair in frustration. Dropping to the ground in a squat as he started to rock in a self-soothing motion.

The third-year sighed along with him, folding his arms as he looked out to the campus, “The ‘Emergency Protocol’ for a lost member is normally Rook…but you said he was four, too, right?”

“Yeah…”

“...” He tilted his head, a questioning sneer showing his teeth, “Why are they four?”

“If I fucking knew, do you think I would be five steps away from a heart attack?”

“Okay…geeze…” The third-year turns around hearing someone call his name. With a nod to them, he turns back to Ruggie, “Cool your head. You know Leona best and you're in charge when he's not available. If anyone could figure out where he went it'll be you.”

As the other beastman left, Ruggie was left to calm himself. Once he could breathe without the laborious tug of his own nerves, he really thought. Leona had very key areas he went to, all secluded away from others as he was always more comfortable alone. But those areas were also easily accessible, a factor that the possibly scared four-year-old no doubt didn't care for.

Away from others, carefully hidden, familiar…

Ruggie’s eyes snapped open, jumping from his position and bolting back to the empty dorm. His hands braced against one of the open-air window sills, hopping through it with ease as he sprinted into the faux savanna their dorm resided in.

In his first year, before they had started their situationship deal, Ruggie remembers waking up in the middle of the night. Nothing serious, just thirsty, so he left his room. But on his way to the kitchen, he saw Leona outside of the dorm's walls and walking into the fields of scattered vegetation and rocks. Ruggie never asked where he was going, but that memory was enough to tell him Leona had more places to hide than he thought.

Tracking Leona became almost laughably easy once he was far enough from the dorm, after a while the only smell was Leona in the magically sterile lands. A scent he followed to a small cave, the opening semi-hidden from view by a large rock resting in front of the opening and the amount of weeds growing from the top. Brushing the strands of grass aside he bit his tongue to hold in the urge to bark out laughs at the scene before him.

It was a pretty sweet setup, by Ruggie’s standards. A large rug had been laid out on the ground, softening the area while also keeping the dirt trapped underneath it. There was a low table at the center of space, the remnants of a quick meal by way of multiple snack wrappers and an empty juice bottle. But the best thing was the ‘bed’. A pile of old blankets and pillows all pressed into the corner, a tiny mass with reddish brown hair swimming in a daishiki resting on it. As always, Leona slept with his back to the entrance, laying in a curled up ball with his tail laid out behind him.

Ruggie stepped into the area as slowly as he could. Yeah, Leona was four, but he was still Leona. And Ruggie did not want to see what the potentially scared toddler could do to him in an enclosed space. He couldn't stop the swear he mutters, seeing a single tiny ear suddenly flick around and point toward him. He sunk to his knees, hands held up in a motion of surrender as Leona slowly woke up, “Hey…hey there, bud. You ok?”

The kid turned, a big green eye full of distrust peering at Ruggie as if daring him to move. Before long Leona had moved to fully face Ruggie, sniffing the air a few times before narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, “You smell like the sheets in that room…”

Nodding, Ruggie tries to walk on his knees, one step for every few seconds to not startle the toddler, “Yeah. I do your laundry, it smells like me sometimes. I'm Ruggie, I…I take care of you here.”

Leona did not look pleased in the slightest that Ruggie was getting closer, but made no move past the adorable sneer, “Where's here? If you're trying to get money you picked the wrong kid.”

Ruggie didn't know if that was the inkling of something terribly sad or if Leona was actively threatening him and he didn't care to find out. He chuckles, one-half hobble of a step makeing Leona tense up, his poker face pinching together as he struggles to hold it together. Ruggie takes two knee steps back.

“I'm not dangerous. Hell, I think you'd wipe the floor with me anyway. I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Leona eased, his face slowly morphing into a pout and placing his tiny hands onto his stomach as he looked to the side, “I haven't either…”

Ruggie chuckles, eyes looking to the table and the empty wrappers, “You haven't?” He snorts at the little growl of a huff Leona lets out. He turns back to the kid, his smile turning soft as he held a hand out, “How about we get out of here and I make you some food? You can call Kipaji and we can go from there…”

“Kifaji…?”

Name dropping the aid was the right move, Leona's eyes lighting up at the familiar name before he schools his expression again. He wrings the edge of the now oversized sleep shirt in a show of nervousness. Sniffing the air, Leona wasn't able to smell anything pointing toward malice from the hyena. If anything it calmed him in a sense, the scent of something sweet with the earthy smell of dandelions, the same smell clinging to the fibers of the room he woke up in.

Ruggie kept his hand outstretched, breathing in relief when Leona finally walked closer and grabbed at his fingers with both of his hands. the sophomore stands, his scrawny hand wrapping securely around one of Leona's, “Let's get you a good meal then. You're so tiny; I gotta make sure you're well-fed!”

Leona pouts, following as the older boy guides them out of the little sanctuary, “I'm not that small for my age…”

Epel sighed, placing two plates down in front of the toddlers, “Here. Some nice and filling breakfast. Y'all want somethin’ to drink?”

Vil looked up, the long sleeves of his button-up pajamas neatly cuffed to allow his hands to be free of the fabric. He tilted his head, purple eyes curious, “You talk weird…Can I have peach juice?” he looked to his plate, smiling as he took notice of the gold swirls along the rim.

“...” Epel sighed, quirking his lip as he rolled his eyes. He couldn't smack the little bugger across the back of his head, he was four, he was going to say whatever was on his mind.

While Vil started to eat his breakfast, buttered toast and cut-up fruit just as he had requested, Rook was pouting, poking at his food in mild confusion.

“Rook?” The child snaps up, looking to Epel at the sound of his name, “Ya okay bud? Do ya not like ya food?”

“...” Rook pouted, eyebrows pinching together before he turned to Vil. He patted Vil on his shoulder, calling him to lean closer to whisper into his ear.

Vil hummed, nodding and swallowing his food before looking at Epel, “You got his food wrong.”

“Ah…how!?” Epel gestured to the bell pepper omelet on Rook's plate, “You said he wanted eggs and bell pepper! Did he want them raw!?”

“Don't yell at me!” Vil huffed, his tiny nose scrunched up as he slapped his hand to the table, “He told me you made it weird. You're the big kid, you should know what little kids need.”

Epel rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before speaking to Rook, “What's wrong with it? What'd ah get wrong?”

Rook only looked at him confused, blinking a few times before mumbling a few words to Vil. The other blonde perked up again, swallowing his food before he responded in stilted Florian. Epel watched the back and forth, eyes following and wondering why…they were speaking in the other other language…

Vil nodded after a while, turning to Epel, “You made it wrong.”

“What did ah make wrong?” How could such a cute kid be so annoying in this small amount of time?

Sighing, Vil gestured to the omelet on Rook's plate, the other child finally picking at the food to eat it in tiny bites, “His food! You made it wrong!”

Epel gestured to the plate almost in a hysterical fashion, “Ya said he wanted eggs and peppers!?”

The pout Vil pulls is cute, Epel can't lie. But the glare he gave him was all too familiar to the disapproving stare of his 18-year-old self, “That's what he said he wanted! That…Rook, qu'est-ce que tu voulais?” *

“Shakshuka! Mon papa le fait pour moi, mon frère et ma sœur. Il n'y a pas des tomates…”

Nodding, Vil passed over a few chunks of his fruit medley to Rook, turning to glare at Epel, “You forgot the tomatoes.”

Sighing once again, Epel braced against the table and leaned closer to Rook, “Lil guy, ‘ou're gonna need to communicate with me. What is Shakshuka?”

Rook blinked his two big green eyes, tilting his to side as he gave Epel a look of pure confusion.

Vil leaned past Rook, cupping his mouth with both hands to loudly whisper, “I don't think he knows Common yet…”

“...”

Oh, that…that was bad. Epel forgot that Rook was one of the younger third-years; most kids didn't start learning the worldly language of Common until they were around four or prepping to enter the school system. He could make the assumption that the other third-years had at least started their introductory lessons, allowing the school's translation charm to be properly activated for them still.

Epel looked to Vil, trying to keep himself from looking concerned, “Wait, why? He should at least know a few words by now?”

Another brief conversation in Florian between the toddlers, Vil turning to Epel, “He said his mommy said he wasn't getting lessons until he was five.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Epel breathed out. A new annoyance to this pile of nonsense that has become his school life.

Crewel sighed, leaned over his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him up. brushing his hair from his eyes he looked at the group of students and toddlers gathered in his homeroom. The toddlers all dressed in makeshift clothing of oversized shirts, socks, and magically resized shoes.

Riddle stood behind his two turned juniors, eyes watching them like a hawk. His gray pupils moving back and forth to make sure neither child was acting out. A helicopter guardian move that proved unnecessary since both children were sharing a chair and crowded against each other, looking with wide eyes at whatever was on Cater’s phone.

Ruggie stood still with a blank expression, for a second Crewel had feared that the Savanaclaw students hadn't managed to find Leona. Only to see tiny hands creep from behind Ruggie’s head to tug at the corners of his mouth. An equally tiny face peeking from Ruggie’s shoulder and demanding to know when he was going to be fed again.

Epel sat in a chair, eyes glaring straight ahead in purely concealed annoyance. In his lap was Vil, the toddler quietly whispering in a harsh tone as he held and picked at Epel's nails. Clearly scolding him for having dirt under his nails and the small nicks on his fingers. In contrast, Rook was comfortably seated on Epel's shoulders. The other child smiling and having fun messing with the freshman’s hair by running his hands through it and trying to pull it into pigtails.

Ortho was the calmest, Idia practically swimming in his standard hoodie from Ortho's arms. The junior's long hair had shortened dramatically, now a fluffy halo of blue flames compared to the tail it was before. He sat curled into Ortho's arms, his mouth covered by his hoodie sleeve as he nervously glanced around the room and chewed on the fabric.

The most contrasted pair were Malleus and Lilia. While Mallues stood on the ground, holding onto a folded over Sebek's hand and calm, Lilia…

Silver held the still hissing and yowling child by the arms and as far away from his body as possible. The long-haired bat fae was kicking and squirming, nearly fighting for his life to escape Silver's hold. Though from how he kept angling his head and biting into the fabric of the shirt, Crewel could only think it was also a demand to be freed from the prison called clothing.

Crewel groans, covering his face with both his hands. Soon Hui-Yan enters the room, looking annoyed as she tips her head toward Crewel in greeting, “I’ve alerted the other teachers, no one else seems to be affected so I believe it was just this group affected…”

“Uh…” Ruggie reached up, Finally pulling Leona's hands off of his face and moving to hold the toddler to his front, “So…I know they have these meetings every now and again. I help Leona make stuff for them sometimes. That's most likely where they got spelled or dosed…”

Riddle hummed, eyes still locked on his unbothered charges, “A potion makes the most sense…it would explain the delayed reaction more than a spell-Cater, don’t you dare open that message!” He reaches down, pulling the phone away from Cater’s little hands and ignoring his and Trey’s whining.

“...” Crewel sighed again, reminding himself that he had a bottle of scotch calling his name once this whole event was settled, “What potion even does this…? Bucchi, do you have any idea how they could have dosed?”

“Leona was making a big fuss last night on Malleus fuc-” He nearly bit his tongue, closing his mouth as nearly everyone’s eyes snapped to him, basically daring him to finish his sentence, “...He said Malleus messed up the drink mix he brought and it tasted bad…”

Silver sighed, trying his best to rework his hold on Lilia as the child managed to wiggle one of his arms free from his hand, “I remember…Kalim came over a day or so ago with various syrups and sodas…Malleus just said they were mixing things for fun but it must have been for this meeting- Ow.” He groaned frowning at the growling child digging his fangs into his hand, “Please, stop biting me…”

“I don’t think Kalim al Asim would bring anything that contained magical properties. So that leaves the Scarabia and the Diasomnia dorm as the prime location for a third-party to slip something into the beverage.” Ortho nodded at his reasoning, giving his brother a worried glance, “My most present concern is what could have done this. It was strong enough to effect full-blooded fae but weak enough to humans to ‘deage’ them both to the same age.”

“...No?” Sebek spoke quietly, eyes glancing between Malleus in his arms and Lilia wrapped around Silver's arm and biting into his wrist, “They're…they're not. Waka-sama! Do you know how old you are?”

Malleus had only jumped a bit at the sudden volume increase that was Sebek’s voice before calming back down, “I'm forty…”

“...”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose, counting back in his head to calm his rising blood pressure. He grabbed his phone with one hand, texting Oster as he searched in his other coat pocket, “I’ll need to do some tests to determine what’s in their systems. Not to mention just making sure it’s not actively hurting them…”

Epel spoke up, Vil moving from his hands to poking and pulling at his face claiming he was going to get wrinkles if he kept glaring, “How are you gonna test it?”

“Blood sample.” Crewel then pulled what they could only conceive as the biggest-looking syringe any of them had ever seen. Silver and Sebek both only seeing one of such style in the valley since it seemed more modern needles weren’t so…comically terrifying.

…

Every child once in a relative calm had started to sob the second the syringe was brought out, each wailing and struggling to escape the room or their guardians' hold once they realized they were going to be stuck with the insanely scary needle.

Silver was fighting to keep Lilia from kicking him in the throat in his efforts to break free of his hold. Sebek wasn’t any better as Malleus whimpered and whined, the lights flickering the more distressed he became as the clouds darkened outside. Ruggie had Leona on his head, the child hissing and trying to tug Ruggie by the ears to demand he turn around to leave the room. Epel and Riddle had it the worst. Both of the smaller boys tried to strong-arm two wailing toddlers from flinging themselves to the ground.

Riddle yells, face red both from overexertion and rage, “Why do you have a sterile syringe in your coat pocket!?”

“Don’t you bark at me, Rosehearts! I’ll keep what I need to deal with you lot of rowdy puppies!” The teacher groaned, the sound of wailing children something he had no desire to ever hear.

Hui-Yan was no better as the woman stood almost frozen beside him with her eyes jumping from one crying kid to the other. She leaned over, eyes glancing to Crewel’s phone to see what he had texted the other science teacher, “Is Oster bringing more syringes or are you going to draw from each of them?”

“... I'm not using the same needle on all of them Hui-Yan.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I just assumed that’s what you’d do.”

“Why-”

“Um!”

Crewel and Hui-Yan look in surprise. The voice was squeakier but Idia was clearly the child to speak out. He was making direct eye contact, pulling his face from his sleeve and nodding his head.

“I can go first! To show them it’s not scary.”

“O-oh…Thank you, Idia…?” Both teachers glanced at each other, almost asking if they had heard the same thing. Idia as an 18-year-old was not brave, loud, nor as considerate as his toddler counterpart. While very helpful, it was simply jarring…

Crewel pulled out his crop, starting to cast a few spells on the syringe in hand, “Another teacher is coming with more supplies so I can safely get a sample from each of you. You’ll get one of those needles since I have this one for Malleus or Lilia. Modern syringes are made from steel which, if you puppies have been doing your science homework, is a mixture of iron and carbon.” He held up the syringe again, eye twitching at the increased wailing of the children, “I have a few vintage syringes that are still functional that were made with silver. A few cleaning spells and they’ll be safe to use for the fae…”

Oster bursts in, a bag slung over her shoulder as she huffed and puffed, “I’ve come with the items!”

“Perfect timing. Please prep the baby Shroud to draw blood and prep yourself to potentially fight several children…” Crewel pulled out the single-use bags of syringes, looking each over before he started to prep the second vintage syringe.

Rook peaked from under Epel's arm, watching as Idia let Ortho and Oster maneuver his jacket around to show his arm. He whimpered louder, watching the teacher wipe at the other boy's arm with a cotton ball that stained his skin orange, “Vous ne savez pas ce qu'est un tir? Ils font mal et font peur!” **

Idia looked down, eyebrows creased together in confusion, “Wha…?”

Ortho hums, gaining Idia’s attention, “He’s speaking Florian.”

“Oh…” Idia turned back to Rook, shaking his head at the terrified child, “I don’t speak Florian…”

“Scary! He’s saying shots are scary!” Vil wailed, struggling and twisting his arm in Epel’s hold while Rook started to do the same with his other side.

“Oh…Well. I get shots a lot, so I’m used to them.” Idia gains a fearful expression seeing both Oster and Crewel give the needles a final check over, “Yeah, it feels like a pinch but then you get a sucker!”

Malleus stopped his whimpering, shyly peaking from a fretting Sebek’s shoulder. He sniffled, looking over to Idia, “What…what is a sucker?”

“...A sucker?” Idia responded, looking just as confused. How did anyone not know what a sucker was…?

Sebek spoke up, patting Malleus on the back in an effort to calm him more, “It’s a confection; like the honey drops given out at the spring festival! Once you have the test done, you will receive a sucker as your payment for your bravery!”

“...” Malleus looked over to Crewel, the man realizing he was being watched and stiffly held the syringe up. Turning back to Sebek, Malleus nodded his head in a determined manner, “...I want a honey drop…”

“I will ensure you have as many honeydrops as you can stomach, Waka-sama!”

Two of the eight children pacified by the promise of candy, Riddle and Epel took notice and decided it was their best bet.

Riddle managed to kneel down, almost being pulled over by the two struggling toddlers, “Trey, Cater, you can have sweets if you both allow the nice teacher to get a blood test-”

Trey all but wept, the fight slowly leaving him after nearly two minutes of tugging against Riddle’s grip, “I want my moooooooom…!”

Vil cried out, much angrier and still fighting to be released from under Epel’s arm, “I want my lawyer!”

It took another five or so minutes for every child to be calmed and pricked. Trey demanded to call his mother and father once he had his blood drawn and his sucker firm in hand. Cater completely rejected the idea of candy, pitching an even bigger fit at the idea he would be force-fed the sucker after he had his blood taken. Riddle had to promise not only on his life but his favorite color that Cater would be the one allowed to pick what they all had for lunch that day.

Vil had nearly screamed himself hoarse when Crewel approached him with the needle, completely falling into tears on the ground and forcing Epel to fully console the child. It took a promise of as much frozen yogurt as he wanted for dessert and to swear he hadn't been kidnapped by crazy fans of his father. The other blonde toddler had helped Epel explain to Rook that they needed to take a bit of blood to make sure he was healthy. Though he didn't look happy about it, he gained his sucker by holding Vil's hand and closing both of his eyes tight.

Malleus had allowed Oster to stick him with the needle, hiding in Sebek's shoulder and whimpering. The first-year nearly making the woman break the needle off under the toddler's skin, yelling at her that she had taken enough blood when the sample had barely reached the first measurement mark. Lilia fought tooth and nail, never having seen a syringe and thinking it to be a weapon of sorts. It took both Silver and Hui-Yan distracting the child with the promised bright green sucker, allowing Crewel to gather his sample the moment Lilia had let his guard down, barely moving away to avoid razor-sharp baby teeth.

Leona refused and no promise of candy nor food nor any activity Ruggie could think up was accepted. In the end it took Ruggie holding the little prince in a body lock with both his legs and an arm. His last appendage helping Oster by holding Leona's arm still as he hissed and yowled. Once released the first thing the prince did was turn around and lunge at Ruggie, biting down hard on the hyena’s ear and had yet to let go.

Idia had watched it all, comfortable and snug in Ortho's arms with his star-covered bandaid and already blue sucker-stained mouth, “Bunch of babies…”

A botched potion was the answer. From the trace of ingredients found, Crewel and Oster were able to conclude the original potion was a magic reduction syrup. A rare concoction, but commonly prescribed for younger children with high levels of magic and no proper training. A potion that Oster had started to make once she and Crewel realized the children would possibly need it, Malleus mostly…

The main deviation was the substitution of moon crystals for moon petals. An ingredient commonly found in high-quality beauty creams for rejuvenating purposes. Both Crewel and Oster recognizing it from their own beauty night creams. Not harmful, but, it did manage to turn the recipients four. Luckily the potion would only last for a week or so, two tops.

Crewel had tasked Hui-Yan to do what she did best, hunting down students. Someone had planned to potentially poison multiple students and it was an act that would not slide, even by Night Raven standards. But, until the culprits were caught, there wasn't much any of them could do but make sure their new tiny charges were comfortable.

With promise of properly sized clothing and other necessities to be delivered, everyone took their respective toddlers back to their dorms.

Riddle sighed, a pouting Cater holding onto two of his fingers and a still sniffling Trey clutched in his free arm. Walking back to Heartslabyul was a chore and his workload would only grow as the days went on. While aid would be coming in the form physical items, Cater and Trey were pillars of the dorm, emotional support for many a student and Riddle's closest aids. He was aware he'd lose them once they went off to their internships, but to have it happen only a few weeks into this repeat year was cruel. Even if it was only for at most two weeks, Ace and Deuce were not ready for the task of filling their juniors roles yet…

As he entered the dorm's lounge area, he made eye contact with Ace. The redhead freshman sitting on a couch opposite Deuce while the other muttered quietly.

“Wow…they're still four, huh? I would have thought Crewel-Sensei would give them something to make them older again…” Ace stood from his seat, walking closer and raising an eyebrow. Both at Trey whining into Riddle's shoulder and the foul little pout Cater was giving him, “What's their deals?”

“Shots. Suffice to say, neither were too happy about it…” While he was able to guide Cater toward Ace, the smaller redhand's pout lessening when he was picked up, Trey had simply refused to detach from Riddle.

Deuce smiled soft, poking at Trey's back, “Hey, lil guy. Nothing to be afraid of, we're all pretty familiar with each other when you're older.”

Trey merely shook his head, not moving from Riddle's shoulder.

Sighing, Riddle did his best to shuffle Trey in hopes of moving his weight in his quickly tiring arms, “It was a very emotional morning for everyone. Maybe a nap is in order for them, at least until lunch…”

Ace takes notice of Cater in his arms. At the mention of lunch, the toddler seemed to be on the verge of tears the longer Riddle spoke on sleeping arrangements instead of the actual meal time.He bounced the toddler lightly in his arms, gaining his attention before doing a stage whisper to gain everyone's attention, “Hey. Why are you so mad?”

Cater puffed his cheeks out, sending a glare over to Riddle before whispering back to Ace in a harsh tone, “He lied about letting me pick lunch. He didn't say I could pick…”

Ace gasped, looking toward a confused Riddle scandalized, “Housewarden! Shame on you! Did you promise Cater could pick lunch? And you go back on your word? Shame! Jail! Jail for one thousand years!”

Deuce turned to Riddle, frowning himself at the slight, “Rosehearts-senpai…”

“I-! Cater is still allowed to pick lunch!? I didn't say he wasn't? I only gave the opinion that they should have a nap beforehand. It was a very busy morning.”

Cater’s demeanor changed, his eyes widen in amazement and moving away from curling against Ace, “You mean it? I can still pick what's for lunch?”

Riddle softened, smiling at the clearly excited toddler, “Of course you can, Cater-CATER, DON'T JUMP!”

Calm had fled quickly, Cater managing to slip out of Ace's relaxed hold and hit the ground running. His little legs zooming him out of the room before any of them realized he was running.

Deuce was the first to sprint after the child, “Diamond-Senpai! Where are you going!?”

“To pick lunch!”

Ace and Riddle rushed after them both, Riddle still carrying Trey in his tired arms, “Cater, lunch isn't for hours!”

Cater demanded to pick lunch, only then would he even entertain the idea of a nap. So Riddle, Ace, and Deuce all walked along the kitchen. Following behind a far too excited toddler as he looked around the curvy space looking for something to eat.

Trey had finally calmed down, pulling himself from Riddle's shoulder to look around the kitchen himself. Luckily he was distracted enough for Riddle to hand him off to Deuce, finally giving his arms a break.

Riddle watched from a stool, Deuce carrying and holding Trey up to cabinets and various items of the kitchen for closer looks. Ace was following behind Cater, laughing whenever the child opened a cabinet below only to be greeted with pots and pans instead of the food he was expecting.

But soon, Cater found actual food in the cabinets he could reach. The redheaded toddler proudly presenting an unopened jar of tomato sauce to Riddle, “This! I want this for lunch!”

Riddle looked at the jar, knowing the sauce was healthy enough but…, “Just the sauce?”

“Yes.”

“No. You're not just eating sauce for lunch.”

“...” Cater’s face started to flush, tears welling up in his eyes before he started to stomp his feet, “No! You said! You said I could pick! You promised!”

“I did promise, but sauce isn't lunch. You need to pick something else.”

“Nooooooo!” Cater had fallen back onto his bottom, shaking his head and nearly throwing the glass jar to the ground in fury before Ace kneeled down. The now older redhead trying to both calm and reason with the child.

“H-hey. It's ok. We can find something other than sauce for lunch-”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Deuce had appeared, still holding Trey at an arms length while the toddler held out a box of dry spaghetti pasta. Trey shook the box, gaining Cater’s focus before he shook it again.

“We can have sauce and noodles! Then you can have a lot of sauce with them.”

“...” Cater seemed to weigh his options, casting a pout at Riddle who remained seated in his chair but was unable to look at the upset toddler for long, “I want a lot of sauce on my noodles…”

“...” Riddle knew they had some chicken in the fridge, Trey had wanted to try to teach a few dorm members proper breading techniques, “Yes. A pasta is a wonderful idea for lunch. You're both very smart boys. Cater’s sauce will help make the perfect food for lunch.”

The praise was more than enough to dry Cater’s tears, the toddler holding the jar tight in his hands as he smiled.

Ace, Deuce and Cater walked around the kitchen, both of the freshmen taking turns lifting the toddler to see into the upper cabinets. Riddle sighed, a weight settling into his chest. Children were…so emotionally fragile. A part of him feared this was another avenue of his life that his upbringing failed to prepare him for. Feeling a tug on the top of his boots, the housewarden looked down to Trey, the once content toddler now looking unsure and back on the verge of tears,

“Can I call my mom now? You promised…”

“...” Brief panic gripped his heart, a bead of sweat forming at his temple before he smiled at Trey, “S-sure. Just one moment…”

Riddle pulled out his phone, looking at the personal content number of Mrs. Clover, a number that was routinely deleted and re-added before and after every school break. He gulped, clicking on the icon for a video call and waiting.

The line had rung only a few moments before a middle-aged woman with cropped black hair appeared on screen, she blinked at the camera with warm honey eyes before a wide smile took over her face, “Oh! Riddle, hello, lovely. How are you? You don’t normally call. Oh! While I have you on the line, can you tell Trey I tried to call him this morning but his phone kept going to voicemail?”

“...About that…” Riddle smiled nervously, making brief eye contact with a very excited looking Trey at the sound of his mother’s voice, “Something happened today and…Well…” Riddle turned his phone around, doing his best to keep Trey in frame of the camera.

The sound of pans falling from over the phone was loud and as disastrous as Riddle feared it to be. Instead, Trey beamed, waving with both his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hi, mommy! I got shots today and was really brave!” Trey moved closer to the screen, holding up his unopened sucker for his mom to view, “I got a sucker. I think it’s strawberry. I can tell because it’s pink but still red. So it’s not cherry. I can tell!”

Riddle could hear how frazzled Mrs.Clover was, the woman stuttering over her words, “Oh, how amazing, Trey! You’ve gotten so good at telling flavors, haven’t you? Um…B-be a good boy for mommy and be nice to Riddle okay? He’s gonna look after you for a bit, okay?”

“Okay, mommy! I’ll be good!”

“Trey!”

Riddle and Trey looked over, Cater now on Deuce’s shoulders and looking into a cabinet with an expression of wonder, “There’s more pasta shapes in here!”

“I wanna see!” Trey had dashed over, only to stop and double back to wave to the camera one more time, “Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, sweetie~...” Once Trey had ran off, being picked up by Ace to look into the cabinet, Mrs.Clover whispered, “Riddle, what happened to my son?”

Riddle turned the camera back to himself, whispering low as to not gain anyone’s attention, “There was a situation involving a misbrewed potion being slipped to a group of juniors and Trey was unfortunately a part of it. Bloodwork was taken and there’s no harm being done from the potion. They’re simply…four for the next few weeks.”

Mrs.Clover stood with her mouth lightly agape, giving Riddle a hard stare that lasted so long her husband had called out to her in mild confusion and concern. She shook her head, blinking herself back before turning around. She said a few words that Riddle couldn’t make out before facing him again, “We’ll get our ducks in a row over here. By…By Sunday we should have everything all set to close down for the week to come help you boys out.”

“Mrs.Clover, I couldn’t possibly ask-”

“Well, you aren’t, I’m offering, Riddle. You said a group got turned right? You boys over there are still just kids. My husband and I will be there to take the load off of you from watching them. Plus, it’ll be nice you know? We missed so much of Trey’s childhood…It’s not permanent but it’d be nice to have more pictures of him from when he was small…”

“...” Riddle huffed, looking to the side, “That would be helpful…I will have plenty of paperwork to handle now that Trey and Cater are indisposed…”

“I’ll call you later tonight! I can help you get Trey settled into bed. You should think of calling Cater’s parents, too. Bye, Riddle. Talk more later, okay?”

“Understand. Farewell and a good afternoon to you Mrs.Clover.”

Once the call had ended, Riddle thought over her words. It may be helpful for the others dealing with toddlers to have a week break from tending to them. Humming under his breath, he sends a message to Ortho, wondering what the android though of the idea of alerting the turned junior’s families…

Translations!

*V: Rook, what did you want? R: My papa does it for me, my brother and my sister. There are no tomatoes

**R: Don't know what a shot is? They hurt and are scary!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst heartslabyul #twst savanaclaw #twst pomefiore #twst ignihyde #twst diasomnia #toddler chronicles

73 notes · View notes

ryin-silverfish · 4 months ago

Text

Nezha the Demon Child: oh god not the discourse

…I promise, this isn't about Nezha's age. No, really, it isn't.

It's about this idea of pre-resurrection Nezha as a "Demon Child", and good lord that's just as discourse-worthy isn't it.

My short answer is "It's Nezha 2019 specific and doesn't quite work outside of that context, if you are using FSYY's version of Nezha's backstory."

My long answer is this entire post.

First, I must define what I mean by "Nezha as Demon Child". It's the popular fanon inspired by 2019! Nezha, who is the Demon Pearl incarnate as opposed to 2019! Ao Bing's Spirit Pearl, after 2019! Shen Gongbao switched the two around, and thus destined to be destroyed by divine thunderbolts in three years.

In the movie, Nezha's demonic birth and out-of-control powers makes him into an outcast, despised by the villagers, and he retaliated with some pretty mean pranks.

But whereas 2019! Nezha's parents still love him and try their best to give him a good childhood in those three years, in the "Demon Child" fanon of JTTW adjacent works, Li Jing is the one who despises Nezha and sees him as a demon from the moment of his birth, and sometimes Jinzha and Muzha too.

Now, I have made it pretty clear before that I'm not a big fan of Li Jing. However, if we are just looking at FSYY novel, how much support can we really find for the "Demon Child" idea?

Well, for starters: there is only the Spirit Pearl/Lingzhu Zi in FSYY proper, who reincarnated as Nezha, destined to become the Vanguard of the Zhou Army in the upcoming War of the Investiture.

When Lady Yin gives birth to a ball of flesh after 3 years of pregnancy, two servants report to Li Jing that she has given birth to a demon. Li Jing rushes into the room with a sword and cuts the ball open, and a little kid jumps out and starts running around, and this is Li Jing's reaction:

李靖骇异，上前一把抱将起来，分明是个好孩子，又不忍作为妖怪坏他性命。乃递与夫人看。彼此恩爱不舍，各各忧喜。

Rough translation: "Shocked, Li Jing stepped forth and lifted him up into his arms; such a fine child. He could not bring himself to harm the child as a demon. Then he passed him over to his wife, and the couple showered him with affection, despite their individual joys and worries."

The next day, Taiyi showed up to congratulate him, asked about the timing of his son's birth, and basically went "Ah, crap." See, because the child is born at the hour of Chou, he is destined to break 1700 prohibitions against killing. Right after dropping that bombshell, Taiyi named the child Nezha, took him as his disciple, and just…left.

Soon, Li Jing got a report that 400 vassals had rebelled all over the realms, because prior to this, King Zhou had summoned his four major dukes to the capital, killed two of them, imprisoned one, and only left Chong Houhu the asshole bootlicker untouched, at which point the two dead dukes' sons promptly rebelled.

As Nezha grew to the age of seven, Li Jing was still conducting drills in case of an attack by the new Duke of the East's rebel army.

So what does it all mean?

Well…it sure doesn't support the idea that Li Jing despised Nezha because he still thought the child was a demon after cutting open the meatball.

He could plausibly be unsettled by the whole "break 1700 prohibitions against killing" prophecy, but instead of being abusive, I think it's more likely that he just neglected Nezha due to his duties as a general, leaving it entirely to Lady Yin to raise the kid.

Which is still not the best parenting, but with different implications for Nezha's character. Like, FSYY's Nezha gives me the vibe of someone who just doesn't quite understand social norms, or human behavior in general, or what a healthy degree of fear even feels like, and being outright despised or abused as this "Demon Child" would have taught him to fear things very quickly.

If he was indeed feared by Li Jing, it's less "suffer not the yaoguai!" and more "let's keep our third kid happy and ignorant and never let him out of the house again."

To use a fucked-up analogy…Nezha is less this dangerous hound that must be chained to a wall and whipped into submission, but a fine, powerful weapon Taiyi had left to them for safekeeping purposes, much like the Qiankun Bow & Sky-shaking Arrows sitting in their backyard building.

Perhaps he still isn't seen as his own person or treated like a regular, flesh-and-blood kid, yet it won't make sense for Li Jing or his older brothers to do the equivalent of spitting on this precious weapon or kicking it off the stands.

(Since Nezha doesn't even recognize Muzha when they run into each other during the Attempted Patricide Arc, my HC is Jinzha and Muzha both left home to study under their masters at a pretty young age, and rarely came back for visits.)

Like, I can still see Li Jing being this stuck-up and emotionally distant guy who only interacts with his kids to "check on their homework", so to speak.

Or Lady Yin coddling Nezha, partially because she wants to make up for Li Jing's absence, and partially due to the vain hope that, by sheltering her youngest child from the world, she might be able to shelter him from his very destiny too.

...

Here's where I go off a tangent: on a meta level, Nezha isn't a demon or an aberration of the natural order (which yaoguais are often seen as) either. This is very much informed by a Chinese essay called 由哪吒看《封神演义》的天命世界 that analyzed the character in relation to FSYY's view of Fate.

It is very well written and has given me quite the emotional damage (/hj).

Specifically:Nezha is destined to violate 1700 prohibitions against killing, not because he is "evil" or demonic, but because he's born to be an executioner carrying out the Will of Heaven.

He is the very embodiment of the "Peril" that is the War of Investiture, and thus must suffer through his own perils, to be ritualistically remade in death into a demigod-like warrior.

Much like how the Chan 12's participation in the War of Investiture is, in and of itself, a Peril, something they must endure and survive as the consequences to their causes——failing to sever the Three Corpses and breaking prohibitions, Nezha's suicide served as his Peril, a death that shall cleanse him of his guilt and satisfy the karmic laws while also fulfilling his destiny.

Everyone he killed in battle follows the same logic: they have violated taboos (more true for the Jie Sect immortals), gone against the impersonal, ironclad Will of Heaven yet paradoxically playing straight into Fate's hands, as their deification through death has proven——a Peril as well as a consolation prize.

To folks that don't buy into FSYY's view of Fate and think it's bullshit, or don't understand the logics of deification: an alternate and more "modern" interpretation of Nezha's suicide may be an attempt at finding freedom.

After all, what's a weapon's biggest act of resistance, but breaking itself?

After this, I'll never owe anyone anything again. My debts are repaid. I'll never see my mother cry. I'll be no one's son, no one's disciple, a blade that will never be sheathed and left to gather dust in the attic, obstructed, then blamed for doing what it's made for.

It also isn't as simple as he thought. Death, as well as freedom.

Looking back centuries later, he'll probably cringe at his younger self too.

This? This is what you think your destiny, or freedom from it, looks like? Dishing out death indiscriminately without understanding what it means and lashing out in a fit of rage——it doesn't make you a good warrior, or even a good weapon, just a mad dog!

Like, I think Nezha can be rightfully pissed at Li Jing's Asshole Arc after his death, while also gradually coming to a more mature and nuanced understanding of violence and his purpose during WOI.

Namely, as ironclad and undeniable as Fate is in FSYY, attributing everything to it is just an easy way to avoid the difficult questions and personal responsibilities.

And I feel like there are a lot of interesting potential in exploring Nezha's post-war arc, of someone who is born to be a weapon, who finds comfort and certainty in that purpose, suddenly having to become something else.

Not necessarily in the "learning to be human again" sense, moreso the divine equivalent of a veteran adjusting to civilian life, exploring the boundary between executioner and protector, while dealing with both the funny and messed-up implications of working alongside everyone he sent into the Investiture.

#investiture of the gods #fengshen yanyi #nezha #nezha 2019 #fsyy

120 notes · View notes

deutsche-bahn · 6 months ago

Text

I took some time and translated one of the anecdotes I'd written on here, since people keep putting my german posts through google translate in the notes and it makes my eyes bleed

It's a small story of a situation I got myself into while I was travelling through Prague. It was winter, I was 19, and completely disoriented on my way through eastern Europe. That day I'd made plans to meet some folks for breakfast at a café. But me being me I had somehow managed to type the wrong café into google maps, which sent me marching into the wrong part of town.

I burst into this unassuming little café somewhere in Prague like I was a Roman looking for the last unoccupied village in Galicia, walked through the rows of tables, couldn't find anybody. Opened google maps and promptly realized my mistake.

Unfortunately, by that point I'd caught the eye of the waiter. Some young, skinny guy with a pastel tshirt and a bow tie, looking vaguely like an overwhelmingly gay youtuber straight out of 2016. Good for him honestly.

He came flying in my direction, asking if there was anything he could help me with.

This is the point where I should briefly mention what I looked like at the time, since that somehow manages to make this story so much worse, yet so much better:

For starters I was dressed in a giant winter parka that I had quasi-borrowed from my ex. It was oversized to the point of making me look like the world's saddest emperor penguin. I'd spent the night on a flixbus (because what's new), was sleep deprived to the point of delyrium and wore giant hiking boots. The fact that I also suffer from a condition called "always looking like a 12yr old" certainly wasn't helping. In short, I looked like you could've cast me as Gavroche then and there.

The waiter proceeded, in czech, to ask me- well, something in czech. My czech skills are... lacking, and even that's a euphemism. I replied with all the wit I could muster: "What?? Sorry"

He repeated, now in english: "Hi, can I help you?"

I decided to opt for the one answer that could possibly make me look even more like a lost child.

"No, I'm just looking for my friends!"

Fantastic, stellar job, you babyfaced lunatic. Why not tell him that you'd now like to call your mum to come pick you up now? Jfc.

The waiter had already entered lost-child-emergency mode and actually offered to let me call someone if I needed to. Ah shit. "I can make you some tea!" he added. I got the vague feeling that he was five minutes and one more concerning remark on my part away from calling the authorities on me, so my reply of "ah, no no, I'm perfectly fine!" came out with a wee bit too much panic in my voice.

At that point he asked me what I was doing in Prague to begin with. In his eyes, there was a child standing in his cafe, unable to speak the local language and without his friends. Goddamn you, google maps.

I had travelled to the czech republic for a larp, and I'd rather have perished than explain the concept of larping to a random gay waiter. "Oh, it's very very complicated" I said instead. Holy shit, can you act less like a potential human trafficking victim, I fucking beg you?? Thanks in advance.

By this point the waiter was even more concerned, if possible. I thanked him several times (I must've seemed so composed and relaxed) and promptly booked it back out onto the street. Average Wednesday

#translated #tbh mir fehlt die kreativität gerade was neues zu schreiben so translating and revising old texts it is

72 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 5 months ago

Text

Prompt 25 - Bundle

@jegulus-microfic July 25, Word count 942

Previous part First part

Barty and Evan were fast as cobras, slamming the cards down so quickly that half the time James couldn’t see what card had been put down before it was covered up. This resulted in Evan and Barty winning the first few rounds. James was just glad he’d eaten so much at dinner so there was something to soak up the alcohol, but looking at how these guys played he was going to get plastered.

Regulus put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze.

“You can stay over if you like. I’m staying, and I think you’re about to get very drunk,” He snickered quietly at the last bit.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that? I don’t want to impose.” James had already decided to call a taxi when the evening was over. He didn't want to drive and the walk was too long, especially when inebriated.

“Yeah, go for it, it’s no problem,” Evan told him while he refilled the glasses.

“We’re only going to sleep, James. Believe me, once I’ve finished wiping the floor with you all, you won’t be fit for much else.” Regulus smirked at him.

“Those are pretty big words for someone who’s not won a round yet,” Barty said, picking up the large stack of cards that he’d won and letting them drop slowly into his other hand.

“Yeah, Reg. Your piles looking pretty slim,” Evan grinned at him and fanned himself with a stack that rivalled Barty’s. Regulus kept his face neutral.

“Care to make a wager?” Regulus asked, buffing his nails against his shirt before blowing imaginary dust from them. Evan and Barty had a silent conversation before they nodded simultaneously.

“Let’s hear it then,” Barty said, waiting for Regulus’s bet.

“If I win, James and I get your master suite.” James gulped. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“And if one of us wins?” Evan questioned.

“If either of you win I’ll finally agree to that threesome you’ve been pestering me about.” James’s eyes flew to Regulus. It wasn’t like they were seeing each other, and Regulus had every right to do as he wanted, with who he wanted and James had no say in that, but he thought he might be more discreet about it.

“Deal,” Evan and Barty chorused, shaking Regulus’s hands.

“And if I win, you’re all getting makeovers,” Pandora chirped in.

“Deal,” All four of them agreed, making her smile widely.

“Let the real game begin,” Barty grinned, setting the starter card on the floor in front of them.

It was absolute chaos. Pandora was out pretty quickly, but she continued to take a shot at the end of each round. James followed soon after. He just wasn’t quick enough, the others had clearly played a lot to get this good. The piles each player held grew and shrunk as the rounds went on until Regulus’s pile was substantially larger.

The next out was Evan, as he put down his last card and the next didn’t match. It was between Regulus and Barty now. The bottle of Vodka was nearly empty and James was struggling to keep up with the game.

He’d nodded off, his head lolling back onto the sofa when a cheer rang out around the room and someone shouted.

“Damn it!” James wrenched his eyes open and found Regulus squatting before him holding out a hand.

“Come on, sunshine, the master bedroom awaits,” James helped him get him to his feet.

“Night lads!” James said loudly, waving at them wildly.

The bed was huge, with four tall posts and emerald curtains the entire way around.

“The bathrooms over there,” Regulus said, pointing at the door to the en suite. “I’ll go get you a toothbrush if you wait a second.” Regulus left the room and James was alone. He quickly nipped into the bathroom and relieved himself. He was just drying his hands when Regulus returned with a new toothbrush.

James was a bit unsteady, the vodka making itself better known now that he was standing. The toothbrush slipped from his mouth a few times, leaving foamy white trails around his lips.

“Why so Sirius?” He joked at his reflection.

“Oh, Lord, did you really just say that?” Regulus groaned from the doorway. James squealed in fright, having forgotten that Regulus was even there. “Here,” Regulus said, once James had calmed down. He tossed a bundle of clothes at him. “They’re Barty’s, hopefully, they'll fit you. He’s never worn them. His mum insists on sending him pyjamas every Christmas.” He said as James unrolled the pyjama set and began stripping. “Merde,” Regulus gasped when James’s shirt fell to the floor. He disappeared before James could make a start on his belt buckle.

James tried to get the pyjamas on but Barty, while around the same height, was of a much slimmer build and James couldn’t get the shirt to button or the pants to pull up past his thighs.

Regulus came running in when he heard the loud bang. James had toppled over while trying to pull the pyjama pants back off. He’d landed quite heavily on his rump against the cold tiles.

“I’m good,” He held his hand up. James wiggled out the pants and put his underwear back on. They’d have to do. He was too tired to do anything else. He shrugged off the shirt as well and hauled himself to his feet, leaving the discarded clothes on the floor and stumbling past Regulus towards the huge bed. He collapsed on it, falling asleep as his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even feel the bed dip as Regulus joined him.

Next part

78 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years ago

Text

Lover 💗 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x singer!reader (female/romance)

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of sexism, references to pop culture, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @auroradawnwrites 💗)

Premise : When it came to her love life, singer and songwriter Y/n L/n had a reputation where it felt like the world was against her to the point she doubted ever finding her perfect match. Being in the industry for so long made it difficult to envision what a life with her potential soulmate would be like. But sometimes great things come to people who are patient. And finding the person who made Y/n feel like the only girl in the world had that reputation flicker away like dust on a bookshelf.

Note: I know I keep apologizing for the long waits in my requests but I promise it’s because of having to balance school, random shit happening in my life, and wanting to put out a developed, well-thought out story that the requested person deserves 🥹 and I realized about week ago when I started writing this one after finally getting to it after it was sent in February. @auroradawnwrites I saw that you posted last month that you were leaving your blog but if you happen to see this on another account or still have the notifications on for that blog just know I’m so sorry for this taking so long and I hope it was everything you imagined 😭

Songs headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Love Story,’ ‘Bad Blood,’ ‘Look What You Made Me Do,’ ‘Getaway Car’ ‘You Need To Calm Down’ by Taylor Swift. ‘Love’ by Lana Del Rey. Albums mentioned that are headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Lover’, ‘1989’ (I just changed it to 1986 to suit the headcanonned year of birth for reader), ‘Reputation,’ ‘Fearless,’ ‘Red’

——————————

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our next guest,” Jimmy Fallon grins to the audience, arm slightly raising towards the curtains. “She’s been a friend to The Tonight Show for a long time. Here to celebrate twenty years since her debut and to talk about her newest album ‘Lover,’ singer and songwriter—the one and only, Y/n L/n!!”

There’s no need to turn on the sign reading ‘Applause,’ because the audience are on their feet when the curtains draw open slightly to reveal the beaming popstar. People are waving frantically, whistling, some even on the verge of tears at the fact they were in the presence of their idol. It was even hard hearing the band play from the noise

Y/n smiled the entire walk to Jimmy, blowing kisses at the crowd before embracing the man in a hug and settling down on the arm chair. “Wow, wow, wow,” he shouted, watching her give one last wave as he sat in his own chair. “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hi, Jimmy! It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s great to see you too, it’s been awhile since we’ve had you on, huh?” Both make faces indicating they were thinking about her last appearance on the show.

“I think it’s been almost…six years,” Y/n tapped her lips with a finger. “Pre-pandemic I believe—because I haven’t really done much since 2019.”

“Yeah, you took a bit of a break.”

“A much needed one,” she chuckled, “But it feels so great to be back. I’ve been taking this time to really put time into discovering who I am as a person and what is next for me. I’m so grateful for the fans who’ve supported me all this time—I know,” she looks to the camera, “I know I kept you waiting, but fear not, I am back and better than ever.” The statement ignites a holler and applause from the crowd.

Jimmy claps with the audience, “That’s what I’m talking about. What can you tell us about this new music you’ve been working on? I know I mentioned your upcoming one, but you actually announced you will be releasing another at the end of this year, correct?”

Instantly Y/n lights up, “That’s right, Jimmy. For starters Lover is probably my most personal album to date. During the pandemic I basically shut myself off from everyone—and the world because I deleted the social media apps off my phone,” there’s a light chuckle from the crowd, “which made everyone go crazy thinking I died. But I can assure you I was just trying to put all my time and energy into writing, producing, selecting which songs would go on the track list. Each song is there for a specific reason—telling a story per say, and I feel listeners will be able to relate in some way.”

“Why the name ‘Lover,’?” Jimmy asked with curiosity, “is it a metaphor for the story or does it have a deeper meaning?” Judging by the cheesy smile Y/n started to do, Jimmy straightened his posture. “Are you….?”

“It’s for the lovers, you know?” Y/n shrugged nonchalantly. Those around didn’t buy it, leaning forward in their seats with curious eyes. “Yeah it’s about love and those feelings where you think your heart is about to burst from your chest. Like I said, many will be able to relate to it.”

Jimmy gave a look, “So did someone in your life inspire it perhaps?”

Instead of answering right at that second, Y/n remained grinning as the face of inspiration and the owner of her heart appeared in her mind. His gorgeous hazel eyes glowing under the sunlight. The feeling of his warm body against hers each time he held her in his arms. Tickling sensations from his mustache when he rained kisses across her skin. The sound of his laugh whenever he made a joke or she did something silly just to see him smile. Fingers dancing across the piano while they sang their favorite songs in their own private concert.

Her lover. Her life. Her reason for waking up everyday in an endless state of bliss. The person who inspired nearly every song on the album, best describing it as a love letter to him.

Relationships and romance had been a complicated part of Y/n’s life and career. A reputation often frowned upon despite only seeing a small picture.

It all started one summer day in Nashville, Tennessee. 17-year-old Y/n had big dreams and aspirations of being a singer, spending her free time playing guitar and writing songs about teenage experiences. Growing up in Tennessee, the birthplace of country music, Y/n was surrounded by the legacy of icons like Dolly Parton, The Dixie Chicks, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Reba McEntire, and Kenny Rogers. It was all she listened to growing up, though she did dabble in pop and R&B—going on to cite Aaliyah, TLC, Whitney Houston, and David Bowie as influences in her music.

“I hear the high school is having a talent show Friday night,” her coworker hummed, handing over the now clean plate to be dried. “Did you sign up?”

“No,” Y/n tiredly exhaled. It was pushing 8 o’clock and she still had one more hour until closing. Working at a popular diner gave Y/n the ability to save for college and an apartment, but it meant working more hours than what she legally was supposed to—on top of balancing school and band. “I have a pre-cal test on monday so I planned to stay in and study.”

“Oh c’mon! You’ve been itching to sign up all year—why back out now? All for a test you know you’ll get an A on?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, taking another plate to dry, “That’s reaching and you know it.”

“Y/n, you’re one of the smartest people in our grade. Literally will be in the top five come graduation. It’s a Friday night and the whole school is gonna be there,” her friend pleads to her, “you’ve got a voice that’s meant to be heard and songs that should be on the radio.”

The teen gives a ‘I don’t think so,’ shrug, “Eh, I feel my style is not exactly what country music is looking for.”

“Maybe so…but maybe it’s what it needs.”

Guitar in hand and shaking like a leaf, Y/n pulled everything in her to drum her fingers on the strings. The spotlight shining down on her made her squint, unable to see into the crowd save for the silhouette of their heads.

“Just breathe, Y/n,” she mentally told herself. It was dead quiet in the auditorium after a light applause when the drama teacher called her name. And since she wasn’t using an electric guitar, there was no way to hook hers up to the speakers. “Breathe and let your voice do the work.”

Clearing her throat, her lips curled into a shy smile, “This is an original song I’ve been working on. Hope you like it.” Slowly the tune began to echo through the auditorium. Y/n’s voice was shaky at the beginning, but soon found confidence when she closed her eyes and pictured herself in the comfort of her own room.

“We were both young when I first saw you.”

“I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing’ there.”

“On a balcony in summer air.”

Those in the crowd perked up, schoolmates looking at each other with impressed gazes.

“See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns.”

“See you make your way through the crowd, and say, “Hello.”

“Little did I know.”

Finally finding her rhythm, a genuine grin broke out on her face.

“That you were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles.”

“And my daddy said, “Stay away from Juliet—and I was cryin’ on the staircase,”

“Beggin’ you, “Please don’t go,” she let her voice drag out the ‘go’, igniting jaws to be dropped. “And I said.”

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run.”

“You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess.”

“It’s a love story, baby, just say, ‘Yes.’”

Needless to say, Y/n went home with the winning trophy….and a meeting with Capitol Records Nashville.

Going to college was no longer the plan for Y/n once her signature hit the contract. 3 albums and a promise to take country music by storm was the new future. Staring as soon as her tassel turned from right to left with the class of 2004. Y/n packed up her tiny Honda Civic with everything she had, kissed her family goodbye with plans to see them for the holidays and settled into a cozy studio apartment smack in the middle of Nashville.

“You have a unique voice and lyrical direction, Y/n,” Randy Kingston, one of the execs at CRN said to her one day. “You’re not full country—by that I mean there’s a pop element you bring to the table. Country-Pop if you will.”

Y/n didn’t know how to respond except nod, “Uhhh yeah? I listen to a lot of different genres—-Pop being a big one. A-and I like to experiment by adding different….flavors to my music.” Her expression turns nervous, “is that gonna be a problem, sir?”

Randy rubbed the bottom of his chin with a hand, “No, I don’t think it will. It’s refreshing and something new. Frankly I think you’re gonna do well with the youngin’s. Your age range will likely be the best receivers.”

Turns out Randy was right. Releasing her first two singles were met with wide recognition from teenagers and young adults. Topping the country music charts for several weeks. During that time Y/n began working on her debut self-titled album on top of filming her first music video for ‘Love Story’. When it dropped, it didn’t just get noticed within the country scene. MTV released it during their early morning showings most people played when getting ready for school and work. Doing so allowed ‘Love Story’ to get more attention that people who were not even country fans were purchasing the single.

“Platinum?!” Y/n screamed at the sight of the framed record indicating ‘Love Story’ sold one million copies.

“Platinum,” Randy grinned, presenting it to her. “Well done, kiddo. You deserve it.” He also dropped the ball that Ellen Degeneres called to schedule an appearance—which nearly had Y/n drop the frame in her hands.

The Ellen Degeneres Show was the first public interview Y/n had ever done. And….it was the first time she was questioned about her love life. Something that would become her greatest nemesis throughout her entire career.

“So your song ‘Love Story’ is all about love, yes?” Ellen asked, igniting a laugh from the audience given the title of the song made it obvious what it was about.

“Yes.”

“So does that mean you got some love going on for yourself? Anyone who inspired this for you?”

“U-Uh, no?” It came out more like a question, causing the audience to laugh while she nervously smiled. “Not really—I-I’m not dating anyone currently, but the song sorta came from my love for romance novels and movies. Everyone desires love,” she nods to herself, “and I wanted to write something that people could relate to. Plus I love Romeo and Juliet—which is the big inspiration for the song.”

Following the appearance on Ellen, Y/n focused on writing music and releasing her albums. Her unique sound of combining country with elements of pop and R&B had listeners from all over the world drawn to her. It was a new era of country music.

But not everyone was very accepting of it.

Older generations and die hard lovers of traditional country were very unwelcoming to Y/n. They felt she didn’t belong in the genre and was better suited for pop. Though Y/n agreed to some extent, she feared making the transition from country to full pop wouldn’t be wise. She was still roughly new to the industry, trusting the judgment of her label who she was contracted to do 3 albums for. So she continued to fulfill her duty until the right moment came.

By the end of the first decade in the 21st century, Y/n had established herself one of the leading artists in country music with four Grammys, six MTV Moonmen, four AMA’s, five Billboard awards and 12 CMA’s. She appeared twice on SNL, performed at Dick Clark’s New Year Rockin’ Eve, and even collaborated with Miranda Lambert.

Yet the media liked to only talk about Y/n’s dating history.

In the first year of her career, Y/n briefly dated Jesse McCartney after first meeting at the 2005 Kids Choice Awards. Shortly after their breakup she was seen with Harry Potter actor Tom Felton, but nothing came out of it. The ‘date’ the media thought had actually been a handout between several of their mutual friends where they happened to be pictured smiling and laughing. After that incident Y/n did get into a five month long relationship with Leonardo DiCaprio, who was twelve years older than her and sparked endless conversation in the media.

Then in 2007-2009 Y/n became involved with Eddie Redmayne following their introduction to each other at Ellen Degeneres’ birthday party. They remained friends afterwards, but their relationship inspired a lot of Y/n’s work which resulted in people criticizing her for making too many break up songs.

“You’ve had quite the track record when it comes to the romance scene, Y/n,” David Letterman voiced during her appearance on his show. The singer was overcome with immediate dread. Again was she subjected to questions about her love life when it was no one’s business. But of course, if there’s one thing men like David have, it’s the audacity. “Which brings me to my next questions: are you dating anyone? And are they gonna have a song about them once you two break up?”

Now unfortunately it was common knowledge late night show hosts were disrespectful towards their guests and didn’t know what boundaries were. Though this was known, however, there was still the underlying pressure to keep silent by smiling and pushing through. Sometimes playing it off like it doesn’t affect you was better than having an outburst and being criticized more by the media. Displaying any offense would label them emotional and sensitive.

Though she wanted nothing more than to walk off the set and cry in her dressing room, Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and answered as calmly as she could muster. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. I just want to focus on my music and what comes from my heart is what I put out.”

When Y/n did get into a relationship or was seen on a friendly date—hell even being spotted when out with a male friend for lunch had paparazzi and tabloids bombarding her.

“Is love in the air….again? Country music’s it girl, 24-year-old Y/n L/n, was seen holding hands with Australian actor Xavier Samuel who’s playing Riley Biers in the upcoming third installment of The Twilight Saga. Just this past March Y/n was linked to the son of Tennessee’s Attorney General. Let’s not forget L/n was in a two year romance with Eddie Redmayne before calling it quits last fall. Fans are starting to notice a pattern when it comes to L/n’s relationships and album releases. Should we expect her new single to drop within the next year? And will this romance with Samuel blossom into something long term or end as a spur of the moment flame?”

Notice how all the attention is Y/n and her life? Never once were the men she dated ever asked questions like she was—even if they had a history rivaling hers. Take Leo for example. The women he dated only got younger than Y/n as the years went on and people barely bat an eye.

After the release of her third studio album with CRN, Y/n had a tough decision to make. By that point her last album had more pop than country. The reaction of the fans was pretty much, “You need to just label yourself a pop artist now.” “‘Red’ was literally 90% Pop with 10% Country.” “Stop saying you’re a country music star when the last album you put out was anything but country.”

So…it was safe to say it was time to make the move to a different genre. Thankfully Capitol Records in Los Angeles was ready with the pen in hand to sign Y/n on. There she had creative control on what she put out and Y/n was excited to get started on a new era in her life.

2012 would go down as the year where Y/n was on the edge of her seat with how her career would go. Fans were mixed about her going to pop despite her recent music having mostly pop elements. Then there was the fact she was dating Tyler Hoechlin from Teen Wolf which had fangirls hating her guts for dating their celebrity crush.

What’s sad is Y/n was used to that reception whenever she was in a relationship with a public figure. First Jesse then Tom, Leo, Eddie, and Xavier. Can’t forget the times she got caught on dates with Robert Pattinson, Micheal B. Jordan, and Chris Evans. Then there were the incidents where the paparazzi captured her making out with Sebastian Stan at an after party and leaving the 2011 Grammys with Nate Buzoliac before he made it big as Kol Mikaelson in The Vampire Diaries.

Getting a break was not in the cards for the singer.

When things ended with Tyler in 2015, Y/n told herself she would not date anyone for awhile. Her album ‘1986’ was met with critical acclaim and positive reception from fans, earning her more awards to her growing collection, including the Grammy for Album of the Year. The entire time on tour she focused on having fun and not worrying about what people thought of her. Yeah she still got questions from interviews and hosts about dating she’d simply reply with, “I’m single, and let’s not entertain that further. Next question.”

@ inmyreputationera: I guess @Y/nL/n86 decided romance isn’t exactly her thing. I wonder how that’ll change her music.

@ stanningselenerr: not me checking @ Y/ndatingupdates daily for any new info.

Those were just the handful of tweets Y/n saw everyday on her Twitter feed. It got to the point she’d have to mute notifications whenever she was tagged. While she hated doing so because she loved interacting with fans, the singer needed time away from the constant surveillance of her personal life.

So fast forward to mid-summer of 2018. Y/n hadn’t put out an album in nearly three years nor had she been dating anyone. Yeah people still asked her from time to time though she learned to not let it affect her. Honestly it was a breath of fresh air. She was happy, healthy, and living her best life. Putting her heart and soul into songwriting which was heavily inspired by the reputation she’d garnered since her debut. Not to mention developing closer bonds with her friends and family after making the impulse decision in 2017 to move back to Tennessee. It felt good to be back home. Returning to her roots and the place that started it all after being away for so many years. It was a great time.

Now she was due back to Los Angeles to meet with her manager and producers. Y/n was ready to get back into the studio as much as her fans were telling her they were waiting for new music. With a first-class ticket in hand, Y/n boarded her red-eye flight from Nashville International to LAX and settled in for the five hour flight. It would have them landing at just after 3am Pacific time and while Y/n wanted to rest, she could not for the life of her sleep on a plane.

Approaching her seat Y/n noticed a man in a military uniform seated in the seat beside hers. “Excuse me,” she caught his attention, his head raising where he put two and two together by her hand pointing to the window seat.

“Oh sorry, ma’am,” it took everything in Y/n not to stare at him when he got up. He was very handsome. In his uniform, hazel eyes and sun kissed skin. The most notable feature was his mustache that most men could not pull off yet he seemed to.

“Do you need help with that?” The question pulled her from her mini daydream. He was referring to the carryon bag in her hand.

“Oh I got it—.”

“It’s no problem,” he was already taking the bag from her, securing it in the overhead compartment.

“Thank you so much,” Y/n thanked him while moving into the row, placing her purse in her lap when she sat down. The man returned to his seat just as the next wave of passengers boarded.

Manny, her personal bodyguard who’d been with Y/n since her first tour, was seated in front of her. When they got the tickets he purposely told her to have them separated saying, “I need my beauty sleep and while I love you, you will talk the entire time.” Sure enough when Y/n leaned over to ask him a question Manny was already knocked out, buckled in with his eye mask over his eyes and earbuds in.

Well that left Y/n with little to do. And when she went to retrieve her Kindle she groaned at the realization she forgot to turn back her reading light.

“Everything okay?” She saw the man in her peripheral vision slightly turn his head.

“Yeah just…annoyed with myself. I thought I packed my reading light but I must’ve misplaced it.” God that made her sound like a grandma.

His response was an ‘ah’ sound. “Wish I could help ya there, but I’m not usually equipped with something like that.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled, buckling in her seatbelt. “It was to pass the time—I can’t sleep on flights. Even though it's midnight and I should feel tired.”

“I’m the same,” he suddenly extended a hand, “I’m Bradley by the way.”

Hesitant to reply in case he were to react to her name, Y/n pushed back any concern and gave a warm smile as she took his hand, “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Bradley.”

“Y/n…” her name was repeated slowly, Bradley’s eyes consorting as though they were deep in thought. A wave of dread and nerves coursed through her. Then Bradley grinned, “Oh! I thought you looked familiar. You sing that song—what was it, ‘Love Story?’ Sorry I don’t mean to sound weird,” he let go of her hand when he realized he was still shaking it. “And I don’t want to bother you. I just can’t help but go, ‘wow!’”

“No-no-no, it’s okay! You’re totally fine.” Before long the two fell into conversation following the typical pre-flight announcements. Y/n was amazed by how natural it felt talking to Bradley. She discovered he was a Naval aviator, coming home from an assignment overseas and was flying to L.A to visit some friends. Bradley had been a graduate of UVA and attended the elite Fighter Weapons School, marking ten years with the navy that year.

“Forgive me for admitting this,” he said after the first hour into the flight, lowering his voice when a passenger trying to sleep glared at them. “But while I know who you are…I’m not really familiar with your work. Y-yeah I mentioned your one song but that’s literally all I know,” he laughed nervously. “My taste in music, I’m embarrassed to say aloud, is very limited.”

Y/n tilts her head, “how limited?”

“Uh, I pretty much only listen to the 1950s all the way to the 80s. Dabbling in what’s popular nowadays once in a blue moon. My karaoke songs are all Jerry Lewis” Bradley gives a gentle smile, “And while I can easily do a Google search, I’d much rather hear it from you if you don’t mind telling me.”

What’s that saying again? Oh that’s right, ‘And the rest was history.’

No but literally Y/n could barely contain her attraction to Bradley after he said that to her. She hoped to God she didn’t look like a fool as she spoke of her career and cool places she’s been. Time flew as they talked. In fact the two were so caught up in their conversation they talked the remainder of the journey to L.A, ending with the exchange of phone numbers and the promise to meet up.

It was decided right from the get go that Bradley and Y/n wanted to keep their relationship hidden. Regardless if the one date went somewhere, the last thing Y/n wanted was to have Bradley in the public eye and cause complications with his job. And let’s not forget her album was releasing within the next year. So, there was going to be a lot of attention on her wherever she went.

“The fact we’ve managed to keep this quiet for a year is outstanding,” Y/n said through a mouthful of cake. Bradley had surprised her with her favorite kind, the icing on the top reading, ‘Happy Anniversary, baby—we’ve got them fooled.’

She couldn’t believe they were already marking one year. Time didn’t seem to exist when she was with Bradley. He was everything she envisioned in a partner. Caring, compassionate, funny, intuitive. Listened to her concerns and communicated. Never made her doubt herself or paid attention to the media.

When she brought up her reputation, or better yet the one the press painted her out to have, Bradley stopped her and said, “who you have history with is not my business—unless they did something to hurt you because then I’ll have a problem with them. And those people talking nonsense about you have nothing else better to do with themselves. I care about you, Y/n. The only one who has influence on how I see you, is you. And I see you as the most beautiful, hardworking, intelligent person who knows her worth. Fuck what they say.”

Yeah that night ended with her jumping his bones.

Bradley took a fork full of his own into his mouth, “I for sure thought they were gonna catch us the night I snuck you on base.” After their first meeting in L.A, Bradley had returned to Virginia while Y/n remained to work on her album. It was a couple months before she went home to Tennessee, then for the holidays they planned to meet up when Y/n was on her way to New York. Sneaking her on base involved the two going undercover where they met at a discreet location and having Y/n shove herself under blankets in his backseat.

The singer laughed at the memory, “Thank Goodness for Shania. Had she not posted that photo to ‘tip off’ the paps then we’d have a whole different outcome.” Bradley laughed with her, placing his fork down on the napkin.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for your release day,” Bradley had been called back to Top Gun for a special detachment by the Navy. Unfortunately the timing was right when her sixth studio album would drop. The details were still unclear, but that it was a team mission where he would compete against his colleagues. Y/n had yet to meet any of Bradley’s friends and vice versa. The only people in her circle who knew of their relationship were her manager, Manny, and family. But when you signed up to keep your love life private, it meant friends were lost in the dark.

“It’s okay, Roo,” she told him. “We’ll have our own celebration.” Another cake, this time with the design being the album’s cover art on it, was brought over the day before Bradley was set to fly to San Diego and the two had their private release party with just the two of them. The music was blasting through the speakers, Y/n jumping up and down with Bradley who was singing at the top of his lungs.

“Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes! You say sorry just for show! If you live like that, you live with ghosts!”

“I’m in a getaway car. I left you in a motel bar. Put the money in a bag and I stole the key—that was the last time you ever saw me—Oh!”

“Ooh, look what you made me do! Look what you made me do! Look what you just made me do!”

Champagne was popped, kisses were shared, and they danced the entire night until it came time to sleep.

They FaceTimed whenever Bradley had free time, even if it was in the later hours of the night. Those three weeks Y/n felt her heart long for Bradley in a way it had never done with her previous partners. She felt his excitement, his distress. The day he left for the mission Y/n paced around her home for hours—unable to focus on anything and overcome with nausea. It was as though her mind was trying to tell her something was wrong.

Relief came at around nightfall, the singer tripping as she raced to grab her phone when it rang. Seeing Bradley’s picture pop up had the breath she was holding in release. “Oh thanks God,” was the first thing she said.

“I’m coming back to you,” was his response. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, hand going to her chest to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

“I would expect nothing less, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

Several celebrations were in store for the couple when Bradley returned to the east coast. Not only did he receive a medal from the Navy for his brave actions but got a promotion. Y/n’s album hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the first hour of its release, prompting a record number of sales in a single night for the singer.

“I’m so proud of you, Bradley,” she praised, patting the new patch on his uniform indicating he was now a Lieutenant Commander. She was met with a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you too—you’re gonna win everything come awards season.”

During the 2020 Grammy’s, Bradley leaped from the couch in absolute joy when Y/n’s name was called for the winner of Pop Album of the Year and Record of The Year. She missed out on Album of the Year, but that was okay. She was now the owner of 12 Grammys in total. Coming home the following night Y/n’s home was decorated with balloons, a banner reading, ‘Congratulations!!’ and of course, a cake with an edible Grammy topper.

And so it came time for a break. Six albums in a fifteen-year long career, Y/n kept it under the wraps that she wouldn’t be putting out another album for some time. Fans had started to notice she was more uplifted and vibrant in interviews, posting things on social media that were suspicious. For example she uploaded a photo of red roses, captioning it “the symbol of love.” Then there was the screenshotting of well known love songs and posting them on her story.

@ Y/nstansince04: is it me or does @Y/nL/n86 appear happier than usual? Is she hiding something?

@ getawaycarlover_: @Y/nL/n86 totally has a man or someone in her life. That recent Instagram post had all the hints.

@ fearlessdefender: I bet it’s a normal guy she’s with and not a celebrity. If it was we’d probably would’ve known by now who it was.

@ Y/ns_red_lipstick: honestly if Y/n does have a boyfriend then I’m happy for her and wish them the best. She deserves to be happy and we should respect their privacy. She doesn’t have to share with the world if it’s their desire to keep it secret.

Right when the world went to chaos at the brink of a global pandemic, Y/n thought, “you know what, I’m gonna just delete my social media—not my accounts but the apps on my phone. I want to go off the grid for a bit and just enjoy my family and boyfriend.” Not having the constant shadow of social media on her back made it easier for the singer on the break she desired.

Everyday she fell more in love with Bradley. She had been visiting him when quarantine happened so they basically went to the next step in their relationship by living together. Again, it all felt natural. They settled into a domestic life with each other early on with homemade dinners, movie nights, nerf gun wars, and karaoke contests. Bradley on the piano and Y/n with her guitar, being each other’s act and audience in their private concert.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

“Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run. You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess. It’s a love story, baby just say, ‘Yes!’”

Late nights were reserved for drives with the speakers blasting. Y/n camera roll would be filled with endless videos of the two, but mostly of Bradley jamming to his favorite songs. More often than usual the thought of, “I’m gonna marry this man,” would cross her mind.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine!”

Y/n would lean her body out the window when it was a clear road where they were the only ones, hair blowing and the light from the moon shining down on her. Her beautiful voice carried in the night sky, Bradley in absolute awe of her and wanting to capture the moment forever.

“I came home in the mornin’ light—my mother says, ‘when you gonna live your life right?’ Oh momma dear, we’re not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna have fun!”

But was supposed to be maybe two years at most…..ended up being close to five.

Honestly Y/n was surprised to still have fans. To say they were shitting bricks when she out of the blue dropped a cover art for her upcoming single, ‘Love’ would be an understatement. They were losing their fucking minds.

@ Y/nwhereforartthou: IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING OH MY FUCKING SHIT! PLEASE TELL ME THIS AINT A JOKE Y/N IS COMING BACK AFTER FIVE FUCKING YEARS

@ stilladirectionerbby: *insert Micheal Scott gif* OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING—Y/N’S RELEASING NEW MUSIC

@ MTV: when all hope was lost, our prayers were answered….by @Y/nL/n86

Then she announced in the same week they were getting not one but two albums that year.

@ themadalorianswife: TWO ALBUMS?!?! WE GETTING TWO?!?! GOD FUCKING BLESS

@ daddyisastateofmind: oh mother is spoiling us after making us wait so long and I absolutely am here for it.

@ neveroutofstyle_: love how @Y/nL/n86 basically said “this is my sorry for falling off the face of the earth, please forgive me.” On behalf of the fandom, we forgive you queen.

And wanna know something else?

What was even more impressive than becoming a ghost for five years with little to no sightings by the paparazzi, was that she and Bradley had yet to be discovered. Her lover was just as good of a ghost as she was. Their secret was like trying to find the Holy Grail.

Hidden like a treasure the world desired to unearth.

And on their six year anniversary, Bradley got them the same cake as the first time he did. The icing reading, "Happy 7 years, baby—we’ve totally got them fooled.”

…………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

536 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 1 year ago

Text

break me (then help me find the pieces) -- Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

I wrote this on my phone last year (in August) and I finally decided to finish it and post it.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ only! Fingering, dirty talk, protected p in v/the reader is on birth control, Mikey uses the pet name(s) “angel/baby/sweetheart”, blowjobs, light choking/spanking, rough/after care). Brief mentions of alcoholism/addiction (it’s implied the reader struggles with addiction). Explicit language. Light angst if you squint. No use of Y/N.

wc: 2k

🍝🍝🍝 (Read on Ao3) 🍝🍝🍝

The clock ticks well past midnight. You’re not expecting anyone at this hour and you didn’t receive a suggestive text beforehand. But when he knocks on your door, you let him in, because it’s Mikey. You never could refuse him.

You taste bourbon on his tongue – smoky and dark – something of a metaphor for your not-quite relationship. You and Michael were too fucked up in your own ways to seriously date. For starters, you were never sober at the same time. And you carry enough secrets between one another to put Area 51 to shame.

He cradles your face between his warm, rough hands and shoves you backward into the entryway wall. You trip over your discarded piles of shoes. But, his arm on your waist is firm, and he stops you from falling.

Another metaphor—Mikey never let you get close enough to fall for him. In a different life, you could see yourself with him—waking up early to help out at the restaurant, being an emotional buffer against his unstable mother, dealing with all the bullshit of two messy lives instead of one. For him, you’d do it.

(It was a pipe dream and you knew it. A comforting lie you told yourself whenever you got drunk and lonely. You and Mikey were matches and matches can’t build a house. Matches only exist to burn).

You push your hands up his shirt and explore the rippled, raw strength of his chest. Your fingernails graze against his nipples. Mikey releases a low, quiet hiss and nips your lower lip.

He shoves his hand between your legs, cupping the front of your pussy, and you shudder against him.

“What’re you doing, huh?” He asks, the question rhetorical, “you’re making me crazy, you know that? You drive me fuckin’ crazy.” He rubs the clothed front of your cunt, using the heel of his palm to grind into your clit, and the friction makes you whine. In the other room, the TV switches to commercial and it drones through your sparse apartment.

“I haven’t even started yet.” You tease with a pointed tug of his belt.

“It’s enough.” His grin is quick and it momentarily disarms you. Sometimes, you think all you need is Mikey’s smile and you’ll be sober forever. As long as you can be on the receiving end of that damn charming smile. You shake your head, rolling your eyes, and pushing your thoughts to the side. Mikey nuzzles his face into your neck and leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

“How fast you gonna come for me tonight, angel?” He whispers to the shell of your ear, his breath hot as if fans over your delicate skin. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver involuntarily.

His belt clatters to the floor, “Depends on you, Mikey. You gonna take care of me?”

“’course.” He scoffs. He reclaims your mouth with his own, his tongue coaxing and warm, prying your lips open and lapping the sweet sounds you give him. His large hand yanks your sleep shorts to the side and his seeking fingers find your wet, aching cunt. Your hips buckle with the first touch of his index and middle finger against your folds.

“Mhmph.” He hums with pleasure, “soaked already, huh? Were you waiting for me, angel? Touching yourself on the couch and hopin’ I’d come over?” You groan in tandem as Mikey sinks two fingers into your warmth and you babble nonsense against his scratchy, bearded chin.

“Tell me what you imagined, sweetheart.” He goads, curling his fingers into you, and his other hand comes to encircle your throat. He doesn’t squeeze or restrain your airflow (he has in the past, but apparently that’s not what he’s in the mood for tonight). Rather, Mikey keeps his hand on your throat with a soft, gentle pressure as if to remind you that he’s here—he’s got you pinned against the wall and he’s not going anywhere and neither are you.

You gasp, “Kitchen.” Your fingers twist into his dark, silky hair. “Bent over—mph! Ah! Hard. Fast.” You’re surprised you can manage a sentence while Mikey’s fingers thrust in and out of you. You feel him smile against your cheek.

“Come for me, angel, and I’ll give you that.”

Your head thumps into the wall. Your hips grind into Mikey’s hand. The wet, squelching noises coming from below your waist are almost embarrassing—but you know Mikey gets off on making you moan and squirm for him. You kiss him and moan wantonly into his mouth. Your fingers fumble around the zipper of his jeans and Mikey squeezes your throat.

He tsks, “this ain’t about me.”

“I want--” You palm the front of his boxes, his cock twitches in response to your touch, “to touch you.”

He nibbles your lower lip, “be patient, baby.”

You let your hand fall away. There have been other nights when you’ve ignored him just for the sake of riling him up. Tonight, however, you’re willing to play nice. Mikey rhythmically squeezes your throat in tandem with your bucking, wild hips. He kisses you. He whispers in your ear “that’s right, angel” and “you’re so good for me,” and “I know you can come like this, I want you to come for me, nice and loud so the neighbors hear us.”

Mikey curls his fingers, deep and angled, moving in concentric motions against your G-spot.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, your teeth clacking together. “Fuck! F-fuck!”

His mouth explores the tops of your breasts, kissing the exposed skin and pulling away your t-shirt with his teeth. You dig your fingers into his scalp when your orgasm hits you. You shatter, your body twitches, as the heat and tension explodes across your limbs.

He grunts and slowly withdraws his hand. It takes several long seconds for you to return to planet earth.

Mikey pulls his shirt over his head, “You said kitchen, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

You both leave your clothes in the entryway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Mikey can bend you over the counter, you stop him with a gentle hand to his chest.

“You said my patience would pay off.” You tease, biting your lower lip and looking down.

“Did I say that?”

You drop to your knees and hold the base of his thick, hard cock in your hand.

“You did.”

“Fuck.” Mikey braces his hands behind him on the counter. He stares down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, his hair falling in front of his forehead. You’ve always thought Michael was beautiful. But he is especially beautiful when he’s naked and framed by the golden, warm-yellow light of your kitchen.

“Mhm.” You slowly kiss your way along his cock from the base to the tip. Mikey groans, his knuckles whitening at the edge of the counter. He deserves a little teasing after what he put you through in the entryway. You flatten your tongue along him, tasting his salt-sweat and skin, before you envelope the engorged tip of his cock with your lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mikey repeats as if in prayer. “I swear to God, your mouth was made for me.”

You hum in agreement, feeling the vibration traveling thorough your throat and buzzing your lips. You work your mouth over his cock, pushing as deep as you can go, your saliva collecting at the corners of your lips. Mikey moans, loud, unabashed, unashamed. You follow the movement of your mouth with your hand, squeezing him, your fingers and palm drenched in spit. His hips jerk, his muscled thighs quivering, and you wish you could smile. You peer up at him, admiring the beauty and tragedy of this man before you. His large hand comes to cup the nape of your neck.

“Can I fuck your mouth, angel?” He asks. He’s always been good about asking that. He never assumes.

You press your thighs together, feeling a fresh tingle of arousal at his question.

You pull away, saliva trailing after your mouth, and dripping onto your neck and breasts.

“Yes, Mikey.”

You open your mouth and Mikey holds his cock at the base and guides it into you. You brace your hands on his muscled thighs and Mikey holds your head steady. Your eyes flutter shut as Mikey uses you—his thrusts shallow, but quick. You’d never admit it out loud (to him or anyone) but there is a deep, primal satisfaction brewing inside you. You might be the one on your knees, but Mikey is the one who’s weak for you. He growls, the sound deep within his chest, punctuating each thrust with praise.

“So good, so good for me. That’s right. You love it when I use you like this, huh? Use that pretty little mouth of yours. Fuck! Fuckin’ Christ. Feels so good.”

Mikey withdraws and you half expect his cum to spurt onto your tits. But, he doesn’t.

“Get up on the counter, angel.” He says firmly. You rub your jaw, your smile slow and sweet and tempting. The tile counter is cold against your bare, flushed skin. You bend over and have to arch on your tiptoes for the angle to work—but you know it works. This isn’t your first time in this position.

“Please, I need your cock, Mikey.” You say, wiggling your ass in an attempt to get his attention.

Mikey grins, giving your ass a playful swat, as he lines up the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna beg for me?” He rubs his tip against your folds, “you know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, hm?”

“Yes, Mikey, yes.” You arch your back, “please fuck me, Mikey. Please.”

He presses one hand into the middle of your back, pinning you into the counter, before his cock slides into your cunt in one swift, hard thrust. You gasp.

A surprised “Yes!” escapes your parted lips. Mikey feels incredible. He always does. His thick cock fills you, stretches you, erases all coherent thought from your mind. He holds your hips with one hand while the other remains pressed into your back. Your fingers scramble for purchase on the slick counter as Mikey drives into you, his pace pounding and relentless, the slick sound of your skin slapping together with every hard thrust.

“Fuck!” He moans, “Made for me. Fuck. So good. Yes, yes, like that.”

He adjusts his grip, holding you by the hips, and dragging your cunt back over his cock when he pulls back. Your calves tremble with the effort to remain in this position, but it feels too good to stop. Mikey’s hand comes down against the swell of your ass—sharp and biting. You yelp and your inner walls clench at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. He soothes the slap with his hand before delivering another. Nothing matters but the delightful sensation of his cock pounding into you and the space between every strike of his hand. Your eyes prickle with tears. Something tight inside of you starts to unwind.

With Mikey, you are allowed to unravel. You’re allowed to be A Mess. A fuck-up. You can empty yourself out and he’ll be there. He can’t put you back together again, but he can help you find the right pieces.

You sob, your body tightening with anticipation, and Mikey’s calloused fingers find your sensitive and swollen clit. You want to beg him to stop. You want to beg him to never leave you.

Mikey says “Can feel you getting close, angel.”

“Don’t stop, Mikey. Don’t ever stop.”

Your orgasm hits you—a brilliant, echoing release. You wail, pleasure rocketing through you, firing off neurons in your brain and skittering down your spine. Your ears start to ring and you vaguely hear Mikey follow you, grunting, his thrusts erratic before they slow to a stop. He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping down your inner thighs. Your forehead flops down onto your arms and you try to regulate your breathing. The faucet turns on behind you.

You jump in surprise as a warm washcloth wipes between your legs. Your brow furrows. This is new. Mikey isn’t a callous sexual partner—but he isn’t the ‘cuddle afterwards’ type either. You both used sex as a release. You fucked each other’s brains out. You experimented. You came so hard you thought you stopped breathing. Sometimes he stayed over to watch a movie. But, he rarely slept over (or if he did—then he slept on the couch).

His large hands splay across your shoulder blades before his fingertips start digging gently into your muscles.

A back massage? You crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Mikey’s face is fraught with concentration.

He notices you looking, “You want me to stop?” His eyes dart away from yours.

“N-no, it feels nice...it would just feel better...on the bed?”

“Right,” he laughs dryly, “good idea.” Without prompting, Michael scoops you into his arms as if you weight little more than a stuffed teddy bear. He deposits you onto the bed, on your stomach, and resumes his careful and clumsy massaging. His large, strong hands work their way down your lower back and to your sore, strained calves.

You yawn, “This is...mhm...thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The lull of sleep is too strong. It’s dragging you under its waves with every passing motion of Mikey’s capable hands.

“You can stay over.” You mumble, although you’re uncertain if any of the words come out coherently. The world fades, hazy and warm, your bones are liquid and heavy. You think Mikey’s lips press into your temple. But...that might’ve been a dream.

#mikey berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #mikey berzatto x you #mikey berzatto x f!reader #my fics

278 notes · View notes