#ANYWAYS THE BOOK WAS VERY FORGETABLE BESIDES THAT

[luveline]

omg would die for a concussion fic with remus <33

—your concussion causes moderate memory loss, and you forget some very important details about your relationship with Remus. fem, 1.3k

“This is nice.” 

You toy with the ring on Remus’ finger, turning it around and around and around. With your weight bearing down on his right arm and your hand secured around his left to stop him from moving, there isn’t much he can do besides say, “Yeah?” 

“I love when guys wear rings.” 

“I had a suspicion.” 

You wince as stars flash through your vision, pausing in your toying to press your face into his chest. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I can see black and white spots.” 

“Oh, no,” he says sympathetically. “Close them, dovey. Take a breather.” 

The chair under you is uncomfortable, your back aches, your head twinges, but Remus is comfortable to lean again. He’s wearing one of his big hoodies, old enough to feel like brushed cotton under your cheek and against your nose, decals washed away. He steals his hand back to pat your shoulder, an image of patience. 

“Sorry. This isn’t a good second date.” 

Remus leans down to talk near your ear. “Dove,” he whispers, “this isn’t our second date, remember?” 

“It’s not?” 

“No, sweetheart. But that’s okay.” 

“You’re really handsome so I don’t want to mess it up.” 

“Mess what up, the date?” he asks. “You didn’t mess it up, it went very well. It was a year ago, but.” He smiles, his breath warming your face, his arm hot around you and securing you to his chest.

“A year ago?” 

“Yeah, a year ago. We went to winter wonderland and the bookshop by the train station and you wouldn’t let me buy you any books.” He laughs softly. “But I got you one eventually. A couple by now, at least.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“You’ve bought me a hundred more, it’s awful.” 

You raise your head to squint at him. “I have?”

“So many,” he whispers, dipping his chin down to kiss your nose, to your wide-eyed delight. “But you let me look after you in other ways.” 

“Let you?” 

“Yes, let me. It’s part of…” He cups your cheek quickly. “Sickness and health and everything. I have to keep you happy.” 

“Ah.” His ring is warm on your cheek. “Sickness and health, like we’re married.” 

“Something like that.” 

You straighten up as someone behind you coughs aggressively. A little further down a baby cries against a mother’s chest, and the TV plays a quiz show you’re starting to hate. Moving your head has black haunting the sides of your vision again, the light seeping in from the automatic doors too much to handle. 

“I’ve asked Sirius to bring you some sunglasses.” 

You turn around. “Sirius, that’s the one with the motorbike?” 

“Yeah. He should be quick. But maybe they’ll have called you in again by then and we can go home.” 

That’s right. You’ve been seen once by a doctor for triage, and sent back out again when they deemed you only mildly concussed, no bleeding on the brain, but an X-ray ordered for safety's sake anyways. That’s what you’re waiting for. Remus is waiting with you, because he’s a very nice man. 

“Sorry if I’m ruining your Saturday.” 

Remus’ hair falls from behind his ear as he lifts his head properly. “I think you might be having a worse day than me, so I’ll forgive you. I'm joking!” He tucks that stray strand behind his ear unsuccessfully. “You could never ruin my Saturday. I’d spend the entire bank holiday weekend in here with you, I only want them to look after you so I can finish the job.” 

Heat like a kiss on each cheek. You bring your hand to your nose, overwhelmed. “Really?” 

“We spend a lot of time together, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember right now, but I love you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.” 

You look at him with the sunshine caressing the side of his face, his three mean scars and his scattered beauty spots. He has thick eyebrows, light brown eyes in the sun like honeyed tea, and a playful smile. More frown lines than smile lines, but the beginnings of crows feet speaks to some joy, at least. You bring your thumb up to a small wrinkle and stroke it, before tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay put for long. 

“I love you,” you say surely. You do, even if you can’t remember more than your first date. 

He’s a good kisser, you remember. He’d pulled you back from your door and kissed you like you’d stolen the breath straight from his lungs. 

“I know.” He brings your hand from his ear to kiss. Gentle, he strokes your knuckles, his thumb turning a golden ring where it sits on your marriage finger. 

“It’s really like we’re married, we have matching rings,” you laugh. 

He holds his hand up between you. “We are married, lovely girl.” 

You steal your hand back. He waits without hurry, though a line of concern marks his brow. “Are we? When did we get married?” 

“Only a few days ago, but we’re married. This wasn’t on the honeymoon agenda.” 

He takes your hand with care and shows you the gold ring on your marriage finger to match his own, aligning your hands. The colour hadn’t seemed important a moment ago, nor the placement, but now you’re seeing them you realise you’d made a small misjudgement. It’s not like you’re married at all, you simply are. 

You frown. The way he’s holding your hand feels familiar, though the idea that you’re married is preposterous. You can’t remember any ceremony or reception, a proposal, nothing. There’s simply blank space there, which isn’t very nice. But… 

You’re not scared. You haven’t been worried once all day. 

“You have a concussion,” he says quietly, practised, like he’s said it to you before. “And it’s resulted in some amnesia, but it’s going to get better very soon.” 

“We’re definitely married?” 

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.” 

“I don’t want to change my mind.” You fluster quickly with what you’ve said, looking down at the hospital’s linoleum flooring. 

Remus takes your hand where it lays on your thigh and squeezes it. A thread of memory tugs at the touch; you remember this. His tender concern. His constant support. 

“Then you don’t have to. Whether you remember me or not, I’m here to look after you, okay? I’m right here.” 

You nod without looking up. His hand knows yours no matter what you remember, rubbing at all the best parts, holding with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“You okay?” 

“I guess our second date really did go well.” 

“Better than I could ever explain.” He tugs at your hand until you look at him, his head already ducked to keep you pinned by his gaze. “You’re like my shy girl all over again. I forgot how nervous you used to get.” 

You can see the Remus who became your husband and the one who scared butterflies into action every time he looked at you coalescing. “You’re really good-looking,” you explain. 

“And what do you think you are?” He rubs your hand. “You’re beautiful. Can I have a kiss, dove? Is that okay?” 

You squeeze your eyes closed. You’d been fighting stars in your eyes anyways.

When Remus kisses you, your body responds to his touch like it knows him. Your heart thuds against your ribs, your lips know exactly how to move and when he’s going to turn his head. Love for him shines through it. His love for you makes your chest hurt, his chaste kissing like a straight shot of oxytocin. All your worry saps away. 

“Feel any better?” he asks knowingly.

You remember enough about his teasing to withhold an answer. He kisses your cheek, his smile unmissable on your skin. 

[l0vergirls]

now that the yandere!batfam has surveillance on you pretty much 24/7, you're taken care of almost everyday. not that you know of, of course.

it took some time getting used to the flowers being delivered to you every couple weeks, but you did appreciate the food getting delivered when you didn't have enough in your fridge.

you're fully aware that the person (or people) sending these to you could be dangerous, but you tried to rationalise it. they apparently already have your address, so if they wanted you dead then they could've finished the job by now.

besides, what harm can a few flowers bring? aside from complete invasion of your privacy through the form of tiny surveillance microphones (which, again, you did not know of).

sometimes, you'd find affectionately written letters. well, letters is an overstatement, they're more similar to notes. the men knew not to leave too many clues that could give them away. they're nothing if not very thorough.

"eat your dinner, beloved. i know it is your favourite."

in elegant handwriting— sharp cursive. very slightly italicised.

"keep smiling, sunshine."

this one was still neatly written in print, but softer and rounder than the last note.

"good luck on your presentation today, y/n."

messier, almost rushed, but not what you'd call chicken scratch. familiar.

"hope you're taking care of yourself, beautiful."

this person had neater handwriting than the last two, though not as elegant as the first note. it seemed gentle, as if the person writing had much respect for the pen and paper.

if not flowers or food, they're small thoughtful gifts.

you'd once found a book on your nightstand; a book that you've been eyeing for the past week or so, but restrained yourself from getting as you've been saving up recently.

it had another small note attached to it, "here, you deserve it."

you should be scared— terrified, even. you should be reporting this to the cops, but what good are gotham's cops anyway?

at some point, you started finding these notes endearing. it's obvious they wouldn't do anything to you, at least not yet, so why stop them? not that you could, if you tried.

these strangers, you've come to realise, are simply looking out for you. taking care of you, when you forget to do it yourself.

the boys, whether through your window or through their cameras, would find you smiling to yourself when you receive one of their gifts.

it only motivates them to do more.

another yandere batfam installment woooop !!! can you guess which boy wrote which note? :⁠^⁠) p.s bruce hadn't left you a note this time ^^" sorry :⁠,⁠-⁠)

[maxlarens]

will be needing a part two tho as payment for emotional damages love you thank you xoxoxo

-🧃

alright here we go!!! this ones farrr less angsty! part 2 to this, thank you sm for all the love on it🥰

You try to forget about it.

This is not a particularly easy task when you wake up and Lando’s side of the bed empty, obviously having spent the night somewhere else. You’re not surprised by this, hurt maybe. Not that you have much of a right to be.

Anyway, you’re only sharing the bed because of Lando’s impromptu decision to bring you here. He hadn’t wanted to put you up in a room on the other side of the hotel, and you’ve never had an issue sharing a bed. You’re thinking that might change tonight, depending.

You hope it won’t, that’s something at least.

You’re prepared not to see him for most of the day. You’re prepared for more time to stew in your anger, to turn his actions over and over in your head until you’re sick of thinking about them and might be able to stand his face again. That’s what you’re prepared for, but Lando’s never really been a rule follower—

He finds you on the beach, when it’s still early enough that you’re basically alone. Everyone else still hungover, sleeping in. Max and Pietra are off doing their own thing today. So, just you and Lando. Alone.

You’d be pleased any other day.

Not today.

You squint up at him, in shorts that ride up his thighs and a plain t-shirt. His curls unbrushed, a small but very purple hickey on the underside of his jaw that you notice immediately. You nod perfunctorily at him in greeting, a pang of something in your ribcage. Then you turn back to your book. You pay him little attention as he settles into the lounge chair beside you.

You’re not trying to be shitty, but you feel like you’ve not even had enough time to think last night over, never mind figure out what it is you’re going to say to him. Max and Pietra had helped a lot last night when you’d sat at the foot of their bed and tried not to cry. Max had told you in no uncertain terms that you needed to put Lando in his place, and whatever notion he’d got into his head wasn’t any kind of excuse.

You’re not sure you’re brave enough for that quite yet. Or, perhaps you’re not sure you’re calm enough. You know Max wants to tear him a new one, but you’d held him off. Knowing the both of you would regret it later. Whatever last night was about, you know Lando wouldn’t have meant to hurt you like he did.

Maybe it’s stupid to assume the best of him, but he’s your best friend. He’s Lando.

He’s certainly given you the benefit of the doubt before.

Anyway.

The silence is palpable between you. Tangible, as he sits quiet beside you and you ignore him with purpose. Something jealous and terrible churning in your stomach as you try to ignore him there and cant. He must know, must understand, because he is silent too.

Mere minutes that feel like hours stretching out in front of you pass. You hear every fidget, every tap of his fingers, every soft hum from his mouth. He wants, desperately, for you to be the first to break. But you find you cant… wont… you think if anything he must be the one to stew, the one to fold.

“I’m sorry,” he says, apropos of nothing.

You grace him with the twist of your mouth, a hum that is almost no noise at all. Wait for him to continue.

He does, says "I'm sorry," again.

You snap your book closed, suddenly angry as you direct your glare toward him. He cringes under your attention, head ducking into his shoulders in something like shame. Still, you're not sure how serious he is? If he gets it? You think he has to, you think perhaps Max has had words already. Even though you'd told him not to.

You stare at him for a long moment, then look away when words fail you. Looking instead, for a longer moment, at the glittering waves lapping against the shore. You let the noise calm the rising anger that seems to be lodged at the base of your throat. You don't have to look to know Lando is looking at you with those wet eyes of his, pleading with you even when you're not looking.

You snap back to him again, not ready to let go of all the anger.

"You're sorry?", you question, incredulous.

His mouth turns immediately into a thin, hard line at your frustration. You know he's fighting off annoyance. You're not too proud to concede that his response makes you even angrier. He hasn't said anything yet, but still who is he to act like you're in the wrong?

You frown deeply, "Don't look at me like that."

You're not particularly careful to keep your voice down, even though his eyes cut briefly and obviously to a group that are sitting a fair way behind you. Anyway, if he didn't want people to hear all about this then maybe he shouldn't have done it.

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"You are," you bite.

He frowns and shuts his mouth. You see the muscles of his jaw working regardless. You try to ignore the faintly visible hickey and the feeling in your gut that's there again.

You continue without waiting for his annoyance to ease, leaning into his space without quite meaning to, "I'm not sure what the hell happened last night Lando, but I know that you know that it hurt my feelings. Alright. I'm not an idiot."

He sniffs, his expression having given way to a slight sheepishness when you look now, "I don't think you're an idiot," he sighs then, "And I'm sorry. It was dumb."

You shrug, watching as his eyes soften at the edges, whatever adversarial emotion he'd been harboring finally leeching out of him. You don't think he's emotionally immature, not by any stretch of the imagination. You just think he's stubborn and emotional and it takes him a bit of time to work past the initial feeling that he's being attacked.

You think he's lucky to have you. To have the patience that you and Max are willing to grant him.

"It's not fair, Lan. To bring me out here only to ignore me at a club where I don't know anyone."

He nods, "I know. I was being a dickhead."

"You were."

"I was," his chest, bare of his t-shirt, you're realising now, heaves with a steadying breath, "I thought— I thought something really fucken' stupid. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for making you feel like I did."

You nod resolutely, then you give him the barest hint of a smile, "You better be, yeah."

You decide that you didn't quite tear him a new one, as he gives you one of those small little smiles he favours, but you're sure Max will at his earliest convenience (if he hadn't already this morning). At the very least that sick feeling in your chest from last night is starting to ebb and you're starting to be able to look at him again.

"I am," he says, "Sorry."

You nod, mouth twisting as you reach forward to take his hand. Slotting your fingers in with his and using your knuckles to squeeze. He squeezes back and then uses the pad of his thumb to smooth across your skin. And maybe it's not all fixed, all better—

but this is something.

This is better than that thing in the pit of your stomach.

tagging people as a one off because i had so many people ask😭 (not starting a tag list sorry, those things suck ass!!!): @directioner5life @cmleitora @mrrayjay @avni-sarai @nataliambc @f1fantasys @lifeonawhim

also. if you guys expected a confession or anything in this drabble. just know it's not their time😵‍💫 more to come for ibiza!lando re:that i promise. i'm working on a more cohesive start-to-finish ibiza!lando x bsf!reader one shot!!!

[berzahoes]

manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

[paxtito]

birthday girl

pairings: wednesday x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: none really, kissing and swearing here and there.

summary: wednesday was born november 13th, 2006, it’s her birthday soon so enid- being overly invested in your relationship- convinces you to plan a birthday surprise. you steal a very expensive book and put together an addams family themed escape room.

a/n: i’ve written quite a few fics since august so i’m just doing a little clear out of my drafts. apologies in advance for any mistakes. i’m no edgar allan poe expert, don’t come for me if the price is wrong.

MASTERLIST

It’s officially November. Wednesday’s birth month. You wasn’t planning on doing anything for it out of respect to her boundaries but Enid’s constant yapping in your ear brought you to the brink of insanity.

“Jesus! Fine, Enid… We’ll plan something, okay? Stop talking my ear off.”

Enid squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, yes! This is going to be so much fun!"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Enid's enthusiasm was infectious, even if her ideas were sometimes a bit... much.

"Alright, let's brainstorm," Enid said, plopping down onto your bed next to you. "What does Wednesday like? Besides death and darkness, I mean."

You chuckled. "Well, she seems to enjoy solving mysteries and puzzles. And she has a thing for creepy crawlies… Dead things…”

Enid wrinkled her nose in distaste but nodded. "Okay, so maybe not a spa day then. How about a murder mystery party? We could invite everyone and have them dress up in costume!"

You shook your head. "Wednesday doesn't really do 'parties' or 'people'. She'd probably just end up killing someone for real."

"Good point," Enid sighed. "Hmm… What about a private escape room experience? Just the two of you, working together to solve some kind of creepy puzzle. That way it's intimate but still fits her interests."

You considered it. That actually didn't sound half bad. "Yeah, I could see her getting into that. Let me look into it."

Enid beamed. "Perfect! Oh, and don't forget her favorite foods - bugs and gross stuff. You could make her a special birthday cake with... I don't know, worms or something?"

You made a face. "I have to draw the line somewhere, Enid. I may love her, but I'm not putting actual worms in a cake… I’m not touching worms.” You grimace, a shiver running down your spine at the thought.

Enid pouted but nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. I guess you could always just make it look like there are worms in it. You know, like those chocolate bugs they sell online? That might be more her speed anyway.”

You shake your head firmly. "No food. Definitely no bugs or anything gross. I'm drawing the line there."

Enid sighs. "Alright, alright. No bugs in the food. But we need to get her something, right? Like a present?"

You nod, considering Enid's suggestion. "Yeah, a present is a good idea. But what do you get for the girl who has everything? Especially when 'everything' is basically just death-related shit."

Enid taps her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... Maybe something personalized? Like a custom-made necklace with a little vial pendant that holds a drop of your blood or something."

You cringe. "Uh, no. Definitely not going to give her bloody jewelry. That's just weird."

"Okay, okay," Enid says, holding up her hands in surrender. "How about a book then? Like a rare edition of some creepy classic literature?"

You mull it over. Wednesday does love to read. "That's not a bad idea actually. I could look for a first edition copy of one of her favorite Edgar Allan Poe stories or something.“

Enid claps her hands together. "Yes! Oh, and you could inscribe it with a little personal message inside the cover. Something like 'To my darling Wednesday, may your days be as dark as your soul.' "

“Where would I get the money though?”

Enid smiles slyly, leaning in closer. "Well, you could always ask your parents for some birthday money. Or... you could sell some of your old junk online. I bet there are a ton of weirdos out there who would pay top dollar for your crusty gym socks or used toothbrushes."

You make a disgusted face. "Ew, Enid! That's gross. I'm not selling my dirty laundry to some freaks on the internet."

"Suit yourself," Enid shrugs. "But if you change your mind, I know a guy who runs a pretty lucrative online market for this kind of thing. He's always looking for new... supplies."

—

A week later, you and Enid are hunched over your laptop, scouring online bookstores for the perfect rare edition for Wednesday.

"Ooh, look at this one!" Enid exclaims, pointing at the screen. "It's a first edition of 'The Tell-Tale Heart' published in 1843. And it comes with a handwritten note from Poe himself!"

You lean in to take a closer look. The book does look impressive, with its aged leather binding and yellowed pages. But the price tag makes your eyes bulge. "$25,000?! Are you insane?"

Enid pouts. "C'mon, it's a collector's item! And it's not every day you find something this rare. Wednesday would love it!"

You shake your head. "I can't afford that, Enid. I'm just a high school student… I’ll steal it.. Where’s the store located?”

You lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Stealing a rare book from a specialized antique store sounds like a terrible idea, but you're desperate to impress Wednesday. Plus, you've always been pretty good at breaking and entering.

"The store is downtown, near the old theater district," Enid says, squinting at the screen. "It's called 'The Raven's Nest' - fitting, right? They specialize in rare horror literature and occult artifacts."

You smirk. "The Raven's Nest... I like it. Okay, here's the plan: we'll case the joint tonight, figure out their security system. Then tomorrow night, I'll break in and grab the book while you keep watch outside."

Enid looks nervous. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if you get caught? What if there's some kind of magical protection on the book?"

You roll your eyes. "There's no such thing as magic, Enid. And I won't get caught - I'm the fucking master thief of Nevermore Academy.”

—

As you and Enid walk down the darkened streets of downtown, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. The anticipation of pulling off this heist and surprising Wednesday with the perfect gift is almost too much to bear.

"Alright, here's the plan," you whisper to Enid as you approach the old brick building that houses The Raven's Nest. "I'm gonna scope out the back entrance while you check out the front. See if you can spot any security cameras or alarm systems."

Enid nods nervously, clutching her jacket tight around herself. "Got it. But be careful, okay? I don't want you ending up in jail or worse..."

You flash her a cocky grin. "Relax, Enid. I've got this. Nothing can stop me once I set my mind to something."

With that, you split up, each of you slipping into the shadows to survey the store. The back alley is dimly lit, with only a single flickering bulb casting a weak glow. You notice a rusty fire escape leading up to a second-story window - the perfect entry point.

Enid shivers, pulling her collar up against the chill night air. She scans the front of the building, noting the ornate iron gate and the dim lights from inside. There seem to be cameras positioned above the door, but no obvious alarms.

You quietly ascend the fire escape, each step sending a faint creak echoing through the alley. At the window, you peer inside, spotting rows of shelves packed with dusty tomes and strange artifacts. In the center of the room, a glass case catches your eye - and inside it, the priceless first edition of "The Tell-Tale Heart".

You carefully pry open the window, wincing as the old hinges let out a soft groan. With a deep breath, you hoist yourself inside, landing softly on the creaky wooden floorboards. The musty smell of old books and mothballs fills your nostrils as you creep through the shadowy aisles, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you approach the glass case, you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the ancient tome. The leather cover is worn and cracked with age, but the gold lettering still glints in the dim light. You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the cool glass.

Just then, a sudden noise from the front of the store makes you freeze. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. You glance around frantically, searching for a place to hide, but the open layout of the shop offers little cover.

Panic rising in your throat, you duck behind a nearby shelf, praying that whoever it is won't spot you. The footsteps grow closer, accompanied by the jingle of keys and the click of a lock being undone.

You hold your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the footsteps draw nearer. Your heart hammers in your chest, threatening to give away your position. The shop door creaks open, and a beam of light slices through the darkness, illuminating a section of the floor just inches from where you're hiding.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice calls out. "I know someone's in here!"

You remain perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. The light from the doorway sweeps across the room, and you shrink further into the shadows, praying that your black clothes will camouflage you against the dimness.

The footsteps move closer, the owner of the shop clearly searching for the intruder. You consider making a run for it, but the thought of being caught red-handed with the stolen book makes you hesitate.

The owner's footsteps pause just outside the aisle where you're hiding. Your palms are slick with sweat as you grip the edge of the shelf, preparing to bolt if necessary. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly, each one feeling like an eternity.

Suddenly, a hand reaches around the corner, grasping at the air mere inches from your face. You flinch instinctively, but manage to hold your ground, not daring to make a sound. The owner steps into view, his thick-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim light as he scans the area.

"I've got you now, you little thief," he growls, his breath hot and rank as it washes over you. "Come on out, hands where I can see them!"

Your mind races, desperately trying to formulate an escape plan. You could try to overpower him, but he's significantly larger than you, and the risk of him calling the police is too high. No, you need to be smart about this.

As the owner takes another step forward, you make your move. Ducking low, you sprint past him, heading straight for the back of the shop.

The owner bellows in anger, his heavy footsteps thundering after you. "Stop, thief! I'm calling the cops!"

You don't dare look back, pouring every ounce of speed into your desperate flight. Your lungs burn as you race through the cramped aisles, dodging past stacks of books and leaping over precariously balanced piles of occult trinkets.

Just as you're certain the owner is about to catch you, you spot the back door. With a burst of adrenaline, you lunge for it, your fingers scrabbling at the handle. The door swings open, revealing the darkened alley beyond.

You tumble out into the night, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. Behind you, the owner's furious shouts echo from the shop, followed by the shrill ring of a phone - no doubt calling the police.

You don't stop running until you're several blocks away, your chest heaving and your legs burning with exertion. Only then do you allow yourself a moment to catch your breath, leaning heavily against a brick wall as you gasp for air.

You turn to Enid who’d been running after you, “you’re an amazing lookout..” You mumble sarcastically.

Enid looks absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and her face pale in the moonlight. She's breathing hard, her chest heaving with each ragged gasp. "I... I tried to warn you," she stutters, her voice trembling. "I saw him coming in and I ran to find you, but... but you were already gone."

You push off the wall, your legs still shaky from the adrenaline rush. "It's okay," you say, trying to sound calmer than you feel. "We got away, that's what matters… I got the book.”

You pull the book from your jacket, holding it up in the moonlight. The leather cover glistens, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride at your successful heist.

Enid's eyes widen as she takes in the ancient tome. "Wow," she breathes, "you actually did it. You stole a first edition Poe book!"

You grin, tucking the book safely back into your jacket. "Of course I did. I told you, I'm the best thief in town."

Enid shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you just broke into a store and stole something. That's so... so..."

"Cool?" you suggest, raising an eyebrow.

Enid laughs nervously. "No, not cool. Crazy! You could have gotten in serious trouble."

You wave a dismissive hand. "But I didn't. And now Wednesday is going to have the most amazing birthday present ever."

Enid bites her lip, looking uncertain. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if she finds out you stole it? She might be mad."

“She won’t. Trust me.”

—

After weeks of planning and anticipation, the day has finally arrived. You've managed to lure Wednesday out of the house under the pretense of a "special surprise", blindfolding her before she could ask too many questions. Now, as you guide her down the street towards the escape room, your heart is pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Where are we going?" Wednesday asks, her voice muffled by the blindfold. "This better not be some kind of lame party or something."

You can't help but chuckle at her grumpy tone. "Relax, Wednesday. It's nothing like that. Just trust me, okay? I promise you're going to love it."

Wednesday huffs but doesn't protest further, allowing you to lead her onwards. As you approach the escape room, you can feel a sense of anticipation building in your gut. You've put so much thought into this surprise, and you're determined to make it perfect.

The door to the escape room looms ahead, and you take a deep breath before pushing it open.

As you guide Wednesday inside, the blindfold is removed, revealing a dimly lit room decorated with eerie candles and macabre artwork. Wednesday blinks, her eyes adjusting to the gloom as she takes in her surroundings.

"What is this place?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Some kind of gothic-themed restaurant?"

You grin, shaking your head. "Nope. It's an escape room. And it's all for you, Wednesday. Happy early birthday."

Wednesday's eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing her usually stoic features. "An escape room? Seriously? You know I hate those tourist trap things."

You place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know, but this one is different. It's tailored specifically to your interests. Mysteries, puzzles, all that creepy stuff you love. Plus, it's just the two of us. No annoying strangers to deal with."

Wednesday narrows her eyes, studying you intently. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the catch? There's no way you'd actually think I'd enjoy some dumb escape room."

You can't help but smile at her skepticism. It's one of the things you love about Wednesday - her sharp mind and unwillingness to be fooled by empty gestures.

"No catch," you assure her, holding up your hands in a gesture of sincerity. "I know how much you love a good mystery, and I thought this would be a fun way to celebrate your birthday. Plus, I may have mentioned to the owners that you're a bit of an expert in this kind of thing. They're really excited to have you try it out."

Wednesday's expression softens slightly, a hint of curiosity sparking in her dark eyes. "They know about me? How?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I may have dropped a few hints about your... unique skill set. But they were sworn to secrecy. This whole thing is just between us."

As you and Wednesday enter the dimly lit escape room, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The space is decorated with an eerie attention to detail, filled with cryptic symbols, antique furniture, and a general atmosphere of macabre intrigue.

Wednesday's eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail with a keen curiosity. "Looks like they did their research," she murmurs, running a finger along the spine of an ancient-looking book resting on a nearby table.

You nod, grinning with pride. "I told you, I made sure it was the perfect fit for you. And trust me, the best part is yet to come."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, but before she can respond, a low, ominous voice echoes through the room. "Welcome, dear guests," it intones, "to the Addams Family Escape Room Experience."

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes widening with surprise. "Wait, what?"

The voice continues, "In this immersive adventure, you'll navigate the twisted world of the Addams family, solving puzzles and unraveling secrets.”

The voice pauses dramatically before continuing, "Your objective is simple: escape the room before the clock strikes midnight, or risk being trapped forever in the Addams family's morbid mansion."

A sinister laugh echoes through the speakers, sending a shiver down your spine. Wednesday, meanwhile, seems entirely unfazed, her expression one of intense focus as she begins to examine the room more closely.

"Impressive," she admits grudgingly, running her fingers along the intricate carvings on a nearby bookshelf. "They've really captured the my family’s aesthetic."

Wednesday's eyes narrow as she takes in the details of the room, her mind already working to piece together the clues. The walls are adorned with eerie paintings and strange artifacts, each one seemingly hiding a hidden meaning or secret.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," Wednesday mutters, more to herself than to you. She begins to methodically search the room, her movements precise and purposeful.

As she works, you can't help but marvel at her incredible focus and deduction skills. It's like watching a predator stalk its prey, every action calculated and deliberate.

Wednesday pulls a dusty old book from the shelf, its pages yellowed and brittle. As she flips through the pages, her eyes widen. "Found something," she says, showing you a page filled with cryptic symbols and riddles.

You lean in closer, trying to decipher the message, but it's like reading a foreign language. "What does it say?" you ask, feeling a bit lost in the face of Wednesday's brilliance.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile as she traces her finger over the cryptic symbols. "It's a riddle," she explains, her voice low and conspiratorial. "A challenge, of sorts."

She reads the words aloud, her tone almost reverent:

"Seek the key that lies within

The heart of darkness, where the shadows begin."

Wednesday closes the book, her gaze sweeping the room once more. "Darkness, shadows... I wonder if that's literal or metaphorical."

She strides over to a large, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall. As she approaches, you notice a faint glow emanating from the frame, pulsing in time with some unseen heartbeat.

Wednesday reaches out, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "Interesting," she murmurs, her breath fogging the glass. "This could be it. The 'heart' of the room."

She turns to you, her eyes glinting with a newfound intensity. "I'm going to need you to do something for me," she says, her voice steady and commanding.

"I need you to stand behind me," Wednesday instructs, her voice low and authoritative. "And when I give the signal, I want you to push me against the mirror as hard as you can."

You blink, taken aback by her request. "What? Are you sure that's safe? I don't want to break it or hurt you."

Wednesday's eyes narrow, a hint of impatience flashing across her face. "Trust me, Y/N. I've done my research. This mirror is reinforced, designed to withstand pressure. It's part of the puzzle."

Still uncertain, you nevertheless comply, moving to stand behind her. Wednesday positions herself in front of the mirror, her stance wide and her muscles tensed. She nods once, a silent signal for you to proceed.

Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on her shoulders, feeling the firmness of her muscles beneath your palms. With a grunt of effort, you push, propelling Wednesday forward into the mirror.

As Wednesday collides with the mirror, there's a blinding flash of light and a crackling sound, like electricity surging through the glass. For a moment, you're blinded, your vision swallowed by the brightness. But as the glow fades, you blink rapidly, trying to clear your eyes.

When your vision returns, Wednesday is gone. Vanished. In her place, the mirror reflects an image of a dark, shadowy hallway stretching into the distance.

For a heart-stopping moment, you're frozen in shock, your mind struggling to process what just happened. Then, as panic starts to set in, you hear a voice echoing down the hallway, distant but unmistakably Wednesday's.

"Y/N! I'm in here!"

You lean closer to the mirror, your breath fogging the glass as you peer into the shadowy depths. "Wednesday?" you call out, your voice sounding small and uncertain. "Where are you?"

There's a pause, and then Wednesday's voice returns, sounding strained and urgent. "I'm stuck, Y/N. I need you to follow me. Quickly!"

"Hurry, Y/N!" Wednesday calls out, her voice echoing strangely in the shadowy hallway beyond the mirror. "I think I found the key, but I can't get it out."

Your heart pounds as you lean closer to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened glass. The image of the hallway wavers and shifts, as if the shadows themselves are alive and moving.

Taking a deep breath, you reach out and press your palm flat against the mirror's surface. The glass is cold and smooth beneath your fingers, but as you apply pressure, you feel it beginning to give way, like a door yielding to a firm push.

With a grunt of effort, you step forward, feeling the resistance of the mirror against your body. For a moment, it's as if you're being pressed between two planes of existence - the real world behind you, and the shadowy realm ahead. Then, with a final heave, you stumble through, tumbling into the darkness beyond.

You land on your hands and knees, the floor beneath you cold and damp. As you push yourself upright, you see Wednesday standing a few feet away.

She's standing in a shadowy corridor, her face illuminated by the faint, eerie glow emanating from the walls. Wednesday's eyes widen as she sees you emerge from the mirror, relief and urgency flashing across her features.

"Thank god you're here," she breathes, her voice trembling slightly. "I was starting to think I might be trapped in here forever."

You take a moment to orient yourself, taking in the strange, otherworldly environment surrounding you. The walls seem to pulse with an inner light, casting shifting shadows across the floor. The air is thick and heavy, carrying an unsettling scent of decay and old secrets.

"What is this place?" you whisper, your voice sounding too loud in the oppressive silence.

Wednesday shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the object clutched in her hand. "I'm not entirely sure," she admits, her tone uncharacteristically uncertain. "But I think it's part of the escape room's final challenge."

She holds out the object for you to see - a small, ornate key, its metal surface etched with strange, twisting symbols.

Wednesday holds the key up to the flickering light, examining its intricate design. "The inscription... it matches the symbols from the riddle in the book. I think this is what we've been searching for."

She glances around, her eyes scanning the shadowy corridor. "But there's no lock here. We need to find where this key belongs."

You nod, following Wednesday's gaze as she begins to move down the hallway, her steps cautious and deliberate. The walls seem to shift and sway as you pass, the air growing colder with each step.

Wednesday stops suddenly, her head tilting to the side as she listens to a distant sound. "Do you hear that?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

You strain your ears, trying to pick up on any noise. At first, there's nothing, but then you catch it - a faint, rhythmic thumping, like a heartbeat echoing through the darkness.

"It's coming from that way," Wednesday says, pointing down a side passage branching off from the main corridor. "We need to follow it."

As you and Wednesday move deeper into the shadowy realm behind the mirror, the atmosphere grows heavier and more oppressive with each step. The thumping sound grows louder, more insistent, echoing through the dark corridors like a macabre heartbeat.

Wednesday's brow furrows in concentration, her eyes scanning the walls for any clue or hidden passage. She moves with a predatory grace, her steps silent and purposeful as she navigates the twisting labyrinth.

Suddenly, she stops, her hand shooting out to grab your arm. "Look," she hisses, her breath hot against your ear.

You follow her gaze to where the wall seems to ripple and shift, like water disturbed by an unseen hand. As you watch, a shape begins to emerge from the shadows - the outline of a door, its surface covered in the same eerie symbols that adorn the key in Wednesday's hand.

Wednesday's grip on your arm tightens, her nails digging into your skin. "This is it," she breathes, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "The final challenge."

Wednesday's hand trembles slightly as she raises the key, the metal glinting in the eerie light emanating from the walls. With a deep breath, she fits the key into the lock, the symbols aligning with a satisfying click.

As the lock disengages, the door creaks open, revealing the room they’d started in.

"That was... impressive," she says, turning to face you. "I mean, it was still an escape room, but at least it had some real challenges. Whoever designed this clearly knows their stuff."

You step forward, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of your mouth. "You're welcome," you say, pulling the carefully wrapped package from behind your back. "Happy birthday, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes widen as she takes in the small, rectangular shape of the gift. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the smooth paper. "What is it?"

"Open it and see," you encourage, handing her the package.

Wednesday tears into the wrapping paper with gusto, revealing the pristine leather cover of the book underneath. Her eyes widen as she reads the title embossed in gold lettering: "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe.

"Is this...?" she breathes, running her fingers reverently over the ancient binding. "A first edition? Y/N… How much did you spend-“ She begins, ready to scold you.

“-I stole it.”

Wednesday's eyes snap up to meet yours, her expression a mix of shock and awe. "You... you stole this for me?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there's an undercurrent of something else beneath the surface - something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"That's right," you confirm, stepping closer to her. "I knew how much you loved Poe, and I wanted to give you something truly special for your birthday. Something no one else could ever give you."

Wednesday's gaze drops back to the book, her fingers caressing the leather cover with a reverence that borders on obsessive. "This is... incredible," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I can't believe you'd go to such lengths for me."

You reach out, gently tilting her chin up to meet your eyes once more. "Of course I would," you say softly, your voice low and intimate. "You're worth it, Wednesday. More than worth it."

Wednesday's breath hitches as your fingers brush against her skin, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or ulterior motive. But all she sees is sincerity, and maybe something deeper - a longing that mirrors her own.

"Why?" she asks, her voice barely audible. "Why would you do this for me?"

You lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing against her ear. "Because I care about you, Wednesday," you murmur, your breath warm against her skin. "More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And I wanted to prove it to you, in a way that no one else could."

Wednesday's heart pounds in her chest, her body responding to your proximity in ways she didn't know were possible. She's always prided herself on her emotional detachment, her ability to remain unaffected by the whims and fancies of others. But with you, she feels herself crumbling, her carefully constructed walls beginning to fall away.

Wednesday's breath catches in her throat as your lips brush against her ear, your whispered confession sending a jolt of electricity through her body. For a moment, she's frozen, her mind reeling as she tries to process the intensity of the moment.

But then, slowly, she raises her hand, her fingers coming to rest gently against your chest. She can feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath her palm, a reminder of the life and warmth that lies beneath your skin.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I don't know what to say."

You pull back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and something deeper, more profound. "You don't have to say anything," you murmur, your hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Just let me show you."

And then, before she can react, you're leaning in, your lips capturing hers in a kiss that steals the breath from her lungs. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, her body melting into yours as she surrenders to the sensation of your mouth moving against hers.

Wednesday's mind reels as the kiss deepens, her senses overwhelmed by the taste and feel of your lips against hers. She's kissed you before, of course - quick, furtive pecks stolen in the dark corners of school. But nothing like this. Nothing that makes her feel so alive, so utterly consumed by the other person.

Your hand moves from her cheek to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday lets out a soft moan, her body arching into yours as her hands come up to grip your shoulders. She's never felt so wanted, so desired, and it's both thrilling and terrifying all at once.

For a long moment, Wednesday is lost in the sensation of your kiss, her mind going blank as she succumbs to the heat of your touch. But then, with a sudden surge of willpower, she pulls away, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath.

Wednesday's eyes snap open, her gaze locked with yours as she tries to regain her composure. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and she can feel a warmth spreading through her body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.

—

[demonpiratehuntress]

can we...cuddle?

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

summary - Law really wants to cuddle with you, but he's just not that good at asking for it.

warnings - not proofread, wrote it at 23:30 on New Year's Eve, pretty tired from an eventful day. also wanted to get it out before my tribute to Ace for his birthday at 12am.

a/n - fluff fluff fluff, this just popped into my head because i was thinking about soft!law and how much i love him

Law had never been great at asking for anything he needs or wants. He was either too prideful or too embarrassed, depending on the situation. And with you, the embarrassment part seemed a lot more prominent, because he was starting to feel unusually clingy and needy for your attention and affection. It was embarrassing.

He has an issue with outright asking for it, though. He's usually a put-together, calm man who is always in control of what he feels and how he acts. However, around you, his body seems to forget that and his mind and heart both yearn for yours. He wants to be the only thing you think of, he wants to be the only one you love and show affection to, and he wants to be the only one you ever hold.

But he could never gather up the courage to ask you to hold him, damn it!

He would see you cuddling Bepo, and envy the bear for one of two things. One, for being so easily approachable for cuddles. Two, for being able to ask you for cuddles so easily. Law wasn't the jealous type, but he'd quickly learned that when he started dating you, he'd feel and do a lot of things he'd never dreamed of before.

"You okay, Law?"

Your soft voice brought him out of his irritated thoughts, and his expression softened considerably when his eyes landed on you. You looked tired, your eyes were drooping and your body was slumping, and Law had never seen anything cuter.

"Yes, (Name)-ya." He gently grabbed your elbow, leading you away. "Let's get you to bed now, sleepyhead."

You smiled at that, giggling in the most adorable way that had Law's heart flipping in his chest. He was both amazed and annoyed that you held such power over him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm not sleepy, you're sleepy."

He chuckled at that, guiding you into the room you both shared. For once, his work went ignored on the desk as he steered you towards the bed, his tense body only relaxing when you were safely lying on the mattress, pulling him down beside you.

"(Name)-ya-" He started, but you were already softly snoring, gripping onto his shirt like a baby. He would never admit it out loud, but the sight was enough to melt even his frigid heart.

He sighed. Another failed attempt at asking for cuddles. He got the cuddles anyway, but he wanted to be the one asking so he could show you that he craved your touch as much as you craved his.

The next time he tried to ask, you were laying in bed reading a book as you waited for him to finish working.

Once he was sick of whatever he was doing, he got up and slowly made his way to the bed, kicking off his shoes and discarding his coat before flopping down next to you. So preoccupied by your book, you hadn't noticed his arrival.

"What are you reading, (Name)-ya?"

You jumped in fright, the book flying out of your hands and settling on the floor next to the bed. Law's deep rumble of laughter met your ears, and you blushed in embarrassment, smacking his arm lightly and playfully.

"Law! Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry," he apologised insincerely, smirking. "You're so easy to scare."

You pouted, "You're mean."

"You love me anyway," his chest swelled at the fact.

"I do, I very much do," you smiled, heart warming.

You leaned over the side of the bed to pick your book up, but when you got back up you were met with a sleeping Law laying next to you. It was rare for him to fall asleep before you, but you knew he had been working himself non-stop, even more so than usual lately. You smiled softly, setting your book aside and thinking you'll find your page tomorrow as you shifted closer to the slumbering doctor, curling up close to him.

Law woke up the next day feeling incredibly disappointed. He had fallen asleep before he could even try asking you to cuddle him. He'd woken up to you cuddling him, but he still felt displeased by his irritating inability to state his need for your touch.

You woke up a little later in the morning, to a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand. You smiled, knowing that was one of Law's ways of showing he cared. He couldn't cook, but he could make you coffee and did so every morning he woke up before you. Which, let's be real, is almost every morning. On the rare occasion you wake up before him, you have a full breakfast ready for him and a planned speech on how he should not feel guilty for not being able to do the same for you.

"Good morning, love."

You looked up at a working Law, hunched over his desk as he furiously scribbled something in his notebook. Your smile grew, and you slowly sat up in bed.

"Morning, captain."

He groaned, "I call you love and you call me captain?"

You giggled, "Sorry, my love. My baby. My one and only."

He hummed in satisfaction, "Much better." The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

You didn't mind much that he wasn't looking at you. He was paying attention to what you were saying, and that was more than enough for you. You knew how he could get, and had learned a long time ago to embrace and accept it.

"What will you do today?" He suddenly asked, a tad bit nervously.

"Well," you began, "Seeing as we are docked at an island and you're allowing everyone to take the day off, I think I might just stay right here in bed all day."

"Is that so?" He asked, amused. "How lazy."

You laughed at his teasing, the sound going straight to his heart. It swelled in response, growing warm in his chest. Your laugh was one of the few things that Law genuinely loved to listen to. He liked the way it made him feel, but also the fact that he had been the one to cause it.

"Very," you agreed. "But it's fun, you should try it sometime."

He finally turned to you, raising an eyebrow, "Oh? Are you giving me orders, (Name)-ya?" His tone was teasing, his smile wicked.

"Hmmm, maybe," you taunted, grinning.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, before a calm smile tugged at his lips. Pushing his work aside, he got up from his seat and walked over to the bed, gingerly sitting on the edge.

"I suppose I can indulge you just this once, then. Since no one is around to hear just how bossy you really are."

You laughed at that, eagerly shifting to make space for him, "What can I say? Sometimes my captain needs a little bossing to relax a little bit."

He chuckled, "I don't deny that."

Then, again, Law found himself struggling to ask for your touch. He wanted to ask you to cuddle him so badly, but he just couldn't bring himself to say the words. Finally, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he tried his best.

"(Name)-ya," he started nervously, "I like that thing you do...where you pull me close and hug me...but in bed." He waited for you to say something, but you remained silent but smirking, as if you knew what he wanted but you just wanted him to say it. He swallowed thickly. "You know where...you wrap your arms around me and keep me against your warm body." He blushed at his own words.

"Hmmm, what might you be speaking of, babe?" You teased him, evil grin on your face.

He sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his dark hair, "I'm trying to say...I mean I want to ask...do you-can we...can we cu-" He paused, silently mouthing the word. "Cuddle? Can we cuddle?"

Your eyes widened, because you hadn't really expected him to say it. Then you smiled and happily opened your arms for the flustered doctor. He obliged, sinking into them just as happily, a contented sigh leaving his lips.

"Law?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really glad you finally asked."

"Me too."

And from then on, Law wasn't shy to ask, he wasn't shy to pull you aside and just hug you, and he wasn't shy to show you that he needed to touch you just as much as you needed to touch him.

Congratulations, you unlocked Clingy Trafalgar Law.

[amourjins]

forgot something! - j.wy

pairing , classpresident!wonyoung x fem!reader

synopsis , as listening to beabadoobee’s ‘glue song’, you got an idea to do on your girlfriend.. or at least SOON-to-be girlfriend.

content ahead/genre , fluff!!!, highschool!au, umm no warnings its just silly little fluff

as you walked into class, only spotting your class pres, teacher, and some other classmates that came a little bit early, you took your seat. wonyoung looked up at you when you came in, her face lighting up at the sight of you.

you smiled at her, taking out your books and laptop to prepare for class. a few others walked in right after you, then came the whole class.

the teacher started the lesson when everybody settled in. you took your notes needed, the noise of the teachers writing on the whiteboard spreading throughout the classroom. you looked over at wonyoung, seeing her listening very carefully and closely at the teachers words as she wrote on and on.

“alright, everyone, please take the rest of class to work on your essays!” the teacher suddenly announced, erasing all of the writing off the whiteboard, making you stop doodling onto your notebook paper. you groaned as you turned the girl sitting beside you, kim chaewon. “i hate this essay..” you whispered to her, everyone around you opening up their laptops. “i hate this too, dont worry..” she responded back.

you put in your headphones, opening up spotify on your phone. you put on a random playlist that you had, ‘glue song’ by beabadoobee playing.

it immediately reminded you of wonyoung.

you didnt know why—you two werent even dating, and you didnt even know if she liked girls or not. but, what you do know, is that you two are the closest. always by eachothers side. and that was when you came up with a funny idea to play on wonyoung. she wouldnt play along, right?

as the bell rang, you immediately closed your laptop and slammed your books closed (gently), just happy to be out of that class. you stuffed all of your supplies inside of your backpack, groaning as you put it on. wonyoung seemed to already have packed up, and talking with the teacher. i mean, she was the class president, anyway.

the last bell of the day rang—indicating that everyone was free to head home. you walked out of class, walking to your locker, disposing a few things before you remembered the idea. you always knew wonyoung would be found at the library right after school, so you headed right over, immediately.

you peeked into the library, taking a look around. you took a step in, greeting the librarian as you asked about wonyoungs whereabouts, “do you know where jang wonyoung is?” you whispered, walking over to the counter where the librarian sat. “umm.. should be right at one of the desks. she’s told me about you, ln yn, right?” a light pink blush dawned onto your cheeks the second the librarian spoke. your heart raced, “uhm.. yes, thank you!” you thanked, immediately walking away to cover your face, and especially to calm down.

you walked to where the desks were located, spotting wonyoung flipping through pages of books and her laptop open. you sneaked over to her, standing beside her, “whatre you doing?” you questioned, startling her a bit as she looked at you, smiling. “hi, um, extra credit.” she replied, pointing at her laptop. you didnt understand anything that was on there, so you just nodded.

“anyway, did you need something?” she asked, directing her attention back to the books, shifting around in the chair. “um..” you thought for a second, taking a breath. “you forgot something today.” you lied (but did you really?). “what? huh? whatd i forget? i never forget anything,” she scrambled, as you just stopped her with a giggle. “no, not that.. you forgot to kiss me.”

“..are you serious?” a blush appeared on her cheeks as she turned to you, and you definitely did NOT expect her to react like this. “do you want me to be, jang wonyoung?” you teased, “oh shut up..” the taller girl mumbled, embarrassed, standing up.

“so are you?”

“am i gonna what?”

“kiss me.”

tension fueled between you two as wonyoung grabbed a book out of her book-bag, you confused on what she was about to do. she opened it up, holding it with her left hand. she covered the both of your guys’ side profiles with the book, covering the view of what you guys were about to do.

she leaned in, kissing you as her lips crashed onto yours. immediately after a few seconds, she pulled back, leaving you stunned. she then let go of the book, closing it and putting it back into her book-bag. she then went back to what she was doing, sitting down, acting like nothing happened. you sat down in the chair beside her, in a daze. your face was bright red as you dug your head into the wooden, cold desk.

“..no way class pres did that.” - k.mj

“did what?” - y.jm

“she held up a book to cover her and yns kiss,” - k.mj

‘ DON’T FORGET TO KISS ME,, OR ELSE YOU’LL HAVE TO MISS ME .. ’

[kokokoula]

Heeello, how r u? I hope u r doing well ^^

This is an emergency request soo pleaseee write it asap 🙏🏽

Its abt tsukishima kei’s gf who’s very stressed out abt her final exams that she forgets to take care of herself

a/n: i wish you all the best for your exams!! i hope this will be comforting in some ways. i fr tried my best to finish and make sure it still seems alright. just some headcanons on it:

tsukishima leaves a cup of either hot or cold water, whichever you prefer, beside you on the table as you study, and he refills it when he sees it empty.

it doesn't matter if his final exams are around the corner too, and as much as he believes his studies are important, he prioritises you over it.

if he notices that the water level hasn't changed after some time, he slides it over till it's right in your line of sight. "drink, pipsqueak."

if you tell him "later", he'd drags you away from your work by the chair leg and shoves the cup into your hands.

he leaves you alone once you drink at least half the cup of water, but not without a kiss on the top of your head and a squeeze on your shoulder before heading to refill it.

it's harder to get you to eat food though, let alone actual meals, so he resorts to leaving you comfort food or something filling alongside with the cup of water next to you.

if you refuse to eat, he'll again pull you aside to eat, and in some extremely rare times, begrudgingly feeds you himself.

"the things i do for you." "don't do it then, i didn't ask you to." "...no."

you two share earpieces with one of his many playlists running.

he likes to rest a hand on your thigh when he's studying, only pulling away if he really needs to use it, but be assured it always returns back to its place.

everyone knows tsukishima is ruthless as a tutor, with his impatience and all, and it's not like he bothers to change. he doesn't aspire to be a teacher anyways. but for you, he tries to be nicer.

"not so dumb now, are we?" and his signature smirk.

when he takes a break from his books and notes, he makes you take one with him too. it's not optional.

"you've been studying for the past few hours already. study any more and you'll actually self destruct."

he either pulls you by the wrist or distracts you with a kiss. you obviously prefer the latter.

wait wait wait imagine him standing behind your chair and he tilts your head up by the chin (albeit roughly knowing you and your stubborn ass) and kisses you YKYK

ok but continuing on, he pulls you to his bed and just cuddles with you, with the earpieces still on.

you'll rant to him as he plays with your hair in silence, with a bit of input here and there.

if you breakdown from the stress, he's there holding your face in his hands and wiping away your tears with his thumbs, placing a few butterfly kisses on your forehead, your cheeks and your nose, again in silence.

he doesn't know what to say during these times, and sometimes, he doesn't have to. his actions are enough.

[raven-cincaide]

 ‘Best Friend’ Kisses 

Summary: The three times you and Yuji kiss all happen during different stages of your lives, different times and have inherently different meanings, from the awkward ‘first kiss’ as middle schoolers to a surprise reunion smooch. Although, you don’t know what to make of the last one. 

Pairing: fem! Reader x (Best friend) Itadori Yuji Sweetober prompt 2: Best friends  WC: 2.4 KWarnings: Fluff, minors (innocent!) kissing, did I mention fluff?

To say that you and Yuji were close would be like saying ‘water is wet’ or ‘ice is cold’- it's something that everyone who had seen you grow up knew; you two were always in each other's lives- day in and day out you’d hang out together. If you were there, then Yuji would undoubtedly be somewhere close by. It was like you two were bound by an invisible force which told you where the other was. A force that always seemed to bring you two together. Your teachers would sometimes laugh that you were ‘held together by a red string of fate’ while your parents always reminded you two to get married at a respectable time and not forget to send them an invite to the wedding. 

Truth be told, it felt so perfect and surreal. Like your entire life plan was laid out perfectly in your lap: study together until college, get a degree, then you would work at a company for a few years to build up a resume and some cash before settling down somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo. Maybe even in the more green village-like areas where you’d build your perfect future together. Yuji would be a P.E. teacher at some local high school, and you would be either an English teacher or a writer, depending on which profession took off first. You’d build a family together; Yuji wanted three kids at least. You wanted one, so you compromised on two and filled the last spot with a pet of his choice. 

Thus, the first time you two kissed was related to that grand life plan. The life plan that you two came up with during recess in middle school. Although it was a gorgeous day, nice and warm and perfect to be outside, both of you lazied about in the school library, sitting on the soft chairs in the very corner of the room commonly known as the ‘silent reading corner’, surrounded only by a handful of usual-ignored-older computers and heavy bookshelves. There was no one in the school's library besides the two of you and an old librarian checking in new books somewhere in the second room, well out of sight. The other kids were out kicking ball between each other or up to some other type of mischief, but you felt down and tired and settled for the more comfortable indoors. And expectedly and without question, Yuji joined you, sitting in the familiar seat beside you. 

“Let’s kiss on it!” The young pink-haired boy exclaimed as he spun another round on the well-used computer chair beside you. “You know, to seal the deal. As they do at weddings in front of the pastor, so it’s a deal for life.” 

You peer up at him from your spot, where half of you lay half sprawled out on the desk, head rested on top of your folded arms. “I think it’s the vow before the kiss that makes it, you know, ‘til death do us part’ thingy.” 

“Oh.. well, let's do it anyway; that way, we won’t forget it until we get married!” Yuji shifted closer; his lips widening into a wide grin as though he had just won a whole cake.  

“I swear you just want a kiss”, you mumbled, but don’t shove him away. You stayed perfectly still, just staring at him with huge eyes, as he leaned closer until you felt a tiny pressure on your lips, a shaky warmth that disappeared as quickly as it came. A second passed, and you two stared at each other in utter silence before you flew away, faces dark red, as you heard the librarian walk in to remind you to get back to class. 

You had to admit you don’t remember much of that kiss. 

But you do remember the sudden shyness that followed and how yours and Yuji’s cheeks would blossom into dark red blush whenever you looked at each other after that- a fact that made the other kids tease you the hell out of you two. 

It was an awkward kiss that, for a long time, made you worried you would lose Yuji. That he wouldn’t want to be friends with you because you were a bad kisser- and unknowingly to you, he felt the same. Thus, you two didn’t kiss more times in middle school. 

The second time you and Yuji kissed was during your first year of high school, right after summer break. The two of you sat, sprawled out in the shadows of the high school bleachers from one side and the overgrown bushes from the other—a perfect little obscured space for anyone who didn’t want to be seen. But still wanted to have a good view of the sports area with the bright green football field, an area for throwing balls, spears, high and low jumps and other activities you didn’t even know existed. 

The football tryouts had just finished, yet there were still a few hours left until the cheerleading tryouts started. Yuji had wanted to only show up to your tryouts. Still, an old classmate practically begged him to join for football tryouts as company, completely forgetting that since last semester Yuji hit puberty and not only shot up like a beam but also grew strength and muscle like a gorilla. Effectively impressing the P.E teacher who wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into your horror-loving, more-of-a-bookworm-than-sports-guy Yuji. 

So now you had no choice but to hide in the shadowy part of the field, sitting on Yuji’s sweatshirt in your bright blue cheerleader uniform, sipping on a milkshake and Yuji in his barely sweaty jeans and t-shirt, right beside you, chugging down a Gatorade. 

“How quickly do you wanna get married?” 

Your eyes flickered to Yuji as he peered at you through pink bangs. The second he caught your eye, though, he turned away, his face unmistakably red. His lips were still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He was a mix of cool-casual as if he had just asked how long you had until class, but also so obviously fidgety and nervous that you found him totally cute. Absolutely adorable, and something else you refused to admit about your best friend. But there was also something else in his expression, and you quickly recognised the question for what it was: a distraction. Something to keep his mind occupied on anything other than his sick grandpa. 

‘So bad, huh?’ you wanted to comfort him in the only way he would accept- by answering his half-metaphorical question: “Hmm, maybe during or straight after Uni? I heard there are some perks with getting housing if you’re a young married couple,” You mused aloud, trying to keep the tears out of your voice. 

“We should kiss on that, You know, to seal the deal..” you paused mid-sip of your cherry-flavoured milkshake, sensing an air of nervousness settled between you. You bite your lips, a part of you were uncertain and nervous. You weren’t children anymore, and a kiss at your age would have all sorts of implications. 

But you could also see his need for a distraction, could see how tense his shoulders were and how desperately he gripped the Gatorade bottle. He was afraid, you realised, afraid to be completely alone once his grandpa passed. You still had your parents, but Yuji would have no one. He was afraid you’d leave him too. 

“I swear you just want a kiss” You could practically hear him sob in relief as he spun around to face you; the childhood reply from all these years ago brought him unimaginable relief.

This time it was not a shy and quick press of the lips- it was more desperate. He pressed his lips to yours firmly and moved them against yours as if he were trying to get closer or eat you alive. You weren’t sure.  Teenaged hormones raged- an unexplainable tension between you two as your lips and spit, and tongue met each other over and over again. 

This time, there was a lot more exploring now, tasting, feeling. 

The taste of Yuji and the puckishly sweet-synthetic taste of post-practice Gatorade cut through the sweet flavour of a cheery milkshake on your tongue. The warmth of his hands on your body, the feel of his chest under your hands. How much he had changed seemingly overnight from a soft and squishy boy into a brick of solid muscle hidden underneath hoodies and loose-fitted jeans. 

You gasped as he pushed you down into lying and broke the kiss to stare at him. His pupils were blown wide, almost manic. One leg was planted on the ground, the second was frozen in the air mid-saddling your waist, as if he had just realized what he was doing. His blush caught up with him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do. “D-Do y-you wanna stop?” 

You heard the unmistakable whistle from the tryouts just meters away, and it was as if a dose of reality had finally broken through your haze. What were you two doing in broad daylight too? “Y-yeah, definitely not here” You don’t miss the disappointment on Yuji’s face as he scrambled off of you and helpd you up. 

Thinking back, you wondered if things would have been different if you hadn’t said ‘yes’ that time- if you hadn’t stopped and instead urged him on the way every fibre of your being screamed at you too. Would Yuji have stayed in your high school? Or would he have transferred out of there the very next day with no warning and no goodbye? Not even a chance for you to say your condolences to him, or mourn his grandfather's death, who was like your own grandfather? Or would it have ultimately not mattered? 

The third time you and Yuji kissed was days before the university started. It was sunny and warm as you waited near rebuilt Shinjuku station for your friends for a much-needed shopping spree. The university started almost two weeks later than your high school after the summer break and the day coincided with the last time you saw Yuji. Although there was still a feeling of anger, much of it was replaced by melancholy and a sense of betrayal. You wished Yuji would explain the simple ‘why’- you swore you would have understood. 

But he never did, and despite frequent texting, you always turned down his request to meet up.

You were bitter, not only for having lost your best friend but also because he ruined the plan. The perfectly perfect life plan you both had created in middle school came crashing down without warning, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces. You were still bitter about being left behind- replaced like a pair of gloves and so stubbornly angry that you didn’t even notice Yuji screaming your name until he was just a few feet away. 

You glanced up, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, and he spun you around and around, your face buried in the crook of your neck like in all those post-war veteran coming-home pictures. You noticed he looked older, more worn out than his twenties, like he had been through hell and back again. “Y-yuji?!-” You didn’t even finish your sentence as his lips were suddenly on yours. A desperate plea and apology all poured into that one kiss. 

You froze. Your body grew rigid in his arms; you thought your love had cooled, and yet there were sparks between you- no, wait, there WERE actual blue sparks around you. You tore yourself away from his lips, ignoring his sulking pout, as you stared at the specks of blue around you in shock and awe.

“You can see that?” An unfamiliar voice spoke up, and you turned to face a dark-haired man standing beside a brown-haired woman. Between them was something that you could only describe as a black-and-white demon dog of sorts. It’s horrifying and cute all at once. Although its proportions feel all wrong, there was something like a third eye in the middle of its forehead surrounded by a red mark in its forehead that didn’t look like a mere paint job.

 “And you see him?” the woman asks, pointing a long finger at the animal.

You nodded slowly, your gaze flickered between the reminisce of blue specks and the puppy, and then you returned to the unfamiliar duo. 

“Then it’s all good, right? Fushiguro? Kugisaki? We call tell her, right?” Yuji exclaimed, his voice an obnoxiously loud cheer that only piped down once you pressed your hands against his shoulders in a silent demand to be set back down on the ground. 

Instantly Yuji’s eyes, puppy dog expression and disappointed pout stared up at you. You didn’t smile or laugh back at him, in fact, you didn’t even know whether you wanted to know whatever that ‘all’ was. You just felt uneasy and awkward in your best friend's embrace after two years of absence, or maybe it was the way he looked much older than when you last saw him, like he had been to hell and back several times over? He didn’t look your age- he looked almost a decade older. Or was it something else that brought an unmistakable bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like you wanted to get the fuck away from there before you were dragged into something you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“Oy why is it so important for you to make her a sorcerer anyway?” the woman crossed her arms over her chest, seizing you and your still stunned expression, up and down as if judging your entire worth in that mili-second. 

“Because she’s my best friend of course!” Yuji exclaimed, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you from collapsing from the onslaught of emotion you felt at that moment. 

From anger and betrayal to curiosity and the unmistakable fear as the dio inched closer to you while Yuji kept you still in one place. But most importantly, the unmistakable pang of pain that came with being called ‘his best friend’. It reminded you once again that a kiss for Yuji was just a way to greet someone, like a personalised handshake or a first bump. It meant nothing, and you were a total fool to become so affected by it. To still hope against hope that your life plan could be salvaged. It was foolish because you were the only one to feel that way, 

Or so you thought.  

Author note: This is a republish of the fic from like 3 days ago, but still I just thought it could be a pre-university Yuji fic, or maybe a hdc . What do you think?

Main |Raven | Rules and Requests | Masterlist | Other

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[that1garrulousfan]

AU TIME >:]

(Playtime Co. doesn’t exist, the Smiling Critters actually live in a society n stuff)

After attending an awards ceremony and seeing his friends get praise and recognition for their unique talents, DogDay feels envious and worthless.

How come they’re so special and he isn’t? Was he really that boring?

Picky can make delicious pastries, Bubba is a genius, Kickin has charm, Hoppy is very athletic, Bobby has a heart like no other and CatNap can put anyone at ease.

E D I T : Crafty is artistically talented

CatNap soon finds DogDay sitting by the river, clearly having a breakdown. He approaches him, hoping he can help in some way. It was almost anticipated. It was what he was good for.

“I’m supposed to be the leader… I should be proud of everyone… not upset. This is so stupid…”

“That’s not stupid, it’s normal. And besides, who needs a dumb skill anyways?”

DogDay takes that reassurance the wrong way, in other words VERY LITERAL.

Basically, he managed to become a dictator in the span of less than 24 hours. Which honestly isn’t very surprising. He’s already the leader to begin with.

He convinces his friends to give up their talents and act as equals. (Which dulls their colors in their appearances, much like citizens in the song above).

Bubba is forced to perform at the same intelligence level as everyone else, it’d be unfair if he were remain the smartest of the bunch.

Kickin is now more reserved and awkward, unlike his popular charm he once had. (I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t give him the Will Byers haircut I’m sorry—)

CraftyCorn can no longer be as creative as she once was. She is also not allowed to use her unicorn horn magic due to the fact that no one else has that advantage.

Hoppy has to slow down her pace in order to blend in with the crowd. Instead of hopping, skipping or running from place to place, she needs to mirror the average speed of everyone else.

Picky’s food isn’t as appetizing as it used to be. She often overcooks, undercooks, adds the wrong ingredients, forgets some ingredients or even ignores the recipe.

Bobby has trouble encouraging her friends because she can’t necessarily do it properly anymore.

CatNap is still processing what’s going on. Very confused to be honest.

This AU takes inspiration from the episode, “The Cutie Map” from MLP and the book “Harrison Bergeron” by Kurt Vonnegut.

Reference:

Feel free to ask questions if you want to!

[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

[disneyprincemuke]

mastermind * op81

oscar did not expect that he had to share a bed with you during his trip to visit you over his break

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 2k

notes: guys omg i've just been so squashed mentally so i've kinda been struggling to write but no worries,, here is a long overdue and that promised forced one bed trope with oscar <3

(f1 masterlist)

leaving you behind so he could travel the world was never part of the plan that oscar had mapped out in his head. and you packing up to move several hours away for grad school also was not the plan.

it just makes it all the harder during his short breaks to come and see you. his breaks are truly barely considered one, always asked to come down to headquarters for meetings and strategy talks.

but this time is different. he’s finally managed to shake off his duties this one time, taking a train to finally go and visit you.

there’s a festival nearby, or maybe a concert — he can’t remember which specifically — that didn’t allow him to book a hotel room for himself. besides, the solution is easy when you’ve been friends your whole life; he was just looking for a room out of courtesy and respect for your space.

but when you stepped forward and told him he’s being silly for looking at hotels, he knew that was your subtle way of telling him that he will be staying with you during his stay.

so here he is, a heavy and bulky backpack over his shoulders as his eyes bore on the door of your apartment. he hears some shuffling on the other side before the lock clicks, followed by squeaking as the door is pulled open.

it reveals you, hair up in a bun with your glasses sitting on your nose. you’re still in your pyjamas, he’s guessing you never left your apartment to prepare it for him.

“oscar!” you squeal, throwing your arms into the air. “you’re here!”

he beams and holds his arms out. “you knew i was coming!”

“i know, but i’m just so excited to have you here!” you finally take a step forward and bury yourself into his chest. “it’s been a while — you’ve just been so busy and unattainable.”

“unattainable is a bit much,” oscar chuckles as you open the door slightly wider and beckon to let him in, “just didn’t have the time to come down to you. but i still talked to you.”

you shrug, “i know.”

“well anyway,” he says, putting his bag down on the empty spots next to your couch, “thank you so much for letting me stay. if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume that you somehow hijacked the odds of all the hotels not having rooms available for my stay.”

you laugh, looking over your shoulder to give him a bewildered stare. “i’m not that powerful, oscar.”

it’s only then he realises that your couch was not prepped to be a bed, unlike what he had been expecting when he took up your generous offer to stay in your apartment. it’s not exactly his first time sleeping over at your place, but you almost always prepared your couch to be a bed when he pays a visit, which does not seem to be the case this time around.

“hey?” he calls out hesitantly, looking over his shoulder to get your attention as you trudge the kitchen by yourself. “the couch isn’t made up like a bed… did you forget or something?”

you tilt your head, convincingly confused at him. your eyes trail to the couch behind him before realisation hits you. “oh!” you break into a soft laugh as you approach him. “well, you see… it’s a new couch and it’s so fancy and pink — you can’t possibly sleep on it!”

oscar scans your couch. and to your defense, it does look very pristine and new, and very pink. he can understand where you’re coming from when you claim that he should not sleep on it.

“so, you know,” you say in a slightly softer voice, looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze, “we can share my bed — it’s more comfortable anyway. you wouldn’t get a good night’s rest on this tiny couch.”

oscar turns to look at you before he shrugs. “sure, i guess you know best.”

“i swear!” you squeal, guiding him towards your bedroom to let him settle his things inside. “the couch is too small for you.”

he can only keep laughing at the way you continue to defend your decision to let him share the bed with you.

this situation is less than ideal for him. not only has he spent years of your friendship silently pining for you, but now he is forced to share a bed with you for a week.

though, arguably, this is the best way to finally ease himself into asking you out. but he just can’t be too sure unless he hears it from your lips, telling him that you feel the same. but you’re not saying anything directly to his face.

oscar tries to push away the nerves from sharing a bed with you for the rest of the day. you go out and explore the town you’ve spent the past couple of months in, trying new dishes and taking him to your favourite spots. he enjoys the day with you, not having realised that he missed having you around this much in the time you spent apart.

he couldn’t make it out for your graduation, which sucked, but you claimed that it’s okay because he’s got a big boy job unlike you.

he completely forgot about the situation at hand. the one he spent almost half the afternoon thinking and stressing over, but went away the minute you were laughing at a joke he had made nonchalantly.

it wasn’t until he stepped out of the shower and saw you already passed out on the bed that he suddenly remembered that he was going to have to share the bed with you for the next few nights. you were comfortably nuzzled into one side of the bed with the blankets pulled up all the way to your chin.

oscar almost bails on sleeping on the bed with you, weighing how much more painful it could be if he just made up some stupid excuse and slept on the floor instead. ultimately, he deemed that it would be completely not worth the body pain if did that.

so he sucks it up and dragged his feet against the floor to join you in bed. he tries to carefully lie on the bed without waking you up, suddenly feeling slightly claustrophobic even though you had pushed yourself so far to the edge of the bed that he fears you might fall out at some point in the night.

alas, when the bed dips, he flinches at the way your eyes fluttered open and a lazy grin stretches your lips. “hey,” you croak out before turning to the other side of the bed to give him his space.

“sorry i woke you up,” oscar whispers, hesitantly climbing under the blankets. “goodnight.”

“goodnight, oscar.”

it takes him a while, but he does eventually fall asleep. all he could think of until he passed out was the fact that he is sharing a bed with you for the first time in your friendship. he truly doesn’t know how to act knowing that your back was pressed up against his as he drifted off to sleep.

however, he does have a very good rest. perhaps it was how soft your bed was that contributed to how well he slept. or maybe it’s the pair of arms strewn loosely over his stomach or the face nuzzled into his arm and– wait a second.

oscar opens his eyes, hyperaware of the way your body is now tangled in his with the blankets loosely covering both of your bodies. he wants to move your hand away or excuse himself before he lets his heart take over his mind and do something he might spend the rest of his life regretting.

you don’t seem to be bothered, because as if you had sensed it out of him, you pull your arm back to rub your eyes. “morning.”

“uh,” he hesitates to look at you, “hi?”

you hum, squeaking at the end. “something wrong?”

“you were um,” oscar clears his throat. he should just ask you out, shouldn’t he? he tries to reason out with him as fast as he can without worrying you. you’ve practically cuddled — for god knows how long through the night — and shared a bed; what could go wrong, right?

he will deal with the consequences if your answer is not as expected.

“what is it?” you pull back slightly and furrow your eyebrows. “what do you think we should have for breakfast?”

he blurts it out, which is not the way he envisioned himself ever asking you out. he considers himself calmer than the average person but there was something about your somehow forced proximity. “i like you a lot.”

“what?” you laugh, pulling back even more as your eyes widen.

oscar stares at you as he feels the whiplash of his decision hit him. he knew it. he should not have asked you out now; the rest of his trip would definitely be awkward the rest of his trip. he should have just asked you on his last day so he could spend the time apart getting past the embarrassment of getting rejected.

of thinking that asking his friend out is a good idea.

“oscar,” you laugh again, scrambling to sit up. his cheeks heat up, clenching his jaw as the embarrassment consumes his body whole. “of course, i like you too.”

he looks at you from the corners of his eyes, arms folded over his chest. he hears his heart in his ears, his entire body running from the sheer adrenaline of finally confessing to you about something he’s had to keep in his chest for years. “seriously?”

“you are so cute,” you put a hand on your chest and tilt your head. “how can i not?”

oscar lets out a heavy breath, his airways clearing at the positive ending the situation is seeing. “so can i take you out on a date today? if you don’t mind that we stray from your itinerary, of course… i know you spent a long time coming up with it.”

you shake your head, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. “i don’t care — we’re going on a date!”

— bonus

oscar stands up from his seat, starting to gather the used plates that littered your dining table. he’s found the time to be the one to visit you once more, after a long triple header of races, so he came down instead of having you travel out for him.

your first date went well, of course, and that eventually led to a second date. by the third date, oscar mustered up the courage once more to ask you to be his girlfriend.

you’d been friends for so long that it didn’t really matter when he asked you to make it official. at that point, it just felt long overdue when you also admitted that you’d had feelings for him for a while.

he catches a glimpse of your neat couch, pillows and a throw blanket stacked in the corner again like clockwork. he hears you walk out of the kitchen, handing him a glass of cold water. “you know… if you weren’t so weird about your new fancy couch, i probably never would have confessed my feelings to you.”

you put your glass down on the table and walk over to the couch without another word, pulling the cushions off and throwing it on the ground nonchalantly. oscar’s eyebrows shoot up as you unfold the bed, revealing the sofa bed that you had owned this entire time. “i know!” you beam, throwing your arms in the air.

he stares at you. “you… what?”

“yeah!” you squeak, now returning the cushions to show him the set-up of the sofa bed. “i orchestrated it all!”

“you’re sneaky!”

@33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. being in love with soul ♡

warnings: not proofread, odd amount of minecraft references, implied that they met underage but all physical activity happens when both are adults, idol!soul, gender neutral for the most part

nsfw: fem-body in mind but can be read as gn (imo) mild voyeurism, some roughness, overall pretty tame

a/n: i wrote this while doing a harry potter marathon so it's not the best 😭 might make it a series tbh, one movie = one being in love with [piwon]. joking, mostly. work has been ass this week ngl and i work again tmrw buttttttt i will be able to dedicate at least 5hrs to delusion after i pick up some conditioner 🫶 who knows maybe i'll lock in and get it done by the 1st (i probably won't)

1. first meetings

soul is the type of person who would be your friend first. one of your very best friends, actually. if you aren't childhood friends, you would be someone he met by chance. at a store, cafe, a park. no matter what, you would be the one to approach him. striking up a conversation about an interest you both share. soul would take a liking to you immediately, opening up gradually, meeting you as often as his schedule allows. he would eventually have to introduce you to the members, and start bringing you over to the dorm. he's getting recognized. going out was becoming a chore for both of you. besides, you've been friends for a while, it's only natural the next step is hanging out in each other's personal space.

after years of your bond, soul finds both of you in his bed after a long day of practice. he wasn't sure what was up wirh you. normally, you wouldn't insist on seeing him after practice. you knew he was tired. for an hour, you'd been clinging to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. he didn't need words from you. yet, anyways. he just needed to know you're okay. "my treasure," he whispers, "what's wrong?"

your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt. those soft eyes of his, they melt you. "i just had a bad day."

mhmmmm. soul's hand finds itself pressed against your lower back, pulling you onto his lap with ease. "what else?"

"i love you, that's what else." you see soul's expression twitch ever so slightly, brows furrowing before he evens his gaze with your teary one, "i love you too."

2. commitment

life with soul is bliss. he's an extremely attentive lover. he already knows you inside out, and like everyone you change; he changes with you. he blossoms with you. soul loves you so much, he becomes the best version of himself. he doesn't even mean to. all he knows is that you know perfectly how to soothe his fears, how to celebrate with him, how to make him feel loved. he will never ask for more. he's the kind of boyfriend who brings you things that remind him of you. he makes a minecraft realm just for the two of you, where he fills up a whole book telling you how he loves you more than he's afraid of losing you.

soul has a possessive side to him. he rarely shows it around you, but sometimes you notice. when jongseob is making you laugh just a little too hard. or when you're alone with him in their shared room. if he could, sometimes soul thinks he would bite down on you and claim you forever. but then your eyes light up when you see him. you're encasing him in a hug so tight, so intimate, he forgets all about the possessiveness he felt.

date ideas are split evenly between the two of you. whether it's a movie marathon, a quick little errand turned exploring all the shops, a nice dinner date, playing video games for hours on end... you two come up with your own ideas of fun, and share them. but he never ever lets you pay. he will hold your hand so you can't get your card. trying to pay with cash? he's already tapped his card. oh you tried to be sneaky and pay for dinner by giving the server your card? he gave the hostess his the second you walked in. seriously. he's not huge on princess treatment, or gender roles, but he firmly believes you shouldn't have to pay for anything. except in minecraft. he will go halfsies with you when trading with villagers.

2. intimacy

always, always, always is touching you in some way. holding hands, arms wrapped around you, hand on your side. he is casually touching you no matter where you are. while he used to be shy about kissing you around the members, he'll kiss your forehead, cheek, and nose around them. kissing your lips is saved for when you two are alone because...

every kiss turns into a makeout session. no matter how innocent. you'll give him a soft peck, and before you know it his tongue is slipping past your lips, licking against your own. honestly, he doesn't even always wait until you're completely alone. jongseob does have noise cancelling headphones on, at least.

speaking of jongseob: your lovely boyfriend always seems to be more passionate with you when he's in the bed just across from you two. it's that possessiveness he hides from you. he wants to bite you so hard you bleed, so no one will ever look at you again. but he doesn't want to hurt you. so instead he settles for stretching you open with his fingers while his best friend is in the room. you would think he'd be quiet and leave him out of it, but his dirty talk makes it seem like he wants you to moan a little too loud. "quiet, baby. unless you want him to hear? want him to see how good i ruin you? how i pleasure you? you know he can't see you cum, baby, that's only for me to see."

but aside from that little fantasy of his. no matter how rough soul is with you, he's always making love to you. even when he's thrusting into you so hard the bed is shaking and your knees are pressed up next to your chest, he's still looking at you with his puppy eyes, making you feel so good. and if he finishes too early, you bet he's using his mouth to finish you off, even if it means eating some of his own cum. usually he's ready to go again by the time you cum anyways. he has endless stamina.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[satangcrush]

an ode to nicknames pt.3 <3

✦ CAST: simeon, solomon, diavolo, luke, barbatos ✦ WC: 1.8k ✦ SUMMARY: f! reader, what nicknames (or lack of) will the cast use for you! established relationship (simeon and solomon), diavolo (more than friends), luke (familial) and barbatos (start of program) ✦ WC: 4.4k✦ WARNING: spoiler for OB!SWD for simeon’s part

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

Simeon thinks you’re an actual saint for putting up with the demon brothers and calls you ‘angel’ somewhat as a joke at first but now thinks you actually can be one. He also regularly calls you ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘doll’, and ‘love’. He loves referring to you by a nickname but unfortunately or fortunately (however you see it), he has the vocabulary of a friendly old lady. (Spoiler for OM!SWD in Simeon’s part)

.

“Angel.”

“Yes?” Simeon was insistent on using the nickname despite you telling him not to. At first, you wondered if this was some kind of weird coping mechanism of his but he had repeatedly assured you that it wasn’t. Thus, over time you have now fully embraced the weirdness of the ex-angel calling you… an angel.

“I overheard this today while manning the cafe. What does a sheep in wolf’s clothing mean in the human world?” His gaze lingers as he looks at you sprawled on the table over a book. The chair beside you made no noise even as it was pulled out for him to sit gently.

“I believe the saying goes something like a wolf in sheep’s clothing instead.” You huffed out a laugh, making a move to close your book to meet Simeon’s curious expression instead.

“How did you even overhear that conversation? Like, what’s the context?” You propped a hand up on the table that you were reading on, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. 

He pursed his lips, clearly racking his head to search for the answer. “Honestly… I forgot. I only heard the ‘sheep’ part and was reminded of when you turned into a sheep during our initial stay in the Devildom. You were very adorable, and I regretted never getting the chance to cuddle you back then.” You stifled a laugh, knowing that he wouldn’t appreciate you laughing at him. He was so cute, you don’t even know if he noticed that he was pouting right now.

“Well, too bad.” You said teasingly. “I’m pretty sure the brothers cuddled me enough for your share too.”

“Maybe I should ask Solomon if he has a spell to turn you into a sheep temporarily,” Simeon winks at you, tone inked with hope. 

You hit his shoulder playfully and shot him a glare. “Respectfully, that would only give Solomon too much power. And in case you forget, I’m a fully-fledged sorcerer now too.” Simeon gave you a kicked-puppy stare, and you could swear you almost saw imaginary puppy ears on him.

…Maybe you should ask Solomon to start teaching you about transformation spells.

“Ah right, back to your original question. I could be wrong but I vaguely remember the term deriving from a fable by Aesops. But anyway, the phrase is used to express someone who deceives others by pretending to be harmless when they have evil intentions. It’s not a positive expression.” You shook your head slightly, heart squeezing at the sight of Simeon’s frown deepening at your explanation.

“I thought it would be a different explanation in the human world, but I guess it’s the same everywhere, huh?” Simeon sighed, arms folding across his chest, “I was hoping that it might be a cute expression.”

“I guess not. The Devildom uses something similar too right?” You turn in your chair, flicking your finger on his forehead gently. “Come on, we should start on dinner. Should we cook or eat out today?” You hesitate to get up from your chair when you notice the pondering look on Simeon’s face.

“What if I change it to an angel in human’s clothing? Wouldn’t that refer to you?” You tilt your head, not knowing if you should say something or just let it be. It was ironic coming from the mouth of an ex-angel.

As you froze in your movements, Simeon grabs your hand to pull you into his lap, and you go without question. His lips lay on the crook of your neck and you fondly stroked the top of his head, the repetitive motion soothing your heart. His breath was warm against your neck and then suddenly, a cold flash of teeth and tongue drifted along your neck like he was tracing stars into your skin. You wonder if he could hear your pulse beating deep within you. But it’s not like he would care. You’re certain that if you put your ears to his pulse, his heart would also be beating to the same rhythm as yours.

A sharp sensation of teeth punctured the nape of your neck before he quickly swiped his tongue over the skin. You pulled on his hair, watching as the spit connecting the both of you together broke. “Simeon!” You admonished him with a laugh, “Why did you bite me?” You trace the indentation on your neck, glancing at the sheen of spit that came away with it.

“Disgusting.” You whine, “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you hungry from working?”

“Mm. Give me a minute,” He muttered, burying his face in your chest. “Let me have this for a little while longer,” His arms tightened around your waist and you nodded to yourself, steadying your hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you, love.”

Your heart swelled at his declaration as your hands interlocked behind his shoulders. It wouldn’t hurt to rest another five minutes, you supposed.

══════════════════

One would think that Solomon’s experience with his 500 wives and various other relationships would mean that he has at least learned how to act like a proper gentleman. Sincerely, this man lives purely based on menace and instinct. He would address you by all sorts of nicknames but his particular favourite is calling you his dear apprentice, student, and maybe even his other half. Your master-student relationship is the one thing that the two of you shared that the brothers are unable to take part in. With you, Solomon treasures the quiet moments when he can steal you away from the rest.

.

The apricot-skied evening blooms before your eyes and when you look up, the vast stretches of wilderness expand rapidly and you couldn’t help the gasp that hitched in your breath. It was… ethereal. You would love to take in all of the scenery peacefully… except for the fact that you are currently hanging upside down with all the blood rushing to your head, thousands of feet in the air.

“WAH! SOLOMON! Let me down! You stupid wizard boy! I’m going to curse you!” Tears blotted your vision as you buried your head deeper into the curve below Solomon’s ear. You can feel his chest shaking in laughter as he heaves your legs higher around his waist, steadying you. As frantic as you had sounded, you were still clinging on for dear life to him. 

“MC… you know you don’t sound threatening in the slightest, holding onto me like that.” He murmured, lips brushing the tip of your ear softly. Solomon hummed lightly as he recited another spell, to levitate the both of you up a few feet higher. You chanced a glance to look at the ground and immediately regretted it. You could practically feel bile coming up your throat and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again.

How in the three realms is he okay suspended mid-air while being flipped upside down??

“Dumb old man! Stupid wizard! This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to fly!” You hissed, fearing for your life as your grip on the back of his neck turned tighter. You should have known something was up when Solomon had asked if you had a fear of heights and you cursed at yourself for mentioning that you wanted to freefall after watching that stupid movie with him last week. Your face contorted into a grimace; survival instincts kicking in as you pressed yourself against him as if you were climbing a tree.

“My dearest apprentice, you need to relax. I can’t focus on the spell if you keep yapping beside me, you know.” There wasn’t even the slightest hint of irritation in his tone, you could clearly tell he was enjoying your panic to the fullest. “Also, do you really want me to let you down now? We’re so high up. Though, if you wish for it, I could make your dreams come true.” 

You felt his fingers, which has been firm around the plush of your thigh, loosen a little. “N-no! If you let me go, I’m breaking up with you, you ass!” You threw out your words venomously, as your grip tightened into an iron grip. If you were any less scared, you would have worried about his ability to breathe with the amount of strength that you were putting around his neck.

Solomon tsked at you, the corners of his mouth turning up at your ultimatum. His hands slid from under your thigh to the back of your waist and pinched the skin there. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You could practically envision the stupid smirk he must be wearing but you couldn’t be bothered to reply, fear choking your windpipes.

“Don’t worry darling, we’re reaching the fun part now. Be a dear and hold on tighter to me, kay?” His voice took on a simpering tone and before you knew it, you could feel the magic that was holding you and Solomon up, disappear.

There was no way you weren’t going to murder Solomon the moment you touched both feet on the ground.

You couldn’t even let out a yelp as the air was stolen from your lungs as you felt the wind and your hair whip past your face. Solomon caged you with his body, the sound of his laughter lost in the air. The only thing that you could do was to hold onto him while shaking like a leaf, breath forced out through your burning lungs.

You honestly think you must have passed out on the descent down because the next thing you knew, you were on the ground staring up at the darkening sky, though your limbs were still entangled around Solomon.

“There, there, MC. See, that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it? You just needed faith in your master to take care of you,” He soothed you, grabbing your hands from around his waist to entwine them together as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

You found it concerning that he was still wearing that stupid smirk on his face as if the both of you didn’t just have a near-death experience. Your mouth gaped open and closed, reminiscent of a fish out of water, as you intended to berate him but the words died on your tongue as you realised that the scratchiness in your throat was preventing you from speaking a word.

“W-water.” You managed to squeak out, face red in embarrassment. Solomon quirked a curious eyebrow at you as he placed a finger on your chin to bring your head up, “...Did you lose your voice?” He could barely fight the grin off his face, fingers now trailing down the curve of your neck. 

You glared at him, resolutely not breathing a word. His face seemed to be utterly insufferable today, and you would just love for the opportunity to punch that pretty smirk off his face.

“Well, it seems you’re just in luck, my dear apprentice. It’s about time for our dinner reservation, I’ll teleport us there now.” He mused, drawing his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

“You’re paying for the dinner, you slimy bastard.” You mouthed at him bitterly, while he just laughed your frustration off. “Don’t I always pay? Come here, don’t be angry anymore. I apologise for my wrong-doings,” He cooed at you gently, smoothening the wrinkles in your forehead out with his fingers, as he cupped your cheek.

══════════════════

Diavolo is a certified loverboy, honestly. However, due to the importance of needing to keep up his reputation, he uses your name in public. (Though, he has ‘slipped up’ and addressed you by ‘love’ a couple of times.) Around people he trusts or when in private, he calls you his ‘love’, ‘beautiful’, ‘princess’, and even ‘queen’. He is such a romantic that he even made Barbatos research the trendy nicknames that humans use so that he can impress you.

.

Diavolo suddenly leans forward in his chair, “MC, I’ve been recently researching human nicknames and I would like your opinion on them.” His eyes sparkle as he angles his body towards you.

You pause in your journey to reach out for another dessert, one of Barbatos’s famous pastries that Luke has been singing praises about. You considered his question for a bit and somehow, you were almost sure you knew exactly where this conversation was going to go, but the allure of the delectable pastries was clouding your judgment.

“Yeah? What kind of nicknames have you come across?” You said, mid-crunch through the flaky croissant, and you internally melted at the taste. If only you had a butler like Barbatos, you would put the demon to work every day just so you could have a taste of this heavenly (devil-y?) flavour. He should be competing in all three realms with his talent, it was indeed a waste to keep it hidden.

Hands, big and burly, catch your attention as he plants them on the table. “I’ve heard humans call their partners or friends… ‘pookie’.” Your eyes had honed on his fingers, now drumming on the table, as the words flew past your head before you registered it with disbelief.

Sometimes, you wonder if the next-in-line for the throne has a screw (or multiple, maybe) loose in his head.

You frowned up at him, embarrassment suffocating you into silence. For an agonising few seconds, he holds eye contact with you before he tilts his head, silently prompting you to give him an answer.

You clear your throat as you wipe your hands on the provided tissue placed on the table, “Um… I believe yes. But, I don’t know much about the term if you require an explanation,” God, you hope the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You don’t understand why you were chosen to discuss such a topic with the ruler of Devildom.

“Ah well, that is fine. I was hoping that I could refer to you as ‘pookie’. I’ve heard that a sign of closeness for humans is to start using nicknames.” 

Your distaste for the term must have been unfiltered as Diavolo immediately leans back after seeing your expression, thighs spreading wide against each side of the chair. “If you are unhappy with the name, you may tell me so.”

Honestly, you were at a loss. This seemed like a lose-lose situation no matter how you see it. It wasn’t like you could reject the Prince of the Devildom. (I mean you could, but you dread the scolding that Lucifer would give you once he found out.) 

And if you allow Diavolo to call you ‘pookie’... you could almost envision Solomon rolling on the floor, dying of laughter. Even worse, you shudder to think of him calling you by that in front of the whole RAD. Suddenly, you very much regret not letting Belphie make a second attempt on your life.

“It’s not that I am unhappy with the name,” You start slowly, “I just believe that a nickname should be more personalised like… I can call you Dia!” You hurriedly blurt out, waving your hands frantically in front of you. 

Diavolo says nothing, and your eyes quickly skim his expression which remains startlingly neutral. For a second, you wondered if you had overstepped your boundaries. Maybe Dia was too chummy of a nickname for you to use?

Before you can continue spiraling, his face breaks out into a wide grin. “I hadn’t even considered that! What a wonderful idea, as expected of the human exchange student that Lucifer chose. I will come up with an appropriate nickname accordingly as well.” He gushed, “As expected, it seems that my knowledge about human world customs seems to be lacking. I will need to brush up on them.”

You scooted back in your seat while laughing politely, heart jumping to your tongue. You had definitely avoided a red flag but somehow… it felt like you had triggered another, which was now waving frantically in your face. You tapped the side of your thighs anxiously, you do hope that you make it out of this interaction without any further embarrassment. You don’t think that your heart could take another shot.

“How about cuddlebug? I’ve also heard that it is popular amongst humans.”

“...Sorry?”

You were going to need someone to sedate you so that you can forget this interaction once you were home.

══════════════════

Similar to Simeon, Luke also calls you an ‘angel’ and he is convinced that you have been born in the wrong world. He believes that someone of your character should have been up in the Celestial Realm. He also tries hard to come up with all sorts of nicknames using your actual name, be it shortening, or even substituting your name to something similar. (He had always wanted to give you a nickname but was too shy to. However, he learned that the demon brothers had been using nicknames and he felt spurred to do so as well.)

.

“MC!” You spun just in time to see a mess of blond hair barrel into the side of your body as you grabbed onto their shoulder to steady them.

“Woah, hey there.” You gently ruffled Luke’s hair, ignoring his complaints, knowing that he secretly enjoyed it. After all, he had once made a sleepy confession that he found the motion reassuring, and ever since, you always made it a point to do it.

 “Did you need me for something?” 

He started twiddling his thumbs, looking up at you with a hesitant pout. “What is it? Did you get bullied?” You lifted his jaw with your hand, scanning his face for any physical altercations. After checking that there was none, you let go and took a step back to give him a onceover.

“No! It’s nothing of that sort, MC. I…I just-” He cuts himself off, before looking down at his feet sheepishly, “I want to use a nickname for you too,” He mumbles under his breath, voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Sorry Luke, you need to speak up. I can’t hear you,” You said apologetically, a small smile playing on your lips. The expression on Luke’s face could only be described as ‘deer-in-the-headlight’ as he shifted side to side. He mumbled again, an embarrassed flush at the tip of his ears.

This time, you waited for him to look up before pinning him with a questioning glance. He sighed before taking in a deep breath, “I SAID…I WANT TO MAKE A NICKNAME FOR YOU!” After shouting his request, his face immediately turned red. “I-if you want! I will make you my special cupcakes if you say yes!” 

Your heart swelled up with affection, “Aw Luke, you don’t need to bribe me to say yes. Of course, we can use nicknames. I’ll call you…” You placed a hand on the top of his head and thought carefully. “Puppy?” No matter how you thought about it, ‘puppy’ was the only adjective that you could think to describe him, even more so now as he was looking at you with big shiny eyes.

“MC…” He whined, looking at you with a disapproving stare that eerily reminded you of a certain angel. It was endearing how his actions resembled Simeon at times, it just showed how much Luke admires him.

 “But it’s so cute… You can come up with a nickname for me too,” You said encouragingly to him with a hint of amusement.

“Angel. I’ll call you angel! You’re so nice like one,” He said animatedly and your heart fluttered at his visible show of excitement. It seemed like he already had a nickname in mind when he came bounding up to you.

“...Sure.” You knew you had taken a second too long to respond when you caught his worried glance, “Do you not like it, MC?” Luke’s face started to fall as you quickly placed your hands into an ‘X’, “No! I love it! It’s just that I can’t help but think it could be a little offensive if other angels hear you calling me as… one?” You questioned, scratching the tip of your nose bridge in awkwardness.

You didn’t want to get into trouble with the Celestial Realm, after all. Being an angel is a tall order in your opinion.

“No, they won’t! Once they meet you, they will definitely agree with my nickname too!” He said with so much conviction that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

‘Well, it’s meant with good intention… So it should be fine,’ You mused to yourself as you nodded at Luke, giving him the go-ahead to use it.

“Well, if it makes you happy then. I’ll think of another nickname for you since you bestowed such an honor on me then,” You said teasingly, “I will also take you up on your offer about those cupcakes. Shall we head to Purgatory Hall? I’ll stay and bake with you today.”

══════════════════

Barbatos is another one in the cast who will exclusively refer to you by your name as he shows his affection through acts of service. However, if you ask him to use nicknames, he will, but it won’t be of his own accord. 

If he does use a nickname of his own accord, Barbatos will call you little sheep to tease you. Barbatos could easily kill you with a single strike (as does everyone but he is most aware of it) but treats you like a puppy (or sheep) that he leaves alone as he feels bad for you. 

(He smiles gently at you but there is not an ounce of care behind it. It is just for politeness's sake.)

.

“It is surprising to see you here so early, MC. Did the brothers not give you any trouble today?”

“Eh, no. I came from RAD.” Your natural response was to talk informally to Barbatos as you still have not gotten a grasp on the custom here.

“Sorry, I meant to say that I came straight from class. Pardon my rudeness.” You apologised, still feeling unsettled in the Devildom.

“It is alright, MC. However, the young master is still in a meeting and will presumably not be out anytime soon. Would you like for me to serve some tea and pastries first?” 

“That would be great. Do you need any help?” Despite your obvious apprehension, you still weren’t beside your manners to ask him.

Caught up in your conversation with Barbatos, you hadn't even noticed that he had led you to the guest room. “Please take a seat here. I will prepare the refreshments for you.” Barbatos replied in a gentle tone, firm in not letting you do any work.

“Ah, could you please prepare cold water for me instead?”

“...I understand.”

After Barbatos had left and you were alone in the room, you did a cursory glance and quickly covered your face with the back of your hand to sigh. The problem was that you still weren’t used to the Devildom and you jumped at every single thing that moved and that butler scares you. His mouth may be curled up into a polite smile but you could not feel any warmth behind it.

‘...Urgh.’

The best scenario now is just to survive the school year without dying since it seems that going back to your realm is impossible.

“MC?”

You quickly straightened yourself and smiled at Barbatos, hoping that he did not notice your worries. 

“Ah, thank you.” You took a sip from the cup that Barbatos had brought over and instantly your face scrunched up into a frown as you took in a deep inhale.

“Is this lemonade?”

“It is lemonade, the Devildom version of it. I thought it would help you feel more refreshed.”

You remember clearly saying to prepare cold water instead of lemonade yet he still chose to bring over a cup of cold lemonade, which would have taken more work to prepare. You wanted to be angry at the sour taste but you were afraid of the sly butler who was now looking over at you with a pleasant expression that was telling you to enjoy your drink. God, you never had an issue with lemonade but it seemed that the Devildom version was much sourer than what you were used to.

You continued to drink the lemonade.

“Thank you for the drink. It was perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that, MC.”

Barbatos’s cordial and gentle smile sent chills straight down your spine and you subconsciously clenched the glass tighter. As a human, you can only trust yourself.

“Barbatos, please continue with whatever you were doing before I came. You don’t have to be around me, I can take care of myself.” You wanted this butler who gave you the creeps to quickly go away as you didn’t want to see his face, but he refused to leave.

“MC, it is my duty as the young master’s butler to attend to his guests when he is not here to do so.” 

You inwardly clicked your tongue after seeing Barbatos flash another smile at you, his teeth glinting in the light. You wanted to throw a tantrum but you shuddered at the possible repercussions, so you opted for another method instead.

“Well, why don’t you sit down and enjoy these pastries with me? It’s a little too much for you to be hovering over me and not eat anything.” Despite your best attempts to not let your sarcasm bleed into your words, your tone had taken on a complaining whine in the end. You took a quick peek at Barbatos, who was standing there with a stiff expression.

…Should I not have said anything?

Before you could regret anything, the screeching sound of the chair being pulled made your head quickly turn up to see Barbatos sitting down opposite you, back straight with perfect posture.

“I will fulfill your command then, little lamb.” Barbatos chuckled, and despite yourself, you found yourself letting out a huff of laughter as well. You decided that you would treat Barbatos better and not make him mad following the next interaction, the way he was smiling at you right now made you feel uncomfortable.

══════════════════

a/n▸ my apologies if barbatos is OOC, he was especially difficult for me to get a read on seeing as I don't play through any of his devilgrams. Thus, i feel that MC would have been very awkward with barbatos initially bc all his actions/words were due to his sense of duty. I also think its funny to see barb fkin w mc LOL Personally, i think its hilarious to characterise MC as jumpy because man, all of these characters are sus as hell, ik i wld be getting heart palpitations every minute #solomon is a menace, the movie they were watching was How to Train your dragon LOL, i was rewatching it and i wondered how it wld be like to freefall

[lonely-cowboy]

without you

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: it's been almost three days since you last saw connor. with the ongoing revolution, you're concerned about his whereabouts. and if you'll ever see him again.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: occasional cursing but that's it

author's note: let me paint a little picture for y'all. it's currently 1am and i'm sitting on the couch in the dark sobbing like a baby bc i just finished my very first playthrough of dbh and didn't even realize i was near the end and i hate that it's over (i'm just gonna play again). anyway! my solution to stop (worsen) my sad lonely thoughts was to write this! yippee! healthy coping!

masterlist ⟡ requests

You were never a fan of staying home all day and lounging around in your pajamas doing absolutely nothing. You felt unproductive, like you were wasting time. And if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was wasting time.

But– like anything– there were some exceptions. The most common exceptions were the days after an intense investigation, mostly those involving considerable physical exertion (which really just meant any form of running). Those days, your body was so unbelievably sore that it was almost necessary for you to stay in bed and do nothing all day. Besides that, the only other exception was the occasional rainy day. 

And now. Now was an exception too.

It was nearing three days since you had last seen Connor. Usually, that wouldn’t have bothered you. Three days was nothing. It was always possible that the two of you were just far too overwhelmed with work to see each other. But with the rising android revolution that threatened Connor’s life– and that of any android– you immediately assumed the worst.

Huddled on your couch, you stared blankly at the muted television as it flashed between news stations. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, too consumed by thoughts of Connor. You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Truthfully, you hadn’t known Connor that long. Sure, you worked with him frequently to investigate the sudden rise in deviants, but in the grand scheme of things, it felt like you had just met him. Of course, that didn’t stop Connor from burrowing his way into your heart with those soft doe eyes and that gentle, slightly confused smile. You had a soft spot for him now, so it was perfectly reasonable that you couldn’t help but worry for his safety. 

You released a heavy sigh as you turned off the television, trying to shake away any negative thoughts. With narrowed eyes, you glanced at the other end of the couch where Hank had been sitting almost three hours ago. He had been checking in on you frequently the last few days to make sure you were– at the very least– living, though he would never admit it. Whenever he did stop by, it was always because he “forgot his jacket” or “couldn’t watch the Detroit Gears game at home.” Whatever lame excuse he came up with, it was always intended to ensure you were okay. 

Today’s lame excuse was that he ran out of beer and didn’t want to go to the store during such a “crazy fucking time.” That ended with the two of you sitting in silence on your couch, watching the television for any sign that Connor might be okay. In your book, that just meant he wasn’t dead.

But eventually, Hank had been pulled away to the precinct for whatever reason. He promised he’d make it short. He was reluctant to go anyway, so he wouldn’t be gone long. Three hours felt pretty fucking long to you.

You pursed your lips worriedly, forgetting Connor for a moment as your mind was now focused on Hank’s safety. What if he somehow got himself tangled up in this revolution? What if he managed to get caught in some wild crossfire with no means of telling you?

No, that was crazy. You were being irrational. Surely he just decided to brave going to the store to get some more beer once he left the precinct, right? That made so much sense. Obviously, he was outside your apartment building right now struggling to get in because he didn’t have a key and was too preoccupied carrying his mountains of beer. Obviously…

Without thinking, you scurried into your closet and pulled on your warmest clothes. You threw your thickest jacket over your pajamas, not bothering to hide your snowflake pajama pants. You pulled on your shoes and a beanie, ignoring the way it matted your hair. Then, you were out the door and rushing downstairs with the belief that you could miraculously manifest Hank’s presence.

There was no other explanation. You were blessed with some magical powers that you were yet to understand because as you marched into the snow, Hank suddenly appeared. You didn’t stop until you were jabbing a finger into his chest, glaring up at his towering figure.

“What is wrong with you?” you seethed. “You can’t just leave like that!”

Hank sighed with what sounded like irritation, though you knew he could never be irritated with you. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he grumbled, “Sorry, kid, I–”

“Oh, no, no, no! I’m not done!” you growled, choosing to ignore that maybe you were being a little overdramatic. What’s life without a little drama anyway? “You had me fucking worried, Hank! I’m already worried sick about Connor, I don’t have the energy to worry about both of you!”

Hank said your name in an attempt to stop you, but it was no use. Now that you had an outlet to channel your jumble of emotions, you were going to let them all out.

“I mean, you’ve seen me, Hank! I can barely get out of bed because of that goddamn android!” you shouted. “His safety is the only thing on my–”

Hank rolled his eyes as he grumbled something about how he was “tired of this shit” that didn’t involve him. That only seemed to fuel your fire, the crease between your brows deepening with anger and worry. You opened your mouth again to yell at Hank as he stepped aside, but you quickly shut it once you noticed the figure standing bashfully behind him.  

Connor stood a few feet away having clearly been told to stay put once Hank saw your angry self storming out of the apartment building. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, standing tall against the harsh winter winds. His eyes were already on you, watching you with a warm glint. When you met his gaze, the corners of his lips turned upwards into a small, unsure smile. 

Compared to him, you were sure you looked absolutely stupid. No, no matter what you looked completely stupid. You stared at Connor with absurdly wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a confused fish. You were so baffled by his appearance that you couldn’t even move, no wonder the poor man was confused. All this while wearing your stupid fucking snowflake pajamas.

Neither of you made any effort to close the uncomfortable distance between the two of you. You were thankful that Hank managed to find his way back into your apartment building because you would be a doubly flustered mess if he saw how awkward the two of you were. At least Connor made some effort to communicate. He raised a hand in an awkward wave, his soft voice barely heard over the din of the wind. 

“Hello.”

Your feet were moving before your brain could catch up. You sprinted towards Connor– though it was more of a fast waddle if anything– and pulled him into a tight hug. A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you felt his firm body against you, inhaling his scent slowly. He was real.

You squeezed him a little tighter, burying your head into his chest. It was as if you didn’t want to let him go, and truthfully, you didn’t. You couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

Connor’s arms wrapped lightly around your body. He leaned into your touch, relaxing in your arms with a comforted grin. Until you, he had no idea what it was like to be cared for. Perhaps the greatest gift of consciousness was your affection.

Connor murmured your name in a quiet rasp, his lips moving against your hair. He reared back to catch your eyes, but you refused to let him. You just held him closer and allowed yourself to calm in his presence. When you finally did pull away, you glanced at him with a confusing look of joy, sadness, and anger.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming back,” you mumbled, letting the words spill out. “I was so scared… Connor, I… God, I missed you…”

There was a beat of silence as Connor’s LED spiraled yellow, his head tilted to the slightest degree. It seemed as if he was struggling to find the right words out.

“I…,” Connor started hoarsely. “I think… I missed you too.”

Despite the whirlwind of emotions you felt, you couldn’t help but laugh at Connor’s words. A small smile traced your lips as you studied him with furrowed brows.

“You think?” you repeated with another quiet laugh, your breath pluming in the cold air.

Connor paused again, his LED flashing yellow once more. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he considered his words a moment longer. He was looking into the distance, but when he glanced back down to you it was as if all the right words suddenly came to him.

“I don’t know what it feels like to miss someone,” he explained softly. “But I think… I think this is what it would feel like. I felt… I don’t know… there was a tightness inside of me when I thought I would never see you again. Is that what it’s like to miss someone?”

Your grin widened as Connor spoke. A tinge of pink coated your cheeks, and you were sure it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Maybe I’m biased, but yeah, I think so,” you answered sweetly.

“Oh,” Connor muttered as he took a moment to process that information. “Then, yes. It appears I did miss you.”

Your chest felt light from the joy of having Connor back. You were so giddy, in fact, that you didn’t even think before you were leaning forward and pressing a delicate kiss to Connor’s cheek. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you had done, your face heating with embarrassment.

You glanced at Connor worriedly and noticed the faint blue coloring along his cheeks. It almost made you laugh seeing such a confident android turned into such a poor, flustered mess. Well, you took his silence to mean his was flustered, but his silence lasted so long that you weren’t so sure anymore.

“Connor?” you asked. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Connor replied immediately. “I was searching my database for the best way to greet someone you missed.”

It was your turn to be flustered again, eyes going wide with surprise as you murmured, “Oh. And… what did you find?”

Connor’s gaze finally focused back on you, his expression neutral aside from his fading blush. The corner of his lip quirked up slightly as his eyes searched your face like he was memorizing every little detail.

“I found that the best way to convey you missed someone is by kissing them, as you’ve done to me,” he answered in his typical matter-of-fact tone. “However, whereas you kissed my cheek, I noticed that most people kiss on the lips. I’d like to do the same if that’s alright with you.”

Your stunned silence must’ve been enough of an answer for Connor because he leaned forward with a grin. His warm hands moved to hold your cheeks, fighting off the evening chill. Your hands immediately moved to rest over top his, seeking out his warmth while his soft lips moved against yours. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, but he rested his forehead against yours as he whispered sweet words against your skin. 

“I missed you too.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

author's note: i hope you enjoyed! this is my very first post ever, so i'm a little nervous! if you have any constructive (and kind) criticism, please lmk! and if you have any requests i'd love to hear those too :)

[georgiapeach30513]

Kind of Blind Love

Summary: Everything was perfect. Except for one thing. Him. Bucky Barnes.

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader, Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, dark, conspiracy, exhibition, unknown exhibition, PIV sex, unprotected sex, degradation, misogyny, ownership, soulmates, breeding kink, creampie, murder (?), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.7K

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Andy Barber Masterlist

It’s not very often that you find perfection.  It happens once in a lifetime, or out to the far reaches of the world.  Life isn’t supposed to be perfect; it’s meant to be messy, and full of strife.  That way those perfect moments that happen in your life hit you differently and you just know how amazing that they are and just how much they mean to you.  How you are thankful that you can have beautiful and perfect moments, so you can forget all the boring or horrible parts of life.

But what happens when every moment is perfect?  When everything you could have possibly dreamed of and been trained and bred for is happening right now in your life?  Andy reaches over the car, giving your hand a squeeze as you stare at the passing homes.  “Isn’t it strange how they’re always outside, waving and greeting us?” 

“Us?” He asks with a big of a chuckle.  “You think that the neighbors always line up outside of their homes to tell us good evening or good morning?” His hand slides from your hand over to your thigh.  Dipping under your dress, while you watch their smiling happy faces pass by.  

“Did you ever think it’s because we come through at the exact same time?” Do you?  You haven’t ever recalled the timing.  You take a mental note of the clock on the car.  4:33.  “Maybe they’re just jealous?” 

His hand moves from your thigh, sliding all the way up to your belly as you pull into the driveway.  The Wilsons outside giving you a wave.  Mrs. Wilson with a swollen belly and smiling too perfectly as she hands him a tall glass of lemonade.  “Or maybe you’re the jealous one.  You watch her often.”

Andy turns the engine off, and you spin looking at him, placing a delicate hand on his.  “We’ve — it’ll happen when it’s supposed to,” you know that you are expected to give Andy all the babies he wants.  It’s why the house is one of the largest ones here.  Right at the end of the cul-de-sac.  Perfectly positioned to watch the neighbors.  Andy had made himself the king of the neighborhood. 

“Of course it will, and besides that it’s fun trying, isn’t it?” His hand smooths over your heated cheek.  He knows exactly what to say to have a warmth bloom throughout your body.  He got off on your shyness.  You are demure, dainty, perfect.  It’s what he thought anyway.

“Have you happened to see the neighbor next door?” He growls, rolling his eyes as he slings his door open.  Walking over to your side, he yanks your door open, and drops down into your line of vision.

“I’ve told you to let that go.  The house was bought, someone moved in.  And they’re clearly living there now.  Okay?” 

“Okay,” you respond quickly.  

Andy gives you a little tickle, waiting for that million dollar smile before he picks you up bridal style.  “I just want to worry about me and you, honey,” things might not be traditional with Andy, but he has this masculine beauty about him.  You were promised he would make a perfect husband, just like he was told you would be the perfect wife.  Because everything is just perfect.

——

He steps out of his house, the darkness being the only time he stands out in the open.  He’s waiting.  Patiently waiting.  Grinding his teeth at your figure dressed in sheer fabric and lace standing in front of your husband.  What a disgusting word.  Husband.

He knew what your “family” had bred you for.  How they raised you for these moments.  The perfect, loving wife.  The wife that is poised and polished.  Attending charities while on his arm.  Your friends had the quintessential book club, and bridge game every Tuesday and Thursday.  Your husband picked you up, and you were everyone’s envy.

Every woman wants to be as happy as you are.  Every man wants to bed you.  Pump themselves into your warmth.  The epitome of everyone’s perfect fantasy.  But what they didn’t see is that your eyes are cold.  Your smile didn’t quite reach there.  You went through the motions like a perfect trained girl.  Touched him in all the right places, at exactly the right time.

Rolling his eyes, he watches as another man, and then another walks out to the edge of their driveway to ‘take out the garbage’.  He knows.  He knows that they’re going to watch the right on schedule show.  Your husband loves uniformity.  He also loves keeping the curtains just sheer enough.  They can look, but they can never touch.  

Your nightie gave everything away.  Your body trained to be aroused when you saw him.  Your nipples hard peaks poking through the lace as you tease around the straps.  With one curl and wag of his finger, you’re walking over to him.  Straddling his lap, and then the rising and fall starts.  Hands on his shoulders as he peels away the fabric.

The cocks of every man out here with him jump up in arousal.  They’ll return to their wives with you on their mind as they fuck them stupid.  They see what Andy wants them to see.  You being a good obedient wife, and giving it to him.  What their wives see is the picture of demure perfection.  What they see is a slut for her man.  

Andy’s hands knead and grope your tits until he leans over, and sucks a hardened bud into his hungry mouth.  Your body writhes as you bounce over top of him.  Mouth agape and these disgusting men start palming their crotches.  You are the most perfect aphrodisiac.  And then Andy picks you up.  Leaning you over the back of the couch and he rips the lingerie off you.  Leaving you naked and bare for your audience.  You couldn’t see them, but they crane their necks to see you.

Watching as your tits ripple with his pounding thrusts.  Watch as you turn to watch Andy have his way with you.  Begging and pleading him for something, until he lifts you up to his front, and gives everyone the best view of your soft curves.  Letting everyone see how desperate you are for him.  The perfect sexual being just for your husband.  Dipping your hand down your front and rubbing on your bundle of nerves.

It is about to start.  All of them know the reason they’re all out here, but they have to make it awkward with comments.  “How tight do you think her pussy is?” 

“He’s not going to stop until he fucks a baby in her.”

“Like a good girl, she’s only felt his cock.”

“Do you think she sounds as sweet as she looks?” 

“My wife doesn’t look at me like that.  Sex is just something she does.” 

“She looks fucking amazing taking him.  Watch her.  It’s happening,” your body shudders.  The elation of an orgasm wrecking you.  “He’s going to make her come again.”

He always does.  What they didn’t know is that this was just the beginning of the evening.  Andy would make sure you took his cock whenever he wanted, and the cruel part is that you craved him just as much.  Woke him up every day by riding his morning erection.  They didn’t realize that you are addicted to your husband.  Because that’s what you were meant to do.

“He’s about to come,” sure enough his pace is hard.  His long steady thrusts now short and pounding.  “God, she takes him so well,” your hand caresses his face, soaking him in your juices, and you kiss over the spot tenderly. 

“She’s such a slut,” he hates them.  Hates that Andy used this giant house as a stage to make everyone jealous.  The man takes a quick inhale of breath when you nod your head.  “Begging for him to fill her up like the fucking slut she is.”

Your brows furrow, and Andy crashes his lips on you, and if it wasn’t for his arms, you’d keel over.  Pleasure explodes through your body, and your soft hands rub down your belly, and he pumps into you one more hard time, letting your cunt milk him dry.  “Cumslut.”

“Cum dumpster,” another snorts.  “Since he’s having such a hard time getting her pregnant,” he chuckles again, “You think he’ll take us up on the offer?” 

Bucky twists his head in the man’s direction.  Pissed that he can’t look at you anymore as Andy kisses you back down from your high.  “What the fuck did you just say?” 

They all laugh, starting to turn to their house where they fuck a less than perfect wife and imagine it’s you.  “What the fuck did you just say?” 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a weirdo, you’d know.”

A particularly geeky looking man stays behind, waiting for the last door to close before he shrugs.  “He told Andy they’d all be willing to, um — fuck her.  That maybe she needed other’s cum to get her pregnant.  Implying that something is wrong with Mr. Perfect.  That’s why Daryl ended up with a black eye.  Remember when Andy kept the blinds closed?  Yeah, it was punishment for the suggestion.”

So Bucky isn’t crazy.  Andy did these things for everyone to see.  He is showing you off like you’re his prize.  The sick part is, you are.  You are his to do whatever he wants with.  And the worst part is, you didn’t know.  Didn’t know that he is right here.  Watching.  Waiting.  Andy couldn’t keep you forever, you didn’t truly belong to him, did you?  Your parents could have severed the bond.  They might have kept you away, but he still feels it.

He’d sit here in his boiling rage for just the right moment.  You are his.  All his.  In time, Andy would pay, and so will you for being too perfect.  In due time, you’d be reunited with your rightful mate.  There’s a reason that Andy couldn’t fuck a baby in you.  You didn’t belong to him.  You were Bucky’s.  Forever and ever more.

——

You’ve become accustomed to the mundane.  The usual.  The schedule.  So when your perfect husband did not pick you up from your bridge game, you politely asked for a ride home.  They didn’t talk.  They didn’t do anything, but go through the motions.  The people didn’t greet them on the lawn.  Waving their weird little waves with their overly excited smiles as they said ‘good evening.’

They didn’t do any of the normal things.  You squeeze your thighs together.  Your body yearning for Andy, and his possessive hand on your leg.  The way just the sound of his voice soothes you and turns you on all at the same time.  Andy didn’t tell you a change in the schedule.  He didn’t tell you anything.  And he always did.

You worry at your lip as you see your home come into view, and his car idly sits in the open garage.  “It’s good weather we’re having, huh, Mrs. Barber?” You can’t even answer the question of Jessica’s husband because you’re focused on why Andy is here, and why he didn’t come to pick you up.  But he doesn’t ask again.  His wife looks out her window, and it’s then you realize how creepy everything is.

How there’s this odd sense of unsettlement rising up your throat.  Without Andy you see the weirdness.  He isn’t here to tell you it’s fine, it’s just the schedule.  It’s just the plan.  But this isn’t the plan.  You shouldn’t be in this damn car.  You should be underneath your husband.

Hal?  Jeff?  Chris?  Whatever his name is, puts his car into park, and he turns around to glare at you, “Now, you go on and service your husband, Mrs. Barber.  Make sure to keep your face looking towards the window when you fuck him.”

“It’s nice weather we’re having, isn’t it, Mrs. Barber?” Jessica turns back to smile at you, and you’re revolted.  She never called you Mrs. Barber.

“What did you just say to me?” You stare at her creepy husband, but his grin spreads across his face.

“You have a lovely evening, Mrs. Barber,” weirdo.  You get out of your car, and he grabs onto your wrist.  “Fuck him good.  But if he doesn’t fuck a baby in you by the end of the month,” his eyes turn back to the neighborhood, and every one of their weird husbands are out at the end of their driveways.  All of them staring at your home.  All of them palming their cocks.  “Well, we all will get a chance to pump you full of our cum.  Eventually one of us will take, but the baby will be Andy’s of course.  Shh,” he puts a finger up to his mouth, shushing you, and then giving you an unsettling grin.

You slap him across the face.  Wobbling as you back away from them, and Jessica laughs a horrible laugh.  Too sweet.  Too loud.  Too obnoxious.  But not real.  Her eyes don’t crinkle at the edges.  They don’t do anything but stare at you as you head towards your home.  What in the world was going on?

“Can’t wait to see you fuck him.  Later, I’m fucking this one here, and going to pretend I’m fucking you,” Jessica laughs again.  To add emphasis to his words, he gropes his wife.  “But she doesn’t make your pretty sounds anymore, Mrs. Barber.  But do go on.  I told him he needs to mount you, and take away your breath.”

You run away.  Slinging the door open.  The light doesn’t come on.  The smoke detector is going off.  There’s an odd stench.  And…

“No,” your feet step into something sticky, and you look on the floor, ready to gag.  Following the darkened red trail to see your husband face down in a pool of crimson.  “Andy!” 

A hard body comes up behind you, engulfing you in their wide menacing arms.  A hand over your mouth,  “Shh,” he coos in your ears.  Your chest heaves with fear, remembering what that asshole said.  “I’ve been waiting for you, Bunny,” fear encapsulates your body, and tears prickle your eyes.  “We’re going to have so much fun.  What do you say?” 

His hand removes over your mouth, and you stare horrified at the once strong man crumpled on the floor, “Andy?  Why him?” 

“Because,” he spins you around to look at him, and you gasp.  It couldn’t be.  “He was fucking using you as a breeding tool.  All he wanted was to see you swollen with his child.  His perfect wife.  Perfect family.  Perfect little fucking town.  You don’t even know, do you?” 

His hands drop to his side, and you have this moment, and maybe not another to try and flee.  He is too busy fussing about your life.  The life that you were made for.  Bred for.  The life that you promised you would live for Andy!  And now one part of it is gone, lying face down on the floor, and covered in blood.  “Some things they can’t take away from me.”

You bolt.  Run right past him and out of the house.  If you were caught with him, he would die.  He couldn’t stake claim on what is his.  What your father thought he had broken.  How was a wretch like Bucky going to claim the daughter of an elite.  A daughter of the leader.  No.  He ruined all your father’s plans.

Slinging open the neighbors door, you stare in horror at Jessica as she sits there, frozen in time.  Her eyes don’t even blink.  Her husband walks out of his bedroom, his head tilting to the side, “Mrs. Barber, what’s wrong?  Have you come to play?” This is a nightmare.  A man that had his wife that was — was she even real?  Is that why the obsession with you?

You dart out of his house, despite his screams of needing to play with you.  It was all Andy wanted, a family.  You and him.  The perfect match except for one thing — him.  Bucky.  Your true mate.  It was said that those didn’t happen, until there was a string that wrapped you and Bucky around each other so tightly.  It was immediate.  The moment you and Bucky locked eyes, no one else mattered.  Having it broken was painful.  But it was enough for you to comply because it meant he would live.  He could survive and live a life of freedom while you were strapped to a man you tolerated.

Clamoring into another house, you slam the door closed.  Trying to catch your breath when an odd voice, suspended in the air, taunts, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.  My little Bunny always loved a chase.  The adrenaline always got her so — wet,” the word wet is drawn out, sinister sounding.  He had your attention, and he wanted to make sure he kept it.  You flee.  Running so fast away from him, and knowing just how impossible it was to fully get away.  

House after house saw the wives sitting in complete silence.  The most unnerving unmoving silence that stuck in your stomach and made you want to hurl.  Running and running.  Continuing to run until you stop.  Falling to your knees, you cry.  Screaming at what, you weren’t sure.  The lie that you have been living?  The chase?  The taunting of the husbands?  The women who were inhuman enough?  You were utterly alone.  

“Bunny,” you tilt your head up to the sky, screaming.  You couldn’t run anymore.  “Bunny, you don’t have to run from me.”

“I can’t have you,” you sob, lip trembling as Bucky kneels beside you.  “And it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“There’s one way to ensure that they can’t take you away,” you shake your head no, and Bucky tsks you.  “Let me claim you.  Have you the right away, and they can’t sever our bond.  You are rightfully mine.  Let us bond as one like we were supposed to,” would it be that easy?  Could anything be that easy? 

“You didn’t even know I’d been living next door.  Well, you knew something was wrong.  But Andy, he was too cock sure to realize the one thing that could ruin his life was right there.  Let me have you, Bunny,” his lips go to your neck, and he peppers kisses up the column, ending at the shell of your ear, and you melt into him.  “Mine.”

“Mine,” you repeat.  His hands brush away the baby hairs around your face.  Wiping away the glistening sweat that had gathered due to your fear.  His lithe and tender fingers start undoing the buttons on your dress, and with every movement you sigh.  Accepting that Bucky is yours, and you are his. 

Eagerly you tug at his own clothes.  Yanking off his shirt, and you cup his bulging length, whimpering.  He is huge.  Pulsing and hot, and so fucking big, “You can take it,” he assures you.  He gently lays you down on the soft grass, and pulls apart your legs, “Mmm, I’ve dreamt of staring at you like this.”

He struggles to remove his jeans, and you yip as his cock springs free.  “I’ll make it fit, Bunny,” you ached for him.  Your cunt weeping, ready to accommodate his heavy, thick, veiny cock.  Crawling in between your legs, he spreads you out further, while your fingers trace the mountains and valleys of his stomach.  

“Mine,” your voice is so soft.  Mine.  Mine and mine!  He is yours.  He was always yours.

“I love you,” he says before spearing into you with one thrust, and you yelp out from the pleasured pain.  It stings.  It burns.  Stretching you out in a way that you have never felt before, and yet the added pressure makes you yearn for more.  For his movement and friction because you can take it.

And yet, “It hurts,” furrowing your brows, you stare up at him, wishing he would just move.  Your body could adjust.

“I know,” he sighs, pulling out of your depths before burying himself back in to the hilt, and you see stars.  “We’re building those bonds again.  Thrust by thrust,” with every demanding word he pushes and pulls out of you.  Your body writhes with finally having him the way that you were always supposed to.

“I’ll take care of you.  This will look like a murder,” it was a murder, but you didn’t care.  You had him.  You cling to his arms as he picks up his movement.  Over and over again sinking into your warmth.  “They’ll think you were lost.  We can be alone.  Forever and ever.”

“Ever and ever,” you repeat, digging your fingernails into his skin.  Marking him in a way that he is marking you.  “Bucky!” He grunts as he jackhammers into you.  Short and pounding movements right to the center of your being.  You can feel him everywhere.  Every inch.  He is right where he belongs, in you.  Growing in you.  Being part of you.  

Crashing his mouth into yours, his movements continue.  Pushing.  Pushing.  And pushing so hard until your walls clench around him.  Locking him in place, and his thick cream spurts so deep into your stomach.  Lightning erupts through your perfect little town, sealing the deal that no one could break, except for one thing.

Until death do you part.

——

Your father makes a show out of not stepping into the blood.  Glancing around the house.  A big ‘FUCK YOU!’ Written in your husband’s blood on the garage door told him exactly who was behind this.  But he needs to find you, unless….

“Took you long enough,” Andy groans.  He takes a long draw of his cigarette, holding his stomach.  “Paramedics are on their way.”

“Well, how was I to know that you couldn’t produce a child with her, while he survived.  Two fucking years, and you never knocked my beautiful daughter up.  And I heard what you were planning.  I told you the entire state could fuck her, and she’d never get pregnant as long as he was alive, and maybe even after.  Give them a few months to fuck like rabbits, and once she’s surely swollen, we’ll move in.  You’ll have your one perfect child, and when he’s dead, maybe you can have your own spawn.”

“I could have died,” your father shrugs.  “I don’t know who is more sick; you or this organization.”

“One you freely joined, Barber.  Clean this mess up.  We’ve got eyes on Barnes, and we’ll let you know when you can come get your wife again,” he leaves without another word.  Head held high.  “Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.”

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