#I feel like a child for laughing this much

[cregansdingdong]

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, outdoor sex(does a tent still count as outdoor?), swearing, Cregan has a breeding kink, semi-public?, slight brat taming, classic doggy style, ass slapping, f!receiving oral, Cregan’s gonna eat her out from the back which is truly the highlight here; so. this has been festering in my drafts for well over two months. Good luck. poison ivy by hemi moore

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Are you going to explain yourself or do I have to ask why you’re speaking to me that way in front of my men?”

“In what way?” She murmurs, snappily adjusting the furs beneath her, staring above at the roof of their tent. Cregan watched in partial disbelief—and partial irritation—at the sight of his wife going to bed despite their disagreement. It wasn’t often that they argued, and especially not on account of her publicly disrespecting him. The Hunt was meant to celebrate the unity of the North, among other things, and yet she’d been cold to him most of the late afternoon and early evening. They were meant to be setting an example. He couldn’t understand what he’d done to agitate her in the first place. “I’m not going to play this game with you.” Cregan huffs, setting down his cloak on the back of a chair. “Why have you been so cross with me today of all days?”

“I haven’t.” She counters smartly, tone filled with an attitude he wanted nothing more than to fuck out of her. “You’re being childish.” He grunts right back, earning a glare from his cross little wife. If he hadn’t been so ticked off, he might’ve actually laughed at the way her eyes narrowed in his direction—like a pup about to pounce. “I’m not a child.” She snaps, turning to adjust her pillow as he removes his boots. He snorts at that. “You’re behaving like one. Now are you going to resume your wifely duties and speak to me or must I tuck you in and read you a story?” He could’ve done without the mocking, but both their tempers had risen by that point, overspilling and soaking their marriage bed like a tempest.

She ignored him completely, reaching to blow out the candle at her bedside, rolling over to face the wall of the tent, linens and furs pulled up to her chin. As much as he was irritated with her refusal to communicate, he wasn’t going to sulk until she decided to give him the mercy of her words. Cregan continued to undress down to his small clothes, joining her under the covers despite their mutual fuming. It was an agreement they’d reached at the beginning of their marriage: angry or not, their bed was shared. Non-negotiable. He was especially thankful for that condition now—the ground did not look very comfortable if she’d decided to banish him like a hound. He faced her back, arm thrown haphazardly over her middle. Admittedly, he needed to feel her there to get a proper night’s rest. She allowed it.

The tension had seeped into their tent, clearly choosing to remain even with the terms of bedtime they’d set in place. She was still angry, he was still puzzled. Even with her back against him, Cregan could still sense her irritation. It hung in the air like a dark cloud, refusing to disperse. He’d never thought being married would sometimes feel like a storm in his own home. But the Wolf of the North was not a man to back down from a challenge. And it was becoming clear to him that his wife wouldn’t talk unless he spoke first. So he does. "You can’t keep behaving this way,” He starts, his voice gravelly but low. There's about a minute of tense silence between them before her attitude-filled reply breaks the quiet of their tent. “And why not?”

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he shifts in the bed, arm still loosely wrapped around her waist. “Firstly you’re my wife. Secondly, the hunt was meant to celebrate the North. And thirdly…” His voice trails off, his jaw clenching. He’d already said too much for his liking. Cregan was never one to give too much away, and giving an explanation for his emotions had never been a strength of his. But with her…there was a part that he couldn’t help but be honest with her. She wouldn't judge him even on his worst days. “Because I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.” His words were heavy with sincerity, which only irritated him more. The Wolf of the North was not supposed to feel so exposed to his little dragon wife’s moods.

For a moment, he thinks he's gotten through to his stubborn wife. "...we can discuss it tomorrow. I want to sleep." She grumbles into the dark. “You want to ignore it tomorrow, you mean,” He retorts, arm still refusing to remove itself from her waist despite the rejection. Cregan lets the argument drop for now, however. But only because he can tell for himself that she's not going to give way to his stubborn badgering that night. He grunts in annoyance, shifting so that his chin rests on her shoulder. “Unbelievable.” He mutters to himself. Angry or not, though, they were going to cuddle. It’s the smell of her hair that pulls him into a steady rest, his chest pressing against her back, his arm still slung over her middle like a claim. For some reason, even in his sleep, he still needs to feel her near him; a possession of the body and mind. The two of them adjust a little, the usual marital squirming in order to get comfortable. Peace even in the chaos of their argument.

On the other hand, his wife could not find sleep even if she had a map. With him snoring lightly behind her—something that always put her to sleep—both irritation and guilt chewed away at her reserve, leaving her restless. It persists. An hour passes, then two, and still, Lady Stark was wide awake, bothered and guilty. The snoring continues through the night, the Northern Lord blissfully unaware of her warring emotions. But even unconscious, he could sense the battle for sleep. The Wolf of the North stirred beside her, his arm now fully thrown over her torso, hand resting against her ribs. Cregan was in no way a light sleeper, but as her frustration grew, he seemed to be silently disturbed from his sleep. His eyes flutter open with a tired hum, his chin buried in the warmth of his wife still. He’s quiet for a few long moments before mumbling in a groggy voice, thick and raspy. “You’re still awake.”

“I can't sleep.” She mutters. It's clear that the heat of their argument had ceased to a smolder in the while she had reflected into the dark. "Probably because I'm still upset." She sighs. "And I'm a little cold...and..” As she speaks, his initial tiredness starts to clear. “And?” He prompts, shifting again to lift his head in the slightest.  His hand rubs against her stomach, trying to share any semblance of his warmth with her. “...I feel…worked up. I'm annoyed but…roused.” It's laced with a begrudging admittance and Cregan opens his eyes in disbelief, suddenly more awake at her mumbled words. A rush of heat rolls through his body, his heart skipping a beat. It always does. The thought alone never failed to stop him in his tracks. His hand stills against her stomach for a moment, considering how to respond. “Well, my love, it sounds like you've had enough of keeping your anger a secret. You can tell me no matter what. Even if it's childish and silly. I'm your husband.”

"You didn't eat breakfast with me this morning." She blurts, finally revealing what had made her so irritated all day. "You gave me a kiss and then you just ran off to eat with Torrhen Manderly. Didn't even invite me.” He pauses in his caresses, a low hum leaving his chest. “That’s what caused your little temper tantrum?” He murmurs, tone still somewhat drowsy but now a bit exasperated. Affectionately, of course. He can’t fight the small smile that’s formed on his lips. A temper tantrum over him eating with the second son of the Lord of White Harbor and not inviting his sweet wife. It was such a small thing, but for some reason, it makes his chest feel tight. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in a morning meeting with House Manderly,” he mumbles in response, pulling her closer, his hand once again tracing patterns across her waist.

"I'm not, but I'm interested in sitting with you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch even more at that. A quiet huff of a chuckle leaves his lips, and he moves his chin to rest on her shoulder, warm breath lightly fanning on her jaw. “So I’m to invite you to every little meeting I have now?” He murmurs, teasing and still somehow half-drowsy. There's a very light dusting of indignation in her tone as she answers. "...not all of them, I'd be bored to death." She huffs. "But today was about unity. I didn't feel very unified with you.” He grumbles under his breath in mild disagreement. The Hunt wasn’t all about unity, it was about celebration. Of the North and of the Starks. Unity amongst the Northmen was an important facet of the feast, but it was not the entire point. But he didn’t want to argue about that, especially not when she was still so irritable with him. “You should’ve just come by and sat yourself down then. Torrhen would've liked your company, and of course I had no problems with having my beautiful wife beside me.”

"And intrude? That's embarrassing." He could hear her pout from a mile out, at least. Cregan’s chest vibrates against her back with a low laugh. “And throwing a little fit all day isn’t embarrassing?” He muses, nipping at her shoulder. "...it's more dignified than begging.” She grumbles. One of his hands suddenly moves from her stomach and up to her jaw. In almost an instant, his wife was putty in his grasp once more. He turns her head, pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth, his tongue suddenly swiping over the skin—almost like he needed a taste of her. A low, gravelly murmur leaves his chest. “There’s no part of you that has to beg for my attention. But I’m not sure it’s dignified to pout all day over me having a morning meeting, my sweet Lady Wife.”

Before she could say something smart in return, Cregan dips his face into her neck, unable to stop himself from taking a greedy bite. She makes a small noise from the back of her throat—a mewl that sends the sleep far, far away from his thoughts. He smiles against her skin when he feels her tilt her head for more. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He teases, taking advantage of her movement to press another open-mouthed kiss against her neck. “Pouting all day for my attention, and here you are, melting at it now.” In the quiet of the tent, he can hear the low, shaky exhale release past her lips. “I'm sorry…for being impolite to you with your men present.”

“An apology?” His voice holds his amusement, and he continues his trail of kisses up her neck, until his lips are hovering right next to her ear. “Now that is a new one. I’m sure some snow from beyond the Wall will start falling within the hour if you’re apologizing to me. Not something you make a habit of doing, my sweet wife.” He felt her smile just a little, and he mentally counted down for whatever joke she was about to tell him. “At this rate, I'm sure Winter is fleeing.” His nose brushes up against the skin behind her ear, and he lets out a barely stifled laugh. “That’s blasphemous to say in the North…but funny.” He pushes himself up on his forearms above her, looking down, eyes suddenly filled with barely contained heat—as was his usual disposition. "Still annoyed and roused?”

"Not annoyed. Just worked up." She murmurs, tracing the outline of his shoulders in the dark. He hums in acknowledgment, stomach warming at her confirmation. “You want me to tire you out? Make up for this morning?” His voice is still thick and gravelly, a testament of his deep sleep and the hunger that now had him captivated. Her response came out in a quiet ‘mmhm’, reaching for him through the dark. In one swift movement, Cregan flips her onto her stomach, chuckling at the noise of surprise she releases. Furs and linens thrown back, his hands glide over the skin of her thighs, gently raising the hem of her delicate shift. It was a slow, deliberate action, and he didn’t need to see her face to know how much she was anticipating his touch. As her nightgown rose over the curve of her ass, he could feel the goosebumps forming beneath his palms. “Arse up, face down.”

She shivered at the command. Simple, yet drowning her in want. How could she ever deny her Wolf of the North? With a near-silent grunt of effort, she raises herself on her knees, lowering her upper-half down onto the pillows. The hem of her shift pools at her mid back, exposing herself to her husband just the way he loved it. “Perfect.” He murmurs, his hands gripping the flesh of her ass like he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of her. “Look at you. Fighting me all day, and yet here you are. All but begging for me to unspool you. I should make you beg, but you’re quite lucky I don’t have the patience, wife.” Just as she thinks she’s going to feel his hot tongue, a hand comes barreling down on her rear, a loud, searing spank that was probably heard from the next tent over. Her gasp was barely stifled into the pillow.

His tongue dipped slowly between her folds, a measured pace that nearly made her lose her breath. He always knew how she wanted it. Back and forth, savoring her like her juicy cunt was his last meal in the living world. With every languid stroke forward, the tip of his tongue nudged her twitching pearl in a toe-curling rhythm. Her noises only urged him on further. He slurped up her slick like a man starved, wordlessly encouraging her movements as she rocked back against his tongue. Eyes shut, face contorted in bliss, he could only picture what she looked like in his mind’s eye. He was too preoccupied with his meal to bother to light any candles. Not that he needed them, anyway. He knew her body as if they shared a soul. His wife was unable to piece together a single word, reduced to a puddle of whines and squirms.

“All day.” He reiterates. “Talking back to me. I accept your apology, but that does not mean you’re entirely free of the consequences, pup.” And then, another. Harder than the last, and most certainly stinging. Another. Another. He was merciful enough to distribute his spanks evenly, and with every bloom of hot pain, she felt herself grow more and more eager for a release. “Please–” She mewled, on the verge of patheticism. A sixth sear spreads over her left asscheek. The rest of her plea remains locked in her throat. “I’ve had enough of your pretty mouth speaking against me.” He murmurs into the dark, hands massaging the hot skin with an air of tenderness. “Understand?” Head spinning with lust, she can barely form a coherent word. “..Y-yes.” That seemed to moderately satisfy him, and Cregan finally leaned his face down, spreading her for his pleasure.

“I’ll never tire of your sweet taste.” He rumbled against her, fingers digging into the supple flesh of her ass like he was afraid she’d run off. Not that she ever would, but the feeling of her in his hands was grounding—a reminder of who he was and where he was between every dive of his tongue. He was drowning in the tang of her. Every lap of his tongue drove her an inch closer to her peak. “Cregan—Cregan, I can’t.” She cried, on the verge of desperation. If he’d had her sitting on his face instead, it would’ve been much easier to keep her from wiggling, but she couldn’t help herself not to writhe against his mouth and nose. And frankly, he was too hungry to separate himself from her for even a moment in order to change position. No. Not even a snippet of patience. He needed her to release.

“Yes, you can.” Cregan grunts against her soaked cunt, although it was less than coherent—something about the idea of getting caught made him eager to please. With all the pretty noises she was making for him, he couldn’t bring himself to attempt to quiet her. Not that it mattered. He doubted anyone would dare interrupt the Lord Paramount of the North and his Lady wife. And yet, someone walking by? Hearing the private way she cried out for her husband? Thrilling in every sense of the word. The thought alone made his blood pump, and his teeth lightly nip at her sweet pearl. More like a graze, really, but her reaction seemed otherwise. She squeals into her pillow, a throaty, rabid sound that nearly makes him peak. She was coming. And he had the absolute pleasure of lapping up all her delicious juices right from the source.

He couldn't make himself wait any longer after that. Cregan pawed at his small clothes until he was entirely bare behind her, feeling his beautiful wife tremble as he aligned his twitching cock. There was no other sensation in the living world that mattered to him more than the way her walls stretched to accommodate his size. Absolute perfection. Nothing but bliss. A noise of pleasure rumbled from his throat as he sunk into her soaked cunt. Inch by murderous inch, the Wolf of the North felt his sense of reality fade into the background. Much like an animal focused on dragging their kill home, Cregan was fixated on drowning himself inside her to the hilt. No matter how many times he'd experienced that exact sensation, he would never tire of his perfect Lady wife. Not even if she'd throw a tantrum every day for the duration of their marriage—so long as he got to kiss her goodmorning and fuck her goodnight.

“There we go…” He grunts, laying himself over her back as he eased his tip deep inside. Pulling out and back again was a torturous, toe-curling feeling, but the little mewls she whined into the pillows made it worth every teasing drag of his hips. “This is how it should be.” Cregan pants, his nose pressed against the back of her neck. “You, enjoying your fulfilled cravings, and me, balls-deep inside my woman. I hate fighting with you—but I love fucking that attitude right out.” Her thighs trembled as he rutted into her ass, an incessant, fervent type of rhythm that only came out when she truly frustrated him. And she certainly had; all day long, in fact. But his vixen of a wife couldn't bring herself to regret a thing. She knew what she was going to do in the next Great Hunt.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[rue-isabelle]

Aphrodite of Formula 1

Yn had never imagined working as Toto’s personal assistant would put her in the spotlight. Her days were filled with managing schedules, coordinating meetings, and ensuring the smooth running of the Mercedes team. She loved her job—it was busy yet calm, a perfect balance for her. But what she didn’t realize was how much her presence had captivated the entire Formula 1 paddock.

She was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t just her looks. Yn was gentle, intelligent, and kindhearted, with an easygoing demeanor that made her magnetic to everyone she met. Her ability to handle pressure while keeping a warm smile never went unnoticed—especially by the drivers.

---

Charles and Alexandra

Charles leaned against the wall of the Mercedes hospitality, watching Yn chat animatedly with Toto. His lips curved into a soft smile as he took in her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with genuine interest in every conversation.

Alexandra stood nearby, fuming. “I don’t get it,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s that?” Charles asked, not looking at her.

Alexandra crossed her arms. “What’s so special about her? She’s just… Toto’s assistant.”

Charles finally turned to face her, his smile gone. “Don’t talk about Yn like that.” His tone was sharp, protective.

Alexandra blinked in surprise. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just saying—”

“She’s kind, she’s smart, and she doesn’t need to try. She’s perfect just the way she is. She isnt.tge one.getting jealous about every tiny thing. And to be honest, she is a better person than you will ever be. At least she doesn't use me for fame and my name. She would never be a gold digger and has never done anything to you. You are the one acting fragile and shy, while we both know you are just jealous. Yn has always been a sweetheart to you and i wont let you talk liek that to her.” Charles said firmly.

Alexandra felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She had tried everything to mimic Yn’s effortless grace, from her style to her mannerisms, but it only made her feel more inadequate. The problem was that she didn't have Yn big heart and good soul.

Charles sighed and walked away, disappointed to call her his girlfriend, leaving Alexandra standing there, humiliated. Her cheeks were a deep shade of red. Some people nearby were giving her dirty looks. She glanced back at Yn, who was now walking towards the drivers’ paddock, blissfully unaware of the tension she had caused.

---

Carlos and Rebecca

Rebecca wasn’t blind. She could see the way Carlos’s eyes followed Yn every time she entered the room. He would light up like a kid in a candy store, his usually suave demeanor crumbling into something boyish and endearing. Sometimes, he would even beg his cousin to take a picture of Yn, just so he could see her every day. She was his wallpaper on his phone after all.

“Carlos,” Rebecca said one evening as they sat in their hotel room.

“Hmm?” he murmured distractedly, scrolling through his phone, looking at Yn Instagram. Oh, how he wished to be there right now. He was the one sending her flowers every week, paying her rent, and sending her random gifts.

“You’re in love with Yn, aren’t you?”

Carlos froze, his thumb hovering over the screen. “What? No! I mean… she’s great, but—”

Rebecca laughed softly, cutting him off. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Carlos looked at her, guilt written all over his face. “Rebecca, I—”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. Yn is… amazing.” Her voice softened as she spoke.

Rebecca’s thoughts drifted for a moment, imagining herself with Yn, walking down an aisle, just the two of them in some intimate, fairy-tale wedding. She could see it in front of her, their beach house in Malibu. They would go shopping every day, she would dress Yn in the finest clothes. She could imagine Yn pregnant, carrying their child. She would kiss her breathless, lead her into their bedroom and...

She snapped back to reality and cleared her throat. “I’m not mad. I just wish…”

“Wish what?” Carlos asked cautiously.

Rebecca didn’t answer. Instead, she turned away, her mind swirling with thoughts of Yn’s gentle smile. Oh, how she wished to finally leave Carlos. She played often with the thought about breaking up with Carlos and running away. Oh, what a beautiful dream, a life without Carlos obsession over Yn, while she obsesses over her.

---

Max and Kelly

Max was leaning against the Red Bull garage, trying—and failing—to look casual as Yn walked by. Kelly noticed the way his entire demeanor changed when Yn was around. It was infuriating.

“Max,” Kelly said sharply.

He tore his gaze away from Yn and looked at Kelly. “What?”

“You’re staring at her again.”

Max frowned. “I wasn’t—”

“You were.” Kelly’s voice was bitter. “You act like she’s the only person in the world when she’s here.”

“She’s nice,” Max said defensively. “And she works hard. What’s wrong with that?”

Kelly scoffed. “You’re obsessed with her. Everyone is.”

Max didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked back towards Yn, who was now chatting with George and Oscar. “It’s not like she’s trying to get anyone’s attention. That’s what makes her… different.”

Better, was what he was thinking. There were so many moments where Max knew Kelly was just using him for his fame and that he could be a father to Penelope. He told everyone the age difference didn't matter, but it did. He felt like he was in a relationship with his own mother.

Kelly’s jealousy bubbled over, but she bit her tongue, knowing any outburst would only make Max more defensive. Oh, how she wanted that little disease called Yn to vanish forever from her life.

---

Oscar and Lily

Oscar was shy by nature, and his crush on Yn only amplified it. He could barely string a sentence together when she was around, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red whenever she smiled at him.

“You should talk to her,” Lily said encouragingly.

Oscar shook his head furiously. “I can’t. What would I even say?”

“Anything! Just be yourself,” Lily said with a laugh. “She’d probably find it adorable.”

Oscar groaned. “Lily, she’s way out of my league.”

“Everyone feels that way about her,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “But she doesn’t act like it. That’s why everyone loves her. Including me, by the way.”

Oscar’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Lily grinned. “What? I can’t appreciate Yn too?”

---

George and Carmen

Carmen adored Yn like a little sister. She often invited her to lunch, bought her small gifts, and even shared personal stories about her relationship with George.

“She’s like family,” Carmen said one evening as she and George prepared for a gala.

George forced a smile, adjusting his tie in the mirror. “Yeah… family.”

Carmen didn’t notice the wistful look in his eyes or the way he always seemed to find excuses to spend more time with Yn. The way he always had to walk up those stairs behind her, to make sure she didn't trip (and to admire her ass). Or his need to always show her how to do every training workout right (imaging her sweaty skin underneath his rough palm for a different scenario)

“You should invite Yn to the gala,” Carmen suggested. “I think she’d enjoy it.”

George’s heart skipped a beat. “You think so?”

“Of course! I’ll text her now,” Carmen said cheerfully. Oh, how excited she was to see her baby again. Her beautiful innocent angle.

George nodded, hiding the turmoil inside. He loved Carmen deeply, but Yn… Yn had a way of making the world seem brighter.

---

Pierre and Kika

Kika and Pierre didn’t hide their admiration for Yn. They often joked about being in a polyamorous relationship with her, though there was a hint of seriousness in their laughter.

“She’s perfect,” Kika said one evening as they lounged in their hotel room.

Pierre grinned. “I know. But don’t get any ideas—she’s mine.”

Kika raised an eyebrow. “Yours? I don’t think so. If anything, she’d pick me.” Deep down, she wished Yn would pick them over anything.

Pierre laughed, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.” Hoping, to one day call this woman their wife.

Despite their playful rivalry, they both knew Yn was oblivious to their feelings—and to everyone else’s, for that matter.

They didn't need to talk about the things they imagined doing with her. If it could just be easier.

---

Yn hummed to herself as she sorted through some paperwork in Toto’s office. She loved the quiet moments when she could focus on her tasks, unaware of the chaos she caused outside her bubble.

When Toto walked in, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re always so calm. It’s impressive, considering how much you have to deal with.”

Yn smiled. “I like keeping busy. It makes the day go by faster.”

Toto chuckled. “You’re something else, Yn. Don’t ever change.”

She didn’t notice the knowing look Toto gave her or the way the drivers seemed to hover outside the door, hoping for a chance to talk to her. To Yn, it was just another day at work—a job she genuinely loved, with people she genuinely cared about.

Little did she know, the entire grid worshipped her.

Part 2. Part 3

[thesecondhandwoman]

Can u do Vi x Reader. Where Vi was coming home from hanging out with her sister. She saw her girlfriend laying on their shared bed and she was holding Vi’s jacket cutely in her arms and she was cuddling with it with a cute face expression. Vi stared in awe and she said adorable. She came over and try to take it out of her hands but no use. So vi worker her up and she yawned cutely and saw her girlfriend and quickly grabbed Vi’s arm and hugged her and kissed her.

JACKET THEIF

Vi x f!reader

Summary: After a visit with Jinx and Ekko, Vi comes back home, expecting a big welcoming as always from you. But when she doesn’t, she remains confused, looking around and finding you cuddled up with her jacket.

Request: Anon 🤍

Vi trudged up the creaky staircase to her apartment, the worn steps groaning under her boots. The visit with Jinx and Ekko had been… eventful, as usual. Jinx was her usual chaotic self, and Ekko had been quick to remind her how overdue she was on catching up with other stuff the two have done. It was good to see them, but as much as Vi loved her family, especially after everything that has happened, nothing beats coming home to you after a long day.

Pushing the door open, Vi stepped inside and let it close behind her with a quiet click. She kicked off her boots and shrugged off the weight of the day.

“Babe?” she called, her raspy voice breaking the quiet.

No response.

Vi frowned. You were usually quick to greet her, a ball of energy running into her arms, peppering her face with kisses. She scanned the room, her eyes softening when she saw the faint glow from the bedroom.

Noting this, she padded quietly toward the door.

And there you were.

Curled up in a cocoon of blankets on the bed, you were the picture of peace. Your face was partially hidden by the thick folds of fabric, your expression serene as you slept. But what really made Vi stop in her tracks was the leather jacket clutched tightly in your arms.

Her leather jacket.

Vi’s heart melted on the spot. The sight of you cuddling her jacket like a child with a teddy bear, your face nuzzled into the worn material, sent a warmth through her chest that nothing else could.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re gonna drool on it,” she murmured under her breath, stepping closer.

The floor creaked faintly beneath her as she approached the bed. Carefully, Vi knelt down and reached for the jacket, her fingers brushing against your hands as she tried to ease it free.

But you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met hers, your entire face lit up.

“Vi!” you squealed, tossing the jacket aside in favor of launching yourself at her.

Vi let out a surprised laugh as you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her down onto the bed with you. She stumbled, but the sound of your laughter and the feel of your lips pressing excited kisses to her cheek made her forget everything else.

“You’re back!” you said, your voice muffled as you buried your face in her neck.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Vi chuckled, wrapping her arms around you. “But you’re supposed to be sleeping, not stealing my jacket, ya little thief.”

“It smells like you,” you mumbled, pouting slightly as you leaned back to look at her. “And I missed you.”

Vi’s grin softened, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you too, babe. But that’s no excuse to drool on my stuff.”

You gasped in mock outrage, lightly swatting her shoulder. “I don’t drool!”

Vi smirked. “Mm-hmm, sure you don’t.”

Before you could argue, she tackled you back onto the bed, her laughter mingling with yours as the two of you wrestled for a moment, the jacket forgotten on the floor.

When the laughter finally died down, you lay curled up in her arms, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“Welcome home,” you whispered sleepily.

Vi tightened her hold on you, her lips brushing against your hair. “Mm, glad to be home when you are in it...”

“Likewise, baby.” You cooed as you both tangled up in eachothers’ warmth, relaxing until you two drifted back asleep.

Note: Sorry that this is a bit short, it was kinda rushed, but I hope y’all like it!

[arisewanekosuki]

travelers helper AU where is the reason why S/O is oblivious to all the men liking her is because every single time she showed an interested in a hot guy. They turned out to be gay, so she’s convinced herself that all of the men are gay and possibly even dating each other. (Couples she thinks are real are Alhaitham x Kaveh Cyno x Tinari Zongli x Childe Kaeya x Venti Nuvilet x woirthslie ) and I watched their reactions to finding out that she thinks they’re all gay

Ok this idea is funny xD But to anyone who like those ships, pls don't take it as some kind of hate towards those ships or something. --------- The guys are devastated after learning you think that they are into... each other. All of them wondering where did they make a mistake? Kaveh found it ridiculous, him and Alhaitham?! He wondered if you think so because they live in the same house? But there are many people who are friends and share homes… You even invite all your friends to live in your Teapot!! He really couldn't understand from where this idea came from… Is it because they bicker so much? But it didn't make sense to him!! Kaveh was anxious… do you not see him as a man or something? He is overthinking this whole thing. At this point he is debating whenever to show you his plans of the house he wants to make for you both in future.

Alhaitham was more clam about it, analyzing from where this idea may come. It's not like he and Kaveh were affectionate to each other and he couldn't recal any moment that could make you think like that about them. He will state that, no, he is not interested in Kaveh in such way (or anyone else, both guys and girls, that are not you) And yet you still say "That's okay! I won't judge! I will support whoever you love!" At this point Alhaitham may confess his feeling to you but the problem is that there is always someone by your side…if not Aether then other guys. And the worst thing is Kaveh always appears too, making the misunderstanding even worse.

Cyno at first thought this is some kind of joke. But after seeing that you're not joking he was bewildered. Why would you think so? "You two sometimes look like parents of Collei" Parents? But when they were in Mondstadt he was sure you heard how he and Tighnari bickered who would be the 'older brother'… right? Cyno was silent. Trying to come up with something that will make you believe him that he is interested in you. Because whenever he would say that, you would be "ah Cyno! Please don't joke like that!" he would never joke about things like this... The General Mahamatra for now tries to avoid talking to Tighnari when you are close…

Tighnari only furrowed his brows. Him and Cyno? Big nope!! Just imagining that he would hear more jokes from Cyno if they were together already gives him a headache. The Forest Ranger was getting more and more irritated that you for some reason don't want to accept when he says that there is nothing between him and Cyno. So he started to approach this in different way. Thankfully Cyno already was avoiding him when you are close. So he can now start to be even bolder with his affections towards you. If you still refuse to believe that he is attracted to you, then you may expect to hear a confession soon.

Zhongli asked you if you can repeat yourself. Oh? Him and Childe together? In romantic relationship? Zhongli was thinking where this came from…Is it because he often uses Childe's mora to buy things?But that was only that… and that Childe often bothers him so they could spar. Ah. Maybe this was the reason, maybe you think that 'sparings' are something different. Humans are truly interesting. He will ask you why you think so, patiently listening to your explanation. He is amused by this.

Childe laughed, but after seeing you are not laughing he stopped and said "Wait...are you serious?" He will say that there is nothing between them, even says that he prefers girls (to hint that he likes you) but you responded with "It's okay! You don't have to hide it! I accept you and I'm sure your family will accept this as well!" You're cute…. but why don't you want to believe him?! Should he shower you with more gifts? It would be better to invite you for a date but with Aether being around it's not that easy….

Kaeya was amused, but he didn't expect that you will think that Venti is his boyfriend. One part of him wanted to joke about it but other part was worried that you will take it too seriously and he will lose his chances with you. The cavalry captain doesn't worry about it too much. He will simply tell you that you're wrong and he will continue showering you with affections.

Venti was a bit hurt by this. Were his love songs and poems dedicated to you not enough? Or maybe this is your way to tell him that you're not interested in him? He can't really understand this… he never was affectionate to anyone else like he is towards you. But after learning he is not the only one that you think is into guys, he felt relieved. At least you didn't think that he and that block head are into each other.

Neuvillette was confused by this. There are already many things that he can't understand about humans. But he was sure that you will realize that he is trying to court you… not the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide… After that for some days it was raining in Fontaine. He decided to tell Furina about it, hoping for some advice in this situation. But she only started to laugh. After she calmed down she promised to help him to clear this misunderstanding.

Wriothesley already knew how oblivious you are but he never expected that you might be this oblivious. He will say that there is nothing like this between him and the Iudex and if you still insist about that then well…if there will be a chance for you two to be alone you can expect him to kabedon you, making you look into his eyes and he won't let you go till you stop thinking that he is interested in anyone that is not you.

[faithshouseofchaos]

But I love them — Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Word count — 985

Fluff

Warnings — slightly suggestive towards the end this is mainly for a my girlies who are apart of the big boobs community

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in Charles’ apartment, the kind of day that begged for nothing more than lounging on the couch and ignoring the world. He was half-watching a football match, the sound of commentators filling the space as he absentmindedly scrolled on his phone. Beside him, Y/N was curled up, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a focused look on her face.

Out of nowhere, she sighed, set her phone down, and said casually, “I think I’m finally going to do it.”

Charles looked up, brow furrowing. “Do what?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “Get a breast reduction.”

It took him a moment to process the words. He blinked, sat up straighter, and turned to her with wide eyes. “Hold on. What now?”

Y/N finally looked at him, her expression calm but resolute. “I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I think it’s time. My back can’t take it anymore.”

Charles stared at her like she’d just suggested selling their firstborn child. “Your back? When did this become about your back?”

“Always,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Charles, you know this. I’ve been complaining for ages.”

He leaned back, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ve complained, sure, but I just thought it was, like, normal life complaining. Not surgery-level complaining!”

“Charles,” she said firmly, her tone laced with both patience and warning.

He sat up, his full attention now on her. “You’re seriously thinking about just… getting rid of them? Like, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“But…” He gestured dramatically at her chest. “You can’t just get rid of them! They’re—” He paused, grasping for the right word. “They’re iconic!”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting bringing this up while he was awake. “Charles. I’m in pain all the time. My shoulders have permanent dents from my bra straps, I can’t go running without strapping myself in like a gladiator, and every button-up shirt I own gapes open like it’s crying for help.”

“Okay,” he said, raising a hand to stop her. “But—”

“And bras?” she interrupted. “Do you know how much I spend on bras? A hundred bucks each, minimum. And they’re not even cute. They’re functional. Like, ‘industrial scaffolding’ functional.”

Charles blinked at her, his lips parting like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said weakly, “But… you look great in them.”

“Oh my god.” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “This is not about how I look, Charles. It’s about how I feel. And I feel like I’m carrying around a couple of bowling balls every day of my life.”

He frowned, leaning forward as if he could reason his way out of this. “But what about us?”

“What about us?”

“Our dynamic! The… the whole…” He gestured at her chest again, like it was a key player in their relationship. “You know, vibe.”

“Charles,” she said flatly. “They’re boobs.”

“Not just boobs,” he argued. “They’re your boobs. They’re a part of you. A part of us!”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” He stood up, pacing in front of the couch now. “Do you know how many people would kill for what you’ve got? And you’re just gonna… throw them away like an old sweater?”

“Okay, first of all, ew. And second of all, you’re being dramatic.”

He stopped pacing to point at her. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest. You’re about to break the hearts of an entire fanbase—”

“Your fanbase,” she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Charles, I’ve made up my mind. This isn’t about you, or your ‘fanbase,’ or even how I look. It’s about me being able to live my life without constant pain and discomfort.”

He deflated a little at that, sinking back onto the couch. “But what if you regret it?”

“I won’t.”

“But what if you do?” he pressed. “What if one day you wake up and think, ‘Wow, my life was so much better when Charles was worshiping the temple of—’”

She picked up a throw pillow and smacked him in the face with it. He caught it with a grin, but his eyes were still slightly pleading.

“Charles,” she said, softer now. “I appreciate that you love me exactly as I am. But this isn’t about you.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping backward on the couch. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m going to miss them. Like… a lot.”

“Noted,” she said dryly.

“Maybe I’ll throw a farewell party,” he added. “You know, invite some friends over. We’ll say our goodbyes properly.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me,” he said smugly, pulling her back onto the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Unfortunately.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N got up to grab a glass of water. Charles pulled out his phone and began typing into the search bar: “Can boobs grow back after surgery?”

She glanced back at him from the kitchen, catching the guilty look on his face.

“Charles!”

“What? I’m just… curious!”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her lips, drinking the water and setting the glass down on the counter as she walked back over to Charles.

“Hey!” Charles says as y/n snatches the phone out of Charles's hands her own hands cupped his face “It’ll be okay Charles. It’s not the end of the world baby, you know that right?” You ask.

“Of course I know that but I just love them so much,” Charles says, reaching up to cup her breast feeling the weight of them.

“Can I fuck them?” Charles asked out of nowhere.

“Charles!”

“What can’t blame me for asking” he says smiling holding his hands up defensively.

“You no what I don’t see why not”

[oddwalkerduckarts]

Grassland Romance AU: Winter Winds

Summary: You've been slowly falling in love with Sylus, a strange outsider who joined your tribe some time ago. You haven't been able to pluck up the courage to say anything. However, when you are caught alone in the fiercest blizzard anyone can remember, it might not be up to you anymore.

AO3

CW: AFAB reader, no use of y/n, pet names (sweetie, little huntress), blizzard, hypothermia, hunting, nude spooning, 90% fluff by volume, sexual themes (but no sex), not proofread, melodrama (god so much melodrama).

Word count: 8k

Notes: poor Luke and Kieran have to be dogs in this AU.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “how can lemmings foretell the weather? Their brains are the size of grass seeds!” The bay mare you’re sitting astride shakes her head, before pawing through the watery, heavy snow on the ground to reach the hidden grasses underneath.

Today, as with most days, you are minding the herds with your friend Cota. The two of you are practically sisters, as her family had raised you after your parents perished when you were a young child.

“I’m not the one who said it!” She protests, leaning back to aim a kick at your foot succeeding at knocking it out of your stirrup. “I’m just telling you what Elder Shikigur said, and he said, ‘There’s too many lemmings moving, there will be a large storm coming.’”

You groan. Blizzards are a continual hazard of grassland winters. Harsh winds are able to scream across the treeless landscape with terrifying fury, tearing through even thick winter deels, and whirling snow into a blinding haze. Preparing for one means rounding up the flocks, reinforcing yurts to hold against wind and snowfall, and digging out of the yurts once the storm is through. They’re critical jobs that need to be done. That is, when the weather actually calls for it.

“It’s practically spring!” You argue, gesturing wildly to the half-melted pasture around the two of you, “It’s so damn warm, that I couldn’t even wear my thickest deel today! I would’ve been covered in sweat!”

Cota shrugs, “I’m just telling you what the elders were gossiping about.”

“Well, regardless of what they say, I’m not taking out my winter deel again until next winter.”

“I bet you would if Sylus asked you to.”

You feel the color rise in your cheeks at the sing-song tease, and the mention of his name.

You aim a return kick at Cota’s leg, but she reins her mare to the side in time to evade you. “I would not! And besides, he’s out with some of the others hunting pheasant, anyway.”

Cota’s smile grows wider, “Oh ho, so you’ve been keeping track of which hunting parties he goes with, huh?”

An irritated groan leaves your throat as your friend laughs. “Aren't you supposed to be heading back about now? I'll tell the elders you've been slacking to sit around and gossip.”

“Aw, don't pout! It's cute, all your pining. You're going to have to do something soon though, otherwise some other girl is going to catch his eye at a festival, and then what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure you're supposed to be helping with cooking right now, aren't you?”

Cota makes her own irritated groan, “No one likes when I cook anyway!”

“Better that than you sitting here and teasing me.”

She makes a rude gesture at you, and you return it.

"Fine,” she grumbles, “but keep an eye on the weather, okay?”

“Of course, I'll let you know if the lemmings are oracles or not.”

Cota rolls her eyes with a scoff, before reining her horse around and trotting back to the village. It’s good timing, you notice the right side of the herd has started to splinter a bit, and needs to be rounded back in.

As you go about your job, you can’t stop your mind from pondering over your relationship with the strange man.

Sylus had come to the tribe as an outsider a few years ago. Strong and skilled in both riding and archery, he’d been welcomed into the fold immediately, seemingly to his own surprise. His striking appearance had immediately caught many eyes; tall, broad and strong in the chest, with eyes the color of freshly-spilled blood set in a devastatingly handsome face. The one criticism you heard of him was of his curt, reticent nature, that meant he constantly had a severe expression on his face.

Well, almost-constantly.

Within a month after joining the tribe, there had begun to be problems with a particular wolf picking off sheep in the night. It had always seemed to know where to attack, far enough away from any of the herders that it was impossible to reach him in time. It even managed to evade the vigilant Bankhar dogs, who kept constant watch on their flock, and rarely let a wolf’s presence go unpunished. The predator managed to evade everyone. Everyone except Sylus.

It had only taken two nights of Sylus on guard, before he returned in the early morning light, with the giant, tawny corpse of the wolf thrown over one shoulder. He’d managed to kill it, in the dark, with a single arrow to its skull. The entire tribe had celebrated that night; an end to the nights of doubled watches in the dark and lost sheep. Wine and kumis had run freely that night, along with music and dancing in the center of the temporary village.

The wolf’s body had been set aside, to be skinned for the fur and used as linings and blankets to guard against the frigid winter months. Even in death, it still looked fierce, its fur sleek and body corded with lean muscle that reminded you of its killer. You had bent down to examine the bared teeth, sharp and white against the pale flesh of the gums. You reached out to draw your finger over one of the fangs, curious to see if it would be sharp like a knife, or blunt like one of the Bankhar dogs.

“Disturbing the dead?”

The deep voice, close enough to feel against the back of your neck, had you stumbling backwards, and gracelessly falling on your ass. A throaty chuckle came from above your head, and you had looked up to see Sylus, his face smug and scarlet eyes dancing with laughter.

“It doesn’t count if it’s a wolf,” You grumbled, pulling yourself off the ground, “ass.”

His head was cocked to the side as you rose, finger tapping his cheek in mock-thought, “I thought a wolf was supposed to be the father of the first herdsmen? Wouldn’t that make this creature here your cousin?”

“That’s an old story, no one believes that.”

His answering smile was sharp, eyes darkening into a sneer. “Is that so?” He drew closer, close enough that you could feel his breath on your face, and feel the fabric of his deel brushing against yours. The gaze he cast down made you realize what a cornered sheep must feel like in the moments before jaws close around its throat. “I think there’s more of wolves in people than you realize.” His growl was just as deep as the dogs when they scented a threat.

A part of you wanted to shrink down in your boots, make your excuses, and flee. But, a much larger, louder part of you was indignant. How dare this man sneak up on you in the dark, make you fall over in surprise, then have the audacity to growl at you like a beast?

So you had tipped your chin up defiantly, “Better be careful. Apparently even the cleverest wolves get arrows in their heads.”

He had stared at you for a moment. Made a single blink. Then a strange, amused smile curled across his face. “Are you going to be the one to fire it, little huntress?”

“If you don’t back up, maybe I will.”

Sylus chuckled then, backing up a few steps. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, body thrumming with… anxiety? Excitement? Both? You couldn’t tell. To distract yourself, you turned your attention back to the kill.

“It’s kind of a shame, really. It’s a pretty creature.”

His head cocked to the side again, though the curiosity in his eyes seemed to be genuine this time. “Feeling bad for the predator?”

“He was just trying to live.”

He huffs a small laugh through his nose. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him, deeply irritated at his patronizing tone.

“Most animals that steal livestock are weak. They’re sick, or injured. Otherwise it just isn’t worth risking the tangle with dogs or people. This one,” he gives the corpse a nudge, “was perfectly healthy. Strong. But instead of using its smarts to take on saiga, or capercaille, it decided to take the easy way out. It never would have stopped, once it knew that it could fool the shepherds.”

You had sighed a little, knowing that in this instance, he was right. “I know. It still seems like a shame. But at least we’ll stop losing so many sheep.”

You had looked up then to find Sylus staring at you with such intensity that you had taken a step backwards. “What?”

He blinked, the intensity dissipating as quickly as a strike of lightning. “Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Your nose wrinkled at the childish nickname.

He gave a small laugh, a mischievous glint coming to his blood red eye, “You feel pity for a predator that would have snapped you up in an instant. It’s very sweet, if maybe a bit naïve.”

“It sounds like something you’d call a toddler.”

“I suppose it does,” the glint was quickly accompanied by an equally mischievous curl to his smirk, “I suppose I’ll have to call you that when you’re acting like a toddler, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Ass.” You’d turned on your heel to return to the fire, trailed by the sound of deep, smug chuckling.

Since then, Sylus always seemed to show up near you, whether you wanted him there or not. And, at least at first, you certainly leaned more towards the former. He had a talent for approaching silently, getting that smugly pleased look from startling you into stumbling or squeaking. He also began to challenge you, goading you into contests or archery, or riding, or throwing knuckle bones. He was nearly impossible to beat, and even on the rare occasions that you won, he had the gall to look completely unbothered by your triumph.

Really, after a few months, you should have hated him.

But in between all of the needling and teasing and challenges, you began to learn more about Sylus. You learned that he enjoyed being out hunting or riding far more than he enjoyed being surrounded by people, even if they were praising him. You learned the long-limbed black stallion he rode when he first encountered your tribe had been declared untamable before Sylus had taken him. When one of the livestock dogs died shortly after having two pups, you even learned that (if he wanted to be) he could be downright gentle. He’d done so well in helping care for the pair, that as they grew, they followed him everywhere and obeyed his every command. All of this new familiarity, so at odds with your first impression of him, had cultivated a quiet companionship between the two of you.

Even more surprising were the moments of softness, startlingly close to affection. When Sylus had sat drinking kumis with you on the new year, and you’d excitedly shared your hopes for what was to come, he listened with a quiet smile. He’d brought you the furs from the wolf he’d killed when you caught a particularly nasty winter cold, and had even insisted you keep it after you recovered. When you met other tribes for trade, he often found you afterwards, giving you some ornament or silk from beyond the grasslands. Despite the fact he’d never admitted to it, you knew that when his two dogs accompanied you out into the grasses to watch the flocks, he’d commanded them to do so.

Maybe most importantly, he’d specifically sought you out to show you a den where wolf cubs were playing in the summer, knowing you’d like to see them tussle.

They’d been adorable, large paws and ears far too big for their fluffy bodies. The two of you had left your horses some yards away and sat down a bit distant from the pups, down wind and silent so as not to give your presence away. For a while you couldn't take your eyes off their energetic forms, tussling in the dust in front of the den, chewing on each others’ ears, yelping and licking when it became too rough. Eventually you'd looked to Sylus to ask him something, but your eyes had fallen on the short, recurve bow at his side.

“You're not going to kill them, are you?” You'd whispered

He raised an eyebrow at you in a wordless question.

You checked quickly to make sure the pups hadn't heard you. Fortunately, they still seemed to be involved in their own games.

“I mean. I know they're wolves. They might eat our flocks when they get older. But, they're just babies.”

He blinked at you, with an odd, expression you couldn't place. He rose soon after, walking silently away from the den. You'd followed him, confused.

“Hey,” you hissed, “What are you doing now?”

“Leaving. One parent or the other would've been back soon to feed them. Then I would've actually had to use this.” He tapped the bow that was now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh.” You murmured, realization dawning, “Is that what you brought it for? If one of the parents came back?”

“I certainly wouldn't have needed it to kill a fragile little pup.” He scoffed. “Besides, there's no use in killing something weak and defenseless. Though it's nice to know just how highly you think of me, sweetie.”

“That's not-” a frustrated noise had escaped you as you struggled for words, “I don't think that of you. It just… others would have done that. To make sure they didn't grow up to prey on our animals.”

He turned to you then, with a gaze that seemed to be searching you, trying to find the truth of something. “And I'm ‘others’ to you?”

“Of course not!”

He arched an eyebrow for the second time that day at the vehemence in your voice.

"You're the strongest warrior we have. And an infuriating opponent. But you're also the person who protects orphaned dogs. And brings me extra furs when I'm sick. And-” you stopped yourself before you could incriminate yourself further, taking a small breath to collect yourself. “You're Sylus. Not… Others.”

There was a small silence between the two of you for a moment, as you walked over the flowing grasses together. The only sound was the occasional waves of wind across the landscape.

It was broken, only slightly, by Sylus repeating those words. “Not others.” He said them quietly, slowly, as though testing out strange words in a new language. When you turned to look at him, you caught a glimpse of a small, soft smile on his face. A look so deeply genuine, and beautifully content, it made your breath catch in your chest.

Things had begun to change after the day with the wolves. You were beginning to come familiar with the slight curve of his smile, his real smile. Instead of your usual irritation, the glint that so often came to his eye when he was planning mischief fanned a wave of warmth in you. You began craving the slight huff of breath he gave when amused with something you’d done. The deep chuckle he sometimes gave when his body drew close to yours made something strange and molten coil in your gut. When he was out hunting saiga, you found yourself unusually sullen and snappish. And when you heard people whooping and clamoring at the return of the hunting parties, you’d be jostling to the front of the small crowd to see him.

You’d started to notice things though, in this time. The gossip among the elders as they cooked about when Sylus would marry, and whose granddaughter would be the lucky catch. The gaggles of women that followed him when he’d practice archery or spectate his races, giggling and blushing. Some of the bolder women would even bring him wine at the fireside and try to curl against him (you wished sometimes that he’d respond with more than amused chuckles at their ridiculousness, though it did produce a gratifying amount of insult in the rejected ladies). Last year at the games, you noticed he’d received pouches from women of every tribe. The smug look he gave you when he’d noticed you glaring at them had been insufferable, and you couldn’t quite force yourself to congratulate him on the numerous offers.

And yet, Sylus remained alone. You didn’t even notice other women entering his yurt (though you’d die before you admitted to watching for such). You didn’t know what you’d do if he did take an interest in someone. The thought of someone else being transfixed by that soft smile in the quiet hours of the night made bile rise in your throat. But there was always the chance that he simply valued his freedom; and being rejected in favor of an ideal you could never match seemed just as nauseating.

You mull over these thoughts as you and your mare round the goats back to the group. Or, at least, attempt to. One of the damn things stubbornly refuses to rejoin the group. You can swear you see defiance in its eyes when it looks at you. Challenging you. Mocking, even. Every time you have it going the right direction, it turns and bolts in a random direction, leaving you and your bay sliding in the slush. You then have to catch back up to it, and start herding it back once more.

You’re an excellent shepherdess, with a keen eye and a skilled hand with a bow. You've rarely lost an animal on your watch, and certainly never on purpose. But at this point, even you are beginning to think that losing one goat would really not be all that bad if it means this one wouldn’t be part of the herd anymore. Besides, a wind is beginning to rise, a cold one that cuts through the previously-warm day like a freshly-sharpened knife. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe the lemmings were smarter than you’d thought.

After one more, particularly long chase, you give in.

“Fine then!” You yell at the animal, which stood watching you with unaffected eyes as it chewed grass, “you want to deal with a blizzard alone? Go ahead! I’ll laugh when you end up as a goat-cicle! Laugh!”

With a huff, you turn your horse about, ready to gallop back to the herd, and start moving them to a more sheltered part of the pasture. The animals, however, have moved further away on their own. You can see the large dark mass of them in the distance, and you feel a slight unease in your gut. You're not sure how much you believe about oracle lemmings, but you know livestock well; They instinctively group up close when bad weather is imminent, and it seems that they are bracing for a storm now.

Even more worrying is the wall of iron-gray clouds you see blowing in. They're advancing rapidly, overtaking the sky at a pace you've rarely seen before. The wind, too, is beginning to blow so furiously it all but screams, whipping any unmelted snow up into the air.

You again feel that unease in your gut. The village is even further than the herd from where you are at the moment. Thanks to the previously warm weather, you're woefully unprepared to weather a blizzard alone. But both your other options are bleak; either try to make it to the village and hope there's not enough falling snow to make you lose your way, or try your luck with the herd and hope their bodies keep you warm enough to make it through. At least if you make it to the village, your survival is guaranteed. The same can't be said of the herd.

You rein your mare toward the direction of the village, just as the first volley of fresh snowflakes batter your face and hands. And despite your own dire situation, you can't help but think of Sylus, out with the other hunters. They may have arrived home already, and even if they haven’t, their chances are good; the men should be able to find protection from the wind and cold in a group. Nevertheless, your gut twists with anxiety. Hunters rarely stay completely together. And even in the few minutes you’ve been galloping towards the village, visibility is worsening. The gusts of wind have turned into blasts, ripping through your deel and chilling you to your bones. The blasts are also heaving the already-fallen snowflakes up to rejoin the fresh ones in the air, and creating moments where the landscape is inscrutable.

Between the moments of furious wind, you can see the outline of the village. Even as your heart pounds with hope at the sight, a needling numbness begins to take hold in your hands, making it difficult to keep hold of the reins. You try to switch hands; tucking one into the overlapping fold of your deel in an effort to keep it warm, before switching to the other. The biting wind, though, is so vicious and unforgiving, that it takes a mere few seconds for whatever warmth one hand has gained to be lost. At the same time, the numbness has taken hold in your feet, making it impossible to distribute your weight properly. The violent shivers as your body tries to warm itself are a further complication.

It only takes one misstep from your mare. One hoof landing on some uneven ground, causing her to stumble. And despite the high-backed saddle, and your best efforts, it’s impossible to keep your seat. You land hard in the snow. It’s soft enough, at least, that you’re pretty sure nothing is broken. Not that it matters much. Lost and alone in the screaming wind, and featureless white storm, you are as good as dead.

It feels like an eternity that you lie there in the snow, body wracked by violent shivers in a last-ditch attempt to survive. Logically you know it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes, since you are still alive and conscious, but time loses its meaning in a situation like this. Everything ceases to exist, save for the horrible wind and the bone-deep, soul-leaching cold. The snow is falling fast, fast enough that it’s already covered you as you try to huddle for a semblance of warmth. You’ve been buried alive, waiting to die as the world around you slowly quiets and darkens.

A morbid part of you wonders if the tribe will find you, once the snow begins to melt. You imagine Cota will insist they stay long enough to find your remains. You hope she doesn’t feel guilty; neither of you could’ve known the storm would come on so fast. Your mind wanders to Sylus, too. Did the hunters make it back home before the storm hit? You pray they did; or at least they were together when the snow began to fall. The thought of Sylus in the same situation as yourself seems impossible. You have to believe it’s impossible. Entertaining any other idea strikes a dread into your heart as cold as your little tomb. You pray instead that he’s made it back, that he is safe, and warm. And, if you’re able to be a little idealistic, perhaps wondering where you are.

Quite suddenly, a sound shatters your quiet morbidity. Stark against the background of shrieking wind, there is a deep bark. Then another, closer. Soon, there is a constant barrage of the noises.

Hope burns bright in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, all is not yet lost.

You try to shift under the snow, trying to claw your way out of your icy grave. But your limbs are trembling so hard, so frequently, that controlling them is near impossible. Worse, your muscles are becoming weak. Soon they’ll be too exhausted to even shiver, much less move the heavy snow that entombs you. Nevertheless, you have to try. You must try. Because if you don’t, your last hope of warmth will move on, and then you will truly be as good as dead.

Your efforts come to a halt when a startlingly loud crunching begins in the snow above and around you. It doesn’t take long before the blanket of snow is lifted from your head, and a warm puff of air greets your face.

You open your eyes. And instead of a blinding white storm, your vision is filled with deep brown eyes set in a furry face as black as night. The same face that Sylus has sent to accompany you on night watches and sunny days alike. You smile at the familiar creature, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“H-hey, boy.” You whisper, your numb hand reaching up to sink into the dog’s deep fur. You can still hear his brother nearby, barking furiously above the wind.

Though Sylus knows them at a glance, you've never been particularly good at telling the two dogs apart by looks. They're both black, with intelligent eyes and powerful frames. In behavior though, they are slightly different. Gerel is louder, and more playful. Khar, though quieter, is definitely the smarter of the two. He's likely the one blocking your body from the worst of the wind, now.

You try to call Gerel over as his brother curls himself around your quivering body, but it’s too hard to draw a deep breath. Instead, you lean against the one lying on you, burying your face and hands against the one reprieve from the cold. You can think of nothing else but how good the slight amount of warmth feels, even as your fingers begin to burn slightly from the frostbite. It is a promising pain, one that feels of returning life rather than looming nothingness. You doubt it will be enough to truly save you, but at least you have some source of comfort now.

Eventually Gerel goes quiet, and you begin to worry he's become lost in the storm as well. You lift your face from Khar's fur, and try again to call his brother, but fail. Khar perks up, though, his massive tail wagging a fan-shaped dent in the snow. Perhaps he can smell his brother on the fierce wind?

A few moments later, you hear it. A deep, commanding voice that cuts through the shrieking wind like a blade, calling your name.

Sylus.

You don’t know why he’s here, or if he’s even real. It may be an illusion conjured by your failing mind and body. It does not matter. Real or not, you must go to him.

You try to draw yourself up, try to call his name, but Khar remains a dead weight on you. You try to shove him, but your muscles are still shaking uncontrollably, making any efforts to dislodge Khar useless.

Please, you think desperately, please, I need to go to him. I need him, I need Sylus.

In the midst of your struggle with the animal laying on you, you very nearly miss the crunching of snow approaching you. Gerel soon appears, fur nearly white with the coating of heavy, wet snow that clings to him. And directly behind him is a sight that would make you weep if you had the breath for it.

It's Sylus. He's battered by the wind and ice as he wades through the fresh snow, only a step behind Gerel. His face bears a sharp, unwavering determination and ferocity that puts even this storm to shame as he wades through the drifts. His eyes, bright scarlet amidst the daunting white, lock onto yours. Only when his master is a single step away from you does Khar finally wiggle himself off of you. The wind immediately rips away all the warmth the dog has lent you. But you feel the loss only for a moment, as in the next breath, Sylus has yanked you bodily out of the snow and crushed you against himself.

“Found you,” his deep voice is quiet, heavy with an emotion you can’t name. And oh, oh, even if this is a dream sent to ease your last moments, you do not care. There is no one you’d rather imagine at your side right now.

He releases you, only slightly, to tug off his own gloves and put them on your trembling hands. The heat that envelopes them makes your skin burn, and a whine that is half-choked by shivers bubble out of your throat.

“Bear with it,” he murmurs, wrapping a thicker, warm deel over your current one, “You won’t be able to beat me at archery if you lose your fingers, little huntress.”

Normally, you would call him an ass, berate him for worrying about losing his archery competitor as he gave you a smug smile for taking his bait. But you can’t. Your mind is foggy, and all you can do is curl into him as he sweeps you up into his arms. You notice briefly that his eyes have narrowed again. He looks… irritated maybe? Angry? You aren’t sure. Before you can think about it for very long, though, you are distracted by a sharp whistle from Sylus, shrill and sharp even over the unending wind. It’s followed by a whinny, as his tall, powerful horse wades through the snow with a determination identical to his master’s.

Sylus walks to meet the horse halfway. He says something, and then suddenly his arm drops out from under your legs. You stumble slightly, knees buckling under your own weight as your boots drop through the knee-high snow. You are strangely surprised when you don't hit the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize that Sylus has a hold on your waist, steadying you.

Oh. He was going to set you down. That's what he had said. Of course.

You look up at him, and find a hard expression on his face. Why does he look angry now? You don’t understand.

His bright eyes bore into your own, cutting through the confusion for a moment. When his voice comes, it is a command, not a request.

“Stay with me.”

You're not sure why he's saying this. It's not like you're going anywhere. All you want right now is to just curl up and sleep, back in his arms, if possible. But you nod anyway.

Sylus swings himself up onto his horse, settling himself behind the canticle. This again confuses you. You're supposed to sit on the seat. Not behind it. But before you can continue puzzling over this, Sylus has bent half-over, wrapped an arm around you once more, and hauled you up against the side of the horse. The pressure of it is uncomfortable, and you try to squirm out of the grasp. Sylus's hold is sure, though, and before you can break it, he's hooked the other arm under your knee, and lifted you up into the seat of the saddle.

You try to brace your legs, to keep your seat as the stallion begins to move beneath you, but your vicious shivers make it difficult to control your limbs, even for an action as instinctive to you as walking. Before you can falter though, Sylus’s arm wraps around you, holding you safe and steady against him.

You do your best to keep your eyes open against the biting wind and freezing snow. But the scant amount of warmth you can feel through the thickness of both your clothes, paired with the movements of the stallion slowed by the snow, is almost hypnotic. And you are tired, oh, so tired.

“You lost this game,” he says, in that damn smug voice that always makes you want to punch his arm.

“Game?”

He gives an affirmative hum. “Hide and seek. I found you, didn't I? That's another victory for me.”

You give a grunt of disgust, still not sure what he's talking about, but irritated by the condescension in his voice all the same.

“Don't be such a sore loser, sweetie.”

You don't know why you're even sitting on the same horse as him.

“A-ass,” you hiss around the waves of shivers. “Sh-should. P-push off.”

The dark chuckle behind you is as alluring as it is infuriating. “I'd love to see you try.”

You do try, for a moment, pushing against his hold. But you are soon frustrated by how clumsy your movements are, and exhausted by the effort. Sylus's tight grip is immovable anyway.

“Seems I'm still on the horse, sweetie.” Comes the singsong mocking from behind you.

You give a grunt in response. You can't be bothered to be angry. All you can feel is the heavy tiredness dulling all your senses.

Sylus says your name, sharply. There's an odd tone to it. You don't care enough to think about why.

You're vaguely aware of being jostled. And then, for a while, you are senseless.

The damn shivering is what wakes you. It's so violent and pervasive that it drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping between the waves of trembling to try and regain it. On instinct, you try to curl into yourself, but are unable to. In fact, apart from the tremors, you can’t move your body at all. You seem to be surrounded by some sort of heavy mass, pressing on every inch of you. You struggle, pushing against the weight near your face to get some breathing room. The mass grunts, then moves away for a moment, freeing your head and upper body. You have only a moment of reprieve from the claustrophobia before…

Something warm, wet, and slimy drags across your face.

“Ur-rgh!” You bring a quivering arm up to rub away the slime.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, the breath of it close enough to make warmth fan across the back of your skull, “Is that how you thank Khar for helping to save your life, sweetie?”

Your eyes snap open at the familiar voice; although instead of the carmine eyes and seductive smirk you expect, your vision is filled (for the second time today) by pitch-dark fur and smiling brown eyes set in a distinctly canine face. Right as that same face applies another sloppy lick to yours.

“Kh-khar!” You squeak, bringing your now-free arms up to protect your face from the onslaught of affection. “Th-thanks, but s-stop!”

Khar obediently jumps down from where you’re laying, though he gives you a pathetic whine. A further weight is removed from your lower half when Gerel reluctantly hefts himself off of you to join his brother on the floor, giving you a similarly dejected look.

Without Khar laying on you, you can see more of your surroundings. It’s clear that you’re in a yurt, one that is unfamiliar to you. The only light source is the barely-visible fire crackling complacently in the small stove at the center, leaving much of the place in shadow. Is it night, then? Why are you here? And why do your hands and feet feel like they are burning?

You flex your hands between shivers in an attempt to stop the strange, tingling heat. If anything, that seems to make the feeling sharper, more biting in its ferocity. Shifting them out from underneath a heavy woolen blanket and furs to inspect them gives no answers, given the dim light.

“Can you still feel them?” Sylus’s voice, humorless this time, cuts through the slowly-lifting fog of unconsciousness and confusion.

“H-hurts.”

“Good, that means there’s still life in them. Better than losing such pretty fingers to frostbite.” Memories come to you at the word ‘frostbite’. They are hazy, as though recalling a dream several hours after waking; the dogs finding you in the snow, warming you and guiding Sylus to you through the blinding storm, Sylus carrying you in his arms, and keeping you upright in the saddle before you drifted into unconsciousness.

“Syl-” Your words are cut short. In trying to turn to face him, you realize that his powerful arm is curled around your waist.

Your naked waist. And at your back, you do not feel the rough texture of clothes; but instead the heated, sticky kind of softness of skin on bare skin.

Your body stills in shock; suddenly, you are horribly, wonderfully conscious of every inch Sylus has pressed against you: The firmness of his chest, the sharp jut of his hips, the tangle of his legs around and between yours, and (both the most enticing and mortifying of all) the warm, heavy weight of what must be his cock nestled against your ass.

That damned smug chuckle comes again, “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. It took you a while; maybe I should be more worried about your head than your fingers, hm?”

You stutter a few times, as your mind comes to terms with your situation, before blurting in a rush, “Where are my clothes, Sylus!? Where are yours!?”

“Ah, you mean our freezing, sopping wet clothes?” His tone is almost sing-song in its blithe news, and bereft of any shame, “I took the liberty of removing them so that you didn't continue freezing to death.”

Somehow, his complete lack of any embarrassment heightens your own, as though your mind has determined to make up the difference between the pair of you. The heated panic in combination with exhaustion, confusion, and desire collide in a nerve-wracking swirl. You scramble wildly to get up, get away from this source of searing, tumultuous emotions. But the movement of your hands makes them burn as you try to gain purchase In the blankets and furs, and his arm around you is immovable as stone. “You- I- Couldn’t you have just thrown a blanket on me or- or something!? Gods, let go!”

He gives a derisive snort. “You would have just frozen to death under a blanket instead of snow. You didn’t have any heat left to trap, so I lent you some of mine. And no.”

“No what?”

“I just risked my life in a blizzard hunting for you, and I’m not about to let all my effort go to waste when I’ve already caught my prize. So, no, I will not be letting you go.”

“This isn’t- Can’t you just put on some damned pants, at least?”

“Hm, I could… but are you sure you want me to?”

“Sylus!!”

He gives a full laugh at your flustered squeak, “Once I’m sure that you’ve completely warmed up, I will. Until then, I suggest you stay still. Unless you’d like me to warm you up a different way. But I’d suggest waiting until your hands have healed.”

He must be teasing, surely. Delighting in your embarrassment as always. Still, a tiny, idiotically hopeful part of you can’t help but wonder… if you were able to see his face right now, would you see a small glimmer of want for you underneath the inscrutable mask? You dismiss the thought quickly. Even if you were able to see his face, you’d only see that damn self-satisfied smirk that makes your stomach twist.

“The elders are going to be insufferable about this,” You mutter, desperate you lay those thoughts to rest. Well, as best as you can, considering Sylus is curled around you.

“So what? Let them talk.”

“Easy for you to say. They won’t say anything to you; you’re the one half of them are looking to marry their daughters off to.” You’re only aware of the venom in your last few words after they’ve already left your mouth. You pray Sylus doesn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“Jealous, little huntress?” You can hear the smile in his voice

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“I’m hurt sweetie. I run out into a storm to find my poor, lost huntress, and in return she calls me an ass.”

He gives a mock-sigh, but something in his words raises a question in your mind. Sylus had been out with the other hunters just before the storm hit. You hadn’t even been sure he would make it back to the village in time, but somehow he managed to find you?

“How did you even know I was out there?”

Sylus pauses for a moment. His voice, once he does speak, is startlingly somber. “Some of the hunting group saw the cloud wall rolling in. We rode back as fast as possible. Even so, if we’d had further to go, the wind would’ve outpaced us. I’ve never seen clouds that heavy and fast, outside of summer storms.”

“I tried to ride back too, when I saw them. But with the cold, I couldn’t feel my hands, and the rough ground…” You trail off, fully prepared to be teased about your riding skills. Instead, you feel an ever-so-slight tightening of his arm around you. You wonder if he’s even aware of his own movement.

Sylus continues, “When we arrived, people came out to greet us and help get everything secured before the worst of the storm. I didn’t see you throwing people out of the way like usual.”

“I do not throw people out of the way,” You mutter.

“If you say so, little huntress.” You can hear the smile in his voice for a moment, though it disappears when he continues, “I found Cota, and asked where you were. When she said you were out shepherding, I knew you wouldn’t make it back before the snow came. So, I took Khar and Gerel, and had them track you.”

“Was anyone else missing?”

“We’ll find out after the storm.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, as you process his response. He didn’t notice anyone else was gone. He didn’t ask to see if any others were lost. He didn’t bother to try and search for anyone else in the snow.

He noticed you were missing.

He asked where you were.

He went into the storm for you.

“You… Sylus, were you out in that storm, just to find me?”

A small, humorless huff of laughter fans across the back of your skull again. “I wasn’t out there just taking a stroll, sweetie.”

“You could’ve lost Gerel and Khar. And your horse. And your life.”

“Worried about me, hm?”

Of course you were. Sylus is a strong, clever man. Perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter your tribe has known; but even the greatest of mortals are brought to their knees by the forces of nature and the whims of chance. You want to tell him all this, tell him that the thought of him standing alone amidst the howling winds, searching for the path to safety… even just thinking about it makes your chest feel as empty and cold as the storm still raging outside. Your breath catches, and you cannot force the words, glutted with feelings as they are, out of your throat.

So instead you reply, “It’s a big risk to take.”

“Maybe.” His tone is nonchalant, as though he is talking about what he’d brought home from hunting, rather than the act of risking his dearest possessions and life trying to save you in near-hopeless conditions. “But I don’t gamble unless the prize is worth the risk.”

It takes you a moment to digest the words, heart caught in your throat, hardly daring to believe that you’ve understood him correctly. A fragile but brilliant hope lights in your chest. You had been aware of the friendship that had begun to form between you and Sylus, and you had been aware of your desire to be something more to him, to be someone he wanted. But you hadn’t dared to imagine occupying a position of such value to him.

“You think I’m worth all that…?”

You don’t mean to say the words aloud, but the exhaustion loosens your lips just enough for them to spill out. Immediately your stomach lurches at a strange, shifting fear. Perhaps speaking the thought aloud has crossed some sort of line, daring the universe to snuff out your hope just as it had been lit.

A soft, teasing lilt returns to his voice as he speaks, “I believe that’s what I just said, little huntress. Hm, maybe I should be more concerned about your head.” The hand that isn’t curled around your middle gives the top of your head a soft tap, tap, tap.

A small, breathless laugh bubbles up out of your chest, the hope within you flaring bright and making your heart race. You don’t know how he manages to do it; to convey something as heartfelt as ‘you are worth risking my life and all I hold dear’, while simultaneously sounding like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Something that should be obvious even to a small child.

It’s a special talent you’ve noticed in Sylus ever since that day with the wolf pups; he makes you want to throttle him one moment, and in the next breath he’ll speak with such sincere simplicity that it utterly disarms you. He somehow manages to walk that fine line between keeping you on your toes with bantering, and keeping you grounded with his forthrightness. It's addictive. It's comforting. You're not even sure if it's something he tries to do, or if his natural state of being is just something that draws your soul in effortlessly.

You need to face him.

You turn in his grasp to look at him, trying to ignore the burst of prickling heat in your hands. It's worth the pain. Sylus is a striking picture in the low light; all silvery tousled hair, gold skin, and sanguine eyes, graced by a rare look of surprise for just a moment.

And then his face relaxes into a soft look, one you've started to see more and more, but never fails to make your heart race faster than a horse galloping over the grass sea.

“There you are,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. And you simply cannot help it. Frostbite be damned. You might die if you don't kiss him, and you've come close enough to that today already. You have to kiss him.

The press of your lips against his is insistent, but chaste. At least, at first. Sylus takes in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second you wonder if you've misread, if you've pushed too far. And then, his mouth becomes soft, and pliant, and something in your chest melts when the arm he has around you slides up your spine to press at the nape of your neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. A pleased sigh escapes you, unbidden. Before you are quite aware of your own movements, your hand is at his jaw, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer.

A new flare of pain sears your hand at the pressure, and you reflexively pull away with a hiss.

You open your eyes (when did they close?) to see Sylus, pupils blown wide, looking at you with that same sort of ferocity and determination you saw in him earlier, when your eyes met his in the storm. And for a moment, caught in that unwavering intensity, you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

His eyes remain fixed on your own as he takes your wrist and gently (too gently) moves it away from his face, which has settled back into its usual near-arrogant smirk. Reality crashes in on you then. You are in Sylus's yurt, kissing him, sharing a bed, naked. The realization is followed by a disorienting mix of embarrassment, pride, shame, and excitement. You've just kissed him for the first time, and you know if it weren't for the pain in your hands you would have taken as much as he would give you. Begged for it, maybe. What does he think of you now? How much would he let you take? What would you tell everyone once you left here?

But as usual, when your mind threatens to whirl itself into chaos, Sylus cuts through it.

“I'll have to collect on that part of my prize later, little huntress,” He murmurs, and you wonder if it is merely your imagination, or if he is actually as breathless as you are. His thumb strokes across the soft skin at the underside of your wrist, across the vein where your pulse is thrumming like a caught hare's. “I want to see what those pretty hands can do to me when they're all healed.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the embarrassment resurface with a vengeance, and the barely-leashed heat in Sylus's gaze makes it unbearable. Breaking the stare, you take your hand back and shuffle under the blankets once more, until the hem falls across your cheek.

Sylus's amused chuckle earns him a glare from you, but your indignation is quickly soothed over as he drags his fingers through your hair, across your scalp, gently untangling the strands. After a few minutes, the gentle scratching opens the door for a wave of exhaustion, heightened by the warm darkness and the muffled howling of the winter winds outside.

You wonder, vaguely, if the touch was meant in apology, or to make you drowsy. You're not sure it matters. Sylus is here, looking at you with that affectionate, soft smile, as your lips begin to flutter.

“Sleep, shevonica,” is the last thing you hear before drifting into unconsciousness. This time, in the safety and warmth of Sylus’s hold.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Safe Haven

Pairing: Mr. Crawling x reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (only a few mentions), pure fluff, Mr. Crawling being a cutie pie.

Words: 1k

Summary: Despite the horrors you saw in the other dimension, bringing one of them home actually seems like a good idea.

P.S. To all of you who love soft!yanderes, I recommend playing Homichiper IMMEDIATELY

_________

"I'm home. "

You turn the lock on the door, smiling from ear to ear when you hear hurried steps paired with a "clack" of a cane. Goodness, he's getting faster with every day, you think as you watch a walking giant wrapped into a fuzzy white bathrobe emerge from the corridor. His impossibly long hair is loose and a little damp, and for a second, it feels he came straight from a horror movie. It makes you laugh.

"Dear!"

He almost runs into you, his cane clicking aggressively against the floor, and you giggle like a schoolgirl on her first date. His embrace feels so warm, his gentle hands rubbing your back as he kisses the top of your head.

Everything about him feels like home.

"I cooked a potato soup," he breathes out, excited to share his little news, "and baked a meat pie! And then I read a book. And then me take bath..."

He gets a little red when he realizes his old speech patterns are getting back, but you're quick to divert his attention, dropping a kiss to his nose. Poor man gets even redder and kisses you, too, immediately helping you take off your coat and giggling with embarrassment. He's one weird gentleman but a gentleman, nonetheless.

"I'm glad you had a good day," you wink at him, picking up your grocery bag. Today, you bought his favorite tea, and you know how excited he will get to brew it himself.

When you escape a hollow, depraved world, even the simplest of things will make you weep. Once you have returned to your apartment, barely alive and scared to your wits' end, making a cup of tea felt like a miracle. It's hard to imagine how bizarre the whole concept seemed to poor Mr. Crawling, who probably ate nothing but human or monster remains for as long as he was there.

You no longer speak of what happened in the monster realm. Needless to say, it took some time to come to terms with your little adventure and its outcome being a giant skinny monster now inhabiting your apartment. Not that you were all that bothered with the latter... Especially when you realized Mr. Crawling was not, in fact, a monster.

When you think of it now, it seems kinda stupid on your part. You were turning into one of those creatures yourself the longer you stayed there, and yet, somehow, it didn't click your lovely monster partner was human once. That he, too, had been a lonely soul who got stuck in that hellish limbo and had to transform to survive.

It was a huge surprise when he actually started speaking human language after of couple of days at your place. You first thought you misheard him.

Of course, it took him a long time to remember what it's like to be human: you've spent months gently nudging him in that direction, talking to him like to a child, showing him books and cartoons, turning on music and doing pretty much anything to help him turn back into his older self. Mind you, you also had to keep working to sustain the both of you, given you had no other income, and do the chores because Mr Crawling was absolutely clueless what to do. He was more of an in-house cat than a person at the time.

Still, it felt liberating when your monster partner finally started regaining his human memories and habits. You probably won't ever forget when he crawled to you, reaching out shyly to squeeze your hands in his, and mumbled, "M-me think... me think me called Gabriel..."

"Enough salt?" He nudges you gently, and you blink, coming back to your senses. His meat pie is so good it's really not the time to be reminiscing of the past.

You cover his large pale hand with yours as you smile, "It's perfect."

Embarrassed, he nods, looking into his own plate as you take another bite, wondering how lucky you got. Who else could have not only left another dimension filled with unspeakable horrors but also dragged the cutest of them with you?

Fed up with you stalling, he bends over to you and drops a kiss to your nose once more, letting out a high-pitched giggle. His black hair close around you like a curtain: you didn't have the heart to tell him to cut it. Now that he has become almost completely human, you somehow miss his monster appearance.

"I love you," you say all of a sudden, unable to keep it to yourself. Enveloping him in a hug, you press your face into his chest, listening to the subtle beating of his heart he had lost once. His bathrobe feels fuzzy and warm on your skin.

He says nothing at all, but in a second, he gently lifts you up from the kitchen chair only to put you down on his lap: despite turning human, he still remains ridiculously tall and strong. Not that you complain, melting in his embrace as he rubs his nose against your temple, his tender hand on your back. Against all odds, there's nothing you dislike about him. Even putting aside all his heroic acts to protect you in the other world, he seems like a pure, gentle soul who would always prioritize your safety and comfort above all else. You can't understand why he chose to help you the moment he saw you, but you don't feel like it's important. All these months, your only mission was to give him home, to pay him back for everything he's done for your sake.

Yet, somehow, it feels like both of you found home in each other.

[lovelytsunoda]

love, actually | robert 'bob' floyd

summary: recently appointed admiral robert floyd feels overwhelmed in his new position, and unprepared to fill the shoes of the late admiral thomas kazansky. when he inherts the job, he also inherits tom's old secretary. cue the romance. inspired by hugh grant's storyline in love, actually

pairing: admiral!bob floyd x secretary!reader

warnings: mentions of death and greif was she secretly in love with that old man (because same) we may never know! mentions of addiction (but not with our two main characters!), can be considered to be a minor part of the heather and tommy universe (see 'tell me something girl (are you happy in this modern world)!) so many navy inaccuracies it would make a real admiral's head spin, professionalism simply does not exist in the pacific fleet

the office was barren, devoid of the remarkable life that had once occupied it. the large oak desk that had once held family photos and love notes from the admiral's wife was now empty, save for the top of the line desktop computer. admiral kazansky's wife and kids had been by earlier in the week to collect his things. bob hadn't been there, but he'd heard from natasha that it wasn't a pretty sight. she said that heather kazansky looked frail, and slightly lost without her husband of thirty years by her side. tom was her soulmate, and she'd gone through the pain of watching him die slowly.

cancer was a bitch.

this wasn't how he had wanted to come in to the job. although it was no doubt that he was the best man to lead the pacific fleet (and with an endorsement from maverick mitchell, nobody was going to question his appointment.), he was now wondering if he was really ready.

"admiral floyd?"

bob turned around. standing in the doorway in a skirt that was certainly not navy issued, was a tall young woman with round glasses and soft features. she wore no makeup save for the mascara on her eyelashes.

"hi, i'm y/n. i was admiral kazansky's secretary. and, i suppose, i'm now yours." her voice was soft and gentle, like music to bob's ears. "i brought your welcome packet and agenda for the day."

"admiral robert floyd." he stuck his hand out for her to shake, ignoring how clammy his palms suddenly seemed to feel. "but please, call me bob."

"that's your callsign, right? does it mean anything?"

bob rolled his eyes. "baby on board. they call me that because of my youthful appearance."

she laughed briefly, a cheerful and somewhat abrupt sound, before she looked at the empty office, her face falling again. "he was a good man."

"he was." bob agreed somberly.

"i loved that old man, i really did."

for a second, bob felt like something had tripped in his brain. she loved him? it seemed so cliche when he thought about it, but weren't cliches there for a reason? the pretty young secretary with the silver fox admiral. but what about heather? and his kids? he'd been married to heather since 1987, and from what bob knew of the admiral, he was an honorable man in all aspects of life.

this confusion must have shown on bob's face, because the secretary simply laughed, turning to face him with her arms crossed over her baby blue blouse.

"like a father, admiral. admiral kazansky and i were never involved. he was a family man. i'm the same age as his middle child." she didn't know why she was spitting out words like this. divulging too much information would be unprofessional and- "i actually used to go out with his eldest son when i first started working here. i was young and dumb and mitchell kazansky was a few years older and smooth talking. and then i broke up with him and he went to rehab. he's doing good now. he got married four years ago, i think. i've met his wife, she's a sweet girl." stop. fucking. talking. y/n.

in truth, bob only caught half of the word vomit. he was too preoccupied with the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, and the way her crossed arms accidentally pushed up her cleavage. she was totally wearing a push up bra. jake and bradley could probably even accurately guess her boob size. bob couldn't, but didn't need to to wonder what it would be like to rest his head against them, feeling her arms wrap around his tired frame.

"anyways." she exhaled, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "i'll let you settle in. just so you know, your friday meeting with the commanders got moved up. it's nothing to worry about. come find me at lunch and i'll give you the brief. i used to make them for tom all the time, especially when he got sick."

"thank you." bob said graciously. "i really appreciate it. would you actually mind staying with me during the meeting? just to make sure i don't put my foot in my mouth."

she smiled, passing him a file folder. "of course, admiral. i'd love to."

the afternoon meeting came faster than bob would have wanted, and he was still struggling to make heads or tails of half the reports that his secretary had left on his desk. having a meeting this soon into his tenure seemed unusual, and for a moment he wondered about the severity of the content being discussed.

of course, he couldn't worry for long. through the panes of glass in the office doors, he could see y/n out at her desk, applying a thin layer of chapstick while she waited on hold with someone. her desk was filled with little baubles and a few small plants were on the filing cabinet behind her.

she looked calm and carefree, unbothered. and bob was smitten. completely and totally smitten. sure, it was a workplace harassment suit waiting to happen. and yes, it was never a good idea to get involved with people at work, especially when you outranked them.

but in that moment, bob floyd simply couldn't care less. especially when she gave him a flirty little wave from behind her desk, and even more so when the collar of her shirt dipped just enough that bob could see the edge of her lacy white bra.

this woman was going to be the death of him.

"bob?" she called out, poking her head through the doorway. "the commanders are here earlier than expected. have you had a chance to look over the notes?"

fuck. he couldn't admit that he was so distracted that he forgot to read the file. "uh, about half of it?" he explained sheepishly. "it's a lot."

she flashed him an understanding smile. "if you get lost in the meeting, i can take over. i used to do it for tom all the time."

"thank you. you're a lifesaver."

she winked, backing out of the room. "you owe me one, admiral."

the commanders filed into the meeting room, gathering around the round oak table like they were king arthur's knights. bob recognized a few of them, including jake seresin. he took a seat underneath the world map that was used to plot out missions, y/n taking a seat beside him.

and bob floyd wished he was a better man because as soon as he saw that skirt slip up her plush thigh, he was a goner. he forgot why he was even in that meeting in the first place. to his credit, he did fairly well, answering questions about the transition of power in the pacific fleet, and what was going on with some current matters that had gone unfinished when the previous admiral had passed. whenever bob seemed to stutter or falter in any way, y/n jumped in to rescue him, with a well-worded response delivered in such an effortless manner that he wondered why he was the admiral and not her.

jake caught him staring, a glean of admiration in his eyes as he watched the secretary (who was one of only two women in the room, by the way) outline a budget for the coming year. the commander kicked his former platoonmate under the table, holding back a laugh. bob shot him a dirty look before redirecting his attention to y/n.

after the meeting, and after shaking hands with what felt like every commander in san diego, jake stayed behind to chat with bob, eager to 'catch up' on everything the other had missed since their assignment with maverick. but really, jake just wanted to rib his coworker about the pretty secretary.

"dude, kazansky's secretary? come on."

"jake, shut up." bob could feel his face going pink. "it would be unprofessional at best, harassment at worst. her boss just died, for god's sake!"

jake laughed, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress whites. "i'm sure that they make porno's about this kind of thing. i say go for it. you only live once, admiral."

"hangman, go fuck yourself."

there was a knock on the office door, and y/n stuck her head inside the office. "admiral floyd, commander seresin. its five, so im on my way out. if you need anything, there's a post-it with my personal number on it in your welcome packet. don't stay too late, you'll make me look bad." she grinned at bob, waving at him before ducking back out of the office again.

bob shouted after her, something along the lines of 'see you in the morning', but he couldn't hear himself think over the sound of jake's laughter.

"what!"

"dude, look below your fucking belt. you're fucked."

_______

life went on, and bob found himself settling into his role as admiral nicely. of course, he wasn't doing it alone. y/n was a massive help in meetings, and they had started tag-teaming on important topics: putting together elaborate slide presentations, models and poster boards before every meeting with the fellow admirals or the commanders. there was a meeting with the president's aide scheduled for the new year, and surprisingly, bob wasn't worried about it. he had even gone as far as to help y/n decorate the office for christmas.

every day, she showed up in a trendy, fashionable and flattering outfit that definitely went against navy regulations, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. especially not when those leather slacks of hers made him so achingly hard that he spent half of his lunch break in the private bathroom jerking off. it wasn't the good admiral's fault that his secretary was so stunningly beautiful and sweet and kind and funny and so many other things that made him wonder if it was finally time to consider finding a life partner.

the pair had started sharing their lunch breaks, and bob was enjoying getting to know her outside of the office. she was easy to talk to, and he was convinced he had never laughed as much as he had when he was with her.

and that's why he was so worried when he saw that she had put in for a transfer request.

_____

they were one week out from christmas, and the base was getting ready to send all non-essential staff home. that meant that y/n was getting a much needed break, and while bob would be considered to be 'on-call', he got to go home as well. the last meeting of the year was finished, and y/n was cleaning up the round table in the conference room when she heard hushed voices from the cracked door in bob's office.

"robert, you understand what you're getting yourself into, right? the kind of trouble you'd be opening up for her?" natasha trace's voice was low and not quite venomous, but not calm either. "don't think that people haven't figured out why you hide in the bathroom over your lunch break, bradley told me about your little crush. you can't act on it, bob. i'm sorry, but you just can't. she's your subordinate. unless one of you transfers out. no matter how much you think you'd be able to make it work, it just not possible."

"i love her, phoenix. and i don't know what to do."

"you keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants. that's what you do."

she felt her heart grow tight in her chest. bob was in love with someone? it was probably another soldier, or a pilot. or, and she hesitated at the thought, was bob floyd falling in love with her?

she didn't know if she wanted to find out. because if she was wrong, and bob didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him, it was going to lead to a lot of heartbreak.

she put in for a transfer to another fleet later that week.

________

"what the fuck? how could this happen, phoenix? what did you say to her?"

natasha gaped at the frazzled admiral, who was pacing behind his desk. "what did i say to her? i didn't say shit, bob. she must have overheard us and gotten the wrong idea."

it was christmas eve, and bob didn't even know why he'd come into the office. he supposed it was because he wanted everything pressing to be done before the holidays, but seeing the neon blue transfer request paper on his desk had thrown him for a loop.

"i can't function without her. she keeps this office going." bob wailed, running his fingers through his hair. "i need her."

"yeah." jake snorted. "in more ways than one."

"can it, hangman." natasha scolded. "you'd have to find a really good, sound reason for denying the transfer, you know. keeping her here without one would be an abuse of power."

"you think i don't fucking know that?"

"there is another solution here." bradley bradshaw suggested, leaning against the side of the desk. "her address would be in her files, right? why don't you go and talk to her?"

actually.....that wasn't a terrible idea.

"no." natasha glared at him, almost as if she could read his mind. "that would be another glaring abuse of power. do none of you have functioning brain cells? this is psychotic."

"but it could work." bob mused, scrambling to boot up his computer. "what woman doesn't love a grand romantic gesture?"

"that's my boy." jake roared with laughter, clapping him in the shoulders. "let's make this christmas miracle happen."

bob scrambled to pull up her personnel file, scribbling a street address down in his messy cursive. "okay, okay. how do we know she's home? i mean, it's christmas eve. she could be with family, or with friends-"

"trust your gut, admiral." jake encouraged. "rooster, grab the keys to the bronco!"

"i'm surrounded by idiots!" natasha cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "why am i even here?"

there was a fleeting sense of nostalgia as the former dagger squad members piled into rooster's sleek black bronco. it was cold for california, albeit the lake of snow on the ground. a strong wind was coming in off the ocean, pushing the bronco closer to y/n's house. bob was jittery, working his way through everything he wanted to say.

because how did he tell a woman that he loved her without even having gone out with her yet?

"alright, take a left at this next set of lights, and then a left at the stop sign after that." jake instructed, reading directions off of his phone. rooster was going at least ten over the speed limit, and natasha was praying that there were no police officers around.

"that's her house!" bob shouted, jumping to attention in the backseat. "the one with the the three volkswagens in the driveway. she still lives with her parents, the whole family drives german cars. i remember her bringing it up over lunch one day."

the bronco skidded to a stop in the middle of the road, forced to slow abruptly when bob threw his door open. natasha chased him out of the car, followed up by jake while bradley worried about where to park on the unforgivingly small street.

bob ran up the driveway, in between an suv and a sport model jetta before practically launching himself at the doorbell.

"y/n?" he called, ringing the bell. "its admiral floyd! can we talk for a minute?"

"she cant hear you, dipshit." jake reminded gently. "just wait for her to answer the door."

the front door crept open, y/n standing nervously behind it in a christmas sweater and jeans. on her feet where two large slippers that looked like reindeer heads.

"admiral floyd? what are you doing here?"

"please don't transfer." bob pleaded, the words coming out in a single breath. "i don't know what i would do without you. you consume my every waking thought, every breath. these past few months working with you have been the most rewarding months of my career and i know how selfish it must sound of me to beg you not to go, but the truth is that i've fallen in love with you, y/n y/l/n. and i can't let you leave the fleet without making sure that you know that."

she stood frozen in the doorway for a minute before a wide smile broke out over her face. "come here you big doofus."

she stepped out onto the front porch, grabbing bob by the lapels of his tommy hilfiger trench coat and pulled him in for a kiss. his eyes widened in shock before he leaned into it, arms settling to hold her protectively.

"i put in the transfer request so you could ask me out, admiral." she whispered, giggling slightly. "i guess it worked."

"yeah." bob breathed, leaning in to kiss her again. "i guess it did."

"god damn it!" bradely shouted, out of breath and he came up the driveway. "don't tell me i missed everything trying to find somewhere to park my fucking car?"

y/n laughed, pulling away from bob. "do you guys want to come inside? i'd feel awful making you stand out here in the cold."

jake shrugged. "why the hell not."

"cassie's here, so behave yourself." y/n warned, referring to tom kazansky's youngest, whom jake had a history of hitting on.

jake perked up. "oh, cassandra!" he called, walking into the house

"not a chance, seresin. teddy and i are still very happily married!" a voice called from within the living room.

"god damn it!"

y/n turned to look at bob. "i made a massive mistake inviting them in, didn't i?"

bob chuckled, kissing her forehead. "yeah. but i wouldn't be here without them, so cut them some slack. come on, let's go celebrate christmas."

[puck-luck]

wait plz for your 1k celly can I request your example of 7 of hearts Quinn breeding kink like that’s rlly EVERYTHING

warnings: no actual fucking, but allusions to previous encounters. the third installment of this breeding kink/pregnancy thing that i've been writing through these cellys. here is part one and part two. might even write a fourth if there's another request for Q's breeding kink in my list! (there probably is).

wc: 897

It’s a Sunday and Quinn doesn’t have a game today. Things are already wonderful just from those two facts alone, but you have a third little fact that you’ve been waiting to tell Quinn since last week. During his short roadie down to California, you’d peed on the stick and that second line appeared. An indescribable feeling washed over you– it was a rush of emotion that tapered off into a consistent feeling of happiness. 

You were excited to tell Quinn what was happening, but you wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a false positive. You’d made an appointment at your doctor’s office, a rushed one, and asked them to do some bloodwork to see if you were really pregnant– you were. After two months of trying, you were knocked up. Quinn’s baby was growing inside of you. It’s weird when you think about a baby actually growing in your body, but you’re ecstatic that it’s Quinn’s baby and you get to experience this together.

You’re tangled up in bed now. Your head is on Quinn’s chest, hand on his stomach, and his arm is wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes are closed and his breath is even. He’s awake, even though it doesn’t look like he is. 

“Quinn?” You murmur.

“Mm?” He hums. “I think my dick is broken, baby. Can’t fuck you right now.” He shifts, moving towards the edge of the bed. “Gonna go make us breakfast, I think. What do you want? Pancakes?”

“I wanna stay in bed with you,” you reply, tracing the birthmark on his chest. 

Quinn snuffles out a laugh, dropping a kiss on the crown of your head. “Not possible. We have to eat something. Let me go make something, then we can be lazy in the living room together.”

“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed,” you say, voice growing to a normal volume. You pick your head up and set your chin in his sternum, looking up at your boyfriend. 

Quinn’s eyes open a sliver, glinting down at you. “My dick doesn’t work anymore. Fucked you too good last night, sweetheart.”

He’s right, he did fuck you too good last night. You'd had no idea how much better sex was when you’re pregnant– but maybe it was the confirmation bias. You’d read that it was better and you were excited that Quinn was so eager to fuck you full of his child, unaware that he’d already succeeded, so you felt like it was better. You’ll have to keep track of your opinion during the pregnancy, just to make sure.

“Don’t need your dick to work anymore, Q,” you tell him coyly, a tiny little grin on your face. 

Quinn’s eyebrows pinch together, confused. “What do you mean?” He asks. “You don’t want to keep trying?”

You lay your head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Not that,” you tell him. “I just don’t think you can get me pregnant again.”

Quinn goes quiet and still. His heart is pounding beneath your ear. “What?” He questions, seeming like he’s holding his breath. “What did you say?”

You smile, turning and burying your face between his pecs. Your lips kiss over his sternum and where his heart is pounding against the bone– at least, that’s how it feels. He’s racing. “I wasn’t sure if it was a false positive, so I went to the doctor the other day, and I’m pregnant, Q. There’s a Hughes baby inside me right now.”

He stares at you, eyes wide and disbelieving. His mouth is open, jaw dropped wide.

You snort out a laugh and grab his arm, placing his hand on your abdomen. “The baby and I would like to be lazy in bed with Daddy all day, please.” You’re just teasing him now, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Are you actually?” Quinn demands, springing back to life. His eyes are darting all over his face and he’s craning his neck so that he can look down at you properly. “You’re not just fucking with me?”

“Do you want me to go get the pregnancy test and the doctor’s note?” You ask, laughing.

“No! No,” Quinn says, his voice loud and excited. “I can get it. You relax.” He kicks the covers off, but you wrap your arms around his stomach and try to hold him there. He’s strong, so he moves anyway. “Where is it?”

“It’s only been a few weeks, Q, I can still move around,” you laugh. “They’re in the bottom drawer in the bathroom with all my random things. Come back here when you’re done, I wasn’t kidding about cuddling with my baby-daddy all day.” Your last sentence is a call after him, because as soon as you told Quinn where the items were, he was on the move. You can hear him throwing open the drawer and rifling around. 

You laugh, laying flat on your back and placing a hand on your belly. You’re not showing, not even close, but you know that there’s something in there. A little baby, made completely from yours and Quinn’s love. That knowledge, paired with Quinn’s excitement when he comes rushing back into the room and pounces on you, wrapping you in a hug and kissing over your face, pregnancy test clasped in his hand, makes this the best day of your life.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4])

I was so looking forward to brighten this particular scene, it's the darkest yet and it's such a beautiful one it's a pity to miss even one detail

oh no lilia stop being so cute????

have you ever seen jen with a bigger smile? and she's quiet as usual, it's almost like more than the ride she's enjoying how much fun her friends are having. especially lilia, those two have been forming a bond that is equal parts bickering and a growing respect

I'm just glad alice had this moment of pure unadulterated joy before it came all crashing down

agatha is very, very quiet. despite never letting herself feel anything freely, she takes a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the beauty of it all

she looks back at rio, so sensual and confident

how can kathryn hahn convey so much with so little time? her breath catches at her sight. and then worry and fear take hold and she gives the tiniest shake of her head, as if she's forbidding herself to entertain any kind of thought about rio. she looks away. the blood moon behind her spells disaster

meanwhile billy is that kid who has the time of his life hanging out with the teachers during a field trip

I want to personally thank aubrey plaza for every acting choice she made as rio, but ESPECIALLY for this witchy laugh

(I just brightened the salem seven witch vomiting bees and it's actually pretty impressive! but I don't want to trigger any insect haters around here) (I love insects though so please talk to me about spiders if you want)

they couldn't get a good look at the cabin before rushing in and I couldn't either until now, do we know if it's something from Agatha's past? did she use to live there?

I'm salty that alice had to die in these stupid clothes

So. I think this trial is the most fucked up and humiliating yet. Billy knew nothing about jen except superficial facts, so he put her in a scenario that matched her work aesthetic, more of a personal insult than a wake up call (compare it with the broom lilia just made for her: roots and flowers, something that speaks about jen's work, beliefs and traditions.)

Alice's trial was entirely based on lorna, we know billy is a big fan so he ran with that concept creating something that really shook alice, and not in a good way. she was forced to sit in her dead mom's house and wear her clothes for god's sake. she took it as the Road wanting to teach her a lesson, when it was just a teenager with the grace and subtlety of a newborn puppy.

Now, agatha. billy doesn't know a thing about her because she's private to the point of paranoia. he has gathered that there's something in her past about a dead child and that's probably what makes her grumpy, so he... tried to make her talk to nicky. with a fuking oujia board. Despite having had his share of shock and trauma billy inevitably has a kid's point of view re: death, and even more so because he's functionally immortal. death is something that happens to other people, or far far away in the future. he thinks he's giving agatha much needed therapy, when he actually put a grown woman in child's clothes and made her relive her traumas for everyone to see.

btw I'm not in any way saying that the trials are bad writing. they are brilliant writing. they're just tragic and fucked up behind the funny exterior, just like agatha herself. sorry for the rant.

I mean I wouldn't be opposed to that. we could put billy back in a closet for a little while and get down and dirty with it. and ooh there's a little leaf on rio's shirt, I hadn't noticed it!

jen's retainer always SENDS me

agatha's face when she realizes it's her trial

agatha is irrevocably, eternally linked with death in all its forms

looks like rio is playing along and setting the scene, but she's also doing something more subtle that only agatha understands: she's provoking her, and it's becoming more personal and hurtful. she's testing and punishing more than she used to. she is growing angrier.

agatha wants to tell rio to fuck off but knows she deserves it. agatha is NOT happy to be in this trial for reasons that go beyond what everyone present (except rio) assumes, but she'll bite the inside of her cheeks until they bleed before she shows any of it

the way he says it with a straight face too (again, NO PUN INTENDED. forgive me joe, I would never)

oh great alice has only thirty minutes to live

everyone looks worried and on their guard, rio has her whole knife out, playing along. agatha is STILL trying to look cool and casual, it's painful to watch. girl is panicking, hard

meanwhile billy is always bringing a whole different energy, he's playing and having fun! think back to the second episode when they met lilia and then jen and alice for the first time. billy had no clue about the tension, the fear and hate between them and agatha. right now he's still more excited than scared. he's about to have a rude awakening.

do not taunt the spirits, AGATHA.

lmaooo. this motherfucker.

another moment when billy sounds chillingly cruel. being jigsaw without realizing it

I'm not pointing it out every time but whenever agatha does this with her arms she's really, really really nervous

what does agatha do when she's scared or overwhelmed? she puts on a show. like clockwork. and rio has already guessed what's about to happen

I really want to continue this so there will be more later today, stay tuned!

go to episode 5 part 3

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi !! i was thinking about logical by olivia rodrigo when she sings "said i was too young i was too soft, can't take a joke can't get you off" and it got me thinking of rupert campbell black x younger!reader getting into a huge argument about something and he says that to her in the heat of the moment and then maybe they end up having make up sex idk

thank you <33

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. angst. so much use of the word darling. this might be a tiny bit toxic, but...

word count - 2.3k

authors note - title taken from logical by olivia rodrigo (which fits him so well, by the way). thank you for this request, erica!! it works so beautifully. I tried not to make it too toxic, but I think rupert is a tiny bit toxic, regardless. oops. and yet we love him anyway.

masterlist. inbox.

“What’s the matter?”

You’re curled up in the armchair by the fire, cup of tea warming the palms of your hands as the flames warm your toes. You’re still wearing your ballgown, hair still pretty in its updo and makeup still perfectly done.

“Darling,” you hear come from the kitchen, where he’s no doubt pouring himself a whiskey.

You stay quiet, taking a sip from your mug and sitting in your frustration.

Rupert appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of you. The first thing he observes is how cosy you look. The second thing he observes is how annoyed you look.

“Darling,” he repeats, walking over to kneel in front of you. “What’s the matter? Did you not have a good time?”

You’ve gotten very good at picking your battles with Rupert. Sometimes, you let go of whatever’s bothering you to save yourself the aggravation of an argument. Other days, much like today, you just can’t seem to keep a lid on your anger.

“I was having a good time until you made me feel stupid in front of everyone.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

You look down at him, his wide eyes staring up at you with genuine confusion painted across them.

“When I told that story about the horses, at the dinner table. I saw that look you gave Bas. It was like you were laughing at me, not with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? You did the same thing a few weeks ago at Lizzie’s. You so easily undermine me when I’m speaking with a look or a laugh. That’s all it takes, and you don’t even realise.”

“Darling, I’m just joking with my friends. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so personally. It’s a non issue that you’re making into an issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well I could argue that it’s not fair that you’re telling me that I make you feel stupid. That’s an accusation that’s not fair.”

He gets up, moving to stand by the fire with his glass in his hand.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing me,” you say quietly, squeezing the mug tighter in your hands.

“Because you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” you retort quickly, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Look, darling. Maybe this is just our gap in life experience rearing its head. You’ve got a lot to learn, and sometimes it shows.”

“You know, our age gap only becomes a problem when you make it a problem. You want a sweet, young girlfriend until she acts her age, and then it’s an issue.”

“Because you can be so mature, and then all of a sudden you’re throwing a tantrum like a child,” he fumes, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re young and you’re soft, I’m not oblivious to that. But sometimes you can’t take a joke - or sometimes you miss the joke completely. It’s not my fault if you twist that into me making you feel stupid.”

You put your mug down onto the side table, willing yourself not to get upset. You stand up so you’re no longer below him, still keeping a distance between the two of you. Breathing in deeply, you exhale shakily in an attempt to keep yourself and your composure together.

“You’re acting like my age is something that came up later, Rupert - and that’s not true at all. You knew how old I was when we met. You knew I was significantly younger than you.”

“Yes, I did. Maybe I just wasn’t aware of how often it would come up as a point when we argued.”

He leans against the fireplace wall, sharp features illuminated by the light of the flames. All that can be heard are the sounds of wood crackling and two sets of lungs heaving for breath.

“You’re making me feel like I’m insane,” you burst suddenly, sick of biting your tongue. “You’re acting as if everything is all my fault. When will you take some responsibility, Rupert? When will you hold your hands up and say ‘do you know what - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it’, hmm? Why do I always have to apologise?”

“Darling-”

“No, I’m sick of it. One minute, you’re telling me our age gap doesn’t matter because we’re in love and I’m mature and intelligent and everything you need - and the next minute you’re treating me like some sort of virginal lamb that doesn’t know the difference between left and right. Make up your mind, because you’re making me dizzy.”

“If you’re so sick of it, why are we doing this? If you are so sick of it, you know where the door is, darling. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to start falling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Your sadness seems to be uncontrollable, stemming from your chest and humming through your veins. You’re surprised you’re not turning blue, a perfect personification of sorrow.

You stand your ground and cry in place, refusing to move to him for comfort. Eventually, he breaks first, unable to watch you sob any longer.

“My darling,” he soothes, striding across the space to wrap his arms around you. “My sweet girl.”

His nicknames only make you cry harder, burying your face in his crisp white dress shirt and undoubtedly getting makeup all over it. He doesn’t care, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other wraps around your waist to pull you closer.

“That was really mean,” you blubber into his chest. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

“No,” he reassures, rocking you in his arms gently. “No, darling. No. God, that’s the last thing I want. Honest.”

“Why did you say it then?”

Your voice is muffled, face still pressed against him. He smells so familiar and masculine and Rupert that it only makes you cry more.

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses, squeezing you tighter. “I shouldn’t have. You know me, I- I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Your fingers are gripping the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

“I know, darling. I know.”

You sniffle as you pull back slightly to look up at him, surprised to see his eyes teary and glistening.

“Do you love me, Rupert? Because, because- if you… if you really wanted me to leave… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, cradling your face in his hands. “Of course I love you. The fact you even have to ask breaks my heart. I don’t want to you leave - I love having you here. And god forbid, if something bad did happen between us… we both know we wouldn’t stick around and pretend that this is something it’s not.”

Part of you knows that he’s good at this - saying exactly what you want and need to hear. The rest of you is stupidly relieved, letting his words wash over you like a balm on a scrape.

“I didn’t like it when you laughed at me tonight. One, because it made me feel stupid, and two… because I don’t want people to doubt us. You know what they’re all like. They see the tiniest crack and dig their fingers into it until it’s a gaping wound that they can all gossip about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs as he sweeps his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. “I shouldn’t give them any ammunition. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. There was no malicious intent on my part, I swear - it was just a joke between friends. You know Bas adores you.”

“I know,” you half chuckle. “He tells me every single time he sees me.”

“Exactly,” Rupert grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But no one adores you the way I do. I can promise you that.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, meaning you can feel his warm skin against your cheek, comforting and familiar.

“Rupert?”

He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Will you stop bringing up my age when we argue? I don’t ever mention that you’re older than me, but you’re so quick to call me young or inexperienced or a baby.”

“Yes, darling. I’m sorry that it seems like a focal point for us - it’s not, I swear.”

“You kissed me.”

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me, that day in the garden. Not the other way around. You made the move first. I’m not some innocent girl chasing after you because I’m naive and too young to know any better.”

“I know that. I kissed you because I thought you were the most magnificent girl I’d ever met. I still do.”

He tightens his arms around you, gently rocking you like a child again.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” you mumble, sighing deeply.

“Neither do I, darling. We’re finished with the arguing now. Promise.”

Rupert takes half a step back, to give him a better look at you. You still look beautiful, even if you do have mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smudged across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss you.

“I love you too,” you manage to mutter against his lips, kissing him back as hard as you can.

He kisses you carefully, methodically, as if he’s worried he’ll spook you and you’ll take off running. He’s keeping you close, hands gripping your hips to plaster your body to his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging the dark locks with a little too much force, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

Rupert walks you both towards the fire, lips never parting from yours. His hand finds the back of your dress, pulling down the zip in one smooth movement. It falls to your feet, kicked to the side in disregard. He sits down in the armchair and pulls you with him so you’re straddling his lap, legs on either side of his hips and arms thrown around his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing patterns up and down your bare back.

You press kisses into his neck and down his chest, the hair there tickling your face as you do it. Your hips have slowly started to move against his, both of you out of breath as the stakes get higher and higher.

He undoes the zip on his trousers, smirking when you whimper at his knuckles brushing your wet core. He pulls them down just enough to free himself, not worried about getting completely undressed.

“I want these off,” he instructs, pulling at the waistband of your underwear. “Now, darling.”

You wiggle them down your legs, kicking them off one foot in the direction of your dress. You’re fully naked in his lap, while he’s still wearing his shirt unbuttoned with his trousers halfway down his thighs. You both look debauched, more scandalous than you could ever imagine. You wish for a moment that you had a mirror, desperate to watch the way you need each other.

You take matters into your own hands and line him up, sinking down slowly so you can savour the stretch. It burns just right, the slight ache a welcome intrusion.

“Shit, darling. That’s it. Good girl.”

Tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, you start to wind your hips up and down - gently at first, and then with more vigour. Rupert lets his head loll back into the chair, exposing that gorgeously tanned neck of his. You nip at it with your teeth, grinning when he groans all low and slow.

He cups your tits, squeezing and pinching as he begins to buck his hips to meet yours. You’re determined to do all the work yourself, but he can read your body language like a book, whether you like it or not. He knows you’re getting tired, but will point blank refuse to admit it.

One of his hands slinks between you to rub firm circles onto your clit, both of you moaning when you clench down around him. He can tell you’re almost there, just needing the tiniest push to throw you over the edge.

“There we go, good girl. My good girl. All mine.”

That’s all you need, back arching and legs shaking as you reach your climax. Yours triggers Rupert’s, the most delicious groan leaving his mouth as he comes. He looks like a Greek God, all chiseled and glistening in the firelight.

Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you breathe him and try to calm your pounding heart. You can feel his heart battering against his chest where it’s pressed against yours, bodies tangled together in the armchair.

The two of you catch your breath for a while, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the company of the other. Eventually, Rupert carries you upstairs, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your hair as he does it.

I was wrong, earlier, you think as he tucks you into bed and immediately climbs in next to you, plastering himself to your back. No one could love me like Rupert does.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, even if I sound like a broken record…

reblogs are gold dust to writers!! reblog the fics you read and enjoy, and your favourite writers will keep writing them for you!! it really is that simple!! <3

[ezziedoodles]

Why Season 2 Of Arcane Felt A Little Off

Let me preface this by saying I adore this show, and I loved this season. I laughed, I cried, and I had a good time watching it. The art direction and animation is a masterpiece. This is probably my favorite show, but I think it's good to critique the things you love and this entire season I felt like I was waiting for something.

For a show titled Arcane, season one had remarkably little to do with the arcane. Yes, there was Hextech and magic, but the show was centered on this class divide between Piltover and Zaun and all the conflicts that stem from this. The very first scene of the show is enforcers killing citizens on the bridge, with Powder and Vi finding their dead parents' bodies. Zilco's reasoning for doing anything he did was because he believed he was helping Zaun, including raising Jinx the way he did. Vi was so passionate about her city and the injustice facing it. Caitlyn witnessing this injustice is what causes her to question the systems she is a part of. Viktor and Jayce (but especially Viktor) created technology with the intention of wanting to improve life for the undercity. Ekko is a revolutionary doing so much to give his people a community and a chance to live their lives. My point is literally every single character is connected by this conflict between the cities.

Now let's take a look at the second season. Where is this part of the story that was so essential to the first season? There's a brief revolutionary beat with Jinx and her followers but once they escape from prison, the show moves on from this and never touches it again. We see Caitlyn's descent into corrupt madness, becoming everything she and Vi wanted to stop. Eventually she realizes how wrong she was but do we see her make any reparations to Zaun specifically for the damage she caused? She gassed the city, poisoning the air even further (with gas that has been confirmed to make people sick in the long run), harming hundreds of innocent people. And Vi, a character so vehemently against enforcers in the first season, goes along with this for how long? Days? Weeks? And only stops when she can visually see the impact of Caitlyn's madness as she almost kills a child in front of her. These characters are flawed and I love that, but we see them get their happy ending without ever truly addressing or helping with what they did to Zaun.

Ekko sees an alternate universe of everything his city could be, everything they all wanted so badly in the first season. Equality, safety, education, food security, and more. He says he is thankful for the reminder and I fully believe he will go forth with this vision in mind, but do we ever see it? And that right there is the problem. We don't know what happens to Zaun in the end, we don't know if things get better. All we see is Sevika on the council but we don't know if that will fix anything since people have stood up for the undercity in council before and it did nothing.

I want to see Ekko rally his people and repair the damage caused by the war. I want to see Vi open up the last drop and make it what it was always meant to be, a place of community. I want to see schools open in the undercity in honor of Viktor and Jayce. I want to see the two cities heal from the damage done to each other. Fuck it, I just want literally any closure on this plotline! Just tack on a 2 minute montage of what happened to this city after the war and I'd feel a little better. But instead this part of the story was completely sidelined throughout the season and ignored entirely in the finale. I'm not someone that thinks every story needs to have a moral, but this show was trying to tell us something! The first season was screaming from the rooftops to beware of privilege, beware systemic oppression, to fight inequality, and I find it really sad that there was no conclusion for that.

I do wish there had been three seasons to give it a smoother transition form politics to magic but it is what it is. Nothing is perfect. This season gave me so much including the best depiction of soulmates I've ever seen in my life so you win some you lose some ig.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Thanksgiving

Summary: It was your first Thanksgiving with Natasha. Actually, it was your first Thanksgiving ever. And to make matters worse, you were meeting her parents for the first time. Would this be the best or the worst first Thanksgiving ever? Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Alexei, Melina, and Yelena appearances) WC: 3,019 Warnings/Themes: Fluff, slight angst, mentions of kidnapping and experimenting, drinking alcohol A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you enjoy this special fic <3

Thanksgiving was right around the corner, or at least thats what Natasha was saying. She was eager to see her family after so long, and share a classic American meal on the lovely holiday. You hadn’t met any of her family, but you’d heard so much about them. Melina, her headstrong mother, Alexei, her stubborn Father, and Yelena, her hilarious sister. The way she talked about them always reflected a little piece of Natasha herself, you were almost shocked to hear they weren’t her biological family.

But that didn’t matter, not to her. They were the only family she knew, and she was looking forward to celebrating yet another holiday season with them. And this time, with you. You wished you had any sort of family; a mother who could've taught you how to sort your laundry, or even an uncle who could tell jokes that would’ve made you laugh. But you knew of none, especially after the tragedy that occurred when you were small.

Entire buildings blown up, your childhood apartment shattered into a million pieces you never realized wouldn’t be reconstructed. Sly faces swooping in to your rescue, their evil plans hidden from an unsuspecting toddler. Their intentions didn’t matter, as there was no one to protect you anymore. Your parents likely passed in the bombing, but all the details were so hazy. Sometimes you wondered if it was all fabricated after spending years in captivity. Maybe you needed a reason to think your parents didn’t give you up, that they didn’t do it by choice.

“Have you ever celebrated Thanksgiving?” Natasha asked from the next room over. Right, thanksgiving was tomorrow. You weren’t back in the destroyed building, or being taken to the next facility for experimentation. You were safe with Natasha.

You hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving before, and the idea sounded a little too perfect to you. Sitting with those you loved most to relay all that you’re thankful for? That was the kind of stuff you could only dream of. In a perfect life, you’d actually have more to be thankful for. “No.” You responded from your spot on the couch. Natasha had described the food, from homemade stuffing to a perfectly cooked turkey. It sounded delicious, but that wasn’t what you were worried about.

Her family was daunting. Not because they were bad people, but because they were nice. What if they thought you were a bad influence? What if they disagreed with Natasha’s choice to be in a relationship with such a broken soul? You’d only been with her for a year, leaving you to constantly question the foundation of your relationship often.

The Avengers had saved you from the facility after hearing word of all the children captive. But you weren’t a child when they found you, more a brainwashed adult stuck in the system due to being raised there. Advanced in not only combat, but also the interworking of the large corporation, the entire team decided to take you in as their own. Your knowledge of the company helped them take it down once and for all, a huge feat that would prevent more children from being taken from their families.

You were scared at first, in the large compound with all these superheroes. They had so much experience doing good, and you could barely remember the last time you held the door for someone. It took a lot of time to deprogram your mind, all the years of negatives pounded into you like they were the truth. Being told you were worthless, only a weapon to be used on the facility’s whim. That you weren’t allowed to feel, because that would be weak.

Throughout the entire process, Natasha was the one who stayed by your side. She had expressed a time when she went through something similar, which was partially why she felt inclined to help you so much. But after you two got to know each other as people and not as weapons of mass destruction, you saw just how much you had in common. It was only a few months later you two were official, and the entire team was in support of it.

Your progress was coming along nicely, and there was even the chance to join a few missions. Being a superhero was like a dream come true; you were given a second chance after all that happened, your life was truly beginning. But as cities across the world became safer and safer, the Avengers were called upon less and less. The team decided there wasn’t a huge need for a structured, ready-to-pounce battalion. You could all go your separate ways if you so pleased. Natasha felt ready to leave the compound, and you agreed that would be best. The idea of living alone with her was desirable, and after you became comfortable with the life you were living it was finally time to make that change.

But you hadn’t realized just how different a normal life would be. The apartment Natasha purchased was perfect. Two bedrooms—one converted into an office for all of the leftover Avengers gear—the perfect place for you both to start a life. That didn’t just mean living alongside Natasha, it meant picking out couches and bed frames and even kitchen towels. You were starting to question if it was truly the dream life, sitting in front of a computer all day and adding things to your cart.

The online shopping was the easiest bit; being so close to Natasha was the hardest. You couldn’t hide in your own room anymore, not like at the compound. You couldn’t go sit on the roof and watch the stars when you felt the need to run away, because Natasha would easily be able to find you. She had picked up on those certain habits at the compound eventually, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to have the space. In the small apartment, it grew harder to take that distance for yourself when you needed it most.

Natasha was extremely understanding, though, and was more than willing to go out for the evening so you could have some alone time. Eventually, you both got into a rhythm that allowed for the perfect amount of time together and apart.

You quickly learned about holidays, and what ones Natasha celebrated. Easter wasn’t really her thing, but you all were invited to Tony’s easter party where he set up an egg hunt for everyone—including his daughter. Fourth of July was fun; Natasha took you to a park where you sat and watched the fireworks late at night. And now, you were hearing just how great thanksgiving would be.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you.” Natasha walked out into the kitchen, her soft voice bringing you back to the present. It was so easy to get caught up in the past, but she was always there to ground you.

“What gave it away?” You smiled, standing to meet her in the kitchen. She was prepping a raspberry chocolate cake, apparently one she makes every year. You hugged her from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist as she began to stir a few ingredients together. She lightly pressed kiss to your forehead.

“I promise, they will love you. If they don’t want you to move in with them by the end of the night, I’ll be surprised.” Natasha laughed, your worried expression falling. They were kind people, they’ll be understanding of who you are. After all, their own daughter did go through something similar. For now, you just needed to try and relax before the big introduction tomorrow. And luckily, helping Natasha bake would surely make your anxieties lessen.

—————

The car rolled along the rough road, bumping over each rock and dip as Natasha drove further into the secluded neighborhood. Only a few houses were dotted around, leaving the area quiet and peaceful as you watched from the passenger-side window. Maybe you were exuding nervous energy, because Nat’s hand quickly rested on your leg as she slowed in front of the charming house.

“Remember, you are perfect. You don’t need to act a certain way to please them, they’ll love you for you.” She spoke while putting the car in park. You nodded, eyeing the home before you. It wasn’t anything large, but it had an inviting feeling. The paneled exterior was accented with deep woods, and of course lots of plants. You were almost jealous you didn’t live in a house like this.

Natasha grabbed the cake from the backseat as you slowly shut the passenger door. In your reluctant state, you let her lead to the front door of the house. Before she could even knock, the door swung open.

“Natasha!” Melina—you assumed—jumped out onto the front porch with open arms. She wasted no time admiring the cake, asking Nat a million questions before the redhead could even say hello herself.

“And who is this?” Alexei, a gruff man with a large smile asked with his eyes pointed toward you. Swallowing thickly, you introduced yourself and held out a hand to shake. He didn’t accept it, and rather pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt. “So good to have you here. Natasha has told us all about you.” All about you? Did they all know about your troubled past?

There was no time to dwell on the details as Melina practically shoved you inside. “Let me take your jacket, here,” Her hands made quick work of pulling off your coat, nearly distracting you from the blonde bounding down the stairs.

“Sestra!” She exclaimed, her accent making you smile as it matched Melina’s and Alexei’s. Yelena, Natasha’s sister you’d heard so much about. After she hugged her sibling, her eyes turned to you. “I see why Natasha took such a liking to you.”

“Hey!” Nat interjected, hitting Yelena playfully. The two tussled, leaving you to take in the interior of the cozy house. There was a fireplace lit in the living room, worn couches telling stories of the many people who relaxed on their woven threads. A wooden dining table, etched with fork and knife marks from all the times someone slammed their fists down in anger. And the kitchen, where Melina was displaying the chocolate cake on a stand amidst the field of other Thanksgiving dishes.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Here, let me get you a glass. You must be starving—“ You didn’t have any time to answer, as Melina was already pouring you a glass of wine.

“Thanks.” You breathed as she handed it to you.

“Don’t suffocate her.” Natasha smiled, wrapping an arm around you as she watched her mom smother. Although overwhelming, something about it made you smile too.

“Yeah, Natasha already does that enough.” Yelena chimed in, earning yet another punch to the arm from her sister. The playful banter between family members was something you could definitely get used to. Watching as Natasha quipped back and forth with Yelena made you wish you had a sibling of your own, but you knew Nat was more than willing to share.

Melina was flitting about the kitchen, tending to various different dishes before she even realized you were all still standing. You didn’t mind though, as Alexei was already regaling everyone on his last adventure out West. “Oh, everyone, please sit!” She gestured to the set table, complete with flowers freshly picked from the garden.

Natasha sat beside you on one side of the table, Alexei taking the head, and Yelena sitting opposite you. The blonde wasted no time pouring herself a glass of clear liquid. Vodka; although the label was in Russian, it was easy to tell what mysterious liquid sat in side. She downed the glass in seconds, making your eyes widen. Speaking of Russian, you noticed just how much of the house was filled with culture from the other side of the ocean. Books reading in different languages, foods you had yet to try being prepared on the counter, and Natasha’s stories of her home country she used to tell you in passing. The pieces of all these people’s pasts were collected, built into a new form all within the walls of the house.

You wished your apartment was the same; shelves full of tales from your country of origin, recipes passed down from generations you could cook as you pleased—but unfortunately, you had no idea where you came from. “Dinner is served!” Melina called out, lifting a large turkey onto the table.

Everyone dug in as Melina brought more and more food to the table. Eventually, she sat down and joined in the fun, everyone reaching to grab spoonfuls of mouth-watering dishes for their plates. You quickly followed, taking anything that looked enticing… which was pretty much everything.

“So, tell us about yourself. You like to Avenge, eh?” Alexei questioned while bitting into a forkful of food. You chuckled, nodding.

“I do, but the team's on a hiatus for now. Seems the world isn’t in much need of saving these days.” You glanced at Natasha, who smiled. Knowing the world was safe without the Avengers was relieving for the both of you.

Alexei, on the other hand, slapped his fist on the table. “There is always work to be done, ah! No aliens invading town these days?” You weren’t sure if he was asking or just talking to himself, so you shrugged.

“Luckily it’s been pretty calm. We’re always on call if anything happens, though.” You respond. 

Melina was beaming, her eyes glued to you as she took a sip of her wine. “And how did you join the team? Any superpowers we should know about before you blast a hole into these walls?” She laughs. You don’t match her joking tone, instead looking at Natasha once more. She hadn’t told them how you came to be an Avenger. Was that a conversation you should be starting so soon?

You knew this family had been through hell and back, so maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to tell them. Still, you treaded lightly. “Well, the Avengers rescued me from a facility a little while back.” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I was trained in combat there, so they thought I could be an asset to the team.”

Yelena nearly interrupted, her voice flowing with curiosity. “Was it like the Red Room? Wait, Nat, you didn’t tell me she was rescued from a place like the Red Room!” Natasha shot her a glare, leaving Yelena to hold up her hands and hide back behind her meal. You swallowed, taking another breath. A part of you was entertained by Yelena’s curiosity; no one cared that you were a different person before the Avengers, it just seemed they were glad you were here now.

“Uh, kinda of,” You tilted your head. “A similar organization, I guess. Anyways, Natasha helped me get back on my feet, and the rest is history.” You turned to smile at Nat, who of course was already smiling at you.

The rest of the evening went surprisingly well. No one pressed about your past any further, they were mostly interested in your present. Things you liked to do, dates Natasha had taken you on, and any empty space was filled with another one of Alexei’s stories. You learned a lot about Nat and her family, too. How Yelena had a dog back at home, and how Melina had pet pigs. It was an eclectic group of people you were grateful to be beside.

Grateful. Maybe you did have a lot to be grateful for after all. Natasha, her welcoming family, a wonderful life with people you loved. Just over a year ago that all seemed like an unobtainable dream, but today you were living it.

As Melina prepared take-home plates for you and Natasha, you both started to say your goodbyes. “Come by anytime, with or without Natasha.” Alexei hugged you again, nearly squeezing out all the food you just ate.

“You have to come back for Christmas!” Yelena exclaimed, giving you a side-hug. You nodded, looking forward to yet another holiday with the bunch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? It’s so dark out.” Melina asked for the fifth time as she handed her daughter the plate of leftovers.

Natasha chuckled, hugging her mother. “We’re sure. I’ll see you soon.” And just like that, you two were leaving with plates stacked full of food and hearts full of love. But there was something beneath all the warmth that enveloped you, something tugging at you that was impossible to ignore.

As Nat pulled the car out of the driveway, you couldn’t help but burst into tears. She was taken by surprise, but immediately pulled over onto the dirt. The unknown emotion was bubbling out of you, each sob releasing something you didn’t realize you were holding. Natasha didn’t rush you, she didn’t question it. She just placed her hand on your thigh, moving it up and down until you were ready to talk.

“I want to have a home like that.” You suddenly spoke, damp eyes looking straight into Natasha’s with desire. Not necessarily a desire for her, but for the life you could have with her.

“What, loud and cluttered? Sure, if that’s what you want.” She joked, well aware her parent's house was filled to the brim with random collections and strewn relics.

“No,” You interjected, serious tone unwavering. “I want to fill our home with our lives. Books that explain our past, belongings passed down from family and friends, furniture collected from our travels. Proof that people with a story to tell live within its walls.” Your words leave Natasha speechless, the hand on your thigh suddenly stopping its movement. She never considered that you two didn’t have many belongings to begin with. She never realized that many homes had a meaning behind each decoration, each embellishment. And in that moment, she completely understood your desire.

“Then let’s create that story together.” Natasha’s lips found yours, and suddenly, you weren’t worried anymore.

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter two: postpone or the one you threatened to obliterate satoru gojo.

warnings: conversations about death, megumi fushiguro is bad at feelings, teachers & students, yuji itadori is a ray of sunshine, sorcerers being clinicaly insane, ryomen sukuna, canon level of violence, blood and gore, cannibalist thoughts, protective satoru gojo.

word count: [1,5K]

kill count: [0]

From underneath the ash tree, admiring a caterpillar chew on a damp leaf, you realized how unfair it was for today to be beautiful. A boy just lost his life, you cursed the cloudless sky and warm breeze. It was supposed to rain.

Which burden is heavier? The guilty of murdering a child, or the responsibility of all lives reaped by a reincarnated Ryomen Sukuna? A hero wouldn’t hesitate. A hero would carry that burden for the rest with blood-stained hands and call it mercy.

Good thing Satoru Gojo is a calamity, and the elders never hesitated before calling you a monster.

Ignoring the blurs burned into your eyelids, you stared down at the mountains surrounding the college. Dozens of miles below, two dots no bigger than ants went up the concrete path. One pink, one white. A second later, the last one stopped moving.

“If you don’t want to see him”, you waved back at Satoru. “You better start walking now.”

Megumi sighed. “No. I will stay.”

“Go on, be a kid. Hide on your room until you have no other option.”

“I can’t.”

His wounds were fully healed, but the tiredness on Megumi’s voice is evident. You could almost hear all the gears moving inside his mind. Grudge and loathing battling to take control. In such a peaceful day, his silence is loud enough to hurt your ears.

Does he regret saving Itadori, or does he resent his teachers for allowing him to have hope? You don’t know which is worse. For it to be grief or responsibility. Megumi deserves more than being a hero.

“Was it pointless, sensei?”, he grumbled. Eyes set on the ground, words sharp and precise. “Did I only delay something that could’ve been quick and painless? Did I just make it all worse for him?”

“My. What a self-centered boy”, you hissed. For good measure, you also finger-flicked Megumi hard in the forehead. “Tell me, Fushiguro, do you think we kept him alive because you asked us to? Do you think we were forced to defend him?”

Megumi rested his head against the tree trunk. Ouch. Glaring at a caterpillar, Megumi realized he had no choice but admitting the truth. A simple finger-flick and his head throbs. “No, sensei. I couldn’t.”

“Exactly,” you smirked at him. Standing on the ash tree root, you reached for Megumi. His dark eyes could freeze you. Would Megumi like to know how much he reminds you of his father? “Let the adults handle this, alright?”

He accepted your help, and then Megumi followed your suggestion. Once the distant dots turned into discernible shapes, you decided to meet them halfway. Going down the trial’s steps, it took a minute for Yuji to spot you. Running towards you, he left Satoru behind.

“Morning, sensei!” Yuji bowed. You both silentlu agreed to pretend he didn’t just stumble on a step. “Wait, are you a teacher too? Are you my teacher too?”

“I… train your veterans, Itadori”, you answered slowly. For someone expecting Yuji to look devastated, or at least exhausted, his wide smile was an astonishing sight. “You’ll soon meet them all.”

With his arms crossed over his head, Satoru passed by you both. “He’s like an excited puppy, isn’t him?”

Suppressing your laugh, you gesture for Yuji to follow you both. Tilting your head back, you looked into his eyes. How warm. “Has he explained everything to you?”

“Oh, yeah, I think”, Yuji pouted. Rubbing his index finger against his chin, he spoke again. “Fight curses, eat rotten fingers, die.”

Postpone the execution of Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel, the elders announced it as an act of mercy. You wonder if they even know his name is Yuji Itadori. Not that it would matter. It was the best deal Satoru was able to negotiate, but not one you’re willing to accept.

A plan has already formed in your mind. All you have to do now is be patient.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that last part”, you sighed. “We had a similar incident last year. Those cachectic elders can try as much as they want, but we won’t allow them to hurt our kids.”

Once again, Yuji surprised you. As he laughed, snoring a bit, you regretted cursing this beautiful day. The sky really knows best than you. This boy deserves a thousand sunny days.

“Respect your sensei”, Satoru remarked him. You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well he didn’t mean it. “She said something that funny, huh?”

“No, it’s just… I thought you were a monk.” Yuji pointed at your robe, looking at the sash with prayers sewn in golden. “Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

“A monk?” Satoru cachinnates. “Her? Don’t make me laugh, Yuji.”

“Not a monk”, you sighed. “Tell me, Satoru, should I start his first lesson?”

He shrugged. “The boy is all yours.”

“You know what talismans are, Itadori?” You walked the familiar path with your back turned so you could look at him. Surrounded by trees, your voice echoed down the mountain. “You can make one to use as an intermediary for shikigami, create barriers, seal cursed objects…”

“Like Sukuna’s finger?”

Satoru hummed. “Many uses, not very efficient in any of them. Paper rots. They can be made in other materials, but it’s still pretty easy to destroy if you want to.”

“This is a talisman master Tengen crafted for me”, you pointed at the prayers on your sash. “The technique behind it is mathematically correct in every aspect. And still, I wear the same for a week at best.”

“You’re so strong, sensei. I mean, Sukuna tried to eat your heart and it didn’t affect you at all. You can’t do like Megumi and summon a shikigami from shadows?”

“Anyone would’ve assumed I use this one to summon shikigami. Good line of thought, you learn fast.” Yuji smiled at the praise, and you made a mental note about it. “But this one is a sealing talisman.”

“And what are you sealing, sensei?”

“Myself.”

“Cool”, Yuji said. A beat later, he spoke again. “What does that mean?”

“That she’s enough of a menace those cachectic elders put her on a leash”, Satoru explained. “Such a stupid binding vow you were tricked into.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Tilting your head towards the courtyard nearby, you grinned. “Because if you want me to beat your ass, all you have to do is ask for it. I’ll be nice and heal you once you admit defeat.”

Satoru lowered himself to face you, and smirked with his hands on his knees. “All that bark, but I see no fangs. And they call you a monster.”

“There is only one way for you to found out why”, you took a step forward. “C’mon, Strongest. I’ll have so much fun cutting you in half just to put you back together again.”

Yuji was about to shout for help when loud laughs imploded. He could swear the ground vibrated. In sync, you both continued to walk. Satoru with his arms relaxed, you moving swiftly in your scarlet robe. As if nothing happened.

Later he understood. They acted as if it meant nothing, Yuji gossiped. Because for them it didn’t.

“Let’s head to your interview with the director. If you’re not good enough, he’ll reject your registration.”

“Good luck”, you cheered. “Don’t embarrass us.”

“So, you two aren’t the leaders?”

In a matter of seconds, everything changed. It wasn’t a beautiful day anymore. You weren’t surrounded by nature, laughing with an old friend, teaching a willing boy about something you love. The sky was cloudless, the breeze was warm, and it was still the day after Ryomen Sukuna reincarnated.

“Hierarchies are worthless when they do not depend on strength.”

“Sorry, sensei!” Yuji slapped his cheek, trying to cover Sukuna’s mouth. “He does that sometimes.”

Crossing your arms, you glanced at the scars beneath his eyes. Satoru noticed them before you. “What a weird body you have now”, he said.

Another mouth opened in Yuji’s palm. “As soon as I dominate this vessel, I promise you will be the first one to die.”

“It would be an honor.”

At that, you felt poison on your tongue. “As if I would ever let that happen.”

“You will die after him.”

Ignoring the threat, you looked at Yuji. “A binding vow is a pact that can give sorcerer great powers as long as they follow agreed restrictions. Not even Ryomen Sukuna would break one. Tell me, do you want to make a pact with me?”

“Don’t…”

The fact Sukuna tried to intervene was that sold the deal. “What pact?” Yuji spoke over him.

“I’ll protect you from the elders”, you started. Reaching out to him, you thought carefully about your next words. “And in turn, you’re forbidden from making a binding vow without me to mediate.”

Yuji shook your hand. “Okay. We have a deal. A binding vow, that is.”

Feeling that familiar sting of Sukuna messing with his body, Yuji glanced at his hands. Only then he saw the tongue lapping up at your blood. He slapped it, whispering some curses.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”, you showed Yuji your fully healed hand. “The King of Curses wants a piece of me.”

“Another piece of you, that is”, Satoru corrected you. For once, he sounds serious. “How greedy.”

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist | @mwalibrary @mwashelf

[staylovesmiley]

Oohh this looks fun! Okay soooo~

1: What's your current bias line? In my heart I am ot8 but I always find myself drawn to Han, Chan, and Leeknow~

2: Who's the one that made you Stan? I was already a casual listener but that Hyunjin hoodie season meme got me invested

3: What song was your first? My Pace

4: What's your current favorite song? Hall of Fame or Pacemaker

5: What members personally resembles yours the most? Either Chan because we are both the oldest of three who feel the weight of the responsibility they have to shoulder intensely but also Han especially when my partner is involved (we are Minsung coded fr)

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose? Probably 3Racha??

7: What's one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples) oh my goodness- all of their smiles and laughs! They are so unique and feel so genuine it never fails to cheer me up seeing them happy and enjoying life

8: What's your favorite album? Either Maxident or 5-Star

9: Do you have any albums? Mhm! I have all versions of ATE besides the accordion ones, one each of Maxident, Rockstar, 5-Star, and I feel like I’m missing some- but that’s all I can think off the top of my head

10: Have you been to a concert? No but I will be in June 2025!!!

11: Who's your favorite duo? Gosh there are so many good ones- not a duo but I love seeing 00’s interactions it reminds me of me and my friends

12: Favorite cover/solo songs: I got it, alien, limbo, I hate to admit, connected, rev it up, baby, all of their solos for dominate-

13: Favorite SKZOO? Tbh all of them are so precious especially in their 10cm designs! My top three would have to be Leebit, Bbokari, and Wolfchan~

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them? Honestly I’d love to just chill with them maybe hang out and play games, talk, watch movies, maybe go out to eat and just get to know them better personally! As much as I know most of us would love the chance for something romantic with them over all I’d really love to be their friend I feel like it would be so nice to form a platonic connection with them over a romantic one

15: Who's your favorite singing voice? Ugh don’t make me choose- I literally cannot do that because their voices are so unique and I love them for different reasons!

16: Who's your favorite to watch dance? Honestly I’m obsessed with Hyunjin’s dance style it’s addictive tbh also Leeknow’s body control is WILD- as someone who used to dance as a child throughout highschool (even though it was a different form of dance) I always admired the dance aspects of Kpop immensely and whenever I listen to the music I can literally picture the moves in my mind!

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code? The aerial yoga one lol

18: Favorite MV? Case 143, Back Door, Circus, Christmas EveL, and Gimme your TMI

19: Who do you think you'd be best friends with? I feel like Seungmin and I would get along well but I could see myself becoming good friends with all of them tbh? I feel like I can be a pretty friendly person and so can they! Also maybe Felix cause I’m also someone who is touch oriented and I feel like we could relate to a lot of things together especially since we are the same age

20: Let's feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing? Oh shit god I’d be so anxious to go on a date with any of them- probably Felix because one time he talked about what he would love to do if he could spend the day on a date with stay and it sounded exactly like what I’d pick (besides the shopping part like oh god I get so anxious receiving gifts I don’t feel like I deserve it and I never know how to respond-)

THIS WAS FUN LOL thank you for posting these questions~

.·:*¨ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚 ¨*:·.

20 Questions for my fellow Stays!

Making a little tag game because I love them and I’m nosy tbh. I also just love interacting with yall!

1: What’s your current bias line?

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

3: What song was your first?

4: What’s your current favorite song?

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples)

8: What’s your favorite album?

9: Do you have any albums?

10: Have you been to a concert?

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

13: Favorite SKZOO?

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

18: Favorite MV?

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing?

[lightlycareless]

I was reading your scorned ex husband stories and they made me so sad(especially the second one) then I started thinking about the twin au and like what if the twins parent trap them in a different divorced au? Lol. Naoya is still a dick obviously for splitting up twins(seriously who would do that??) but maybe not completely irredeemable for Y/N to forgive him 🥺 Hehe this is just something silly I thought up and wanted to share

Hellooooooo

Heheh this got me watching the movie again, right in the nostalgia. It had been so long since I last saw it that I actually didn't remember most of it, but I do think however: how the hell did they think that was a good idea 🤣 gee, talk about parent of the year.

Anyways, some liberties were taken to make the story work, though the premise is essentially the same.

Also, these are the works anon is referring to :) Ex-husband 1 & Ex-husband 2. Now onto the warnings:

Warnings: none major. Naoya is an a_hole, as always. Naomi and Naori are adorable, but poor kids seriously :'(.

Happy reading!!

If Naoya does this, you effectively hate him from that point forward.

It is non-negotiable, you never want to see him ever again, especially after the cruel words he used to justify the separation of his children:

“I only ever cared about Naori anyways.”

You made it your life-long purpose to keep Naomi from someone as despicable as her father—though it hurt you to do so, for it also meant you’d be away from your beloved son; just 2 years into his life… you barely got to make any memories with him before he was stripped away from your arms.

But such was the divorce agreement: the two would keep one child, and out of their lives.

Naoya remains in Kyoto with his son at the Zen’in estate, while you move back to Tokyo, close to your family but distant enough to have your own apartment. Just the two of you, the little home you always wanted.

In an unexpected turn of events, Naomi and Naori would go on completely unaware of each other until enrolling in the same elementary school.

It was almost undetectable at the beginning since Naomi now had your last name—but once teachers and students alike began to realize their physical similarities, it became impossible to ignore.

“No… we don’t look alike.” Naori would quietly complain. Out of the two, he was the least enthusiastic about this advancement, doing his best to avoid the limelight due to his reserved nature.

However, that wouldn’t mean anything to Naomi: ever the bubble one, she was nothing but to have a new best friend that looked just like her!

“We’re almost like twins!” she gasped—same hair color, eyes, height… how could they not? “I’ve always wanted a baby brother too.”

“Well, I don’t! And I could be older too, you know? Besides, why would I want a sister that’s weak and ugly…?”

Intended to hurt her, Naomi only laughed at his words, for it would take much more than that to bring her down—one could even say that the two were reflections of their respective parents in that matter: the only contrast between the two, as a matter of fact.

“That’s not true!” she happily refuted, taking hold of his hand and heading to the playground. “Now, come on! I want to go on the swings, and I need someone to push me!”

Though Naori was greatly unwilling at first, he’d soon warm up to her, mainly because she was part of the few, if not the only, kid that didn’t bother him because of his shyness; always rushing to the rescue whenever bullies began to swarm him, as well as reassure him there was nothing wrong with being the way he was.

And if that wasn’t enough, the food Naomi began to share with him (courtesy of you, after much insistence from her part) effectively validated their friendship.

“When will you ever bring him over?” you tease, it’s the happiest you’d ever seen your daughter! And for that, you couldn’t help but feel glad and obligated to repay the favor.

“I don’t know, mama. Nori-kun tells me his papa can be quite strict.”

You chuckle.

“Well, I’m sure I can convince him next time the parents have a meeting at school.”

“His papa doesn’t go to school.” Naomi frowns, her words making you sad for the poor child. “Says he’s too busy.”

“Oh, that’s awful. Well, what about the mama?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

Your heart longs to comfort him.

If they only knew…

And as time went on and their friendship flourished even more, so did their interests for one another; beyond those of their favorite colors and toys, and more into… personal grounds.

Matters that had always quietly hurt Naori one way or the other since he could remember; more so since you had been nothing but sweet and kind to a figuratively unknown kid, which highlighted the fact he never had that one thing he always wished for.

What he might never have, since his father has long given up on it, considering the way he coldly changes the subject, or completely ignores it. Naori simply… doesn’t talk about it.

Until now.

“Why don’t you have a dad?” He dares to ask; it’s no secret that the one to pick him up at school is one of his father’s many subordinates, always changing, not enough to be interesting to the other parents outside of how rich (or a jerk) he must be to have employees pick up his child.

Compared to you, always spoken of fondly for the following reasons:

If it was Valentine’s Day, you’d send Naomi with a big box of candies so she could share with all the class.

Halloween was the same, even hosting small gatherings if the children wished to celebrate in a safe environment.

If it was a classmate’s birthday, you always made sure to send them a personal gift or attend their birthday party. Your gifts might’ve put some parents to shame from time to time, but it didn’t matter, you kind of grew to be some kind of celebrity thus a few always tried to be on your good side—or Naomi’s, so to speak.

Naomi’s birthday… well, some fought to be on the guest list.

In other words,you were an amazing for both kids and parents alike, enough to inspire Naori to daydream about what it would be to have a loving mother like you—to always be at the door once it was time to leave, patiently waiting for the moment your daughter would come into view and subsequently pick her up into a tight, warm hug, followed by a kiss and wide smile as you urged Naomi to tell you all about her day.

Or more importantly, wonder if you were open to adopting him.

“Oh… that—I… don’t know!” Naomi responds truthfully. “Mama never talks about him.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Once or twice, but all she says is that I should focus on my studies!

…

But I can see how sad she gets whenever I mention him.” She continues. “Mama isn’t very good at hiding “adult talk” and neither is my auntie, so I always get to hear how lonely she is when they talk about him! … and how she should try dating other people, or whatever that means, so she wouldn’t feel like that anymore.”

“I think is when you marry someone.” Naori tries to explain, Naomi scowls out of disgust.

She doesn’t like the idea of sharing her mama with someone else, grows somewhat jealous too.

Well, maybe if it was Uncle Nanami, he’s always been nice to her and her mama. Not Geto because she plans on marrying him herself.

And she supposes her papa too… but how could someone you love make you sad?

“I don’t want her marrying anyone.” Naomi shakes her head. “She’s happy with me!”

“But don’t you wonder about your dad?” he asks. “What did he look like? How did he meet your mom?”

Or how they fell in love?

Naturally. Because just as Naori, and even after you tried your hardest to distract her from it… she too longed to have a father. Someone to play with her after finishing all her homework, put her over his shoulders and let her see the world from his height, or protect her from the monsters that lived inside the closet…

There must be an answer to both of their mysteries—people don’t simply disappear.

And such, is how they assigned themselves a new mission; a task of the upmost importance, requiring all their attention and care if they wish to uncover why they only have one parent—and who was such peculiar character.

Anything that could hint such solution is a chance they’d take, however…

To Naomi, this endeavor proved quite fruitless, for any indication of your past relationship was effectively ripped from the evidence. Quite literally: thousands and thousands of pictures cut in half, neatly removing the person that accompanied her mother—whom she assumed to be her father. And that’s without mentioning your consistent disapproval of the matter. Naomi was right where she began.

This lack of advancement both frustrated her and placed more pressure onto Naori’s efforts, which shockingly, turned to be quite more than what they bargained for. Getting results neither could’ve imagined, not even in their wildest dreams…

“Naomi-chan… I’m not sure if you’re ready to see this.” Naori would caution as he placed down a large wooden box before her, filled with his findings.

“Why? Why not, Naori-kun?” she frets, surely it couldn’t be anything too outrageous.

…Could it?

Yes, it could. And it was.

Because beyond the astonishing realization that all the pictures Naori brought were in virtually perfect shape…

The fact they both recognize the people in the photo, Naomi’s mother, wearing that same bright eyed, wide smile look on her face whenever particularly excited. Happy—alongside Naori’s father, with his usual dyed hair, ear piercings, and striking eyes…

Holding two newborn babies—named Naomi and Naori such as the inscription in the back stated, alongside their birth time and date (Naomi is older, at last is known) …

Is what truly shocked them.

…

…

…

You. Naoya.

Naomi and Naori.

Mama and papa.

A family, for all intents and purposes.

What everyone around them proclaimed: siblings.

Naomi and Naori were siblings. Twins.

“Does that mean we—”

Naori nods. If it hadn’t been obvious enough by now.

Nonetheless, as thrilling as this discovery was, for it essentially made their respective dreams come true… another question arose. One that undoubtedly could not proceed unanswered.

“Why aren’t our parents together?”

Or most importantly:

“How can we get them back together?”

“But what if they don’t want to?” Naori frets.

“I told you already! Mama looks very happy wit him, and auntie says she’s very lonely too… besides, if they get back together that means we’ll finally be a happy family! And isn’t that what you wanted?”

Naori presses his lips together, nodding.

“I want a happy family too. I’ve always wanted a papa to play with!” Naomi continues.

“And a mom to hug…” Naori adds. “What do we do?”

First…

Get them together, face to face. In other words, talk. It’s how adults always preached problems got solved.

Since you had given Naomi the impression you’re not interested in anything pertaining to Naori’s dad, she had to get creative. Force you into a position where you wouldn’t be able to ignore her as you’ve done before—and one where Naoya would inevitably have to go to school too.

It had to be a convincing excuse, and since the two were children in need of dire solutions, their innocent minds led them to the most extreme resolution yet.

“I need you to punch me.” Naomi says, determined.

“Why?!” he gasps.

“Because I need to get hurt for mama to come, and if you’re the one in trouble they’ll have to call your papa, and then, the two will be here, just as we planned!”

“Can’t we do something less dangerous…?” Naori doesn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with his strict dad, as if he weren’t insufferable enough…

“No, Naori. It must be this!”

“But I don’t want to punch you…”

“Come on, we have to do it to have a family!!” she insists. “Or do you not want mama to make you food every day? To hug you too??”

He swallows.

“I do.”

“Then do it!”

And… he does. After taking a deep breath, clenching his fist and hitting Naomi in what she could only describe the weakest punch she could’ve ever anticipated. Surely, not enough to make this case convincing.

“Naori! You have to hit harder than that!”

“I—I tried!” he cries.

“No, you didn’t!” she cries back. “You didn’t even try!”

“Ye—yes I did!” Naori frowns. “It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you!”

“Yeah, right! You’re a boy, you’re supposed to hit harder!” Naomi adds, smirking soon after an idea crosses her mind. “… Then I guess you don’t really want a mama.”

“I do want a mom…”

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known not to trust you with something so important anyways—” she says, words that brush each and every one of Naori’s insecurities. “You’re just as weak as everyone else says…”

With a frown on his face, and a sour tightness in his chest, little Naori quickly clenched his fist and prepared himself to prove her wrong once and for all. Show that he wanted this just as much as she did—if not more.

Naomi was trying her best to get a rise out of Naori, everything necessary to motivate a genuine hit out of him and get their plan in motion—she never meant any of those words, intended to apologize after all was said and done, though she doubted it would matter once they got what they sought after.

But it was almost comical how it happened, how he miscalculated his steps, how far his hand had to travel to hit Naomi, and how he ended up doing far more than necessary: but convincingly so, in the end. Tripping over her and sending the two tumbling down, loudly hitting the ground in such a motion that had them scraping their skin, and of course, tears following suit.

“Maaaaaaa, I want my mamaaaaa.” Naomi intuitively cried, tightly holding onto the teacher as the two were sent to the infirmary.

Naori didn’t cry much for his father, he rarely did considering his prominent absence, but just one look at his teary face and trembling lip, and it was obvious whom he sought for comfort—the same one the school somehow convinced to come along and deal with this unfortunate incident.

As well as the supposed altercation that made way for all this to happen in the first place.

“No, what do you mean a fight??” You’re the first to arrive, demanding a believable explanation from the teacher. “That’s not—that doesn’t sound like my daughter!”

“I know, I thought the same… but that’s what the kids are saying.” She explains. “That Naomi-chan was inciting Naori-kun to punch her, and that she was even saying awful things to get him to do that. I don’t know what they were doing, if they were playing a game or… I don’t know; all of it is so weird—I’m sorry.”

You sigh.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to stress when it’s already happened.” You explain. “Is the parent of the child here already?”

“Should be soon, but I don’t know if he’s actually coming, Naori’s dad isn’t quite… present.”

You frown at the name.

“Naori? Wasn’t he Naomi’s best friend?”

She nods.

“It just makes everything even more unbelievable… really, what’s gotten to them?”

You hope to figure such when speaking to the poor child your daughter allegedly antagonized, after apologizing for such behavior of course. Which you’d have to deal with after returning home—Naomi… seriously, what could’ve possibly gone through her mind to incite such act? Was she being bullied? Did Naori suddenly decide he no longer wanted to be friends with her?

And why did his name appear to be so… familiar?

You’d figure it out soon enough when entering the infirmary, quickly scanning across the room for your daughter—only to freeze upon locking into Naoya’s; a much smaller, softer version of them, that is.

“Mamaaaaa!!” Naomi quickly cries when seeing you walk past the door, rushing to your side and hugging you tightly, the adrenaline of the whole succession still vivid in her mind. “Mama, it—it hurts a lot!”

Comforting her ought to be your utmost priority, but at the sight of your estranged child, the baby you were forcibly stripped away from… you couldn’t think of anything else but pinching yourself to see if this was a dream—if he was truly there, before you: flesh and bone. After so many years of distance…!

And naturally, hug him. Keep him so, so close to you and never let go; to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart and the things you never got to do because of his undeserving, cruel father…

Who stomped past the door soon after, equally freezing when seeing his estranged child, and ex-wife after 5 years of imposed silence. Startled, as if he hadn’t been the deciding factor behind it all.

Or perhaps, the reason why Naori enrolled in this school in the first place.

“Y/N.”

“Naoya.”

Looks like there’s much to catch up to.

Obviously, part 2 is needed. Essentially where Naoya will disclose more of what the hell was going on in his mind when pulling that stunt, as well as some angst. I have to. hahaha

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little thing I wrote; I do love it when we indulge into domestic au... but not at the expense of the kids 😭😭😭 think of the children!!! lol.

Well, 0nce again, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!