#BUSTER LEANING DOWN

[gu3ntzel]

obsessed with these two photos

[vanteguccir]

mom! reader (of preferably twin boys) x chris (or matt) based on the indoor zoo video ?

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

chris sturniolo x mom!reader

where Chris's and Y/N's twins make an appearance on the 'we turned our house into a barn' video

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The Sturniolo house was in an adorable state of controlled chaos. Matt and Chris had planned everything down to the last hay bale, receiving help from Y/N in transforming their living room into a cozy indoor petting zoo.

Little Eudora, with her chestnut curls bouncing, was giggling as she raced around the room with a small white duck waddling after her. Calum, the spitting image of his father, clutched a surprisingly calm porcupine in his lap, his face lit with pure fascination as he gently patted its back.

In front of the full-body mirror, Matt was crouched beside a midsized goat, Buster, giving it gentle scratches on the back, while a curious little black pig kept nudging him with its nose, vying for attention.

Chris and Y/N stood side by side, standing in the middle of the living room with arms crossed, taking it all in with warm smiles. Y/N’s hand found Chris’s, and he gave it a little squeeze, chuckling softly as he watched Calum carefully cradle the porcupine with awe.

"Be careful with him, buddy." Chris's voice echoed, breaking the momentarily silence while moving to a cluster of hay bales, grinning as he adjusted the banner that read "Welcome Home, Uncle Nicky!" surrounded by multicolored prints of small hands.

Their cameraman, who was used to the lively energy in the Sturniolo home, was getting every adorable moment on tape, his own laughter blending in with the kids’ squeals of delight as he recorded.

Then, suddenly, they heard the unmistakable sound of keys rattling at the front door. Y/N and Chris exchanged amused glances, and Matt looked up from the goat, a gleeful grin spreading across his face with the twin's reactions.

The kids froze, looking at the adults, and Chris quickly raised a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. Eudora's right hand flew to her mouth, her big blue doe eyes dancing with excitement as she bounced on her heels, her white dress flowing around her small body with her movements. Calum clutched the porcupine close to him, glancing over at Matt with eyes wide, receiving a wink from his uncle.

Chris leaned forward and called out.

"Hey, Nick! How's it going?"

A muffled "Hey" came from Nick, who had just closed the door behind him. He started heading up the stairs from the entryway to the living room, clearly oblivious to the surprise that awaited him.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, Y/N called out.

"Careful with the thing blocking the door!"

Nick stopped abruptly, his brows knitting in confusion.

"What thing-?" He began to ask, then froze as he noticed a turtle calmly stationed right by the passage.

His eyes lifted to the rest of the room, widening comically as he took in the scene beyond: animals everywhere, little straw bales scattered, and his entire family - together with an unknown woman dressed in a zoo uniform and their cameraman - caught mid-laughter in a rustic, farm-like setup right in their living room. His mouth dropped open, completely dumbfounded.

"Wha-what the..." Nick started, his words catching as he tried to process what was happening. Before he could continue, the twins finally sprang up, squealing in excitement.

"Uncle Nick!" They yelled in unison, darting over to him, the small porcupine bouncing in Calum's hands.

Nick barely managed to drop his bags with a thud before crouching to his knees, throwing his arms open wide as Calum and Eudora barreled into him. His gaze roamed the room as he held his niece and nephew close, enjoying the warm heat emanating from their bodies while taking in the fluffy chickens clucking happily nearby and the small pig nibbling at a strand of hay.

"What the fu-freak is going on?" Nick stammered, catching himself just in time, though the sheer astonishment was clear on his face. His arms kept wrapped around the twins tightly, and with a breathy laugh, he shook his head. "I’m never leaving the house again."

Eudora beamed, wrapping her small arms around his neck as she squealed excitedly in his ear.

"We made this surprise for you, Uncle Nicky! Did you like it?"

Nick looked down at her, his eyes softening drastically as he took in her excitement, then looked over to Chris and Y/N, still stunned.

"Like it?" He repeated, almost at a loss for words. "I love it! This is insane!"

Just then, Calum piped up, holding up the porcupine he’d been cradling like a prized possession.

"Look, Uncle Nick!" He said eagerly. "It’s a porcupine! Do you wanna hold it?"

"Baby, be careful not to hurt your uncle with its prickles." Y/N was quick in warning the little boy, watching his movements carefully.

Nick’s eyes widened even further as he realized what Calum was holding too close to his face. He quickly glanced over at Y/N, and then at Chris, the fear evident in his expression.

"Uh... Chris?" He stammered, his voice high-pitched with barely concealed alarm.

Chris stifled a laugh and quickly stepped forward, taking the porcupine from Calum’s hands, ignoring the big pout forming on his son's lips.

"I got it, I got it." He said, giving Nick a playful grin. "Only the safest surprises for you, bro."

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand covering her mouth as she watched Nick’s face go through an entire range of emotions. Matt joined in, shaking his head as he pet the goat one last time before walking closer to the others, clearly reveling in his brother’s shock.

Nick took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, then looked down at his niece and nephew nestled snugly in his arms. His expression softened into a disbelieving grin as he pulled them even closer, wrapping them in a hug filled with all the warmth he’d bottled up during his time away.

"You two..." He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their heads. "This might be the best surprise I’ve ever had."

Calum and Eudora beamed up at him, their matching blue eyes alight with pride.

"Even better than the band, Uncle Nick?" Calum asked, his small hands curling around Nick’s tattooed arm, eyes wide with hope.

Nick let out a heartfelt laugh, nodding as he glanced down at his nephew.

"Even better than the band, buddy. Was this all your idea?" He asked, focusing warmly on Calum but keeping one arm wrapped around Eudora, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Calum’s face lit up even brighter, grinning from ear to ear before looking over at his dad and Uncle Matt, seeking their approval.

"Well..." Calum started, only to have Matt jump in, flashing a teasing grin.

"You know how it is, Nick." Matt said, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. "We missed you, and these two couldn’t stop talking about going to the zoo all week, so..."

Nick’s eyes narrowed playfully as he turned to Chris.

"And you let him pick the porcupine?"

Chris chuckled, throwing up his hands in defense.

"Actually, the porcupine was my idea, but..." He gestured at Calum with a shrug. "He’s been attached ever since."

"Like father, like son." Y/N's voice echoed full of amusement, her plump lips forming a wide smile. "Do you want some water, Nick?" She asked gently, moving towards the kitchen, receiving a positive answer from the oldest triplet.

For a few more minutes, Nick just sat on the floor, surrounded by warmth and joy as the twins excitedly recounted every little detail from the week - even though they’d already shared those stories over FaceTime, feeling too excited to tell him all over again in person. Nick listened, hanging on every word, giving all of his attention to them.

A soft nudge against his side caught his attention, and he looked down to see the little goat butting his arm. Smiling, Nick gave it a gentle scratch behind the ears, chuckling under his breath at the delightful absurdity of it all. His gaze drifted up, finding Y/N’s across the room. Her eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners as she watched him with a look that needed no words, patting the small bunny in her hands.

He mouthed a "thank you", his expression soft, clearly moved by their thoughtfulness.

Chris’s arm snaked around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close as they shared a quiet, knowing smile, content to watch Nick settle back into the chaotic embrace of the family they’d created.

[koiiiji]

threats

summary ; no-one dead au, Gapryong love his kids, him and Baekho thinks their youngster have crush on Jinyong’s daughter, while he being delulu and calls their sons wolves (Jinyong secretly cheering for Jake)

tw ; none, pure fluff and actually happy Kim family

pairing(?) ; kid!jake kim x kid!reader(?)

The celebration at Gapryong Kim's mansion was in full swing,the occasion was significant - his birthday - the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the warm glow of camaraderie. The adults, slightly tipsy and buoyed by nostalgia, sat around the large dining table and in clusters throughout the spacious living room.

Jake, with his boundless energy and cheerful demeanor, was busy running around the garden, making jokes and laughing. Jerry, more reserved and stoic, watched his friends with a calm smile, while you, being a bit moody yet generally happy, played nearby. Gitae, Gapryon’s oldest son, sat on the steps, brooding and occasionally rolling his eyes at the younger kids' antics. He was in that difficult transitional age where he felt misunderstood and often annoyed by everyone around him.

Inside the mansion, Gapryon and his right-hand men, Jinyong Park, Baekho Kwon, and other members of Gapryong's fist enjoyed the party. Gapryong, a fierce yet caring leader, laughed heartily with his friends, while Jinyong kept an eye on whole buster - trying to mesmorise warm moments with his dearest friends.

Suddenly, the door to the grand room burst open, and you ran in, tears streaming down your face. The room fell silent as you launched yourself into your father’s arms, sobbing.

"Daddy! Daddy!" - you cried, clutching Jinyong’s shirt tightly. - "Jake is threatening my life!"

The adults in the room exchanged confused glances. Jake, the sunny and optimistic boy, threatening someone? It seemed impossible. Moments later, Jake stumbled into the room, his face flushed and red as a tomato. His heart raced with a mix of embarrassment and panic, as he feared what you might say. - "I'm not threatening her life!" he exclaimed, clearly flustered. The room erupted in confusion at the sight of the two young children so passionately arguing. Jinyong petted your hair gently, trying to soothe you.

"What happened, sweetheart?" - he asked softly. You wiped your tears and took a deep breath, ready to present your case. - "Daddy, Jake said he wants to MARRY ME! Can you imagine?!"

Laughter filled the room as Jake, embarrassed and blushing even harder, protested, - "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" - you insisted, sticking your tongue out and pointing at him with your finger. But Jake kept arguing and room filled with child's screams of "Yes" and "No"

"I'm gonna marry only my daddy!"

Gapryong, who loved you as his own child, chuckled and decided to tease you a bit. - "But doesn’t your dad already marry your mother, huh?"

You froze, shock and confusion crossing your face as you turned to look at your father, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. Gripping his shirt tightly, you asked, - "Daddy?... Is that true?" - Jinyong, trying to contain his laughter, nodded. - "You know, baby, your mother still needs a husband, right?"

"Traitor! Daddy is a traitor!" you declared dramatically, eliciting more laughter from the adults. Jake watched you, feeling a pang of resentment and a deeper, unspoken feeling. He had a childish crush on you, and though he didn't fully understand it, he knew he liked you a lot. The idea of marrying you seemed natural to him, even if he was too young to grasp its full meaning. Determined and full of childish resolve, you slid off your father’s lap and marched over to Gapryong. "Then... then..." - you stammered, trying to form your next plan. Gapryong, enjoying the moment, leaned down to your level. - "Then what, little one?" - he asked with a warm smile.

"Then I'll marry... Uncle Gapryong!" - you announced, much to the amusement of everyone present. Gapryong laughed heartily and scooped you up in his arms. - "Well, I'm married as well! And I’m afraid I’m too old for you, sweetheart."

As everyone in the room tried to hold back their laughter, you pouted, realizing your grand declaration might not work out as planned. But the genuine affection and warmth from your family made the moment one to remember. Jake, still blushing, sighed with relief and muttered to his father, - "See? I wasn't threatening her life..."

The room erupted in laughter again, the adults and children alike sharing in the joy and absurdity of the moment, making it a birthday celebration to remember. Just as the laughter began to die down, Gapryong, still smiling, said, - "How about Jake anyway, huh?"

You shook your head vigorously. - "NO!! Uncle Gapryong, don't you understand that Jake spends all his time with Jerry! And they're always hugging!" - You crossed your arms defiantly, misinterpreting their fights as affectionate embraces - "I don't want my husband to hug someone else!" - More laughter filled the room, but you remained serious, big tears still streaming down your cheeks. You jumped off Gapryong's lap, desperately looking for a solution. Your eyes landed on Gitae, who was brooding in the corner of the room. With sudden determination, you ran to him and clung to his neck.

"Then I'm gonna marry brother Gitae!" - you announced with a bright, triumphant smile. It seems that a clear vein of discontent appeared on your father’s forehead and with an innocent smile the glass in his bare hand burst with a crash.

Gitae, caught off guard and visibly annoyed, was about to complain, but you turned to him with the most serious face, as if you were already an adult. - "One wrong word and I will say that I saw how you smoked this morning." - Gitae swallowed hard. It wasn't that he was scared of his mother's reprimands about smoking, but he simply nodded, not wanting to cause more drama. - "Whatever, kid," - he muttered.

Jinyong, not a big fan of Gitae, still with his eyes closed and that innocent smile said, - "I will apply for divorce next morning, hun. Come back to daddy."

bonus :

The adults had announced their departure a thousand times, each attempt to leave thwarted by another round of drinks, another shared memory, or another joke that sent the room into peals of laughter. Gapryong, at the center of it all, held court with his booming laugh and sharp wit, Jinyong Park matched his pace drink for drink. The room was alive with stories of old scars and forgotten battles, of triumphs and losses, each tale punctuated by hearty toasts and the occasional rowdy song.

In the midst of the adults' revelry, the children, worn out from their own antics, began to succumb to sleep. Jake had run out of steam, Jerry yawned widely before finally giving in, and you, found your eyelids growing heavier by the minute.

As the night deepened, the adults continued to assure one another that they really should be heading home, only to be drawn back into another round of drinks or another hilarious story.

Unbeknownst to the adults, the three of you sneaked out of main room to try to distract yourselves from the impending sleep and fatigue, and decided to play hide and seek. As the hours ticked by, the party showed no signs of waning. But eventually, the night began to wind down, and the adults started to gather their belongings, preparing to leave.

"Alright, everyone, I think it's really time to go now," - Gapryong announced, albeit somewhat reluctantly. His words were met with nods and murmurs of agreement, though none made a move to actually stand up. Jinyong glanced around, suddenly realizing that the children were nowhere in sight. - "Where are the kids?" - he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. The adults exchanged worried glances and began to search the mansion, calling out names and checking every room. The once noisy and cheerful group was now a flurry of anxious activity, peering behind furniture, checking under tables, and opening every door they came across.

"Jake? Jerry? Where are you?" - Gapryong called out, his deep voice echoing through the halls.

It was Baekho Kwon who finally stumbled upon the scene. Opening the closet door, he found the three of you nestled among the fallen clothes, fast asleep. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before calling out to the others.

"I found them! They're in here!"

The adults rushed over, relief washing over their faces as they took in the adorable sight. You, still peacefully asleep on Jake's hand, throwing your head back and drooling on his arm, while he drooling on your shoulder and his arm protectively around you, Jerry's head rested gently on your lap, his calm, steady breathing a testament to the deep sleep only children could achieve. Gapryong smiled warmly at the sight. - "Well, would you look at that," - he said softly, his voice full of affection. - "Looks like they had their own little adventure."

Jinyong knelt down, carefully scooping you into his arms, not wanting to disturb your sleep. - "Come on, sweetheart," - he whispered, - "let's get you home."

Gapryong and Baekho followed suit, gently lifting Jake and Jerry, who barely stirred, their exhaustion too great to be roused by the movement.

loool i love annoyed daddy Jinyoung so much!!

[the-marshals-wife]

Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 7)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway :)

Warnings: Suggestive themes aaaaandd a little of that internalize homophobia again

Author's Note: NO BETA BC THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GOOD LORD IM SORRY FOLKS! I moved and started a new job and I leave for Europe in a week so life has been NUTS

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Melissa led the way through the front doors of the hotel. You could tell she was excited by the highly animated way in which she spoke to you. She used her hands and fingers to gesture to you and she lingered close to you with her last word, “This weekend is about three things: the endless buffet, laying by the pool, and sex.”

The corners of your lips rose as her lips neared your own. There were still a few inches between you, but you knew that was plenty close for a place as public as a hotel lobby, “In that order too?”

Your response made the redhead laugh as both of her hands squeezed your bicep. You lost yourself for a moment while you watched her grin at you. It was the voice of a man that unfortunately ripped her eyes from you, “Melissa?” 

As she turned to face the voice, her red hair flicked over her shoulder with the spin of her head. When her eyes landed on the familiar face of her ex boyfriend, her smile faded, but her tone remained polite, “Hey, Gare.”

A brief silence fell between the former lovers (as did a thick awkwardness), and you waited patiently for one of them to speak up. Gary was the first to break the silence when he noticed Melissa’s eyes wander over to the brunette at his side, “Oh, this is my girlfriend - Lea Ann”

Melissa only nodded, remaining silent and giving a faux smile to the lofty man. It was when he realized Melissa had very little interest engaging with Gary and Lea Ann that Gary decided to turn his attention to you. With a kind smile, he reached out his hand, offering it to you along with his name, “Gary.”

“Y/N.” You return the smile and handshake, surprised at the way his face lit up at hearing your name.

“Mel told me about you when we were dating.” He quipped while wrapping his arm around Lea Ann’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. He seemed genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance - it made you wonder why Melissa refused to commit to something more serious with him.

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down at Melissa and then back to Gary again, “Did she now?”

Gary was highly enthusiastic with how he spoke to you, recalling memories Melissa had shared with him months ago, “Of course. You were her date to the senior prom after some punk ditched her.”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure in knowing Melissa had talked about you in her previous relationship. You had always assumed she would have kept even your friendship a secret. With a great big smile, you bump your shoulder against hers lightly, “I mean, how could I say no to a face like that?”

Melissa gave a reluctant smile, changing the subject away from your relationship, “What are you guys doin’ out here?”

Gary eagerly squeezed Lea Ann to his side once more and beamed at her. The brunette shifted into his side, wrapping an arm behind his back to better lean against him. It was clear they were enamored with one another, “Early anniversary trip. Lea Ann and I met at Dave & Busters not too long after we broke up. She is real good at skeeball.” 

Lea Ann added to the conversation with a shy voice, “How about you guys?”

“A trip for old times’ sake.” Melissa’s response contained a tone that was anything other than warm. While some might not have noticed, you saw her turn snarky and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. It was obvious to you Melissa was offended by what she thought was Lea Ann’s ‘nosiness’. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, indicating she was finished with the conversation.

Gary knew Mel well enough to give a curt nod and guide Lea Ann away from you both, “Well, I hope you two have a great time.’

“Yeah, you too.” Your voice fell as they walked away - knowing full well Melissa would be upset at this interaction when you arrived at the hotel room.

—

You shifted awkwardly near the door of the hotel room. Melissa had abandoned her luggage in the middle of the room and tossed her purse on the bed before dropping into the chair into the corner to scroll on her phone. She seemed increasingly detached from you since you had spoken to Gary. 

While the detachment made you furious, you gave her a chance to tell you how she was feeling before you spiraled, “Everything okay?”

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she replied. If anything, she seemed annoyed that you would even ask such a question, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Biting your tongue, you turn your back to her with a huff and tug open the door, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

—

You twist the glass of dark liquor in your hand, mindlessly watching the ice swirl about in the liquid. A fire had been lit in your stomach at the realization that nothing had changed between Melissa and you. She still refused to admit her feelings for you or the opposite sex. Of course you were infuriated, but it was more of a rage fueled sadness had you refusing to look at Melissa who sat (im)patiently next to you. 

“You gotta work with me here. It’s one thing to take a weekend away together, but it’s a whole other thing to be tellin’ people that we are a couple.” Melissa sounded colder than she would have wanted, but there was no taking the words back now. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second.

It was clear Melissa didn’t truly understand why you were upset with the entire situation. With a deep sigh, you chose to explain your feelings to her, “I don’t mind that we aren’t official or whatever. I don’t even care that this is so casual. I just can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“It isn’t like that.” 

Her reply was quick, but you weren’t convinced. “Melissa… Anytime someone gets remotely close to the truth, you get all spooked and then I have to deal with the consequences.”

The redhead chewed at the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say to you. She remained facing forward, her fingers absentmindedly ripping at the napkin placed in front of her by the bartender. Mel furrowed her brow as she spoke, “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Either way... You know how I feel about you... how I have always felt about you, and I-” In an instant, you regret opening your mouth. You could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks from the corner of your eye. As always, you had gotten ahead of yourself, and now it was time for you to finish explaining your emotions before Melissa found a way to steer the conversation away from the vulnerability it was currently steeped in, “For me, it feels like you’re ashamed... of me, and it’s not a great feeling.”

Melissa glared at you for a few moments, and then you saw her left hand reach out to hold you by the back of the neck to pull your lips to hers. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you felt Mel’s teeth teasing your bottom lip and her right hand creep up to the middle of your thigh.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, her voice was low, “I’m sorry I made ya’ feel that way. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Regardless of the people sitting all around, you dove back in for another kiss. You felt her melting into you. With every second you kissed her, Melissa inched closer to the point in which she had slipped off her chair to stand between your knees. Her hands braced against your thighs and breasts pressed to your chest. 

The redhead was breathing heavily when she finally drew her lips away from yours. She had turned her head to glance around the room in search of prying eyes when you buried your nose in her hair. 

After Melissa’s worries of being watched were soothed by the absence of onlookers, she turned back to you, capturing your face in her hands. She spoke in a low tone which caused you to swallow hard, “Let’s go upstairs, hon.” She took your hand, tugging you along after her towards the hotel lobby. 

The deafening chorus of casino games, live music, and both winning and losing gamblers was all but a mere whisper to you the moment Melissa peered over her shoulder at you with a smile - a smile that only confirmed your long standing love for her.  

When she had you in the elevator, you were up against the wall before the door was closed with her mouth against yours. Mel was busy trailing her lipstick from your lips to your neck as you choked out a dizzied concern, “We are... going to miss our... uh, dinner reservations.”

“Where at?” Melissa was far too busy tasting your collarbone to give much attention to the thought of going out for dinner. She was far more interested in getting you up to your hotel room to get more acquainted with the hotel bed.

“Some fancy steakhouse.” You murmur before returning her fervor. By now the elevator doors were shut and neither of you had given much more thought to pressing a button to get the elevator moving. Instead you were more consumed with the urge to turn the tables on Melissa and press her against the elevator wall. 

Melissa’s hands were woven tightly into your hair as you pinned her to the wall. Your force only propelled her further into the raging desire she felt for you. Mel didn’t need to use any words to convey how much she needed you. Everything about your kisses was sloppy and steeped in desire. 

She allowed one of her hands to wander to the back of your neck as your lips drifted down her neck to her cleavage. The redhead held you tight with one arm while the other clumsily reached to illuminate the button to floor 15, “We can just order pizza.”

Her efforts to get the elevator headed towards your floor weren’t swift enough. The elevator dinged and the doors to the lobby parted, allowing a familiar tall, bald headed man and his brunette girlfriend onto the elevator with you both. 

With the introduction of Gary and Lea-Ann onto the elevator, Mel and you partially parted. She kept an arm around you with a hand resting on your hip and her body was pressed to yours as she suppressed a coy smile. Melissa raised a manicured hand to her lips, attempting to tidy her smeared lipstick with her thumb. All the while she stared at you down like a starved lion. 

Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. It took everything in you not to confess your love then and there. She was beautiful like this - seemingly liberated of her shame and enthralled with the premise of being caught in such a public act of affection. 

Gary was obviously confused by your closeness and he cocked his head, needing to double check to see if it was really Melissa who was really pinned into the corner of the elevator by you, “Melissa?”

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. You attempted to move your hands from her waist, but her hand caught your wrist to prevent you from pulling away. 

The elevator devolved into silence as it began moving to the upper floors. You couldn’t see the looks on Gary or Lea-Ann’s faces as you were too busy watching every shift in Melissa’s expressions. You wondered if this would be the end of your relationship. Your heart was pounding and you were growing anxious at the thought of the potential rejection headed your way. The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was Melissa’s manicured hand on the back of your neck, softly twirling your loose locks between her digits. 

Her eyes flickered between the rising elevator numbers, your company, and the elevator doors. Melissa was terrified of who Gary could tell. Through all of her family and friends, she knew this moment could reach someone she knew in a matter of hours. Her personal fears were being slowly subdued by her own willpower. As her eyes drifted back up to your face, they were now filled with a subtle determination to prove herself to you. 

Melissa pushed against your abdomen so you would step aside, but she kept both hands on you as she talked to Gary, “How’s your night goin’?”

“Good. I- I didn’t know you two were-” Gary couldn’t hide an ounce of his confusion at seeing you together. 

“Together? Yeah, well... Now you know.” The redhead finished his sentence before adding her own bit of attitude at the end of her thought. A lump formed in the back of her throat at admitting your relationship out loud, but there was no taking it back now. 

While Melissa was dealing with her own inner turmoil, you were relishing in the fact that Melissa described you two as being ‘together’. You were riding that high even after the elevator stopped on your floor and Mel took your hand to pull you after her. 

It was Melissa who lifted your arm to place around her shoulders when you stepped off the elevator. She also turned back to face her ex boyfriend with a cheeky grin, “Have a good night you two.”

Link to Chapter 8

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

[meiluu]

Everything and You

Cloud Strife/ Reader (AFAB)cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, unprotected, creampie, fingering (reader receiving). *NOT EDITED*

Shucking off his buster sword, leaning it against the wall adjacent to your shared bed. Cloud goes through the mindless motions of taking off his pieces of armor and gear. Then once he is free of his gear he is headed to the bathroom ready to wash the day away, and the reminder that you are in the kitchen fueling his desire to finish up quickly. Not wanting to spend even a moment apart from you, when he's spent the whole day fighting and being away from you.

Hair a little damp, Cloud heads into the kitchen dawned in a fresh pair of sweats and a simple oversized tee. There he sees you. Quietly humming to yourself as you finish up washing the dishes from your shared dinner.

Everyday Cloud is so grateful to have you by his side, after every horrific thing he has been through, seeing you, being with you, makes all of that worth it. Coming up behind you Cloud wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your neck. Your familiar fragrance has his shoulders slumping as his body relaxes in your presence.

Putting the last dish onto the drying rack, turning your head towards Cloud. "Mm you smell good." a soft laugh leaves Cloud, "Did I not smell good before my shower?" a smirk crawls upon his pink lips. "No, you always smell good, even after a long day. It's kind of weird- like even after fighting monsters and stuff..."

Your words trail off as your eyes lock with his. Those vivid pools of mako have you locked in place, they always had you lost for words. And to add on Cloud always looked at you like... like you were everything. No matter how often you see him your heart will always race for him. Those eyes that seem to worship you, like nothing in this world could ever come close in comparison to you.

"Cloud..?"

A strong and calloused hand comes up to cup the side of your face, thumb gently caressing the apple of your cheek. Cloud's face is a mask of concentration, as if he was memorizing every little detail that was etched into your gorgeous face. eyes watching his every twitch in his face, after a couple of years of being with Cloud you've grown experienced at reading his expressions and body language. But in moments like these his true emotions escape you, though you never have to sit and wonder for long. With Cloud's habit of always being honest with you extends not only from his words but to his body.

Plush lips capture yours in a sweet kiss, hands lifting to wrap around his neck. A strong arms snakes its way around your waist while the hand on your face delves downward to the base of your head, cradling your with the utmost care. Breaths shorten as the need to keep your lips and mouths together heighten. Teeth nip at your bottom lip, mouth opening to let his tongue in. A familiar dance, one where neither one of you never want to part from.

Your hands grip tightly upon his shirt trying to keep your self from floating away at this heavenly feeling. You feel his hand leave the back of your head, sliding down the side of you squeezing, caressing each dip and curve he comes across. Both hands now rest on each side of your hips, then they go lower.

"Jump." Voice husky and a little breathy, its nothing short of a command, and your body naturally obeys.

Without so much as an ounce of struggle, Cloud lifts you and heads towards the bedroom. Stopping just a little short at the end of the bed, mouths to occupied to separate. Barely able to catch a full breath of air before his mouth is right back upon yours. You feel the world shift as you are laid down onto the plush comforter. Cloud's body over yours, muscled body weighing you down.

Those plush lips leave yours with a string of spit still keeping you connected, then he's heading south. Mouth leaving a blazing trail in its wake. But all too soon does he stop, rising up face pinched in annoyance. "What is it?" your voice, still a bit breathy.

"Your shirt is in my way." mako eyes blazing in anger, as if your shirt has committed a grave crime. Biting your lip to keep your laugh in, you get rid of the offending fabric and now only a small piece of fabric shields you from being completely bare. Cloud follows in your movements, throwing his shirt into some dark corner of your room.

And just as quickly as both shirts are off and discarded is Cloud mouth back upon you. Lips and tongue worshipping every inch within reach. Hands aiding in his motions, whimpers spill from your kiss swollen lips, no care to try and muffle them. Tongue swirling around a nipple then his mouth is sucking it further into his mouth, gentle nipping at your skin. Love bites being left in his wake, not forgetting the other he repeats his motions. Your eyes are watching, not wanting to leave and miss this, seeing this version of Cloud. Only for you not for anyone else. Here he can be true to what he wants leaving behind everything when he is with you, loosing himself within your love and body. You can feel your face heating up as you feel your cunt clenches around nothing, every moment that passes has you getting wetter.

Warm and calloused fingers delve underneath that band of fabric, feeling, hearing, just how turned on you are. Lust lidded eyes meet yours, "Can I?"

"Please."

And just like that your cunt bare for him, fingers swirling around your clit before sinking into you. Breathy moans falling from your lips as Cloud massages your insides, stretching you open to be able to take him. Your arousal slicks up his fingers and leaks downwards, creating a lovely mess upon your sheets.

Cloud cant decide on wanting to watch your face scrunch up pleasure or watch his fingers stretch your cunt open. It's the hardest decision he ever has to make when he is with you in these moments. Completely enraptured by your body's reaction to his fingers, loving as your mouth drops into an 'O' as a moan crawls up from deep within your chest in response to his fingers rubbing up against your sweet spot. And during all of this Cloud pay little mind to his leaking cock within his pants, twitching and begging for attention. But Cloud can't give in just yet, because if he does all he'll want to do is bury himself within you and would never want to leave.

Cloud can feel your cunt squeezing and quivering, your moans rising in pitch, you were gonna cum. His eyes lock onto your face, watching as your head twists into the pillow beside you, hand reaching up to grab ahold of the pillow while your other hand finds his. Lacing your hands together as you cum around his fingers, continuing to fuck his fingers into you, riding out your orgasm until your thighs begin to shake in overstimulation.

Pulling his fingers from you, and you watch in lust-filled awe as he brings he slick drenched fingers to his mouth. Tasting and relishing in your taste, maintain eye contact as he swirls his tongue around his fingers. Cock twitching, begging, to be inside of you as it strains against his sweats. "Cloud, please I need you inside. Don't make me wait any longer." Pupils dilated, Cloud takes his fingers from his mouth quickly reaching down to tug off his pants. Pulling the waistband down you watch as his cock slaps against his skin, tip a flushed pink as precum weeps from his slit. Finally free from any barriers Cloud crawls his way back over you. Breast grazing his sculpted chest, heart fluttering at the familiar scent and heat that you've become addicted to ever since becoming intimate with Cloud.

With a steadying hand Cloud begins to sink into your cunt, eyes fluttering at the heavenly feeling. Pelvis flush with yours as Cloud takes a moment to gaze at you, mako irises burning your face to memory. Here below him, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with a heady combination of lust and adoration.

Sinking his body further down on top of yours, head lowering down towards your ear. Cloud slowly pulls himself almost completely free from you, leaving the tip inside, before sinking all back inside. Deep and steady thrusts have your keening in utter euphoria, as you feel how ever vein rubs perfectly against your walls, his tip hitting oh so deep. Hands clinging to his back, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him in closer. Your mind is trapped in a mind-numbing cycle, feeling the perfect fullness of Cloud cock thrusting inside of you. Hearing his whimpers and moans of pleasure, along with the added friction of his pelvis hitting your clit as he fucks into you. Body warm and strong against yours, your mind was filled with Cloud. His voice, His body, His love, everything him.

In your haze of pleasure your ears faintly pick up on the sound coming from your drenched cunt. But that sound becomes louder as Cloud picks up his pace, arms braced on each side of your head as he raises his head.

In and out, in and out, in and out. You can feel that familiar knot in your core, twisting and writhing, oh so close to unraveling. Mouth calling out to Cloud, repeating his name like it was a prayer. In a sense it was, he was the only one who could get you like, the only one who you'd ever let see you like this. Then with another deep thrust, hitting deep within does that knot unravel, a cry leaves your lips as you orgasm. Squeezing around his still pistoning cock, and not too far behind you hear that sweet uptick in Cloud voice a tall tale sign that he was close. Overstimulation burns you in the most pleasurable way as your blurry vision focuses on Clouds face above yours. His face scrunching up as your cunt clenches down upon him, cock swelling and hips stuttering as he cums. Warmth fills you as his cock fills you, hips slowing to a stop. Gently wrapping you into his embrace he bring the both of you onto your sides, cuddled in each others arms. Cock perfectly nestled inside as you both come down from your shared high. Sweet kisses are littered across your face, your lips pulling into a lazy smile. A whispered 'I love you' is passed between the both of you. There you both lay utterly content to spend the rest of your lives just like this.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you. 

Maybe both, considering. 

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls. 

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.” 

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap. 

“I told you that I like you!” 

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body. 

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him. 

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily. 

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.   

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair. 

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort. 

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand. 

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.” 

“I don’t give a fu—” 

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.” 

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice. 

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time. 

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires? 

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death. 

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.  

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key. 

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?” 

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.” 

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.” 

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet. 

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment. 

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…” 

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair. 

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” 

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins. 

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”    

“I am not cursed.” 

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.” 

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.” 

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.” 

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.” 

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.” 

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.” 

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly. 

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well. 

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him. 

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed. 

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.” 

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask: 

“What was it for?” 

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you. 

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little. 

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large. 

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate? 

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead? 

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry. 

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now. 

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.  

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable. 

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate. 

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.” 

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve. 

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands. 

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?” 

“Let me see.” 

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town. 

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?” 

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin. 

Oh fuck.

[southsideserendipity]

I saw your post about Mikey so I hope this is okay & what you were looking for. Mikey meets a girl that is like sunshine whenever she walks in the room & makes him finally feel worthy/valued so he’ll do anything to make her feel special in return

Sunshine (Mikey Berzatto x Reader)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weed and alcohol.

Word Count: 4.2k

I found a good boy and he's on my side You're just my eternal sunshine, sunshine

“John, John- you listenin’ to me?!” Mikey was pacing his office, trampling over receipts and month-old sticky notes while aggressively combing his hands through his tussled black hair. “I’ll have your money. When have I not paid you, goombah? I didn’t see the invoice, you should see this fuckin’ office, not enough time to organize this damn shit show” he responded, kicking a stack of papers in the process. 

Bending down, he began rummaging through the various papers littering the office floor, attempting to compile them into categories. “John! You there?! Fuck.” Mikey frantically pat himself down, a sudden yearn for nicotine overcoming him. Finding his carton of Marlboros, he slipped the end of a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Letting out a sigh, John grunted, “Yeah, I’m here, Mikey. I’ll give you a couple more d-” before being interrupted by the vibrations of Mikey’s phone. 

“Fuck me, that jagoff is calling” Mikey thought out loud. “Listen, John, I hear you, you’ll have your money, mmkay? On my ma, I swear to ya, I gotta go though there’s another ball-buster on the other line. K? Ciao.” Before John could respond, Mikey stood up to accept the other call.

“Mark, brother, hey, before you start… I know, I know.” He picked up his phone, taking it off speaker to slip it under his ear. “I— Listen, I know. I hear you. I- Hey, you gon’ let me speak, or wha’?!” Speaking with his hands he continued to pace around the room, his booming voice stifled by the cigarette. 

The lunch rush at The Beef was dying down, exposing you to increasingly longer bits of the chaotic conversation occurring in the office. This was Mikey’s typical presentation; disheveled, malnourished, and overexaggerately buzzed off of caffeine, nicotine, and italian-ness. Although he was impossible to reason with in this state, you took it upon yourself to fix him up his favourite; a mortadella sandwich with sundried tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella.

“You think I don’t know that? Pft, c’mon! Mark, man, you’re killin’ me!” You stood in the doorway, observing Mikey as he stood with one hand on his hip, the other flailing around to exemplify his frustrations. In one of your hands was the plate holding the lunch you made; in the other was a Chicago Bears BIC lighter.

Subtly knocking on the already open office door, Mikey whipped around to face you, his inconvenienced facial expression seamlessly evaporating into his wide-tooth grin. Mouthing ‘meet me outside’ was all it took for him to fake an excuse off of the phone and trail in your footsteps.

Albeit cheesy, you had that captivating effect on him, your hidden-well insecurities and past failed relationships blinding you to the fact that Mikey was infatuated with you. That, in combination with the 15-year age gap between you two. For Mikey, none of those factors changed the fact that you were his daylight, sunshine in human form.

Outside in the back you sat on a milk crate, the pre-Spring Chicagoan air fluttering over your skin. Moments after, Mikey joined you by sitting on an adjacent crate close to you after propping open the door. “Thanks, Bella” he said as he leaned over, his palm squeezing your thigh in an attempt to physically communicate the appreciation he held for your act of service. 

You offered out the plate to him, prompting him to begin devouring. He gruffly moaned after taking his first bite. “Mhhhh, shit, this is like Marry Me chicken but in sandwich form.” You giggled in response with your hands resting in your lap, watching as he attacked it hungrily. Mid-bite, he motioned with his head towards the other sandwich on the plate, “Ain’t gonna eat itself, Italiana.”

“I’m not hungry right now, Mike,” you responded, suddenly losing your appetite as you thought of the most effective way to check in on him without him brushing it off. Mikey had a fortified ‘I’ll deal with it maself’ attitude; his hard-headed, traditional Italian, ‘Godfather’ persona caused him to keep you far away from the messes he had gotten himself into. In his eyes, you are more than capable of dealing with life’s bullshit, but his innate urge to protect you from harm’s way and unnecessary stress made it difficult to involve you.

“What was going on in there?” you motioned towards inside with your head. “Ah, nothin’ doll.” He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to brush off the topic, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Just some bills that need payin’, I got it covered. Business good today? Any jagoffs give you trouble?” He frantically read your face, urgently hoping you’d buy his not-so-discreet attempt at changing the topic.

“C’mon, Mike. Cut the shit. You’re suffocating in that office.” The only person whose bluntness Mikey could listen to happened to also be the only person he’d accept ‘Mike’ from. He took the cigarette that had been hanging from his lips in his office out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to light it. Taking the first drag of it, he flicked it, holding it out to you.

Pursing his lips to blow out his puff, he responded confidently. “I got it all figured out, sunshine. Plus, I got cousin helpin’ me with the books and shit. Just gotta pay back those muthafuckas who keep callin’ me. They’re all, ‘where’s my money!?’” he playfully rolled his eyes, making hand gestures and displaying a funny face as he imitated the callers. You both knew damn well they had every right to be calling him. 

“You telling me that Richie is on the books is supposed to bring me a sense of comfort?” Asking him that question with pure seriousness and handing him back the cigarette, Mikey stifled a laugh. “Hey, him and the IRS are like this” he crossed his middle finger over his index while winking and making a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Cousin, where the fuck are the receipt rolls, the office looks like an abandoned and pissed-in office depot” Richie’s exclaiming became increasingly louder the closer he got. “Feels like we change the damn paper in that thing ever- oh shit, pardon my interruption to your rendezvous. Were you guys about to fuck? I can leave” Richie pointed with his thumb towards the kitchen as he sported a fake-worried and devious expression, slowly inching backwards.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “No one’s fucking anyone, Rich.” Mikey looked to the ground as he faked a chuckle, ignoring the slight pang of hurt in his chest.

“You want a mortadella sandwhich?” You held out the plate to Richie, knowing he couldn’t resist. “Uh, DUH,” Richie grabbed an additional crate to join the two of you, immediately beginning to eat.

“Oh fuck, are you fucking serious right now?! Mikey, if you don’t marry this girl I’ll do it for you. ‘S like a mouf orgathm” Richie had just begun eating yet he already had food on the corners of his mouth. You chuckled, choosing to ignore the marriage comment. “Here, you child. You’re such a slob” you threw him a napkin you had stored in your apron. 

“Hey, the real slob is right over there” he pointed directly at Mikey, not even bothering to wipe his mouth but proceeding to take a another massive bite. “Something’s gotta be done about that cesspool of an office,” Richie shook his head disapprovingly, despite also functioning well in chaotic enrivonments. Mikey took yet another drag, the stress of you and Richie’s indirect demand to get his shit together getting to him. “It’s organized chaos, I know where everything is, s’all that matters.” 

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This was the third night in a row that you had difficulty falling asleep. You had tried everything in your arsenal of melatonin-producing activities, and yet, your brain was spiraling, most of your thoughts pertaining to Mikey.

You weren’t going to kid yourself. You needed something and you knew exactly who to get it from. Picking up your phone, you made the call.

“Rich?? You awake?” You rolled over to your side, holding yourself up by your elbow and propping your head up with the palm of your hand. “Yeah I’m awake, but why the fuck are you awake, missus?” “I need a favour…” 

Richie’s dirty mind figured any call from a woman at this hour was for sex, but he also knew about Mikey’s schoolboy yearn for you and wouldn’t dare make any advancements. The silence on his end was telling. “Not that type of favour, God, Rich! Stop being a man for a second. I need weed.” You huffed out, a whiny tone of desperation heavy in your voice. 

“Now that I can help you with” he chuckled.

“YES thank you, Rich, oh my god” You sprung up out of bad as if there were hot rocks in it. “I will meet you at The Beef, okay?!” And that was where he met you.

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You and Richie sat at the back of The Beef, exactly where you had had lunch earlier that day. “You want to do the honours, stoner?” Richie held out the joint and lighter for you. You faked an annoying look and exaggerately took them from him. “I’m not a stoner, Rich. I just have an undiagnosed sleeping problem.” You put the joint between your lips and lit it, taking an ungodly large pull from it. 

“Woahhhhh cheech and chong, relax” Richie practically yanked the joint from you. You immediately began coughing as you hadn’t smoked in a while. “What or who the fuck are you trying to forget, Italiana?” Richie’s joking tone didn’t conceal his concern as he took a puff himself. You looked at him, tilting your head to the side to signify confusion.

Richie took another pull before returning the joint to you. “If you’re calling me at 12am to smoke because you couldn’t sleep, it tells me your big brain was overthinking.” You took a moderate inhale this time, the buzz beginning to radiate out to your extremities. “What were you thinking about, Richie? Something tells me you were awake for similar reasons.”

“I’m not sayin’ anything ‘til you do” he responded whilst shrugging. 

Making a sour face, you attempted to restore the saliva in your mouth. “I have cotton mouth like a bitch, I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?” you asked, heading inside before he could interrogate you further. “Get me a brio!” You chuckled to yourself, shouting back “You know you’re not Italian, right?!”

You walked over to the walk-in fridge, grabbing Richie’s Brio and a Fresca for yourself. On the way back out, Mikey’s office door caught your attention, and you suddenly had an idea. “Rich. Oh my god. I know exactly what we can do.” 

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“I… I think we just made things worse.” Looking up at Richie in horror, he mirrored your reaction. “Yeah, we fucked up cousin. We’re in some deep shit.” 

You and Richie were both sat on the office floor, waist deep in the paper equivalent of a small forest. You took a swig from your Fresca, attempting to decipher where to start. “We can do this. For Mikey. He deserves this, and fuck, let’s face it, he was never gonna do it himself!” You attempted to motivate Richie, knowing his child-like attention span and patience were on their last legs. 

Picking up various pieces of paper, you attempted to make sense of them. “Okay… I’ll make one pile for receipts, and I’ll sort them by date, and then-” You felt Richie’s eyes burning a hole into you, causing you to look at him and flail your hands around. “What?!” Impatiently waiting for his response, you began gnawing on the inside of your cheek, nervous that he was onto you. 

“You like him.” Richie slowly grinned from ear to ear as he stated it matter o’factly. “You like like him.” You flung your head back and groaned. “‘Like like?’ C’mon, Rich, what are you, 12? Shut the fuck up and help me.” The blood rushed into your cheeks almost immediately at his accusation, the THC physiologically betraying you and making it impossible to put on a front. “You like him. Oh my god. I fuckin’ knew it,” he giggled. 

“I don’t know whether it’s the weed or the fact that it’s 3am and I’m reaching the point of delirium, but since I’m not a pre-teen, I’ll admit that you’re not wrong. But it’s never going to happen. He’s mentally ill with a fucked up family and so am I- that doesn’t tend to be the ideal romantic combination. Now, lets finish this so we can still go home and get some rest before shift starts.” You looked at Richie with a stern look; he was shocked at your mini rampage, and internally, you were petrified about the fact that you had just spilt your guts to Mikey’s bestfriend.

“And don’t get any ideas, because this conversation does NOT repeat itself, you hear me, Jerimovich!” When you addressed someone in the kitchen by their last name, they knew you meant business. “Uh-huh, yup, yes ma’am.” Richie gulped, considering you just displayed more emotions in the last 5-minutes than you had for the entire length of time he has known you. It didn’t help that he was beyond stoned and couldn’t quite comprehend the nature of what you had told him. 

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“Cousin! What the fuck is this? Why can I see the floor?” Mikey was standing at the doorway of his office in utter disbelief that morning. Richie jogged over peaking his head into the office. “It was Italiana’s doing, she just told me what to do. We were preeeetty fried” he chuckled to himself, recalling last night’s events. “Surprisingly, we didn’t throw anything out. She’s got a real knack for organizing, should’ve let her do this months ago. The IRS and I aren’t going to have anymore beef, see what I did.” 

Richie couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. His nervous rambling was an attempt to not tell Mikey about your confession. Knowing how much Mikey admired you, it was killing him to not be able to tell his own bestfriend that the girl of his dreams reciprocated his feelings. Mikey slowly turned to look at Richie, hands still on his hips. “What the fuck did you smoke, crack? Why are you acting all fucked?”

You had walked into the kitchen at perfect timing before Richie blabbed your secret. Going to hang your purse up, Mikey called you over; he didn’t even need to see you to feel your presence. “Italiana, come ‘ere!” You sped walk over and stood in the entrance, your hands folded in front of you with a nervousness. A part of you was worried that messing with Mikey’s ‘organized chaos’ was going to disorient him, but you wanted to lessen the stress he was experiencing. That was what you did for the people you loved; especially the man you loved. 

“You did this?” He looked directly at you; despite being an expert in Mikey’s nuances, you couldn’t tell whether he was pissed or overjoyed. “Uh, yeah! It’s all pretty self-explanatory but I can go through it with you if you want? I just thought it’d make your life a lil easier. And Richie’s! Of course.” You rubbed your arm with your hand as a means of self-soothing.

“This is great, Bella. Truly. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen it look like this ever” he motioned towards the filing cabinet and the paper baskets you had labelled appropriately, using his other hand to comb through his hair in shock. “I couldnt of done it without Richie. And Richie’s weed! It was nothing, Mike” you smiled at him and showed yourself out as nonchalantly as possible. 

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You were waiting the last tables of the day - mainly consisting of left behind beer bottles and plastic sandwich baskets - when Mikey came up behind you putting one hand on your waist. “Meet me in the office when you’re done here, yeah?” As he whispered into your ear, you had to keep your knees from buckling. “Yeah, Mike! Okay!” Fucking Richie.

You attempted to stall for the inevitably painful conversation that awaited you, slowly walking towards the kitchen. While washing your hands, your brain began to spiral. Wiping your hands on your apron, you attempted to bravely walk towards the office, standing in the doorway. 

“What’s up?” You halted in your tracks almost immediately as you noticed the charcuterie board Mikey was standing in front of and the bottle of red wine in his hands. “Fuck me. Okay, listen.” You walked closer to him. “Before you say anything, I don’t know what Richie said to you, but as someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re, he has no idea what he’s talking about. You didn’t have to do any of this.” 

Mikey looked at you like a deer in headlights. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he chuckled. There was that dimpled smile. And now you were confused (and distracted) before you realized Richie didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to thank you for organizing the office…” Mikey explained, twisting the bottle of wine open and pouring you a glass. “I know how much you like your charcuterie. If Starbucks ever stops selling those little boards I’ll wonder what you’re gonna eat.” He earned a laugh from you for joking about your mild salami addiction.

You sported the fakest wide tooth grin you could muster. “Hey, I’m Italian. I can’t help it. I think I’m keeping them in business though” you joked in response. He held out the glass for you and winked. “Thanks, Mike” you smiled, hoping he couldn’t pick up on your nervousness. 

“Okay, let me show you what we’ve got here.” He clapped his hands together, excited to introduce you to his concoction of Italian meets and cheeses. Hunched over his desk with both of his hands planted on the surface to support him, he pointed at each meat and cheese as he went through the board’s contents. 

“We’ve got cacciatore, prosciutto, mortadella, then I added parmesan - I know how much you like it - along with romano and gorgonzola. I was thinking we can add it to the menu. We’re no hipster yuppies but throw some olives and overpriced crackers on here and I mean, we’re talkin’ business, baby.” Looking up at you, he attempted to read your face for your thoughts.

Mikey was passionate. That was his entire nature. And when he presented you with ideas, he seemed to put your approval and opinion on a pedestal. You had helped significantly with business at The Beef, assisting in bringing Mikey’s visions to fruition while also providing your input where necessary; he valued your insight more than you realized. 

Taking a baguette slice, you added cacciatore and parmesan onto it and bit in. “Fuck, Mike.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you let out a near moan. “We gotta add this. It could even be part of a date night special. The charcuterie as an antipasto, a soup or salad, a main, and then dessert” you presented.

Mike glanced up at you with a smirk, content with your proposal. “Have I ever told you that I love your brain, Italiana?” You giggled as you continued to devour the board, attempting to ignore his blatantly obvious attempt at flirting as you couldn’t believe he could possibly be interested in you. 

The rest of the evening was spent brainstorming business ideas, reminiscing on memories shared between you, Mikey, and Richie, and consuming copious amounts of wine. 

“Oh my god, Mike. You remember when Richie tried picking up that blonde girl at the bar with a magic trick, and you- y- oh my god.” You flung your head back as you cackled; you were wine drunk and snortling to the point of incoherence. You were sat across from Mikey who was planted behind his desk, his ankle resting on top of his other knee. His forearms rested on the arms of his chair, and he loosely held a glass of whiskey as he watched you with amusement and a sly grin of admiration. 

“You had to go over there and save him from the embarrassment. Poor thing.” You chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the chick he was tryna bag had started flirting with me,” Mikey said, taking a sip of his whiskey and raising his eyebrows as he attempted to recall the events of that evening. 

You looked intently at him, not breaking eye contact. “Can you blame her?” The wine encouraged a new-found confidence to emerge from within you. There was no way you would’ve been this direct with Mikey while sober. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey leaned forward to put his glass on his desk then returned to his laid back position. With a dumbfounded look on your faced, you laughed then displayed a look of annoyance. “Don’t play stupid. Look at yourself, Mike.” You stood up, put the wine glass down, and rested both of your hands on his desk, leaning forward until you were mere inches away from his face.

Looking into his right eye, glancing down at his lips, and looking back up to his left eye, he began to shift in his seat. It was evident that you were both under a hazy and horny alcohol-induced influence, the sexual tension very obviously suffocating the room. “Now take me home before I say or do something I’ll regret.”

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

As Mikey walked you back to your apartment, you held onto the side of his frame with all your might. He guided you through the streets of Chicago with ease; he was nowhere near the level of drunk that you had achieved. “You okay, darlin’?” He looked down, a slight smile on his face as he recognized your drunken effort to walk in a straight line. “Yeah, Mike. Thanks for tonight. No one’s ever gone through such an effort to appreciate me.”

You peered up at him with a smile; you wanted to put into perspective how much his actions meant to you, however, Mikey felt an even stronger urge to spoil you moving forward. Quite frankly, he was bewildered that his small gesture that evening exceeded all that you’ve known. 

Arriving to the door of your apartment, you began rummaging through your purse for your keys. Finding them, you held your arm out straight and dangled them in front of Mikey. “You’re gonna need to unlock the door, mister. I do not currently possess the fine motor skills” you joked, earning a laugh from him.

You caught the glimmer in his eyes. Mikey felt like your fierce protector. You both knew you didn’t need protecting- while this was a part of you he admired, his masculinity often fought for dominance; for the chance to show you how well he could look after you and how much you deserved it. 

He opened the door, propping it open for you as you stumbled through, immediately attempting to take off your shoes. You hadn’t thought this out thoroughly as you ended up toppling over, Mikey catching you in the process. “Easy, doll. Here, sit down,” he motioned toward the ottoman in the foyer of your apartment, guiding you as you lowered yourself. 

He crouched down at your feet and placed the heel of your foot on his thigh, proceeding to untie your shoes. Grasping your ankle one at a time, he wiggled your feet out. You looked down at him, admiring his gentle touch, the concentration present in his furrowed brow; you loved to watch him, whatever he was doing, and you’ve known for a long time that you’ve loved him.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Holding out both of his hands for you, you stood up, letting him walk you through to your bedroom. You had a case of the over-tired drunken giggles, prompting you to laugh as you slurred your intentions to take off your make-up.

Mikey picked out some pjs for you, then proceeded to pour you a cold glass of water while you got changed. Opening the door to your bedroom, you motioned for him to come inside. “Sleep next to me?” You proposed with a curious tone despite knowing he’d decline as he (annoyingly) insisted on being a respectful gentleman at all times. “S’all good doll, I’ll be good on the couch” he motioned to the living room with his head. “Lemme tuck you in.” 

As you got under the covers, Mikey offered you the glass of water to which you happily obliged. Handing it back to him, he placed it on your bedside table as you snuggled yourself into the sheets. He turned off the lamp, the room engulfing with darkness save for the midnight blue hue that the window cast in. 

Mikey began to walk out of your room when you called out to him. “Hey Mike, c’mere” you turned over, watching him as he slowly approached. Motioning for him to come closer, you whispered into his ear. “I like like you.” 

Knocking out after the words escaped your lips, as if they were made of melatonin, Mikey smiled to himself as he looked down at you. “And I love you, sunshine.”

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EEEEEEEEK my very first Mikey imagine! Which means I am still learning to integrate his personality into my writing- it’s hard when he has extremely minimal screentime. ALSO I am writing this in whatever year Mikey was operating The Beef, so Carmy, Syd, and the others aren’t there, and Richie and Tiff are still together. I am completely open to feedback and would also love to get more requests for Mikey. Let me know what y’all think!!! :)

[discotenny]

Pet-Names (hypmic)

What nicknames your partner would call you :3 Featuring EVERYONE(except Rei cause I don't write for him woahosoohosp) !!! THIS IS A BIG ONE RAHHHHHH

Mentions of “during intimacy" in Ramuda's section but no explicit smut. Everyone has attached drabbles :3

———

Buster Bros

Ichiro

He's such a babe guy OHHHH my goodness he's such a babe guy. Maybe he'll throw a baby in there too but he throws out babe like it's your second name. It sounds so sweet and casual coming from his mouth you can just hear the smile dripping from it.

"Babe, come here for a sec!" Ichiro calls from the kitchen. With a hm in reply, you come in and see him doing nothing but stand there. You go to ask him why he called you over- only for him to bring you into a warm hug. "I just wanted to hug you baby," he says, kissing your cheeks as you chuckle.

Jiro

Jiro strikes me as the type to only call you cute nicknames as a ploy to get you annoyed. He'll snicker as he calls you his 'pookie little sunshine bear' in front of all your friends and run away cackling as you chase him down. In private he'll be more soft- picking up 'babe' just like his brother calls you.

"Hey darling little sweetie pumpkin bear pie?" He asks you with the most innocent eyes and you glare at him with the fury of a thousand suns. Your friends laugh behind you and you make a promise to get him back later. Later comes with you tickling him with no mercy in the confines of his bedroom. Through fits of laughter and cries he yells, "Babe! Babe! Stop! Please!" Too bad though, maybe he shouldn't have been such a dick :P

Saburo

He's into the classics. More so- he simply calls you by your name cause he's a bit too embarrassed to call you anything else. Once he tried to call you 'babe' like he's heard his brothers do but it sounded so foreign coming from his mouth he'd rather you forget it ever happened.

"H-hey, b-baabeee~" Saburo says, trying to sound suave and immediately regretting it. You're not sure you heard him correctly, sounding more like a squeaking door rather than an actual sentence. "What did you say Sabu?" "N-Nothing!"

Mad Trigger Crew

Samatoki

He calls you classy shit like doll, honey, love. He's so sickly sweet when he calls you these pet names that you can't help the fluster that comes to your cheeks whenever he says it.

You're just about to go to bed, Samatoki already laying down. He's half asleep so you try and get in without much attention. As you fix yourself in bed, his hand finds yours and he stirs in his sleep. "G'night, love," he mutters, voice husk with tiredness. He falls back asleep quickly, unaware of the warmth spreading in your smile.

Jyuto

mjmjmjmjmmhmmhmgmmg he's so annoying. He's gonna pull out all the stops in an attempt to get you flustered but he's so smug and obvious with it that it makes you laugh. I know people consider Jyuto this sex god type beast but in my mind but I cannot imagine him as anything other than a pathetic house plant type of man.

He's leaning over the counter of the bar, sliding a drink he just bought your way. "Why hello there, dream boat," His eyes watch you from behind his glasses to see if you'll give the reaction he desires. "Mmmmm, try better next time, love," you wink back at him and he flusters instead. "Wh- why can't you just play along," he sighs, adjusting his tie and looking down bashfully.

Rio

In my previous writing for Rio I had him call his partner "dear" and I think it's so applicable to him!! He's a classic type guy and him calling you dear is just fjdafjsdkfdsj cute!

At the grocery store you always have to ask him to reach for the items at the top of the shelves. Even if you can reach it yourself it's nice to see how sweet he is whenever he hands the items to you. "Ah, Rio can you grab that pasta up there." "This one dear?" Rio perks up, holding the box in the air. "Yep! Thanks, love."

Fling Posse

Ramuda

AAAA RAMU!! He's gonna call you all the sweets. Sweetie-pie, sweetheart, sweetie, etc etc. Augh he'll even throw out a cutie in there when he's feeling like it. When in private and in intimacy, he'll call you such sweet affectionate terms like dear and love to show just how much he cares.

Ramuda hovers above you. The sheets tickle against bare skin and he intertwines your hands. "You look absolutely wonderful," he says, a smile spreading along his face. Your face flusters at the ever closening proximity between you two as he bends down. "Thank you for making my whole world, love," your lips connect within the darkness of your bedroom.

Gentaro

In public, he'll call you the most complex, cutesy, annoying nicknames when referring to you. Just cause he likes the reaction of the people around him- looks of ludicrousness and cringe. In private, he's not the type to pull a 'baby' or 'honey'. But he is the type to pull out daarin, which translates similarly to "my darling."

Gentaro's awake in the early mornings of the day. While you're still in bed, he's preparing tea for the two of you to share. You start to wake when he sets up a table beside you. "Ah, good morning, my darling," he greets you with a warm smile.

Dice

Similarly to Ichi, Dice is also a babe guy. He's always calling you with the widest smile on his face and a cheery tone to show just how much he cares. He totally calls you babe on social media whenever he posts you two like the sicko he is.

Your phone rings in your pocket and a smile comes on your face when you see the caller. "Hey? What's up?" You say to your boyfriend on the other line. "Baaaaabe-" he starts off and you roll your eyes playfully. "Can you pick me up? I don't have enough money left for the train fair..." "Of course, baby," you say. In reply you get a bunch of fast paced thank yous and smoochie noises over the phone.

Matenrou

Jakurai

He calls you angel cause you're his angel <3. His light in life, the star in his sky. He's such a sickly sweet romantic it's gross and yucky BLAH !

It was a hot day in Shinjuku and you were sitting in front of the house fan, trying to cool yourself off. Home alone for the time being, Jakurai was expected to come back with takeout. It was wayyyy to hot to fire up the stove. As if on cue, the door opens and Jakurai holds a teddy bear patterned reusable bag filled with cold soba and iced drinks. Still in the doorway he calls out to you, "I'm home, angel!"

Hifumi

Hifumi's the type to default to a lot of food based pet names. Pudding, honey, pumpkin, sugar, etc etc. He never calls you these in public, instead calling you by name around people. But in private, he's happy to call you all the sickly sweet food based names he can think of!

Doppo's out of the apartment today and you're visiting your boyfriend. He's cooking up a meal as you sit by him, talking about your day. "Ah yeah, the trains were closed earlier- something about flooding cause of the rain yesterday..." you say, fiddling with a cup of water. "Did you take a cab instead then, honey-bun?" Hifumi doesn't even look at you as he says the term of endearment, focused on the hot pan in front of him. It just spills out so naturally, alongside the accompanying smile on his face.

Doppo

Doppo doesn't really use nicknames- also finding it embarrassing when they slip past his lips. Though, deep down he really really really wants to call you these names! He wishes to be the type that can call his lover baby, love, dear, sweetie, etc etc. Though, they only really slip out when he gets a bit toooo tipsy.

Doppo's head rests on your shoulder on the train ride home. You, as the designated guide for both Doppo and Hifumi after you three went out drinking in the streets of Shinjuku, held onto their arms as you tried to stop them from collapsing on the floor. Doppo murmurs, trying to bat your hand away from holding onto Hifumi in annoyance. "Mmmmm, baby stop holding onntoo him you- HIC- you're mine..." Doppo nuzzles himself into your neck. You silently thank the late night as the train car was basically empty at this time. "I'm the love of yer life... not him..." It'd be a cute memory if Hifumi didn't vomit on the floor as soon as you stepped out the station.

Bad Ass Temple

Kuko

Kuko thinks of you as his little baby, no matter how annoying as it may come off. He loves being really cutesy with you, calling you his baby wherever he can. He's just silly like that!

You're sweeping the floor around his family's temple- gathering the falling leaves that come with the new season. You originally came to hang out with your boyfriend but he was no where to be found (probably procrastinating on sweeping the floor). The quietness is nice, you decide as you enjoy the peaceful change of pace. When a heavy presence hugs you from the back you start attacking it with the broom. "AHHHHH! BABY NO! BABY STOP WHAT ARE- OW! OW!" Kuko screams, disrupting the peace from before.

Jyushi

He's so cute I love him. He calls you all the terms of endearment relating to beauty, handsomeness, etc etc. If you're fem he'll call you princess (HE'S SUCH A PRINCESS GUY RIGHT GUYS???). But his general petname for you no matter your gender is gonna be 'dear.' Cause he's just so cute like that.

After one of his concerts you meet him backstage. He jumps into your arms, still in his stage uniform and makeup. But still, he’s your Jyushi. And your Jyushi peppers kisses all over your face as soon as you find some alone time. “Did you see me? Did you think I looked totally cool up there dear?” He’s excited, riding off the high from his performance. He’s smiling, radiating and you can’t help but reply with a yes, of course.

Hitoya

He's like Jyuto in he intentionally tries to be suave but unlike Jyuto, he actually succeeds. He calls you cutie cause he just thinks you're so adorable- all the time.

Its' the morning and he's about to leave. You fix his tie at the door, something he always chides you for doing for but never actually stops you from doing. It's a quiet morning and you fill the air with a hum. "And... all done, Mr. Bigshot Lawyer." A break from mundane routine, Hitoya hugs you and brings his face to your neck, speaking into it. "Thanks, cutie." You push him out the door before he can tease you about the flush on your cheeks.

Dotsuitare Hompo

Sasara

SASARAA MY BABY MY BABY. Out of the goodness of my heart, totally unbiased, Sasara is a total romantic UGH. He's the type to pull shit like "my partner," "my baby," "my love," UGHHHHHH I love him.

He comes home slurred, tipsy from a night of celebration with Rosho and Rei. Dotsuitare Hompo just passed their qualifying match to compete in the DRB and they couldn't be more excited. Sasara's drunken state results in 3 things- him struggling to open the door to your shared home, him buying you a several gifts from his night out, and him dropping several gifts on the floor as he tries to open the door. You hear commotion outside and open the door hesitantly. "Hello...?" You call, before you see your partner at the other side. "My baby!" Sasara screams, pulling you outside into a hug.

Rosho

Rosho's a pretty simple man. He doesn't want to overdo it with nicknames (unlike someone he knows) and he doesn't want to be so closed off you question his affection for you. He defaults to a simple "love" when referring to or from you- because that's all he feels for you.

He's grading papers and muttering to himself as he corrects the wrongs and praises the rights. Rosho's hand is in his hair as he whispers to himself. You walk into the living room, where he sits on the floor in front of the TV. Frowning at the messy state you find your partner in so late at night, you sit down beside him rest your head on his shoulder. "Ah- hello there, love," he smiles, a hand coming to your head to pat it. "Rest well."

Rei 404 NOT FOUND !!

———

Long post, even longer taglist :3 Have this to fill the void between posts ehe

[ariseur]

This is a stupid request so iUEOE IF U DONT LIKE IT ITS FINE but . A cloud x reader where Cloud, even after months from the start of their relationship, keeps getting a bit flustered, all blushy, whenever he gets kissed? ITS STUPID ITS LILE. IT COULD BE A DRABBLE TBH CAUSE ITS YEAH. BUT YEAH . Sow wy.

red kisses 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

ughhh this request was so cute!! i made it into a fic instead because i just had some ideas :) hope you guys enjoy 💕!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kissing, cloud gets flustered, intended lowercase, tifa teasing cloud for having a big fat crush on you, reader is referred to as clouds girlfriend, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1186 words, 6519 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“shit!” you yelled, ducking under the rapid gunfire on the shinra infantryman. your hand reached for your sword before a gloved hand came to stop you. eyebrows furrowed, you looked back at cloud who just shook his head before pulling out his buster sword and stepping out into the gunfire, using his weapon as a shield from the bullets as they ricocheted off the metal.

you watched in awe as he cleared out the group. you knew he was always good at his job but seeing him in action never failed to make your jaw drop.

“hey, you comin’ or not?” he called out for you, his extended leather clad hand beckoned you after the coast was clear while numerous infantrymen laid on the ground unconscious below him. snapping out of your thoughts, you peeked your head out from behind the storage container and jogged your way towards him, beaming.

“my hero.” you extolled, leaning closer to lay a quick chaste kiss on cloud’s cheek before skipping over towards a metal door, eager to continue your mission. he made a noise of surprise, hand ghosting over where your lips had touched his face as a shade of pink tinted his freckled skin. his eyes followed your footsteps as he turned around and caught up with you, quickly following behind just in case you were caught off guard. you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him pitter-patter after you.

you definitely noticed the faint blush on his cheeks when he returned, and thus began your journey to flush cloud whenever given the chance to.

more time had passed, and cloud had actually gotten to know you. even if you never let him forget that one instance on the mission to the mako reactor.

and here cloud sat— in a bar stool at seventh heaven drinking the strongest of whatever tifa’s got while she talked about the newest mission avalanche was planning. she cut herself off mid-sentence, noticing how cloud continued to swirl his drink around while his eyes stayed glued to the ripples created in the glass, mind clearly elsewhere.

she put her arms behind her back as she leaned forward and tried to get his attention. “cloud?” she called, causing his eyes to peer back up at her. he made a small ‘hm’ sound in response.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked, inquisitive smile still painted on her face as usual. resting her arms on the wooden bar countertop, she watched as cloud contemplated to say what was really on his mind right now. he exhaled through his nostrils as he took another sip of the red liquid in his glass, “nothing.”

tifa’s brows raised as she finally understood. “so,” she began, “thinkin’ about your girlfriend, huh?”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time she’s around you, i never hear any of that ‘hard-ass’ complaining you’re always doing, as wedge would call it.” she grins, now knowing she hit the head right on the nail. “it’s like she placates you.”

“‘m just tired, that’s all.” he huffed, throwing his head back and downing the liquid as a weak attempt to try and hide the growing blush that grew across his face.

tifa simply laughed, standing up straight and greeting marlene as she walked in through the double doors with her dad, squealing about whatever new things she found today. always so excited to explore even in the slums of midgar. he placed a few coins on the bar counter as a payment for the drink, walking out of the bar and praying that tifa didn’t notice the money on the counter in hopes that she wouldn’t try and sneak it in his room like last time.

as for your new “mission” of trying to fluster cloud, it grew harder for him to ignore as everyday you’d press a kiss to his jaw or his hand or even the tip on his nose. he started to take his behavior into consideration after what tifa said. did he really act all that different around you?

your goal started making more progress as time went on and your relationship got more serious. often, your invites to your place ended up just being a torture chamber for him as you had managed to root yourself deep within his brain. he couldn’t get you out, and although he acted like he didn’t care, it haunted him. you were everywhere around him. but maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get close to someone.

he’d look at marlene and his mind would think back to you. the way you’d sit with her and talk to her about her weird dreams where she’d become a dolphin or something like that. barret would throw a glare at him and all cloud could think about was how you mentioned how barret scares the absolute shit out of you. you were everywhere, your presence, your perfume, your—

“hellooo—?” earth to cloud?” your hand came into view, once again snapping cloud out of his thoughts. he hummed.

“space out there?” you smiled at him, and ugh, that smile. it made him feel obnoxiously warm. he never got used to those butterflies that would travel along his stomach, even if you guys had been together for a while.

he huffed as he looked away, lolling his against the soft pillows you had on your bed. “yeah, uh.. yeah.” he finally said, eyes trailing off as he narrowed his eyes at shinra’s public service announcement that broadcasted on tv. cloud let out quiet groan at the man’s face and turned it off, the remote dropping from his hand and onto the blanket as he turned back to you.

“you always seem to glow, cloud. did you know that?” you blurt out, finger tracing the taut muscles of his arm.

“well.. maybe it’s just because of the mako—? SOLDIER, remember?”

“no, not like that,” you giggle behind your hand, “i’m just saying i think you’re handsome, cloud.” that makes him let out a small noise of surprise, stiffening as he’s unsure what to say next.

“oh.” he said, ears heating up as he looked away from your intense gaze. he crossed his arms, trying to avoid the way your head craned to try and see his face.

“and you’re so fit,” you lifted a finger up with each compliment you listed, just trying to get a rise out of cloud, “and intelligent, and sweet, and—“

“okay, i think that’s enough.” he must’ve been flushed right now, he though.

“and you’re just so breathtaking.”

“you are such a liar.”

you dramatically feigned offense, putting a hand on your chest as your jaw dropped. “how dare you assume such things about me? i am simply loving my boyfriend, is that such a crime?”

he scoffed as a weak smile made its way to his face, “you’re loving torturing your boyfriend, there’s a difference.” however, his eyes widened as he felt your lips press against his jaw. he gave you a pointed glare, “see what i mean?”

“oh hush, you love it.”

[caramara3]

sneaky peek...

Just a quick lil sneaky peek of what's going on over here....

Chapter 1

(sorry it's taking so long, life's been hectic lately...)

Seconds began to feel like hours passing by as the two of you stood silent in front of each other. You tried avoiding his gaze but to no avail. You’d never been shy about being naked a day in your life, not even as a kid. You were blessed with good genes along with a lean curvy figure that you absolutely loved; you loved your skin, you loved your curves… every freckle, flaw, and slight imperfection you wore as a badge of honor. You had no qualms about showing off the body you busted your ass to maintain as often as you wanted, in as little as you wanted.

But there was something about the way Damian was looking at you right now, like a hungry dog staring down a thick ribeye slab, that made all of that confident bad bitch motif you possessed leave your body and make you want to hide under as many layers as you could. There was a level of tense restraint etched into his face that radiated throughout his body, like he was trying to hold himself together in the moment. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s on the verge of saying something, but says nothing, rather catching his bottom lip between his teeth. There’s a faint tightness in his jaw while his chest rises and falls with a deep breath as if to steady himself. His hands rest at his sides, fingers flexing now and then, like he wants to reach out and touch out but stops himself at the last minute. It was almost like he was trying to decide whether he should look away out of his respect for you or toss you back on the bed and recreate the memories of last night neither of you seemed to remember.

Then there were his eyes; those onyx, almost black orbs that held nearly eight years worth of shared memories and treasured secrets between the two of you. His gaze wavered between warmth and intense, with this flicker of raw unguarded desire hidden behind them. 

You felt the heat rising swiftly to your face as your mind raced with thousand of questions: 

What was he seeing?

Did your thighs look too big? Could he see your stretch marks? Did you forget to shave down there?

Oh God please don’t tell me he’s looking at the scar, please don’t tell me he’s looking at the scar…

It was becoming too much for you. You begin to shift your weight from one foot to the other while your hands fidget restlessly. You drop your gaze from his, shifting your focus to the random watercolor painting hanging above the bed. In an instant, the energy in the room shifts and the trance Damian was seemingly under breaks and the realization sets in. 

Embarrassment washed over him as you saw the heat rise to his cheeks. His eyes dropped to the floor with a quickness followed by his face.

if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or anything else that may come your way, please let me know!

Tag List:

@madhatterbri @eringobragh420 @damiansgoodgirll @terrortwinunicorn @rootedinrevisions @thedeboniardevistation @kultklassickiller @neversatisfiedgirl @beibigirl124 @bonni-98 @bossbitch-22 @blueblazezz @mzv11 @theworldofotps @retro-rezz-the-est @writinglionqueen @miss-kuki-nz @southerngirl41 @abadbitchblogs @jstarr86 @babiidee28 @shamaness11 @chaneajoyyy @gold--gucciempress @sassymox @lavitabella87 @yana3sworld @msbigredmachine @cookiebelle @adriennegabriella @trippinsorrows @disc0fairy @glitterquadricorn @joy-of-life88 @daniiwrites @royallyprincesslilly @jazzy-tzw @wrestlingbabe @wrestlingprincess80 @krystalporter22 @the-iridescent-phoenix @spine-buster

[gamblersdoll]

I've been reading your work and I think you deserve so much more likes!! Keep up the fabulous work 💪🏻💕💕

Could I pretty please, get a virgin! Genya modern AU having secret tickle time with his girl best friend (or something along the lines of that, anything's fine with me tho I just love how you write for him 😭) and his little siblings aren't home but Sanemi is and they almost get caught. Possibly on his desk doggy style 😞) Please and thank you, again I love you and your work MWAH MWAHHH toodles 😚💕💕

oh sugar, youre so sweet.

teasing, bump and grind, voyeurism

youve been friends for…. three years? three years, yeah.. and you never really expected to be in a situation where a boy was in love with you, but yet just started as friend for three damn years.

his fingers scrap softly against your skin, an attempt to tickle against your skin— but because of the fact he chews on his nails, some skin became irritated and raised.

“shin— quit it!” you giggle, being pressed and having your feet pressed against his shins and his hands digging into your hips in a attempt to tickle. “your brother will hear!”

“im just tickling you, bug.” he smirks, but in the back of his mind— he was becoming obsessed with these “random” tickles he gave, just an excuse to get close and smell you, touch you, embrace you. it ends up with you trying to run away, but being ‘cornered’ on his desk and breathing heavy.

your groins do occasionally bump, you realizing he was on a semi hard and he himself didnt know. that is, until he stops and bites the inside of his cheek. he looks to you, your eyes looking back to him and a blush forms. “i uh.. sorry,” he mumbles, keeping your hands behind your back and a hand of his on your hip. “i can stop if you want—“

“thats if you want to, genya.” you assure him, heat rushing to your cheeks and you keep your eyes on him.

you were giving him a choice? really?

he nods, changing just the aspect of you both and bringing you down just a tad, grinding his hips up into your clothed folds. you softly groan, fingers grazing his wrist and he shivers. “bug.. you sure? my big brother, he might walk in..”

“not my problem, shouldve knocked.” you mumble, pressing your hips back and sighing softly when you get his hardened tip to bump against your clit. he moans softly, his forehead pressing to your back and he pulls your hips back and forth.. back and forth— hes dreamt of this, grinding and bumping his cock against the creamy folds of yours.. were you a creamer? could you even squirt? he needed to know, his mind going in a frenzy.

“okay, okay..” he pants, a hand going in your bra and pinching your nipple. “youre.. so warm here.” he announces, his clothed hips starting to shake at each bump and he trembles himself. fuck no, he wont succumb to himself with a breathless and trembling voice or action that could show he was a fast buster.

“oh shit, genya—right there..” you praise, his ears turning red and he perks up like a puppy. right there? did that feel good to you? he needed you to feel good, his life depended on it. his clothed cock was solid, taking your hips and having his cock slide in between your clit slash folds until slick stained his sweats. “mhhhh.. genya—“

“like that…?” he mumbles, his eyes rolling up and crossing, he was getting close. “bug.. im close, but i want you to come, too.” he warns, how precious of him.. “tell me what to do, how to make you feel good until it takes you thirty seconds to come.”

his words embarrassed you, a pout in your face and you lean down more on his desk, pulling your shorts and panties to the side, “just the tip.. okay?” you tell him, and he’s scrambling to pull his cock out from the crotch of his pants. his leaky slit kisses yours, both of your moans mixing like caramel to mocha. “there you go, now just grind and bump your tip to my clit, im right there..” you announce, his own orgasm coming soon—

‘genya! you home?’ sanemi shouts, fuck he probably just woke up. you both scramble to fix yourselves, him sitting on the bed and you sit in the desk chair. he knocks, the busting in and looking at the both of you. “when you get here?”

“thirty minutes ago, nice to see you, too.”

“did you have some chick come here before her? it fucking smells like sex.” sanemi says, chuckling snd tossing the blunt out. “if youre going to fuck people, at least dont have mama smell that.” he reminds, slamming the door.. sanemi had a door problem.

silence fills the air, genya bouncing his knee and chewing his nails. he has to get reminded to stop. “i.. i swear i didnt have someone else before you-“

“i know, i would know.”

[agerefandomstuff]

Hey! Can you give some caregiver!Sam winchester headcannons? I read your dean hcs and i loved them so much!!! <3

• Will genuinely get sad if you decline a bedtime story. He LOVES to read with/to you.

—If he doesn’t get to do a bedtime story he feels like HIS routine is thrown off. Or he worries that you don’t actually like bonding with him. since this was the first and easiest thing for him to settle into and get excited about with you when you're regressed.

However, a little reassurance helps that insecurity.

• Also bedtimes are a must.

—He has a schedule and chores for you to complete every week.

—But the fun part is you got to sit down with both Sam and Dean to make and decorate the chore sheet. AND you get STICKERS to mark off what you’ve done.

(Sam almost regrets the sticker idea since he has to buy them in bulk now since one or two or five might end up on the boys’ faces rather than just the sheet. Oopsie! Haha!)

• Strict no thumb sucking rule.

—If he even SENSES your thumb going anywhere near your mouth, you’re getting the: “where have our hands been? And how do we know what the demon touched was clean? Exactly. We don’t. Get that thumb back in your lap. And use the necklace/pacifier I got you.”

—He knows about chewlery.

—Almost got you and Dean a matching pair but he didn’t want to hear Dean’s complaining (you both know he would’ve liked it eventually and it would’ve saved all of Sam’s pens.)

• Sam was uncomfortable at first holding you since it’s been a long time since he got to hold and cuddle someone. And back then it was romantic. Not… parental. He was worried about crossing boundaries or that he would be holding you wrong or just… h-he was uncomfortable! And nervous! Alright?

— But he cuddles you plenty now to make up for his original nervousness and he adores how you settle against him on the couch or on the bed.

—He’ll sit for hours with you curled up on his lap or leaned against him. The lights turned down to a soft yellow glow. Just bright enough for him to read his book but not bright enough to hurt your eyes or overwhelm your senses.

Sometimes he’ll softly play music off his trusty iPod or turn on a sweet nature documentary for some quiet background noise.

• Otherwise he puts on educational cartoons like magic school bus, osmosis jones, wild kratts, word girl, bill nye, myth busters, etc.

—He wants you to learn things (Dean complains to Sam about how they’re all educational because you know he’s sitting and watching them with you. He’s a sucker for cartoons.)

—But also those are the only cartoons Sam can really stand to watch for long periods. He’s almost burnt out on Scooby-Doo, Dory, and Frozen. Because of how much Dean played them but he’ll still watch them with you if you want.

• He gets crazy proud of you when you (or Dean) later repeat a fact you learned from one of the shows he put on for you.

Y/n: “Wild Kratts say that wolves’ prey will escape by swimming in water! So maybe if we go swimming the werewolves won’t get us!”

Sam: “Baby, I love that you remembered that.. but it’s not going to convince me to let you out of the safe zone until this hunt is over and I know you’re safe. Besides, you're way too little right now. How about you help by watching more of the Kratt Brothers so you can tell me more facts about wolves, okay?”

Dean: “Did you guys say something about Wild Kratts being on? Whatever it is, throw in a beer and some popcorn and I’m in.”

Sam: “Dean… c’mon..”

Dean: “What?”

Sam: “You’re going out on the hunt with me. You can’t stay back and watch cartoons with (y/n) right now.”

Dean: “But it’s Wild Kratts! I don’t want to get behind!”

Sam: “Dean.”

Dean: “Ugh.. fine. I’ll gank the werewolf with you.”

Y/n: “Then we can go swimming?”

Sam sighs, “Then.. maybe we’ll go swimming.”

Thank you for the request!! I hope you like this one as much as Dean’s!

[esamastation]

Part thirty-five of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four

-

Well, Sephiroth seems to be in a better mood than yesterday. Maybe he was just coming down from his… whatever it was that happened in the training room. Angeal still isn't entirely sure. Though the Turks had debriefed him and even showed him a video, it didn't make that much sense. Especially with the blood vomiting. Which Angeal still isn't entirely over, either.

But Sephiroth seems, while still not quite himself, at least cheered up. He'd relaxed in increments during their walk into the woods, and the change of environment - or most likely, leaving the camp and its staring occupants behind - made him a little less closed off.

"This place is so alive," Sephiroth comments, peering up at the leaf canopy above then. "The air is so fresh."

"Mmhmm," Angeal smiles. "A welcome change from Midgar, huh?"

From the way he's looking around them, carefully taking in everything, Sephiroth can't remember much of anything about Wutai either - it's all new to him. Seeing his fascination kind of makes Angeal want to see his take on Mideel. Or, hell, Gongaga. Sephiroth would be very entertained by the local wildlife there, going by his reactions now.

"What is this thing?" Sephiroth asks, holding up what looks like a fistful of long grass. It wiggles in his hold, little legs kicking at the air.

"Razor Weed - I think the locals call it Leg-Cutting Grass," Angeal says, leaning in to watch the spiky beast wiggling in Sephiroth's grip. "They're pretty common and can deflate truck tires."

Sephiroth turns the little monster this way and that while it makes angry noises at him. "I bet. It's it a plant or an animal?"

"Uh. I don't actually know?" Angeal offers and gives him a look. "Someone back at the camp might. All I know is that they're annoying to fight."

Sephiroth hums, considering the weed, testing the blades sticking out of its head. He seems to struggle with something before sighing. "I can't kill it, it's too cute." He sounds almost disappointed. 

"... It's just a monster?" Angeal says, giving him a weird look. "I've seen men almost lose their legs, stepping into these things."

"Sounds like their own fault," Sephiroth says and crouches down to let the angry weed go. "Off you go, little buddy."

The Razor Weed answers by trying to attack him with its grass blades, all but lunging at him. Sephiroth just snorts and flicks it into the forest with his finger. "Cute," he concludes.

Angeal scratches at the back of his head. Though low-level mobs aren't really that big of a deal, still… "We're supposed to be, ah, weeding the monster population here, you know. That includes Razor Weeds."

"It's just a little grass thing," Sephiroth says. "It barely reaches your knee!"

"They're a menace and can cast spells," Angeal points out. "Your usual Infantry troopers can barely -"

"They cast spells?" Sephiroth asks, fascinated, and stands up, looking around interestedly. "I want to see that! Let's go find another."

Oh, boy. Running a hand through his hair, Angeal hurries after him. Well, it's… a novel experience, seeing Sephiroth of all people so excited about something. And of course it would be monsters. Usually Sephiroth is more interested in fighting monsters rather than just observing them, though, but it's still a definite improvement to his mood from yesterday. Even if it's because of weeds.

That changes when they get surrounded by about half a dozen of the little monsters.

"Still cute?" Angeal asks, fending two of them off with the flat of the Buster Sword's blade.

Apparently, yes, going by the glow in Sephiroth's eyes. "Don't kill them yet, I want to see some spells!" The man - the maniac - says, using still sheathed Masamune to push the monsters back.

"You know, as much as I appreciate your scientific curiosity, these things can actually do some damage in bigger groups, you know!" Angeal calls to him.

"Yeah, yeah," Sephiroth answers, flippantly. "So what do we need to do to make them cast spells?"

One of the Razor Weeds answers for him - by casting a Magic Hammer on Sephiroth. Which, Angeal is pretty sure, Sephiroth just lets it happen! Thankfully it's not a physical attack - Magic Hammer hits you in the MP - though, looking at Sephiroth's reaction…

"Oh, you little Qi-stealing bastard," Sephiroth says, and that's that for the Razor Weeds.

"... Uh," Angeal says, while the Razor Weeds fall over, mowed down like so much grass, and Sephiroth stands over them looking very hurt and disappointed. Angeal clears his throat, trying to bite back a smile. "So. What did we learn?"

Sephiroth rubs at his stomach, and gives him a flat look. "Yeah, haha, rub it in," he mutters and then, "Oh, hey, they left the remains behind!"

"... Most things do when you kill them, yes," Angeal agrees and looks at him interestedly. "So, you remember Mako monsters?"

Sephiroth is crouching again, examining the dead Razor Weeds. "Mm?" 

"Monsters that converge around Mako concentrations," Angeal explains, hoisting Buster Sword back to his back. "You… don't remember?"

"Uh. I remember that some things just sort of… disperse instead of leaving anything physical?" Sephiroth asks, sounding rather hopeful. "Is that a thing, or…?"

"It's a thing - Mako monsters. They're attracted to Mako, they are common around reactors and natural Mako pools - so people call them Mako monsters," Angeal explains. "The slums under Midgar are full of them. They're kind of like more physical ghosts, I think."

"... Huh," Sephiroth hums, and pokes at the dead Razor Weeds. "So monsters around here…?"

"Mostly physical," Angeal agrees. "I think there are some natural Mako springs around here, so there might be Mako monsters too… but I haven't seen any personally."

"Hmmm," Sephiroth hums and stands up. "That is fascinating."

"It sure is," Angeal laughs, because it really isn't, not to him, but Sephiroth has always been a bit weird. "Shall we continue? There's many more monsters to see."

"Yes, let's."

"... And get hit by," Angeal adds and looks at Sephiroth. "Actually, are you going to let all of them get a hit in? Because if you are, I'd like to know ahead of time, just in case I need to have a Remedy in hand."

"I'm not going to let myself get hit again," Sephiroth says, primly. "I wouldn't have, if I realised what it was going to do."

"... Okay. Good." Angeal nods. "There are better ways to figure out your opponents' skillsets, anyway. Or you can just let them do their thing but get out of the way before it hits."

"Right, of course, that's something you can do," Sephiroth says, sheepish, and clears his throat. "I knew that."

Angeal gets a Remedy out, just in case.

-

SY, thinking FF7: ... Oh right, turn based combat isn't actually a thing.

[propertyofwhitney67]

Shout out to @propertyofkylar for giving me the idea to do this

Li's from most to least likely to be a communist >:)

Sydney, Robin, Whitney, Alex, Eden, Avery

Kylar depends on PCs political leaning

Whitney just wants chaos and to take down the rich

Kylar only wants what his love wants

Robin is on the fence about it but would become a communist

Sydney is a full believer and would kill for the cause

Alex only cares if it affects him

Avery is the biggest capitalist pig, also a union buster

Eden doesn't give a fuck, he lives in the woods

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads CH5 (Homelander x OC)

chapter five: little spider

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: don't be the odd one out, bug boy. time to meet the family

Should one find it comforting to approach the room in which their new coworkers reside and hear heavy bickering from beyond the door?  In a way, Benjamin does.  Despite the annoyance barely disguised on Stillwell’s face, the bug finds it nothing but reassuring that his teammates show no care for strict decorum.

Here he thought the new suit being firmly planted partway up his ass was to remind him to keep clenched and at attention.

There’s no doubt of who’s who when that sliding door parts.

“I’m just saying, a movie about freeing animals from an aquarium isn’t that cool of a concept.” A-Train says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Oh, and baby track star is?”  Counters The Deep as he leans over his side of the V shaped table.

“I’m just saying mine was a box office buster and yours flopped,” the speedster returns with a scoff. “Like a fish.”

“Hey, fuck you man!  At least my movies are about real problems!”

It takes but a simple clearing of the throat and a look not unlike a disappointed teacher arriving to find her class has devolved into chaos to get the two men to cease their bickering altogether.

“Where is Homelander?”  Stillwell asks, sighing in exasperation as her question is either answered by shrugs or flat out ignored.

The team exchanges uncertain glances.  Even Benjamin wonders where he is.  Given how the man in question stalked him mercilessly, he’d think Homelander wouldn’t miss this for the world.  There was satisfaction to be had in this, so just where in the world is he?

Judging by the look on Stillwell’s face, getting Homelander to follow directions was… perhaps a little difficult.

“Well, we can just continue without him.  Everyone,” she gestures to Ben, “this is, as you’re all well aware, Spider-Man.  Consider this your first formal meeting.  Play nice, behave yourselves, and absolutely no hazing the new guy.”

“Yes ma’am,” The Deep responds, which earns him a look.

“Hi, everyone.” Ben waves.  Meeting new people was never quite his forte either.  What was he really even supposed to do, give a speech? Thank them?  Absolutely not.

“We don’t haze anyone here, right gang?”  Chirps that over the top boy scout voice, suddenly appearing as if from thin air.  In the doorway stands Homelander, leather gloves held aloft in his hands and a smile fit to rival the sun beaming to greet the room. His eyes flit to Benjamin, giving him a full look up and down.  “Madelyn, I’m wounded.  You did introductions without me?  Sheesh.” 

“If you’d show up on time, you could be included in the fun.” She snaps back.

Ben knew a history when he saw it, and the two reeked of one.  Homelander, with a huffed laugh and roll of his eyes, saunters past her and makes his way to the head of the table.  The bug bites back a smile when that same swish of the cape from the other night is performed once again for Homelander to sit.

Bet that gets annoying.

“Good luck,” Stillwell whispers before her clicking heels echo down the hall and the door seals.

Yeah, just leave me to fend for myself…

“Well, Spider-Man, take a seat…”  Homelander goads with a gesture to the chair to his right.

That close to him?  Shouldn’t someone else–

“No need to wait for an invitation, bug boy.  Sit.”  The way he watches Ben approach sends a shiver down the bug’s spine.  There was something different in his gaze, something… unknown.  The initial up and down look Homelander had given him seemed only like he was checking out the new suit, but now..?  Benjamin takes his seat cautiously.

His focus snaps away from the bug suddenly. “All right everyone, you know the drill! How'd we do this week? Who’d we save? How are our numbers?”

A-Train and The Deep both begin rattling off their figures, with the latter giving far more enthusiasm.  A-Train’s latest movie, Training with A-Train, was a box office success.  The Deep’s recent sea creature activism campaign raked in a whopping twenty million in donations alone.

Maeve gives some spiel about toy sales with a clear lack of enthusiasm. Then comes Starlight, who mentions having stopped a mugging on her morning walk in the park.

Noir simply nods.

In the cross chatter, Ben analyzes each of their profiles on the HUD in his lenses.  He decides knowing as much about them is best and an excellent opportunity to play with his new tool.  He finds nothing terribly unexpected.  Schooling records, restrictions and limitations, medical information– which he’s surprised is so freely available,  and their regular names.

Reginald Franklin.  Kevin Moscowitz.  Margaret Shaw.  Annie January.

He tries to sneak a peek at Noir, but–

“How about you, Spider-Man?”  Homelander interrupts with a smug grin, leaning forward as if to show how utterly invested he is.  

Of course, Ben wouldn’t have any numbers to boast, no merchandise sales, no product contracts.  It’s all a way to single him out and make him look lesser– on his very first day, no less.  But Benjamin had something. 

“Well, uhm… last night I stopped a couple guys holding up a bodega over in Harlem, and some dudes trying to boost a car a few blocks over.  Oh!  And the day before that, I helped an old lady cross a busy street with her groceries since no one thought to help her out, y’know– I mean, I basically ended up carrying everything home for her, but she bought me a churro so… that was cool.”

Homelander stares at him with an arched brow and a look of mild amusement.

“Oh, I also got some guy from a car accident to the hospital faster than the ambulance could.  Rush hour traffic and all.” 

Behind the mask, Ben chews his lower lip between his canines.  He imagines Homelander didn’t expect him to have something to contribute, let alone something that took up more than a brief second.

Homelander’s eye twitches and he cracks a smile that’s all too fake.  “Wow,” he scoffs.  “Quite the full plate you’ve got there, helping all the old gals out.  Anyway…”

Once the attention is away, Ben goes back to his reading.  He decides to find info on Noir another day as looking over at him for any extended period of time would seem a little awkward, especially given their proximity.  Homelander, though?  It made sense that he should be staring at him.  All eyes on the speaker, right?

The team captain paces in front of the windows, hands behind his back as he laments that The Seven should be doing more, not just looking pretty and selling bullshit.  While he rambles about their god-given power, Ben tries over and over again to access Homelander’s information.

Everything on that file that wasn’t public knowledge was either redacted or nonexistent.  A censored first name, no last name.  No hometown, no education, no medical information.  No age, no birthday… Homelander was a ghost in Vought’s own system.

Which, of course, makes the bug all the more curious of his new boss.  Thus far the HUD hadn’t blocked him from accessing anyone else’s information, so why start now?  Hell, the real question to ask is why Vought would even give him a tool like this.  Did they want him to be able to just scrounge up any kind of information on anyone he wants at any given moment?  It seems a little… odd to simply hand something this powerful over to the new guy.

Of course, with Benjamin being who he is as a person, he’s determined to crack his way past whatever restrictions are preventing him from learning more.  Access to the full system was now a must, but he’d have to wait.  It wouldn’t do well to be caught causing trouble after just being hired.  

Especially not when his consequences were so clearly laid out by the star-spangled supe himself.

“Alright, everyone.  That’ll do it.  Get out there and make me proud!”  Homelander says with an all too forced smile before immediately pointing to Ben.  “Not you, though.  I want a word first.”

The bug wasn’t sure if it was the fact it was Homelander making him stay or the nervous side-eyed looks the rest of the team gave him that made his stomach practically do flips.  

He gulps when the sliding doors seal.

“So, bug boy.  What do you know, if anything at all, about what happened to Translucent?”  Homelander asks as he saunters over, hands behind his back.  His gaze pierces so cleanly through the mask that it’s almost sickening that he has the power to look clear through Ben’s only line of defense.  

“Uhm… I mean, not more than what’s out there already.  Didn’t he get hurt on some mission and he’s–”

“No,” Homelander says flatly.  “Nope, he’s dead.  No mission, that’s just some corporate bullshit Vought made up to explain the open seat while they scramble to unfuck everything.”  He turns on his heel, beckoning Benjamin with a gesture of two fingers.  “Come.”

The elevator ride down is tense and silent.  Benjamin resists the urge to look over at his new boss.  He’s not sure why; it’s not like looking at Homelander was a crime.  Would he follow through with that threat simply because the bug peeked over at him?  Did he know about the HUD?  Would he be pissed about it if he didn’t?

Questions built upon questions until the soft dinging sound announced their arrival to the basement that Benjamin didn’t even know existed.

Homelander saunters out, cape swaying with every step toward what appears to be a morgue.  He continues on, passing workers in lab coats until he stops before a glass window overlooking a separate room full of more staff.  On the table inside lays nothing– or so Benjamin thinks until a woman seemingly picks up a piece of that nothing and drops it into a plastic biohazard bag that sags with weight.

“That’s Translucent, right there.” Homelander announces, tapping his fingertip against the glass.  He stares at Benjamin intently.  “See the box in there by the corner?”

Ben cranes his neck, but he finds it, nodding.

“Made of fuckin’ zinc.  Only thing in the world I can’t see through.  So, not only do we have someone smart enough to kill a supe, they know how to fuck with us, too.”  With a loud sigh and a roll of his eyes, Homelander beckons Benjamin to follow him to a quiet, empty room.

“Now, of all of us, you’re the most active in this rat-fuck infested shit-hole of a city.  I want you out there with your eyes and ears open for anything,” he accentuates his words with a pointed finger. “When you find something, you come to me. Not Stillwell, not those morons in analytics.  Me. D’you understand?”

“I– yeah.  Yeah, gotcha.”

Homelander smiles, staring clear through the mask to read the bug’s expression.  A lingering silence tenses the moment before Homelander tilts his head to the side and inches closer, coming all but toe to toe with the bug.

“You…” he begins, voice low and a smile creeping onto his face more and more by the second to reveal those sharp teeth.  He pats Benjamin’s left shoulder and grips it– not too tight, but just tight enough.

The web-head stands firm, despite how his legs tremble and anxiety stirs in the pit of his gut.  In a flash, the mask is all but ripped off of his head, jostling him forward and causing him to plant his hands on Homelander’s chest to still himself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck–

“There it is,” Homelander lilts.  “That look in your eye.  God, I love it.”

Ben understood without it even being said.  Homelander likes making him feel vulnerable.  He likes how Benjamin backs down the minute the mirage of Spider-Man is taken from him.  How, even if he has it nonetheless, Homelander is the exception.

It certainly isn’t hard to see through the act of removing his mask.

Ben relocates a hand to grip Homelander’s wrist– the one belonging to the hand that holds his mask aloft.

Defiance.

At least what little he can muster, only to have his own wrist snatched and held in a grip stronger than anything he could ever hope to break.

“Ooh,” Homelander purrs, grin growing wider.  “I think you and I are gonna have tons of fun working together.”  He stares into Benjamin’s eyes, carnage incarnate within the oceans of his own.  Homelander leans in closer, almost as if he were a lover going in for a kiss, but he stops short of such an act to flit his gaze up and down the bug’s body.

Benjamin’s heart pounds within his chest, and he gulps thickly at what words follow, hating the way his body reacts to them– or maybe it was the fucking proximity, the tone, the feeling of Homelander’s breath against his skin, he doesn’t fucking know. There's an unwanted tingle of arousal that has him ready to jump out of his skin with pure horror. 

What– why– Oh god...

“You’re my little spider now.”