#I got there when it opened and it was a TWO hour wait

[writeriguess]

neemaaa

can i request a katsuki x reader where they are secretly in a relationship? they get caught making out by their friends and then get teased the whole time

Unveiled

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming through your veins as you pressed yourself against Katsuki Bakugo. His lips were hot against yours, moving with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. One of his hands was gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nails grazing the nape of his skin, earning a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your entire body.

This was risky. So damn risky.

Your friends could walk in at any moment. Hell, they were supposed to be here already! But the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of sneaking around, made it impossible to care. You had been keeping your relationship with Bakugo a secret for months, slipping away in between training sessions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at odd hours, exchanging heated glances across the common area when no one was looking. It was exhilarating, having this little secret between just the two of you.

"Tch, you taste good," Bakugo muttered against your lips before diving back in, deepening the kiss. You couldn't help but melt into him, fingers tightening against his skin as you pulled him closer.

That was when it happened.

The door to the empty common room slammed open with a loud BANG.

"OH MY GOD!" Mina’s voice practically echoed through the room, followed by the distinct sound of Kaminari’s laughter and Kirishima’s deep chuckle. You barely had time to react before the two of you jerked apart, but it was too late.

You were caught.

Bakugo's face was a mix of horror and absolute rage, his entire body tensing as if he was about to explode—not figuratively, but literally. You, on the other hand, were frozen in place, eyes darting between your very smug-looking friends.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Kaminari wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. "I THOUGHT YOU HATED EVERYONE, BAKUGO!"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Mina smirked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. "Secret relationship, huh? Oh, this is juicy. You guys have been sneaking around this whole time? How long?!"

"None of your damn business!" Bakugo snapped, but his reaction only seemed to fuel their amusement.

Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Bakugo’s shoulder despite the clear and present danger of being blown to smithereens. "Man, this explains so much! You've been way less of an asshole lately."

"The hell I have!"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just pretend you guys didn't see anything?"

Mina gasped dramatically. "Oh, absolutely not. This is the best thing that's happened all week!"

"Yeah, we're never letting you live this down," Kaminari added, grinning wickedly. "So, tell me, Bakugo, how long have you been secretly making out with our dear friend here?"

Bakugo twitched, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you genuinely feared for Kaminari’s safety. "You wanna die, Dunce Face?"

"Relax, man, I think it’s kinda cute!" Kirishima piped up, and Bakugo turned his death glare toward him instead.

Mina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others! You know this means the whole class is going to grill you, right?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, but it was futile.

"Oh, I dare," she teased, winking. "I give it five minutes before everyone in 1-A knows."

Bakugo groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to god, I will kill all of you."

But the teasing didn't stop there. By the time the rest of your classmates found out, it was pure chaos. Sero and Kaminari wouldn't stop making exaggerated kissing noises every time you and Bakugo were in the same room. Todoroki, in his usual deadpan tone, commented, "I always assumed Bakugo was incapable of romance. This is surprising."

Momo and Iida, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy for you both, though Iida did remind you that public displays of affection should be kept to a minimum.

It was insufferable. It was embarrassing. It was never-ending.

And yet, despite all the teasing, Bakugo still found ways to sneak you away, to press you against the walls of empty hallways, to steal quick, heated kisses when no one was looking.

"They can tease all they want," he muttered one night, his lips brushing against yours, "but that doesn't change a damn thing. You're mine."

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[magiclilybean-reblogs]

When you say "The more biodiversity you wipe out, the harder you have to fight nature," it reminds me of my husband trying to weed our garden this one year. He felt so defeated because it just seemed like it never ended and he never made a dent.

I was like, man, you have a full time office job. You raise three kids and run a house. In your spare time you spend an hour or two in the garden.

Nature? This is its full time job. This is all it wants to do, all the time. There's open space here. There's disturbed soil, and it's already got SO MANY seeds waiting in it, and sun shining down on it, just ready to go. And you're trying to beat that in your spare time? Don't worry about it.

Headspace, can I ask you, do you know a good way to assess what environment your land used to be, so you could find out what to plant? Some places are harder than others, but I know for sure where I am, it's been cleared and then reforested at least once, and I'm not sure what it was before that. Probably forest? But hardwood or pine? IDK

It feels like one of those bits of info that most people don't value, and would therefore be difficult to find, if that makes sense.

I...tried to make a meme and got carried away and made A Thing that is like partially unfinished because i spent like 3 hours on it and then got tired.

I think this is mostly scientifically accurate but truth be told, there seems to be relatively little research on succession in regards to lawns specifically (as opposed to like, pastures). I am not exaggerating how bad they are for biodiversity though—recent research has referred to them as "ecological deserts."

Feel free to repost, no need for credit

[tactical-jellyfish]

Wisdom Teeth (drabble)

I've been mean to y'all. Too much angst. Take some fluff for the winter (me having a test this week)

Warnings!: Wisdom tooth removal. Bloody spit, at one point reader is in enough pain to verbally request an opioid pill. Pain and pain medication. Fluffy <3 prob leads up to poly, they're fruitcakes about it.

The SAS teams have had to pause ops for a wide, wide range of reasons. The odd health complication is very much among them.

That being said, Price never thought he would have to pause a mission because one of his star players got a wisdom tooth infected.

You had been off on Tuesday, chewing on only one side of your mouth and not drinking anything that was even a little hotter than room temp.

Kyle gave you funny looks for it, but that was all.

Wednesday, you didn't leave your room for much at all, but that was fine. Resting up before an op wasn't uncommon. Simon did it all the time.

However, at some point between you disappearing and Johnny saying he heard crying from your room all bets were off.

The door was kicked in, to reveal a grown sergeant, teary-eyed and crying a little as they clutched their cheek with a hand.

Kyle was already at your side, trying to coax you to open your mouth for some painkillers. It wasn't working well.

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

You cried a little before the surgery. Maybe out of nervousness, maybe out of pain, but the nice nurse was kind enough to ignore it as she explained that you would be waking up in a few hours down four whole teeth.

She explained it to you as you sat in the stupid fucking chair, she repeated it as she gently tucked a I.V. with a small blister containing medicine into the veins of your arm.

"Alright, first the anti-anxiety drug will be administered, okay?"

She doesn't wait for your confirmation, but gently pats your shoulder and continues.

"You should start to feel a bit fuzzy, then, you'll sleep."

It takes a few sickening seconds for you to actually feel the drugs kicking in. You want to get out of this chair, to scream at something.

You never liked the dentist.

But then... the world starts to fade out. It's like you're being locked out of your body as your mind turns itself off.

You hear her counting with the surgeon–a much more awkward woman, though no less polite.

Three.

Two.

On-

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

The waking up is slow, and messy.

Cotton pads lie in either of your cheeks, and you can't do much but oblige as the nurse gently coaxes you into a wheelchair, giving instructions to the bearded man who's standing in the corner.

"Make sure they don't sleep for at least a couple hours, okay? I know it'll be hard, but try to have them keep pressure on the site."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember the usual course, and we're also giving you five opioid pills. Only in case it gets really bad."

"Affirmative."

You know this voice, but when you see the boonie hat and the slightly furrowed brows, a spark of muffled recognition fires off beneath the haze of anesthetic and misery.

"...Old man."

Your voice is slurred, foreign to even you at this point, but he seems to know it, because he sighs frustratedly before taking the chair by the handles and steering your down the hallway out.

"I swear to- mgh, olright. Better than Soap at least."

You're loaded into the back seat of the car with the most basic consideration.

Dumped in like a sack of flour, actually. Your butt hurts now, but there's Kyle.

He snorts when he sees you, reaches forward to wipe whatever is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

It's bloody spit, but he doesn't seem surprised.

The car ride back to base is quiet, but Kyle keeps you awake.

Beyond that, there's nothing you can remember. Not till the next morning.

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

Johnny is perched at your bedside, scrolling through his phone until he sees your eyes blearily opening, hears your groaning as you recognize a new pain in your cheeks, and he gently coaxes your mouth open to take out the bloody gauze.

"Och, there ye are, bonnie wee thing. You look like an eejit, just thought ye needed to know."

Your tired glare is met with a laugh, but followed shortly by a pat to the shoulder.

"A'hm kiddin', leannan. Just jokin' with ye. Brought ye breakfast."

He holds up a small container of yogurt, shakes it like one would cat treats to entice a stray. You grimace as much as your painfully swollen cheeks allow, but when you open your mouth to tell him off, there's a sharp twinge that makes you close it.

This seems to earn Johnny's sympathies, because he gently guides you so you're sitting up on the bed, holding one of your shaky hands as he peels back the foil on the cup.

"Easy. Still fresh, aye?"

Your wet-eyed nod is met with a sympathetic huff.

"Aye. Dinnae fash. I'll help ye."

You should smack him for implying that you need help eating yogurt, of all things, but... you kind of do need the help.

Your body is still lethargic, sluggishly stumbling through its tasks with hazy edges and poor motor control.

He raises a glass of water to your lips, and has you take a few sips.

Breakfast takes a long time, but before you fall asleep again, he gently sets a painkiller in your mouth, and tells you to swallow.

When you do, he smiles, and bends down to kiss your forehead while you drift back off.

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

So, here's something you didn't know before getting your wisdom teeth out.

You can't swallow for a couple days.

It's gross, yeah, but you're supposed to drool out the bloody spit in your mouth, so you don't get dry socket.

Thankfully, Kyle is there for this.

He sweeps your hair back as much as possible (to the point of getting bobby pins from the corner store for the baby hairs), and rubs your back as you drool out your toothpaste.

"I feel disgusting."

"I know, luv. You're not gonna feel good for a while."

Still, his mother's cure is the only thing he trusts himself enough to use on you. Warm, salty water. A childhood staple.

He's sympathetic to your plights, rubbing your back again as you clumsily swish it by turning your head to the sides, cheeks too swollen to move properly.

"Good job. One more."

A firm, warm hand pats your back again as you "spit" (if you can even call it that) for the final time, offering a sweet smile just for you.

"Perfect. Now you can lay back again, yeah? Nice n' easy."

You're not suffering like you were yesterday. It's new.

Your motor function is back, just sluggish.

No, no, your biggest issue right now is the swelling. Your cheeks were so puffy it hurt, and you had them on ice as often as you could.

This is where you have to thank the lord for John Price. Your captain, distant as he can be, must have at least three sets of cheek-size ice pads, because every time you come into your room, there's a new, fresh set waiting for you.

Kyle gently guides you to sit in your bed, offering a sympathetic smile as he eases you backward until you hit the pillow-ramp Johnny had built so your head would be upright.

"You wanna sleep, luv?"

"No."

Your voice is still quiet, limited by your stupid cheeks, but he smiles anyway, and sits next to you.

"You wanna hang out, then?"

"Yes."

The afternoon is good, for you.

Kyle is there. The whole time.

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

Of course, every surgery comes with the odd fuck-up.

No one should be up, but you're going insane with pain.

It's a sharp, stabbing thing, focused in the gum of your lower right jaw. Almost as sharp as the tooth's initial infection, but more than enough to bring significant distress.

Simon is an odd man, and you two have never been the closest, but when he opens your door in a t-shirt and boxers, you don't even care a little bit.

"Wha's happenin'?"

The Mancunian gruffs concernedly at you, watching as you hold your cheek and shakily take in vain breath in the hopes of calming yourself.

"Get an opioid, Lt. Please."

"Fawk."

Right after that, he's off like a horse to the races, and you're in the silence again, holding your cheek as you try to ignore the way your eyes swim with tears that you refuse to shed.

It's a mercifully short two minutes, even if it feels like half an hour.

Simon's hands are gentle, opening your jaw and setting the horse-pill on your tongue, looking into your wet eyes as he raises the glass to your lips.

"I know, I know. Jus' swallow."

He stays with you as you pant for the breath you've lost, wide, scarred hands on your shoulders.

He exaggerates his own breathing so you see the clear rise and fall of his chest. His lips lose their frown as you slowly start to mimic it.

The dispersal of the pain med is fast, thank goodness, but then Simon has a tired you to deal with, still trembling in the fingers from the sudden spike of debilitating pain, though you can't feel it.

"Are those skeleton boxers?"

He's starting to think your favorite pastime is asking stupid fucking questions, but still, some part of him feels relief.

You could have asked about the lack of mask, but you didn't. You just wanted to know about the halloween boxers.

"Sergeant."

His voice isn't as firm as it should be, but when he sees your exhausted look, he still sits down on the mattress with you.

"Stay. Jus' till I fall asleep."

You don't have the balls to ask for it. Not when you're this vulnerable. So you treat it like an order.

Simon won't be chewing you out for it.

Not now.

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

Kyle and Johnny stand in the doorway to your room, snickering to themselves.

Never thought they would see big boy Lt with the firecracker that drove him up the wall, surely.

Still, after taking a couple pictures (blackmail for Johnny, photo album for Kyle), they just... stand and stare a little.

"Ye ken... we could jus'... join in?"

Johnny poses the question. Kyle nods.

"Yeah. To make sure they're sleeping well."

They both know damn well that's not why. But fuck it, a cuddle pile never hurt anyone.

Especially not you, considering how gentle the pair are when maneuvering your sleeping form.

If Simon opened his eyes and just so happened to see this buffoonery in action, he closed them right back up after.

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

Price sighs in exasperation when he sees it, but smiles as he tips down his cap just a little.

"Fuckin' rookie. Gonna be the death of me."

But he knows you won't. Because he sees the way Simon's lips curve up in sleep, or the way Johnny and Kyle cling to you.

He should call Laswell, finalize your placement.

The boys wouldn't complain.

[blastiebabe]

Hiiii I saw you were open for requests and I liked your writing! if you do Bakugo x reader, can you write Bakugo being with a reader that's very soft? Like, they're kind of quiet, level-headed, mostly unphased by his outbursts, is really kind, etc? <3

stupid paperworks taking you away from me

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader hi anon! thank u for submitting and appreciating my works. here is my take on your request, i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :>>

You are currently sitting on your home office with a lot of paperwork in front of you. Your husband Pro Hero Dynamight's agency has been having a lot of missions lately and it your job to proofread every one of the finished mission papers before sending it to the Hero Public Safety Commission.

The past week has been busy for you and your husband, Katsuki. You see each other every day yet have little time to really spend time together. Still, your husband always makes sure that you are always beside him when he sleeps at night.

Even before your marriage, Katsuki has always been grumpy and easily annoyed about things when he is not having enough rest, and this day might just be one of the days where his bad temper and attitude comes out.

While doing paperworks at your home office, you hear Katsuki coming home. "Love, where are you?"

"In here." You say loud enough for him to hear you through the door. Katsuki comes in wearing collar and tie. The man just got back from the press interview about a villain he apprehended last night.

It was the middle of the day but the both of you are at home, he knew he will be coming home after the interview so yesterday he announced to everyone in his agency that you will be working from home so the two of you can spend the time together, and anyone who disagree with that plan should go straight to hell.

He heads straight at you, lowered himself while waiting for you to look at him and give him his most deserved kiss. "A minute, love." You say as you finish a page of what you were reading.

"Ugh." He grumbled but still not moving from his position as he wait. After reading the current page, you turn it over the next page, place it over your desk and face you husband giving him the kiss he was waiting for.

"You did a great job today as well, my love." You say after the kiss while cupping his cheek.

Katsuki crouched to be able to face you. "Yeah?"

"Mm hmm. You really did; I am so proud of you." You kiss his forehead as you feel a smile forming in his lips.

"That might just be the rest I needed." He says.

You shake your head, "Nah, you need a proper rest. Go clean yourself up and change your clothes."

Katsuki stands straight. "You comin' after me?"

"I'd finish this first then all my time for the rest of the day is yours."

"But—" Katsuki was about to make another deal.

"Go, clean yourself up first." You say sweetly as you stroke the back of his arm softly.

Katsuki glared at you before moving out of the office, muttering words under his breath. You smile about this reaction of his, the Pro Hero sometimes might just be acting like rebellious teenager. You continue your work.

___________

It's already 3 pm, an hour after your husband came home. Just a few papers left, and you'll be done with work. Without raising your head, you feel Katsuki inside the home office, he goes straight to your table, placing a cup of hot coffee above your table and then proceed to sit at the couch. He is currently wearing a plaid pajama and a white shirt.

Katsuki makes himself comfortable on the couch while staring at you. "Thank you." You say without batting an eye on him.

"You're not even looking at me?" Katsuki says obviously offended.

You chuckle. "I just need to finish these so we can spend time together without any problems. Besides, these are for your agency, Pro Hero."

You look at him, smiling. "Thank you, my love."

"Tch, damn paperwork taking you away from me. Am I not worth your attention or what?" He asks.

"Ugh! I feel like you hate me or somethin'." He grumbled again as he is not succeeding on getting your full attention. He goes out of the office stomping his feet.

"Love you!" You shout as he leaves. He did not reply back even though you are sure he heard it. Katsuki is that petty, but you know he is not being unreasonable. He has all the right to demand time and attention from you after a hell of a week working his ass off saving people.

And of course, you want to spend time with him as much he wants to spend time with you. So, the sooner you finish your work, the sooner he can have your full attention. Again, you continue your work.

__________

Finally done with your last paperwork, you head to the kitchen where Katsuki is. You see him wearing his pink apron. His body stiffened as he feels your hands wrapping his waist and your body resting on his back.

"What, you have time for me now?" Katsuki tells you with a sass. Your grip on him tightens as you feel your body recharge holding the man before you.

"Stupid paperworks making you all worked up and tired." Katsuki continues his rants. "Stupid people at the agency giving you that much work when they know you and I are spending today together."

You release your hold of Katsuki as you feel a thirst for water. You head in front of the refrigerator and grab a pitcher of water. Katsuki is almost done with the mapo tofu that he is cooking; he started setting up the table.

You see his eyebrows still meeting and his face still unpleased. "Love..." You call him softly as you grab a glass and drink water.

"What?" He didn't even look at you and continued his outburst. "Stupid employees, tomorrow I'm gonna start firing some incompetent assholes."

You know he will not. You let him say the things he wants to say, you knew he needed to do that whenever he feels strong emotions. Because if he doesn't, he's going to keep it all up alone again and let it bottled inside him, you do not want that happening again.

Years of being in this marriage has made you understand and perfect the way to handle Katsuki's sudden outbursts. He is a man who gets easily worked up and misunderstood by people but at the same time, you know that all these anger inside him roots from his care and compassion for the people he cares about.

Just like in high school when he challenged Izuku on Ground Beta, his anger came from his care and guilt as he blames himself from what happened to All Might. Katsuki is a good man, there is no doubt about that. There are just days when you need to let him feel the negatives, and your job as a wife is to listen and help him remember the positives which has never bothered you anyway.

You sit on your side of the table as he assembles your early dinner. "Love..." You call him again softly. You know he can hear you.

"Katsuki..." You try again, as to get his attention and calm down for a second. You are actually feeling tired from all the paperwork you have been through and just want to spend the day resting with him.

Katsuki looks straight at you and kneels at the side of the dining chair where you were seating. "Shit, Princess, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." He apologizes completely regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

"Kats-"

"Just shut the fuck up and eat!" Katsuki shouts as he bring a plate in front of you. You are shocked by the tone he used on you. "Shit." He cursed as he was also shocked by himself and what he just told you.

"I... I promise I didn't mean to. I was just- I was- I don't- ugh-" Katsuki stutters through his words obviously overwhelmed by guilt for shouting at you. He runs his hands on his head as he tugs his hair.

You reach for his hands, removed it from his tight hold on his hair, and brings him closer to you as his head rests on your chest, you wrap your hands behind his nape. "Shh, it's okay. I understand, you were frustrated."

He shakes his head in your arms. "No, no, no. Shouting at you is never okay. I'm really sorry, love. I'm sorry." He breaks free from your arms, stands up, grabs a chair and moves it as close as it can be to you.

Katsuki looks at you straight in the eyes. "Princess, never let me speak like that to you ever again." He said, cupping your left cheek with his right hand. "If I ever speak like that to you ever again, you have all the right to smack the shit out of me, okay?"

Suddenly you feel all the sleepless nights and overwork you have done the past week, you let your head fall in Katsuki's shoulder as he catches you in his arms, wrapping his hands at the small of your back.

You nod as you see the genuine concern and love from your husband's eyes.

"You do not deserve to be talked to like that. I'm sorry my princess, I promise I'll be better and make sure that will never happen again."

"You have done a great job this week, my love. I am so proud of you." Katsuki says as one of his hands caress your hair. You feel vulnerable under his touch as he sings compliments into your ear. "You're so capable. You have been working really hard; you deserve rest my love."

Katsuki closes the space in between as his lips met yours. Expressing his apologies, appreciation, and love for you.

You bring your head up, drawing a space between the two of you, enough to look at him in the eyes. "I love you, Katsuki."

Katsuki smiles as your lips parted. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, his ears and face red. "What a beautiful wife I have. With a kind and patient heart. Just what did I do to deserve you?" Katsuki asks.

"I've talked to the Commission and asked them to have tomorrow as your day off, they agreed. I also filed for a leave. So tomorrow, my hero, you are all mine."

You see the clear shift of shock to a breath of relief in your husband's face. He needed that, you needed that. After all, your rest can only be found in each other's arms. Katsuki is a good man; he has always been, and he always will be. And to be a wife of a great man like Bakugo Katsuki, aren't you lucky?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ more of katsuki, here! ♡

[sailornymph]

sasuke and gaara’s reaction to the reader getting new piercings. it can be nsfw if u want hehe. ty!

‘SWEET SURPRISE’

when their s/o gets a new piercing

cw : nsfw, munch activities, cawk blowing, etc.

authors note : i hope you don’t mind me adding neji, i adore him so much !!

♡ neji hyuga

trying to tiptoe into your bedroom, your heart fluttered at the sight. neji. his long hair spread across the pillow, as he slept comfortably in your bed. turning your back to place your bag in your closet, just as it was sitting on the ground, you flinched at the sound of his voice.

“you’re still terrible at being quiet,” he said, making you face him, he sat upright, shirtless, his cursed seal showing on his forehead.

“neji,” you cheered, rushing over to plop on top of him. despite his groaning, he reached for your waist, caressing your hip.

“i’ve missed you so much,” you pouted, sitting up in his lap.

“i’ve missed you more,” he whispered, a small smile in place.

your mission had been almost an entire month, and for neji to say he missed you, verbally, you knew it was the truth.

“oh, i almost forgot, i wanted to show you something,” you gasped, beginning to unbutton your shirt. his larger hands continued caressing your hips, watching intently as you began to remove your top, revealing the jewelry that was on your nipples.

“what do you think?” you bit your lip, as he slowly reached to cup them, massaging softly.

“do they hurt?”

“at first, but i got them at the beginning of my mission, they are practically healed,” you hummed, as he brushed his fingers against your nipples.

“they’re pretty,” he said, making you smile.

“i was worried you wouldn’t like them-oh,” you moaned as neji leaned down, his tongue lapping over the piercing, twisting around the jewelry.

“i think they’re perfect,” he said lowly, before latching onto your nipple, sucking softly. using his thumb, he brushed over the other — while his free hand, lifted your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“hey neji, is y/n back yet?” rock lee yelled, knocking on the door.

“shouldn’t we come back?” ino asked.

“she’s been away an entire month, don’t you miss her?” lee whined.

“of course i do, but don’t you think, she wants to spend time with neji?” she asked.

“she spends the most time with neji,” sai said.

making eye contact with neji, you could only laugh, at the aggravated expression. pulling away, he pulled you into a hug.

“make them wait,” he said coldly.

“you do have me all the time, it will only be for a while, a few hours at most,” you pouted.

“fine, since your friends are much more important,” he sighed.

“our friends, and they miss me just as much as you-

“that is impossible,” he interrupted making you smile.

“when i am home, we can continue, love you,” you said, kissing his lips, slipping back into the shirt, beginning to button it, as you turned to head out.

“love you too,” he whispered, laying back in bed.

♡ sasuke uchiha

“hey,” you called out to sasuke, as he leaned against the tree, his eyes closed and arms crossed.

“i’ve been looking for you for nearly two hours, where were you?” you asked, as you got closer.

“you said you would only be away a few weeks, it’s been almost a month,” he frowned, looking away.

“you can’t be serious, don’t be a baby, you’re always away much longer than me”

“it’s not the same”

“how is it not the-

before you could finish, sasuke grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks.

“open your mouth,” he whispered, as you pulled away, smiling, before sticking your tongue out.

“do you like it? i got it a few weeks ago,” you flickered your tongue at him.

“tsk, you look like a slut,” he rolled his eyes.

“yeah, the strongest slut in this village”

“take it out”

“no, it has it’s perks”

“and what would those be?”

“i haven’t tried anything out yet, but it’s just an idea,” you said, going to your knees, and reaching for his pants. he didn’t say anything, watching intensely. taking out his cock, you chuckled.

“i’m the slut, but you’re rock hard,” you said before you began teasing his tip. twirling your tongue around, sucking, then pulling away. looking into his dark eyes, you took in as much as possible, before your head began moving back and forth.

he stood tall, groaning lowly, his eyes occasionally making sure no one was around, but for the most part, they couldn't leave you. you were a pro, only you could suck his cock like a slut, and still be a princess in his eyes. the coolness and smooth surface of the piercing brought a foreign, but euphoric sensation to his body.

drool ran down your chin, as he fucked your mouth. your hands went under his shirt, touching his toned abdomen. his breathing became heavier, as grunts escaped from his mouth. feeling his cock twitching, you pulled him out.

“are you close?” you asked, biting your lip, as he nodded.

“then, you can finish yourself off, i’m not risking ruining my brand new dress,” you smiled, standing up, dusting off your knees.

glaring at you, he begrudgingly began stroking himself. his eyes were focused on you, as he grunted, his seed painting the grass and leaves. wiping your mouth, it was your turn to lean against the tree with your arms crossed.

“don't look at me like that, did you even miss me? i come back from a mission and i am met with a cold shoulder,” you laughed, looking away, as he fixed his pants.

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you,” he grumbled, approaching you.

“doesn't feel like it, i look like a slut to you?”

“my slut,” he mumbled, as he pulled you closer, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

sharing the hungriest kiss, you could feel his desperation. the way he would bite your lip, before sucking it, squeezing your ass, before moving up to your waist, to pull you even closer. he liked the way the tongue ring glided against his tongue. pulling away, the two of you stared into each other eyes, panting, a dark tint on his cheeks.

“we should get back, i promised hinata and kiba we’d get ramen,” you said, your face burning, under his analyzing gaze.

“you were right”

“about what exactly?”

“the perks”

♡ gaara

“lord kazekage, you have a guest,” the secretary spoke to gaara, who nodded, continuing to read through the stack of paperwork.

“lord kazekage,” you spoke, entering the office, bowing, as gaara eyes immediately went to you. as soon as the door shut, he was instantly on his feet, walking to you, to pull you into his arms.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered into your ear.

“it’s only been two months, and it was a success,” you told him, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

“two months is quite a long time to be apart from you,” he said, his face turning red immediately — extremely embarrassed that he allowed his mouth to run so freely.

“aww, gaara, you have no idea how much i’ve missed you too, oh, there’s something i’d like to show you,” you said, turning to lock the door, before going to the window, closing the curtains.

“what is it, y/n?” he asked, curiously, but you simply touched his chest, batting your eyelashes.

“you’ll see,” you smirked, as you began to unbutton your shorts.

“uh, y-y/n, what are you doing?”

“showing you my surprise, don’t you want to see?” you asked, placing a kiss onto his lips.

“yes please,” he nearly moaned.

backing up to his desk, you slowly lowered the shorts, along with your panties, before sitting on the edge of the desk.

“why don’t you take a peak?” you chuckled, biting your lip, as he gulped, nodding his head.

spreading your legs, he gasped at the piercing that was on your clitoris. his eyes widened, as he gulped once more, going to his knees.

“your-it’s-” he struggled to speak, glancing up at you.

“you can touch her, she’s healed,” you said, moaning as he nodded, his thumb going to your clit. rubbing softly, he watched in amazement.

“taste her, gaara,” you moaned, as his tongue was immediately on your clit. his eyes full of concentration, as he grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer.

kissing your glistening clit, before hungrily consuming her. he moaned lowly, his fingers pressing into your thighs. removing his hat, your fingers found their way to his red tresses, running through softly. your eyes could hardly stay open, as his tongue repeatedly lapped over your pussy.

furrowing your eyebrows, you whined lowly, repeating ‘i’m close’, in a whispered rush, the orgasm escaping, as your leg began shaking.

your hand was pressed against your mouth, as you tried your best to conceal your moan. sucking onto your clit, a giggle slipped out of your mouth. pulling away, he quickly licked his lips, before standing — red in the face.

“what do you think of her?” you asked him, wiping he juice from his cheek.

“she’s perfect,” he blushed profusely.

[miniwheat77]

Secret Weapon. (Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, violence, war, blood, NO MINORS! This was a request that’s been sitting in my inbox a while :)

This is not edited.

“Captain.. what the fuck do we do?” Gaz pants out. His back is pressed firmly against the wall.

John thinks for a moment. What does he do?

Nikolai is unavailable. But he’s got an idea.

He lifts up his radio, turning it to a channel he hasn’t been on in years.

“Viper 1-1 page back.” He calls into the radio.

“Viper 1-1, copy.”

“We’re trapped on a rooftop.” Captain Price recites your coordinates. He had heard in passing that the pilot was nearby on another mission.

“Thirty-five out, we’re on the way.”

He sighs.

“Thank god.” He mumbles. The four are stuck on the rooftop. No where to go and hardly any ammo.

“We’re?” Gaz asks. They remember who the pilot is.

They fight all they can, all hope is about to be lost when the loud rumble of the helicopter comes.

The buzzing sound makes them perk up, seeing the flashback from the gun inside. They can’t see the person holding it.

Captain Price watches with a smile. The helicopter stays airborne until there is no one moving on the ground. They watch it land a couple hundred feet away, seeing two people get out of it. Clearing buildings as they make their way to the four.

The door finally opens, the four standing up. They’d been using the brick walls as cover.

You’re the first to step into their view, but you’ve got a ski mask on.

You grasp the hem of it, pulling it over your head.

You smile.

“Long time no see, Captain.” You nod.

“Shit. I could tell by how good the shots were that it was you.” He laughs. Pulling you in for a hug, hugging the pilot next.

The others watch, stunned.

“Oh uh… boys. This is Y/N.” He nods.

“My secret weapon.”

They take the time to shake your hand, introducing themselves to you.

But Ghost is completely taken off guard by you.

The way your hair falls after you take the mask, the fact that he didn’t expect to see a girl, let alone one was pretty as you.

What the hell?

You’d just saved his life. He was all out of ammo holed up in one building, if you hadn’t come? He wouldn’t even be alive to tell the tale.

It was the start of something Ghost never saw coming. Not in a million years.

———

It took a lot of convincing for you to join the task force.

Since you had made friends with the men, they bothered you to no limit to join. They liked you. You were skilled. They wanted you around all of the time.

When you eventually joined, Ghost spiraled completely out of control.

He avoided you like the plague because he knew what was coming and he was scared. He started drinking more, hiding in his room more. Socializing less and everyone noticed.

But only Johnny had caught on as to why.

He was falling in love with you, and he knew it.

He was falling and he was falling hard and he knew the only end to that free fall is the hard concrete when he lands. Ghost didn’t love. He didn’t because there was only heartbreak and hurt.

The first time it happened, he didn’t mean to.

You were doing your laundry, passing by his room with a basket when they fell out. He waited a while for you to come back for them but you never did so he swiped them.

A pair of panties.

Ghost was in too deep and he knew it.

Fisting his cock to the thought of you, face buried in your panties. He hated himself for what he’d become and he hated you for what you’d done to him. You’d made him a fool and he’d only spoken to you in passing.

He didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

Kill.

On missions he was ruthless.

He didn’t know anything other than violence and pain. So he pushed himself to no limit. Working hard, staying up late. Taking extra watch and beating himself up mentally day and night about how weak he’d become all because of a woman.

He spent hours and hours training and working out. He’d lost count the days he’d spent in the shooting range and his death toll jumped by hundreds and grew more and more with each mission he went out on. Ghost was smart and skilled. He understood everything but the only thing he couldn’t figure out was you.

Finally, Johnny cornered him.

Ghost was walking to his room, Johnny was hot on his tail, asking how he was doing.

“Fine Johnny. Leave it be.” He mumbles, he goes to close his door but Soap doesn’t let him have it. Catching it with his boot and walking in, closing the door behind himself. “There’s something wrong with you, you’ve got the entire bloody task force worried sick about ya so you better start talkin.” He growls.

Ghost raises his eyebrows. Johnny had never spoken to him like that before.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard what I said, Ghost.”

He crosses his arms and Soap doesn’t let feel intimidated by him, of course he does. But Ghost is his friend. He cares about him.

“Full offense Johnny, piss off. We’re not teenage girls and I don’t intend on sharing my feelings with you so I think you should leave.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll set up camp until you’re ready to talk about it.” He stands his ground. Ghost sighs. “I don’t know how to talk about it Johnny. I don’t even know what’s wrong myself.”

“That’s a start, LT. The hell has gotten into you? You’re like a machine. Wake up, eat, kill, sleep.”

Ghost sighs.

“That girl.”

Realization hits Soap like a ton of bricks.

“I just..” he sighs. Sitting down on his bed. “I don’t know.”

“You have feelings for her?” Soap asks.

“I’d say I have more than just feelings for her, Johnny.” Ghost wipes his face through his mask. “Shit LT.”

“No kidding.”

“Well you won’t get the girl by being so reclusive sir.”

“My plan isn’t to get the girl Johnny, life is painful enough as is!” He groans.

“Yeah, well life is too short to worry about what hurts and let what you’ll enjoy pass you. So get out there and try. Christ in heaven you’re a brick wall.” He groans.

Ghost sighs. Johnny is right.

“Whatever Johnny, I have a lot to think about so.. kindly. Go to bed.”

“Fine. But we’re not done about this and you know it.” Soap rolls his eyes, leaving through the door. He can’t believe it. Ghost was in love with you.

———

“Ghost page back.” Captain mumbles into the radio.

“Copy.”

“Soap is feeling ill. You mind taking over his 0100 patrol?”

“Not at all sir.”

Ghost finishes up what he’s doing and prepares for the patrol.

Since they’re out of the states and in enemy territory they have patrol often.

“Great, you’ll be with Y/N.”

Ghost freezes in his spot.

“Johnny page back.”

“Copy.”

“I see you in person, you’re a dead man MacTavish.”

“Already in for the night sir, door’s locked. See you tomorrow.”

Ghost can’t see it but the scot snickers to himself inside his room. Feeling very well actually.

Ghost meets up with you just before your patrol together and wants to crawl into a hole and die. You were so beautiful and there was nothing he could do about it.

It’s quiet for a while. The two of you walking alongside each other. It’s pitch dark out. The only lights come from the base. “So. How long you know Price for?” He’s trying to make small talk. Something that takes you off guard. He never seemed to be this open.

“Since I started in the military actually. He was at the convention I enlisted at.” You smile. “Really? I forget how old the man is.” He laughs. “I totally did not think you were this outgoing, Ghost.” You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You just do not seem the type for small talk.” You smile.

He chuckles. “Nah, the mask makes me unapproachable but that not intentional.”

“Than why do you wear it?”

“To hide my identity. I’ve killed a lot of people and don’t want retaliation.”

“Don’t they just know to go after the guy in the skull mask though?” You side eye him. “Yeah, but when I wear it I want to be found.”

“Good point.” You smile.

“Stop.” He throws a hand up in front of you suddenly. “Woah-“ you mumble. He looks around, every alarm in his body is going off.

“What is it?” You ask. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He mumbles. He draws out his flashlight, shining at the ground. He doesn’t see anything, not for the first few feet at least. After that is when he notices indents in the sand. Footprints.

He follows them straight up to the barbed wire fence around the base.

“Price page back.”

He waits a minute.

“Captain Price page back.”

“Copy, what is it?”

“Footprints leading up to the Southwest fence. We’ll follow them and make sure it’s not a threat but we haven’t covered the north yet.” He says it into his radio and waits.

“Garrick and I will cover it, just be safe. Page back every ten until you know it’s clear.”

“Yes sir.”

Ghost tilts his head, letting you know to follow him.

You do just that.

It takes a couple miles of walking before you spot a building in the distance, thank god for night vision.

Ghost posts up and watches for a while, not seeing any movement. The two of you approach, you go slow. You never do see any movement, the building is severely run down, the roof is in bad shape and it’s dirty. “Do you think they’re human footprints?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Hard to say with the sand. Could be an animal of some kind. Could explain the staggering of them.” He explains.

You nod your head. “Looks like everything is clear Captain, we’re going to look around a bit and than head back.”

“Got it, we’re heading for bed. Page if you need anything else Simon.”

You step inside the run down building, it was once someone’s house. Out in the middle of nowhere.

Odd.

The rooms inside seem intact, aside from being dusty, frozen in time. Plants have taken over and some of the dishes that remain are broken but the bedrooms are still completely normal. The beds are made.

You walk inside and sit down on a bed, groaning. “I don’t wanna walk back yet.” You whine. “Take a break.” He laughs. “Okay.”

He chuckles. That didn’t take much convincing.

“Can I show you something?” He asks. “Sure, what is it?”

He moves to sit next to you, grasping his mask. Your eyes widen when he pulls it straight off. “You’re showing me this why? Explain yourself?” You laugh,

“No that’s not what I wanted to show you, this is.”

He grasps your chin and goes for it.

All the money in the pot. A gamble of a lifetime.

He plants his lips straight on yours and his blood rushes through him, his heart pounding so loud it’s all he hears. He expects you to pull back. To be disgusted with him.

But you don’t. You meet him in the middle and kiss him back even harder.

He pushes you back on the dusty bed raising himself up over you, one leg resting between yours. His thigh is flush with your clothed opening. He doesn’t stop kissing you, he takes even further.

When you feel his tongue on yours, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“Ghost-“ you pant.

“Simon. Call me Simon.” He breathes. “W-why are you doing this?” You hiss as he pushes his thigh further into you. “Because I’ve waited long enough to get my fucking hands on you. I can’t take it anymore.” He groans. You hadn’t expected him to be so forward, you also didn’t expect how handsome he’d be without a mask on. How overly willing he was to expose himself to you shows you that he trust you, and obviously had more feelings for you than he let on. Ghost didn’t just act out of lust, Johnny told you that.

Now you realize why you’d had that conversation earlier in the day. Fucking scot.

He gets your vest unzipped and grasps hold of your shirt, ripping it straight down the middle. He hears you gasp. “Simon!”

“Quiet, I’ll replace it with twenty more.” He breathes.

The click of his pocket knife makes you freeze. But he’s skilled with it, moving quickly, slicing the small slit of fabric holding your bra together. He shoves the fabric off of you and cups your breasts with his hands, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he toys with the other. Pinching it between his fingers and tugging on it. You whine out, raising your hips and rutting yourself into his thigh. Ghost is the person you talked to the very least, yet here you are. On display for him.

“God you’re a fucking minx.” He hisses. He sits up and watches you roll your hips into his thigh. Desperate for him to touch you. You realize something.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing my panties, aren’t you?” You smirk.

He visibly blushes.

“You’re a cheeky thing! I can’t believe it’s been you!” You gasp. “Shut up.” He hisses. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed, you’re lucky it’s you or he would’ve told you to get fucked by now. “Fuck, how many have you gotten away with?”

He shrugs. “Lot more than you’d expect.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You laugh.

“Yeah, you’d think even worse of me if you knew what I did with them.” He growls. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, attacking your skin with his teeth and lips. Pushing his hand down the front of your waistband. He glides his fingers over your pussy, hearing you whine.

“Now I want to know. What you did with them.”

He chuckles, it’s dark.

“The smell of you is intoxicating, darling.”

You moan out. “Fuck I shouldn’t think that’s hot but I do.” You mewl. Lips parted as he sucks at your throat. Your jugular vein is pulsing and he can’t feel it with his tongue. He rests his hand over your head. “Been waiting weeks for a taste of you, doll. Now we’re here.” He groans, kissing roughly down your center. He’s rough as he tugs your pants down your legs, barely taking the time to unbutton them. You thought maybe he’d cut those off too, not that you’d mind anyways.

He kisses further down, hearing your breathing pick up even more as he presses lower. He doesn’t start slow like you thought he would. Starting by sucking directly on your clit, making you flinch.

You hiss, jumping away from him. You hear him chuckles as he starts his assault on it.

“Poor thing, so sensitive.” He smirks.

“Shut up before I ride your face, Riley.” You hiss, pushing a hand in his hair.

“Oh no?” He smirks. You roll your eyes.

He lowers his head back down, gliding his tongue up your slip.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

Just before he devours you whole.

He doesn’t relent, no matter how much you cry or squirm. He holds you down by your thighs. He presses his tongue into your opening, rubbing your clit with his nose like a dog. He’s filthy.

You didn’t think Ghost was the type to be so dirty. When he’s got you right on the edge, crying out in pure bless. You’re about to beg him not to stop but he draws back anyways. His lips are wet in your arousal. His cheeks are flushed pink, pupils blown wide with lust.

He sits up, grasping his shirt and forcing it over his head, going for his cargo pants next.

You’re watching him in a daze. Drunk off his lips and how he’s made you feel.

“I was normal until you came along, hm. Didn’t think I could feel what I feel until you saved our asses on that rooftop. I thought I’d be okay until you pulled that damned ski mask off and showed your fuckin’ face and now I don’t think I’ll be okay again. You’ll pay for it darling.”

He moves himself over the top of you, thrusting himself straight inside you to the hilt, you’re crying out.

“You’ll pay for it by letting me have this pussy whenever I want it.” He growls.

He’s relentless. Doesn’t matter how much you fall apart or how much you cry. He doesn’t let up. He’s rough, his pace is bruising. You can’t get out a single word as he works his hips into yours, using his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clit.

You’re impossibly wet around him, clutching at the old sheets so hard your knuckles go white. He laughs. He snaps his hips into yours, feeling how wet you are around him. Moaning and whining, writhing from the pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve never felt something so intense before. Not in your life.

He forces you to roll over, gasping out at the loss of him but he doesn’t give you long. Once you’re on your stomach, he’s raising you your hips and thrusting back into you. Pushing your face roughly into the mattress and holding your hands behind your back.

“Fuckin hell Simon!” You cry.

You feel good of course, but you need him to relent. Just for a minute at least.

“So much-“ you cry. “You’re mine. Say it.” He growls. “Maybe I’ll let up.”

“I’m yours!” You sob.

“Say it again!” He growls. He grips your hands hard.

“I’m yours Simon- fuck! I’m yours!” He buries himself inside of you to the hilt, slowing his speed but not his force. He pulls you up by your arms, still holding them behind you. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s a mirror above the bed. It’s broken and dusty but that doesn’t mean you can’t see yourselves in it.

He wraps his hands around your waist, still fucking into you but he’s being gentler now. Slow.

“Say it again.” His voice is a low growl. You almost miss it.

“I’m yours.” You whine. Raising your hand to touch his cheek.

“Again.” He growls even louder. Pushing into your belly. “I- I’m yours Simon. All fucking yours.” You’re nearly chanting it.

You sob, tears spilling over your eyelids.

“Now fucking scream it.” He grits his teeth, thrusting straight up into that spongy spot deep inside of you, sending you straight into your orgasm and you nearly do just that. You’re loud when you cum, barely getting out the words “I’m yours!” As you cry and sob, lurching forward and shaking through your orgasm. He fucks you through it, clutching onto you for dear life as he moans out, reaching his own high. He thrusts as deep as he’ll go before he cums. It’s a decision he may regret but right now, he doesn’t care.

You’re whimpering as he slides out of you. Taking in oxygen like it’s limited.

He helps you until you’re lying on your back again. Soothing you. He massages your skin, bringing you back down to earth.

Simon knew better than to be so rough but he lost himself.

“Shhh.. s’okay baby. I’ve got you.” He breathes. You close your eyes, steadying your breaths.

Simon was a lot of man, he knew he was.

He draws his fingertips over your chest and arms, your eyes follow them as he lets you relax.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You mumble. “I wasn’t too much was I?” He smiles.

“No- not at all. Though you came on VERY strong.” You smirk.

He laughs. “That’s the only way, baby.”

He sits up. “Now come on, we’ve got to head back before they realize we’re missing.”

“Yes sir.”

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Fluff, sweetness, flirting, crushes, reader's meddling bestie. Summary: Waking up beside your soulmate the morning after your wedding, you reflect on the meetings that brought you here. Notes: Welcome to a new story, friends! We're using date stamps as we tell this story, as scenes may appear out of chronological order. Enjoy!

Saturday, April 6, 2024

Normally waking up is hard for Javi. Too used to having his own schedule, late nights and lazy mornings. Things have changed over the past few years, the loss of his family fortune and business. Not that he minded no longer being the face of an arms dealer family, even if he wasn’t the one selling the weapons. That was his now incarcerated cousin, Lucas’s doing.

No, now waking up meant an alarm instead of the fragrant smell coffee being brought by a servant, he had to get up and make it himself if he wants.

This morning, this morning his eyes are open before the sun even thinks about peeking over the horizon. The early morning lighting up gradually as he watches your face, so peaceful in sleep. His soulmate. His wife.

Sunrise isn't normally your wakeup call. The mornings are always an early start for you because you like to get as much out of your day as you possibly can. It's been so many years of it now that you even wake up early on the weekends – but not today.

A rare morning of sleeping in means that the bright sun streaming through the windows penetrates your sleep to warm your dreams and drift you closer to reality. Although really, the thing that wakes you is the shifting of the mattress. The last time you shared a bed with anyone before last night was...a year ago? More?

But when you open your eyes, knowing it's your soulmate next to you is so exhilarating.

“Good morning.” Javi’s smile is bright, radiant like the sun as he reaches out and caresses your cheek. “How did you sleep? I think I only slept for two hours but it was the best two hours of my life.”

"Good morning." Like a magnet, you slide towards him on the mattress to tuck yourself into his side. "It's a whole new day. What did you want to do with it?" Neither of you have to work, so it's just...going to be beautiful all on its own.

“I should treat you today, no?” He asks with a grin. “It is technically our honeymoon?” The ring on your finger is just barely ten hours old, the excitement of that fact still humming through his system and coming off as nervous energy.

"We've got a whole weekend to do whatever we want." Honeymoon. It's your honeymoon. The last twenty-four hours have been a complete whirlwind. This time yesterday you were already at work. "I feel silly asking but...what do you like to do for fun?"

“Watching movies.” Javi admits shamelessly, although he no longer has the movie theatre he once did. “What is your favorite movie?”

"Oh gosh, that's such a hard question." Shamelessly happy that you can do so, you lay a kiss on his shoulder and gaze up at him.

Your soulmate is so fucking handsome. How did you get so lucky?

"Maybe..." You laugh at how ridiculously hard it is to choose. "I think I have more like a top three. And they rotate depending on what kind of mood I'm in. But one of the top three is always The Princess Bride."

“That is a good one.” He grins, happy that you seem to light up and have a hard time choosing. “I always liked Wesley.” He admits shamelessly and winks at you. “As you wish.”

"Hush." Even though you nudge him a little, your warm cheeks have nothing to do with the morning sun. It's all mixed in with the dreamy expression on your face as you talk with him. Your husband. Your soulmate. "What's your favourite movie?"

“You must promise not to laugh.” He tells you seriously, although there is humor twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes as he gazes into your hauntingly beautiful ones. “Paddington 2.” He admits, his tone flat and honest.

“Why would I laugh? That’s such a sweet movie!” Daring to reach up to brush a curl out of his eyes, you end up smiling all over again. “I…actually really love watching kids’ movies. They’re great for comfort and cheering me up when I don’t feel too good.”

“They teach us lessons we could all use.” He agrees, capturing your hand and kissing the back of it. “We can watch them together. Snuggled up.”

“That sounds perfect.” Practically everything he suggests sounds perfect, and it’s not just the gorgeous purr of his accent. “It can be a sweet way of unwinding at night.”

“You would not mind?” He asks, brows raised and a hopefully look on his face. “I wish I had my old movie theatre, but we can turn the second bedroom into a viewing room?”

"You..." Confusion makes your eyebrows draw in. "Used to have your own movie theater?"

He tilts his head. “Of course.” He nods. “I will have to build one again. It will not be as big as the one in Spain, but the house will be much smaller too.” He sighs softly, feeling a little bit like a failure for not being able to give you the things he once had. Before he ever knew you carried his marks. “But maybe one day, no?”

"If it will make you happy, then we will absolutely do that." There are plenty of things that you don't know about each other yet, but you have every confidence that you'll be able to settle into things together well. You're soulmates, after all. You're meant to be together. "I just...I've never known anyone who had their own movie theater before. That sounds so fancy."

“It was a large house.” He admits, frowning slightly. He loved the house, hated the bad memories of some of the things that happened there. Although it was never all bad. “You know, Nic Cage came to my birthday party there?” He asks. “It’s how we met.”

"Is it really?" He had told you that they were friends -- hell, the Cages had come to your wedding last night -- but it was still something that you were wrapping your head around.

“Yes.” He chuckles. “I paid him one million dollars to come to my birthday, and somehow, we became friends.”

Your eyes widen, catching on a breath of disbelief. "So that's how you get a movie star to come to your birthday? Color me impressed."

He hums. “Back then, yes.” He admits, leaning in and kissing your shoulder gently. “Now, they are starting to want to come on their own. Not because I pay them.” He doesn’t have the money to do that anymore.

"You're an amazing writer. I'm sure you're just at the start of something really grand." The two movies he has had made so far have both been fantastic. You went home and watched them back-to-back after the first time he told you he was a screenwriter. "I consider myself very lucky that I'll get to be beside you during all of it."

“Really?” His eyes widen, as if he had never really considered that you would be happy to have him as your soulmate. “You want to be beside me?”

It almost makes you laugh, but the wonder on his face is so genuinely sweet that it sort of comes out as a sound of disbelief. "Of course," you promise him, and take his hand to hold both his and your left hands in his view. The hands bearing your brand new wedding rings. "That's what this means."

“Married.” The word is whispered, almost reverently, as if he is still in disbelief that it was ever possible. For him, it had started to look that way. He had loved Gabriella and had been determined to be a good partner no matter if they had not shared marks, but she had left him. He had floundered slightly, bemoaning love and at the encouragement of Nic to start working on his next screen play, he had stumbled upon the soulmate he had always yearned for.

******

Tuesday, February 14, 2023 Valentine's Day

The slowest pay of the week for the museum seems punctuated with particularly melancholy moments today. There was a private tour this morning with a proposal, and the squealing bride-and-groom-to-be had been allowed to take photos together on the grand staircase before regular visitors began arriving for the day. Their family and friends had been hiding in the house, waiting for the moment, all ready to burst out and shout with joy after the question was asked and answered. It had left you with a migraine.

Another lover had popped their question to her beloved out in the gardens while you were trying to get some fresh air on your short morning break. You'd fled back to the breakroom and hung your head in your hands for the rest of your fifteen minutes of quiet.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, there are so many couples on dates strolling through the halls of Hazelwood House that it felt like an intentional taunt. Being fresh off a breakup at Valentine's Day is no one's idea of a good time. So you just pace your area, walking through the three rooms of the house museum that are under your care for this hour, and hope that the floor just opens up to swallow you whole.

Which is how you accidentally walked straight into a guest.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry, that was entirely my fault."

Javi Gutierrez manages to keep himself from stumbling but immediately reaches out to steady you. “No, no, I was wandering around.” He shakes his head, ready to take the blame himself as his eyes meet yours and he swears that his heart skips a beat. He straightens slightly, still holding your arms. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you had been injured by the minor collision.

"I'm totally fine." Shaken, sure, but only because of your own clumsiness and the fact that you just had to bump into the hottest guy you've ever seen in your entire life. "I—I'm sorry." Come on, get it together. "I was distracted." Lie, for fuck's sake. "I just noticed a little detail in the flooring that I had never seen before."

“The floor?” Javi frowns as he looks down at the intricate tiles beneath both of your feet. “What about the floor?” He asks curiously, wondering if it is something special.

"Well..." It's nerdy. It's so nerdy. But there actually is something special about the mosaic tile in this particular room of the house. "The billiard room is covered in mosaic, but I've never paid much attention to the grain of the marble before." An utter lie, you stare at it every day. "Do you see the swirls of blue and gray here? It's the same marble as the fireplace."

Instead of looking at you like you are crazy, Javi squats down and brushes his fingers over the glazed tiles, staring at the colorful patterns for a long moment, memorizing them. Then he lifts his head to stare at the fireplace. “So they tiled the mosaic with marble instead of regular tiles?” He asks, trying to follow.

"It looks like it." He gets excited easily, this incredibly handsome man, and it relaxes you a little. Guests who get excited about little details are one of the things you love most about working in a museum. "Now I'm thinking about taking a photo of the different colors and comparing them to the other fireplaces in the house."

“Can you backtrack through the house?” He looks around worried for a moment and then back at you. “The guides won’t get mad?”

"You're only a few rooms in, I can walk you back to the first fireplace if you'd like?" That would be the breakfast room, which is an easy stroll backward from where you are now and you point it out to him on the map that is printed on the packet of information in his hand. It seems he opted not to download the audio tour as so many do.

He tilts his head, contemplating it seriously. “Then we should do it, no?” He asks. “See if it matches? It should, or no? Maybe it depends on the style of the room?”

"Let's find out, if you're curious. We can check the three fireplaces in this section of the house and you can compare the pictures you take here to the others as you keep moving through the house." You would walk with him, guide him yourself, because it's just so nice to stumble upon someone nice and not on a date today...but abandoning your area of the house would get you in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“Okay.” He smiles at you and wonders if you are waiting for your partner to arrive. It’s Valentine’s Day after all and he had thought to distract himself with work. “The house is very, um, nice.” He says as you start to steer him back towards the other rooms. Small talk can be awkward and he’s not as good as it as he would like at times. Nervous about making a negative impression.

"The whole place is gorgeous." The grounds are a popular tourist attraction, with plenty of weddings and other parties happening on the grounds in addition to the mansion being a museum. "Have you ever visited Hazelwood Park before?"

“This is my first time.” Javi confesses. “I have heard of it, but woke up this morning and decided today was the day.” He had honestly figured there wouldn’t be a lot of couples here. He had been wrong.

"Well, welcome." Back in the breakfast room, you turn to face the soft green marble fireplace. "This does look like the same green of the turtle in the mosaic," you admit. The shades are remarkably similar.

“So they matched the edging of this floor to the fireplace.” The entire floor isn’t a mosaic, but the banding around the edges is. “This fireplace is larger.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps they did not have enough of the leftovers to use, hm?”

"If they only used the pieces that were considered scrap during the carving of the fireplaces, then it would make sense that they wouldn’t have any large pieces." The thin tile line around the otherwise parquet flooring has always charmed you unexpectedly. You had never seen anything like it before.

“It is a good way to use up all the materials.” He agrees. “Because I’m assuming the marble was imported?” It’s nothing he’s ever considered before but your enthusiasm for the details excites him.

"Oh yes, absolutely." In fact, you had had to memorize where all of it came from as part of your knowledge test to be a full-fledged docent. "This particular stone comes from Italy."

“You know a lot about this.” He smiles. “Is the house a favorite place to visit for you?”

"Oh!" You break out into a nervous laugh and realize that this entire time, the nametag and lapel pin that you wear on your cardigan marking you as an employee haven't been visible. "No, I--I work here. I've been here about a year now."

“Oh…oh I am sorry.” He bites his lip as he tries to hide the embarrassed grin. “I didn’t realize. I thought you were just an enthusiast.”

"Being an enthusiast is sort of how I got the job," you admit. Shrugging your shoulders, you straighten out your cardigan again and do up one button to make sure both pins stay visible. "It turns out that I really love it. Beyond just thinking the place is beautiful."

“That explains your comment about this section of the house.” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his pants and shoving them in his pockets. “I had assumed you were waiting on someone. Now I know that’s it’s other tour groups.

"Have to stay in my section." A light, awkward laugh travels between you but even that little sound from him sounds angelic. "But if you like these first few rooms, then you'll love the rest of the house."

“Which is your favorite room?” He asks, looking down at his map.

"Today?" You laugh a little, emboldened by the way he seems to smile with his whole face. Like he really doesn't mind talking to you. Like he might even enjoy it. "I love them all, but I think the library might be the best part of the whole house."

“Do you like to read?” He asks, charmed by your laugh and the way you seem to light up at the question. As if you aren’t normally asked a personal question. “The library was always where I was chided, but then it was also where I could escape into different worlds when I couldn’t do other things.”

"That's the beauty of books." Something you believe unabashedly. Stories are an escape -- whether that is books or movies or plays, or whatever else. "Being able to run away into a different world is powerful. It's freeing." Warmth creeps up your neck and into your cheeks and you nearly feel embarrassed for getting so excited about it except that he's still smiling. "The library in this house? I would curl up in front of that fireplace with a stack of books beside me on the chaise lounge and one of those little table all covered in the blue China from the butler's pantry and a whole plate of scones. I would just stay there all day and night."

“That sounds perfect.” He hums. “With the fire built up?”

“Oh, of course.” The scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, and one day you might just have to go antiquing for your own chaise so you can fulfill it. Of course…you’ll also need a home legitimate enough to have a fireplace. Not your shitty little studio apartment.

“Storm beating against the windows?” It would be a miracle in California, but he could imagine it in the setting of his latest screenplay. “Or snow?”

"Oh, it's been years since I saw a good snowstorm. I used to hate them, but I sort of miss it."

“I have not ever lived somewhere where there was snow.” He admits with a small shrug. “It is beautiful in pictures but I do not think it would be fun to have every day.”

"Oh, it's definitely not." Not even a little, and your immediate answer elicits laughs from both of you. "My favorite was when I was going to college in Boston and the college dug out our sidewalks for us. All the beauty of snow with none of the work."

“That is probably the best way to have the snow.” He admits with a laugh.

"Well..." Realizing you've probably monopolized enough of this extremely handsome, extremely charming man's time, you offer him a smile and try to smother the butterflies accumulating in the pit of your stomach. He has the most beautiful, soulful eyes you've ever seen. "Enjoy the rest of the museum. Take an extra look at the library when you pass through the south wing and you'll see what I mean about it being comfy."

He’s entirely disappointed to realize that he’s being dismissed. Enjoying the way you banter with him, he wishes he could ask you to give him the tour of the entire house so he could continue talking. Feeling more at ease with you than he has with anyone ever. “Thank you.” He hums softly. “I hope you have a wonderful day, full of beauty.”

"You too." You flounder for a few seconds, but you know you'll get in trouble if your supervisor sees you on the surveillance cameras talking to the same guest for too long, so you gently extract yourself to stroll as casually as possible back into the corner of the great hall that is included in your area of the house right now.

Javi watches you walk off and he sighs before he looks down at the map and pulls out his phone to take pictures of the rooms. Your attention to detail will have to be included in the film.

******

Saturday, December 23, 2023

It's the Christmas season the next time you see him, when the house is all done up in twinkling lights and wreaths with trimmed trees in almost every room. Bowls of chestnuts and pine cones and cherries replace the usual decorative hazelnuts and oranges. Pine boughs and poinsettias instead of big, beautiful flower arrangements. It's a nice change of pace, honestly, and on the weekends guests can buy tickets to the after-hours light display on the grounds. Out in the garden there are even refreshments and music plays from the trees that drip with even more lights.

Javier tucks into his light jacket. It’s not completely necessary, but it helps the spirit of the season. The lights are beautiful and he’s heard that the decorations are truly a sight to see.

The music outside just reminds you of the years that you worked in retail -- repetitive and sickly sweet Christmas songs pouring through speakers, but you dole out cups of cocoa and coffee at one of the refreshment tables outside with good enough spirits. There's bits of broken cookie to sneak every now and then, and the little gingerbread men are tasty morsels when you and the other docent working at the table can grab them.

“You were right about the library.” He hadn’t been looking for you. At least that’s what he tells himself, although he lights up for some reason when he recognizes you. “It’s perfect for a cozy day reading.”

"You..." It takes all you've got not to grab your friend's hand beside you, as the specter of the random guest you've had a crush on for almost a year materializes in front of you. "You remembered?" The full sentence is 'You remembered me?' but you don't say that.

He grins bashfully as he steps up to the table and looks down at the cookies and paper cups, trying to keep from staring at how pretty you are. Javi’s been around gorgeous women, but there’s something about the naked honest in your eyes that makes him feel almost feverish. “Of course I did.” He chuckles. “I went back through to find you that day, but you must have already gone home.”

“We move around the house every hour. To keep on our toes and so we don’t stare at the same set of walls the whole day.” Did he get even more attractive since last time? That would be so unfair. Criminally unfair, actually. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Enough to come back, even.”

“I had to see it during Christmas.” It also got him out of the tiny cottage he lives in. Around other people. Hopefully to distract from the loneliness of the holiday. “I don’t know if this might not be the best look for this place. Although I see it with candles lit all around.”

“It’s perfect in spring,” you tell him all too quickly, and end up flustering yourself so you have to tear your eyes away from his to look down at the grounds gather your damn wits back. “I mean…in early spring is when all the orange and hazelnut trees blossom. That’s how the property got its name. Hazelwood Park.”

“Is that so? I will have to check it out.” He looks suitably impressed and then motions to the table. “So, um, how much for a cookie and a cup of coffee?” He asks, not sure what else to say, but wanting to continue the conversation.

"Oh, they're free for guests. Help yourself." Your coworker offers helpfully, seeing you fluster and thoroughly enjoying the level of teasing that is going to happen after work tonight. "Why don't you take your break while we have a lull?" She suggests, practically batting her eyelashes with glee over the suggestion.

"Thanks, Moira," you hum with a tone that suggests you're going to kill her later. Then again? She has a point. These days that there are special events at work can be long. You've been on your feet for hours.

Javi is disappointed, sure that you will disappear on him since you have a chance to get off your feet and possibly get something to eat or drink yourself. “Oh, um, okay.” He takes a cup of be coffee and a cookie. “Thanks.”

"Make sure to show him your bench!" Moira suggests, far too loudly and excitedly to not be obvious, as she thrusts a cup of cocoa and a gingerbread man into your hands.

“Your bench?” He could kiss your friend for giving him something to grasp on to in order to keep the conversation going. “What is your bench?”

"It's...it's over on the west side of the property." You gesture to the left of were you're both standing and try to suppress the giddy and awkward shivers running up and down your spine. "Do you...would you want to walk?"

“Are you sure you want to?” He asks seriously, happy about spending time with you but it’s your break. “You don’t want to rest?”

"Benches are made for resting." Now that the chance has presented itself, you would actually be pretty bummed to miss out on the chance to chat with him again. And, in all honesty, you're pretty sure it's not your break at all. Moira just threw you out of the nest like a mama bird.

“Okay.” He agree to that easily and shifts to move the cookie into the same hand as his coffee to offer you his arm. “Lead the way.”

The chivalrous gesture damn near makes your knees buckle, and you follow suit. Shifting your snack into one hand lets you take his arm to lead him toward the ocean. "It's just...where I like to come sit." Of course it is. You groan at yourself internally. What else would you do at a bench but sit? "I take my lunch out here sometimes and things like that."

“So it’s your special place.” He likes the sound of that. Showing him something that you might not show every guest.

"I suppose you could say that." It's only a touch chilly tonight and the breeze coming off the ocean is welcoming. "It's a nice place to sit and think. To just watch the ocean and...dream."

“Hopefully the dreams are nice ones.” He offers, wondering what you might dream about. “Having a quiet place to think is always a good thing. I used to sit out at the cliffs and dream, plot, plan.”

"Cliffs?" Hazelwood Park is more or less on a cliffside, and you motion out toward the ocean again. "Like this one?"

“A little larger than this one.” He smiles as he thinks back to jumping off the cliff with Nic. “Mallorca has cliffs that go hundreds of meters in the air.” He tells you. “Some so steep you would be terrified to slip off the edge.”

“Mallorca?” Spanish. Damn. They really do make hotter men in Europe. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. You…traded one beautiful place to live for another?”

He shrugs slightly. “Hard to write movies anywhere else but Hollywood, no?”

“Hard, but not impossible.”

So there it is. Even the screenwriters in Hollywood are sexy. Maybe you should be grateful to live so close by, then? Southern California does have some fun things that back home didn’t. Rather than fawn over him — that’s never been your style — you just smile. “So you like libraries and you’re a writer. Stories run through your veins.”

“I would live in them if I could.” He admits wistfully. The little bench is drawing closer and he can see from the view from this point why you would like it. It’s a stunning place to look out over the water. The wind just a touch brisk as it ruffles his hair. The smell of the saltwater taking over.

“Me too.” And for reasons you can’t quite discern, you just keep talking. “That’s why I like history so much. It’s all just stories. Especially in big houses like this. Somebody’s whole life — their whole story — is wrapped up in that house.”

“And do you sometimes pretend you are the lady of the house?” He asks, imagining you in the skirts from that time.

"It would be sort of a shame to dream about the place and not dream the grand, elegant things. Wouldn't it?" When you reach the bench together, he seems to set you down first, letting you settle, and then sits beside you. "I think it's romantic. Curtis Hollingsworth built the place as a birthday gift for his wife. They were outgrowing their home because they were pregnant again, and he'd made millions helping to turn Santa Barbara into a spa town." The soft smile on your face is whimsical, but you can't help it. "Apparently, she loved oranges and hazelnuts. Which is why the trees are everywhere."

“He brought those to her.” He looks out over the water and takes a sip of the rich coffee. At least they had served a strong brew instead of something heartbreakingly weak. “To build a house for someone you love is a perfect way to show it.” He frowns slightly, remembering that he has a building site that was halted before the foundation was ever poured.

“It’s certainly a grand gesture.” Something in his tone and manner makes you hesitate, but you don’t know this man nearly well enough to ask a single personal question so you try to just press past it. “Of course, grand gestures aren’t the only way of showing love. Not by any means. But they do make wonderful stories.”

“Sometimes it’s just listening.” He agrees, thinking about how things between him and Gabriella had turned after moving to L.A. two years ago. She had been uninterested in the future he envisions and started working towards. Stopped talking to him about anything that wasn’t part of her own interests. He had tried to course correct, but it had ultimately not meant to be.

“I couldn’t agree more.” This time you do chance to look at him — sharp jaw and soft cheeks outlined against the night sky like a fully grown cherub, golden brown curls neatly and artfully tousled and waving in the breeze. He looks like a Romantic painting. “Lots of people talk about communication but not enough realize listening is included in that.”

His eyes find yours again, seeing the softness and understanding swimming in their depths and he feels like bearing his soul to you. “Is it probably the most important part.” He admits. “The world would be better if people understood that.”

“Again…” you swallow hard, feeling your mouth has run dry and chest fairly ripped open with the feeling of familiarity. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The silence falls between you. It’s not unpleasant, it’s almost hesitant. As if both of you are afraid of disturbing the uncluttered beauty of the moment as the waves crash against the coast at the wind batters playfully against your cheeks. Javi breaks off a piece of the cookie and dips it onto the coffee.

“You chose a beautiful night to come visit.” It’s clear and typically warm despite the ocean breeze, and even in the end of December, Southern California is a beautiful place to be. He could have gone to any of a thousand places but he chose to come here, and a small voice in the back of your head wonders — hopes — that maybe you had a part in making this place happy for him.

“I was compelled to come back.” He admits softly, looking over at you for a moment before breaking off the gaze to look out at the sea again.

“The house is like that.” When he looks away, you do too. “It draws people in.”

It’s not the house, but it would sound crazy to say that he wanted to see you again. Instead he hums. “I don’t think it’s just the house.”

“Well…” If you wanted to take that to heart, you feel like you could. It wouldn’t be difficult to give yourself that little bit of hope. But despite being easy, it would probably be very foolish. “I hope it helps you miss home a little less to sit on these cliffs, instead.”

“I think it does.” He takes the bite of the cookie and groans happily. “These are good.”

“Gingerbread is highly underrated,” you agree, and take a bite of your own after dipping it into your cup of cocoa. “I get why they’re seasonal but I wish I could find them so easily all year long.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “They would be good anytime.”

“What’s your favourite kind of cookie?” The question is innocuous enough, but you find yourself curious anyway. Curious to know about anything he feels like telling you.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder innocently. “A good chocolate chip cookie is always a comfort.” He admits. “Sometimes the simple things are the best.” He twists his head and looks over to you. “What is yours?”

“Have you ever heard of a hermit cookie?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, and grinning in amusement when he looks confused. “It’s a soft, spice cookie. Like gingerbread. Sometimes with raisins and nuts in it. They’re a bit old fashioned, but wonderful with coffee.”

“They sound like I should try some.” He would try anything you recommend right now, a fact that should scare him but it doesn’t. “How old are the cookies?” He asks, thinking about his screenplay.

“They’re from the 1880s or 90s, I think?” It does not escape your amusement or notice that this is the same time that the house you work in was built. “I don’t know if they’ve ever been popular outside of New England, but we do love them there.”

He hums and takes note of that. Deciding he will research it. “Hermit cookies.” He repeats. “Are there recipes for this? Online?”

"Probably." His entire attention has now focused in on this just because you said it was your favorite cookie and that makes you smile in a way you can't quite explain.

“Then I will have to look it up.” He smiles as he takes another sip of his coffee. “I like researching things. It is very interesting. Like your marble mosaic tiles.”

"You researched the tiles?" It's the sort of thing that you would only think of you or your coworkers doing, but hearing that he has enjoyed his time in the house -- and possibly with you -- so much warms your heart.

“It was interesting to learn how they chose the marbles.” He nods. “I never imagined a trip to Europe to pick out building materials.”

"It's a heck of a reason for a vacation," you agree, laughing slightly at the opulence of it all.

“Yes. And trips would take months.” He chuckles.

"I can't even imagine." To take a vacation at all would be a miracle. But one that was months long? It sounds positively absurd to your ear.

“Do you think they ever got bored?” He asks curiously. “Or tired of being away from home?”

"I have to imagine that they did." It's a question you've thought on more than you want to admit, but the stories in your head are always about everyday things. Wondering what the mundane things were like. "If I had a home like this I can't imagine ever wanting to be away from it. But I suppose the right person can make anything worthwhile."

“Were they soulmates?” He asks softly, having avoided the personal backgrounds of the homeowners when taking the tour. He had tried to keep his own characters in mind.

“They were. And when they left the house to their daughter, she married her soulmate here. And then her daughter married her soulmate here, as well. The house has a history of lifelong loves.”

“That is nice.” His tone is wistful. “I don’t know if I will ever meet my soulmate.” Javi confides, normally keeping that information to himself but he blurts it out. “I worry about it sometimes.”

“I don’t know a single person who hasn’t worried about it at some point.” Even your sister, who said she didn’t mind not marrying her soulmate as long as the woman she found was a loving partner, had been thoroughly overjoyed when she had found her now wife on Mate Marks. Everyone thinks about it — worries about it — even if they don’t want to admit it. “I wouldn’t worry, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, knowing you’ve gone over your fifteen minutes for your break and not wanting to be caught flirting with a guest on company time. “Whoever you do find is going to be very lucky to have you.”

He smiles again. “Have you found yours?” He figures you probably have, you are beautiful and captivating.

"Not yet." Even though you'd rather not, you stand from the bench. "I don't know if I ever will. Only time will tell."

“I know you have to go back to work.” Javi leaps off the bench and shuffles, wishing he could ask you to stay. “Thank you for showing me this place.” He bites his lip. “Uh, can I walk you back?”

The warmth rushes back to your cheeks, and you practically squirm with delight. "Thank you. I'd like that."

He offers his arm again, taking your empty hot cocoa cup from you to hold with his own trash. “Imagine the parties they used to hold here.” He breathes out as the two of you turn back towards the house.

"We're setting up an exhibit with some of the gowns. It's meant to open in about six weeks." You light up with that fact, excited to see all the swishing gowns and glimmering jewels for yourself. "Descendents of the family donated a large collection of clothing, shoes, and jewelry to the museum this part year."

“Wow.” He chuckles, thinking about the parties he would throw when he was pretending to be an olive oil exporter. He’s much happier being a screen writer, even if he can’t afford those parties and bought friends anymore. “That was generous of them.”

"They say the most spectacular pieces are still privately owned by the family, but the things I've seen so far have been absolutely gorgeous." If you're a little dreamy-eyed at the prospect, he doesn't seem to mind.

“It sounds like you would have loved to live during that time.” He smiles, knowing that he will have to insist the movie be filmed here.

"I'm probably overly romanticizing it," you admit. But the tent is in view already and you hate the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that wonders if he'll ever come back again. "I hope—" Biting back what you really hope, you go for a polite encouragement instead, "That the things you've found in your research have given you plenty to think about. And maybe romanticized it for you, too."

“It has.” Even if you have no interest in him, you’ve given him a focal point for his movie. “Thank you. This is a magical place.”

"Then I hope you'll come back again." At least in that you can be honest. There is nothing you would like more than to see him again.

“Really?” He’s surprised by your comment. Unless you are just being polite.

"Really." You promise him, but at the edge of the refreshments tent, you have to let his arm go.

He’s disappointed by the loss of your fingers on his jacket. “Well. I hope the rest of your night is magical.” He offers, bowing slightly and smiling at you.

"I can all but guarantee it now." One more smile. One more lingering, dopey smile, and you know you have to tear yourself away. "Have a good night..." Oh no. Have you really gone and sat and flirted with this man for your whole break and not even learned his name?

He nods and turns away, sure that it would be rude to try to extend the conversation. He will just have to go home and write about this, working it into the plot of his movie somehow.

******

Monday, June 10, 2024

The email went out before opening time, when only your bosses were up in the offices and the docent core hadn’t gotten to work yet. You’d nearly crashed your car in excitement while CarPlay read the email out to you on the highway.

A movie. An actual Hollywood movie is coming to film at the museum!

The second you clocked in and sprinted to the break room to put your things away, you almost clobbered Moira with squealed, giddy glee.

“Did you hear?? Did you see Leslie’s email?!”

“Oh my god, yesssss.” She lights up and nods quickly. “It’s a movie by that guy who did the Nic Cage movie a couple of years ago.” She informs you. “The one that won an Oscar and restarted that man’s career?” After a long slump of bad movies, the older actor had exploded back on the scene, apparently full of new life and motivation for his trade.

“I can’t wait until we find out more!” Being able to hug your friend and squeal together is such a rush. The two of you have become joined-at-the-hip work friends to the point where the friendship has bled into everyday life. “A name, a plot, any of the stars?”

“Actors.” She sighs dreamily. “Imagine if your soulmate or mine, is an actor who comes to film?” She loves the glitz and glam of Hollywood and always secretly imagined being an actress herself, although she’s realistic enough to understand that it would be impossible to have happen.

“Maybe yours will be.” You laugh, hugging her again before you have to break away to pull your radio headset out of your bag. There is still work to do today, desire the excitement. “You’ll have to make sure you always wear your hair up so your tattoo is visible.” The little raven behind her ear would be a hell of a lot easier to show off than the tarot card on her though, anyway. Moira’s tattoos are gorgeous and just unique enough that you would bet there was no duplicate in the works besides her soulmate.

“Oh I’m planning on it.” She licks her lips and waggles her brows suggestively. “What about you? Yours aren’t so visible.” She knows how much you secretly want to meet your soulmate and be with them. It was a drunken girl’s night confession but she had never teased you over it.

“There’s no reason to go around showing everyone my marks.” You shrug a little and busy yourself with plugging into a walkie-talkie and adjusting your headset in your ear. “A lot of people have ankle scars, don’t they? And I can’t exactly show off my butterfly.” Exposing that much skin is definitely against dress code.

“Is it your scar or his?” You had never mentioned that, just that you had a scar.

“It’s theirs.” However your soulmate is, you’ve tried very hard not to make assumptions about them. The person you hope for might not be the person you get, and that wouldn’t be fair to them. “I was nine when it appeared, so my best guess has always been they fell out of a tree or play sports.”

“And the tattoo is yours?” She knows, she’s just chatting because it’s better than actually getting ready to work right now.

“Twenty-first birthday.” You nod, knowing that she knows but that Moira likes a slower start to her day than you usually do. “I did the opposite of most people. I got the tattoo and then went out to get drunk.”

“Which is a very valid and smart thing to do.” She praises. “That way you don’t bleed too much and it’s a nice way to numb the pain after.” Her own walkie comes out to begrudgingly clip to her waist. “But this movie, it has to be a period piece, right? No way a modern millionaire would live in a house like this.”

“It has to be. There’s no point in renting out a historical house museum for four entire months unless you’re going to use it all.” Not that you know too much about the filming process, but it just makes logical sense. “And besides, they’re here in spring and summer, which is usually our busy season. So I’m sure Leslie charged them a fortune. But HBO can afford it, I guess.”

“What if they let us be extras?” Her eyes widen at the sudden thought. “Oh god, we could wear our work!” She giggles happily at the thought.

“I assume there will have to be extras somehow.” Truthfully, you’d let your Hollywood dreams die out a long time ago. Moira’s were much more present. It would be amazing to see her to be able to fulfill them with even just a morsel like being an extra. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

“When it gets closer you will be just as excited as I am.” She predicts with a knowing grin.

“I’m plenty excited,” you promise, happily hugging her to your side as the two of you head out into the house together. “I just think you belong in front of a camera much more than I do.”

“You’ll change your mind.” She teases. “When you see what gorgeous actors and actresses they bring, you will be begging to flirt with them. On and off camera.”

“Maybe.” Her confidence is catching, and you laugh again at the thought of it. Hollywood has come knocking on your door and it’s already making work a hell of a lot more fun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[meeraonpole]

Twitch Steams : LN4 X Y/N

Summary: Lando goes live on Twitch, but his stream takes a cute turn when you bring him food. Chat instantly falls in love with your presence, demanding you stay. After giving up his chair for you, the two of you share adorable moments, jokes, and laughter while chat spams heart emojis. By the end of the stream, it’s clear—Lando might be the streamer, but you’re the real star.

Lando had just booted up his Twitch stream, a cheeky grin on his face as he greeted the thousands of viewers flooding into chat. His headset sat slightly askew on his messy curls, and his hoodie was oversized as always.

"Hello, hello! What's up, chat?" he said, adjusting his mic. "We’re back at it today. Gonna play some tarkov, maybe some Valorant later. Who knows?"

The chat was already going wild, messages flying past at an unreadable speed:

"Lando, why are you always late?"

"McLaren merch WHEN?"

"Why does your hair always look like you just fought a tornado?"

Lando chuckled as he scrolled through the messages. "Alright, alright, calm down. I was like—only five minutes late today, which, in my world, is early, okay?" He clicked into his racing setup and got ready for a few laps, but before he could even get started, there was a soft knock at his door.

"Uh-oh, who's that?" he mused aloud, glancing toward the door. "Hold on, chat, someone’s about to interrupt our very serious business."

A moment later, the door creaked open, and in walked you, holding a plate of food in one hand and a drink in the other. Lando’s face immediately lit up.

"Oooooh, look at that, chat! Delivery service has arrived!" he said dramatically, leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "You’ve been sitting here for hours, Lando. You need to eat."

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, taking the plate from you. "Wait, did you make this, or did you just steal it from the kitchen?"

You scoffed, placing the drink down next to him. "Rude. I made it, obviously."

"Chat, do we trust this?" Lando asked, pretending to inspect the food suspiciously. Cue the flood of messages.

"Trust her, Lando."

"Y/N best girlfriend confirmed."

"Lando, if you don’t eat that, we riot."

You laughed as you backed toward the door. "Alright, I’m leaving you and your weird little fan club alone. Enjoy your food, superstar."

Lando pouted dramatically. "You’re not gonna stay? Chat, tell her to stay!"

Chat immediately spammed:

"STAYYY."

"Y/N COME BACK."

"Lando is 100x cuter when you're around."

You shook your head. "No, you guys have fun. I’m not stealing your spotlight."

And with that, you disappeared out of frame, leaving Lando to sigh dramatically before stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. "Well, chat, there goes the love of my life, abandoning me in my time of need."

But the chat wasn’t letting it go.

"CALL HER BACK."

"We need Y/N content!"

Lando groaned playfully. "Alright, alright, fine! You guys are so needy. Let me—wait, I have an idea."

He reached for his phone and called you, putting it on speaker. After a few rings, you picked up.

"What now?" you asked teasingly.

"Chat is basically threatening to riot if you don’t come back," Lando said, grinning. "So, congratulations, you’re famous."

You sighed dramatically, but he could hear the smile in your voice. "Fine. But only for a little bit."

Seconds later, you reappeared in the room, and Lando immediately got up from his chair. "Here, take my seat."

You frowned. "But where are you gonna sit?"

"Don’t worry about it," he said, walking off camera. Moments later, he dragged in another chair from across the room and plopped down next to you. The chat exploded.

"HE GAVE UP HIS CHAIR FOR HER."

"THE BARE MINIMUM BUT WE LOVE HIM FOR IT."

"Boyfriend of the year, confirmed."

Lando grinned as he read the messages. "See, chat, I am a gentleman. Give me some credit!"

You chuckled, leaning back in the chair as Lando scrolled through chat. "You guys are too much."

"They love you," Lando said, nudging you playfully. "More than they love me, actually. Should I be concerned?"

"Very," you teased.

The two of you continued streaming, answering silly questions and joking around. At one point, Lando leaned his head on your shoulder dramatically. "Chat, I’m exhausted. Y/N, take over."

You laughed, adjusting the headset. "Alright, guys, what’s up? Welcome to my stream now. First order of business: roasting Lando."

Chat loved it, spamming:

"FINALLY, THE TAKEOVER."

"Roast him, Y/N. He deserves it."

Lando gasped, sitting up. "Okay, no, this was a terrible idea. I take it back."

You grinned, poking his cheek. "Too late, superstar."

The chat was going wild, and Lando couldn’t stop smiling at you. He reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours under the table, unseen by the camera but enough for you to squeeze his hand lightly.

Eventually, Lando stretched and yawned. "Alright, chat, I think we’re gonna call it a night. Y/N has stolen my stream, my chair, and my dignity, so I think it’s time to go."

You smirked. "Pretty sure you lost your dignity a long time ago."

Chat spammed "LMAO" as Lando put a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wow. Chat, did you see that? My own girlfriend betraying me on live stream."

You grinned, leaning into him just a little. "They saw nothing."

The chat exploded again, filled with heart emojis and messages like "GET MARRIED ALREADY" and "CUTEST COUPLE ON TWITCH."

Lando glanced at the screen, then at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, chat, love you guys, but I think I’m gonna go spend some time with this one now."

"Finally," you said, standing up. "Took you long enough."

He rolled his eyes but reached for your hand as he ended the stream, the final words from chat being:

"PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS."

"Lando, you better treat her like a queen."

"This was the best stream ever."

And as Lando shut his PC down, he looked over at you, grinning. "See, told you they love you more than me."

You shrugged. "Well, can you blame them?"

With a laugh, he pulled you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Nope. Not even a little."

Tbh I don't really like this one but its ok don't really have anything else to say but yea enjoy the rest of your dayyyy

oh lemme know if there are any errors

[alaia777]

hi alaia! can i please request an angst with comfort drabble of 'you look stupid, what are you even wearing?' with baro shoei (blue lock)?

i hope you like it !

it was rare for something as simple as a dress to make you this excited, but today was different. while out shopping, you stumbled upon a baby blue dress with a big bow at the back and delicate ruffles—something you wouldn’t normally pick, but the moment you saw it, a wave of nostalgia hit you. it looked almost identical to a dress you loved as a child, just made for someone your age now. you obviously bought it.

you couldn’t wait to show it to your boyfriend tonight. the two of you had planned an at-home date, something you’d been looking forward to all week. you were going to order food from the restaurant where you had your first date, then watch the movie you saw together on your second. even though barou didn’t say much when you brought it up, you knew him well enough to tell—he was looking forward to it just as much as you were.

by the time it was close for barou to get back from practice, everything was already prepared for your date. you had gotten yourself ready, looking so much like little you—except now, your front teeth weren’t missing. the table was arranged carefully for the food, and the movie setup was ready to go. all that was left was for the food to be delivered right on time when barou got home.

you jumped out of your seat when you heard the front door open, a giddy smile on your face as you rushed to greet your boyfriend. “i was waiting for you, b—” but before you could finish your sentence, barou walked right past you, heading straight for the bedroom without sparing you a single glance. you could tell he must be frustrated from practice, and not wanting to upset him further, you decided to give him some space.

what was supposed to be a little time turned into an hour of you sitting on the couch, the food already delivered and neatly placed on the table, but still no sign of barou. you heard the sound of him getting into the shower, then the quiet shuffle of him going back into the room. yet, there was still no sign of him coming to talk to you.

you had promised yourself you’d give him space, but you couldn’t just sit here, feeling useless, knowing your boyfriend was clearly in a bad mood. you couldn’t do nothing.

you knocked on the door, waiting for a response that never came. after a moment, you pushed it open, stepping inside to find barou sitting at his desk, back turned to you, eyes fixed on his laptop.

“barou, the table is set. do you want to come eat?”

“not hungry. you can eat without me,” he said, his tone clipped.

“but i thought it would’ve been nice for us to—” you started, but before you could finish, he turned around, irritation clear on his face.

“are you deaf? i said i’m not hungry. also—” his words faltered as his gaze swept over you from head to toe, taking in your dress for the first time. he scoffed, expression unreadable. “you look stupid. what are you even wearing?”

you stared at him, stunned, the weight of his words settling in. how dare he? the comment stung more than you wanted to admit, but you refused to let it show—you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“a dress for our inside date that’s today, you asshole,” you shot back, voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “but on second thought, you can stay in here and enjoy your own misery, since it’s clear communication isn’t your strong suit.”

without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and slammed the door behind you, the sharp sound echoing through the apartment.

you knew you’d been harsh, but so had he. if he was going to throw words like that at you, then fine—you’d throw them right back.

but as you sat at the table, staring at the now-cold food you’d been so excited to share, the anger in your chest twisted into something heavier. the night was supposed to be special, a quiet celebration of the little things that made your relationship yours. instead, all that was left was silence.

you didn’t bother looking up when you heard the bedroom door open, still pushing your food around on the plate, the weight of his presence settling in front of you. you didn’t want to argue again—you were too tired for that.

“i’m sorry for calling your dress stupid,” barou said, his voice gruff but sincere.

“you called me stupid,” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

he went quiet for a moment, then exhaled. “and i’m sorry for that too. i had a hard day and took it out on you instead of communicating like a normal person.”

you kept your head down, unsure if you were ready to forgive him for ruining the night you’d been looking forward to all week.

“and i’d like for us to continue our date,” he added.

“the food’s already cold—” you started, finally glancing up, only to freeze mid-sentence.

barou stood there, arms crossed, wearing the shirt—the ridiculous t-shirt you’d gotten him as a joke, the very first gift you ever gave him. bright red and proudly displaying the word KING in a mickey mouse theme.

“since the food’s cold, we’re going to eat at the restaurant and then go see the movie at the cinema,” he said like it was the simplest plan in the world.

“dressed like that?” you asked, blinking.

“yes. is that a problem?”

“no,” you said, biting back a grin, “but why that shirt?”

“because since we’re redoing our first date, i want to wear the first gift you ever gave me,” he said, completely serious.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore—you laughed, loud and unrestrained, all the tension from earlier slowly unraveling with it.

you were still laughing when barou rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. instead, he grabbed his keys from the counter and tilted his head toward the door.

“come on, we’re leaving.”

you wiped at your eyes, finally standing. “you’re really going out like that?”

“obviously.”

he started walking toward the door, and you followed, shaking your head but smiling. whatever frustration lingered from earlier didn’t matter anymore—not when he was willing to do something so ridiculous just to make up for it.

as he held the door open for you, you reached for his hand, giving it a small squeeze. he squeezed back.

maybe tonight wasn’t going exactly how you planned, but somehow, it was turning out even better.

[salty-autistic-writer]

You voted that an animal should cheer Tommy up. So here's some cat-Dad Tommy!

Tommy stares at the empty spot on the shelf of the shopping aisle. The spot where his favourite cake was supposed to be. 

He stares, his body frozen as his foggy mind tries to catch up with the new information, his hand already stretched out, hovering in the air.

They don’t have it. They always have it. But not today. 

Tommy is not surprised. He doesn’t have the energy to feel that kind of emotion. He just feels numb. Of course, they don’t have his cake. Tommy pulls his hand back. Forces himself to grab a pack of brownies instead. They land in his bag and join the sad collection already inside. Tissues. Frozen dinner. Beer. And stronger stuff for later. In case he can’t fall asleep again.

He doesn’t really care about what he puts in his body right now. Tommy didn’t even want to do the groceries. He doesn’t feel like eating. Doesn’t feel like doing anything at all. His body is a stone, pulling him down. Every step forward seems to add more weight. A heavy grey cloud is raining on his thoughts, making them swim in a thick foggy soup of nothing.

The cake might have cheered him up a little. At least for a while. But life won’t even grant him that kind of short sweet relief. Tommy guesses he deserves this. It’s Karma, right?

Anxiously, he drags himself through the shopping aisle to the cashout. He hopes no one he knows will see him like this. Because then he would have to explain that he doesn’t actually have a bad persistent case of the flu. He would have to tell them that instead, he managed to mess up the best thing that has ever happened to him and now carries around a broken heart that he doesn’t know how to fix. Fortunately, he makes it out without meeting anyone he knows.

Outside, the sun is too bright, burning his eyes. He blinks and lowers his head, not paying attention to his surroundings, and forces himself to take another slow step forward. He just wants to get back to his quiet dim house, to his couch, to his blanket, to some pointless TV blabbering and to something that will dull his senses.

But then, he hears the meow.

It’s loud. Shrill even. But … muffled.

Tommy stops with a frown, looking around. He’s alone. Only occasional cars pass him by. He hears another meow. And now manages to locate where it’s coming from.

A dumpster. Really?!

Tommy frowns and opens the lid. He looks inside, his eyes widening when he sees a bundle of brown fur and two greenish eyes blinking up at him. Another loud meow seems to be telling him: Finally! I was screaming for hours and no one ever bothered enough to take a look!

Sitting on a heap of disgusting garbage, the cat starts to scratch frantically at the walls of the container. But for some reason, the animal won’t climb or jump outside.

“Okay,” Tommy says, putting his bag down and pushing the sleeves of his hoodie up. “Alright. I’m going to get you out of there. Wait a moment …”

The stench that hits him when he bends over the dumpster is overwhelming. Tommy breathes through his mouth and reaches inside, stretching his arms until he can grab the cat that doesn’t try to bite or scratch him fortunately, and pulls it out.

As soon as he can take a closer look at the squirming animal, he sees why it didn’t try to jump. The hind legs got caught in some kind of plastic wrapping that binds them together. He carefully removes it, throwing it back into the garbage, checking if the cat is injured. That doesn’t seem to be the case. Good.

Tommy wonders how the cat got into the container in the first place. And realises he doesn’t really want to know the answer to that. He holds the brownish fur bundle in front of his face and she meets his eyes unafraid, blinking slowly. “You look like a brownie,” Tommy says, glancing at his shopping bag. “What am I supposed to do with you Brownie, huh?”

Of course, there’s no reply. Tommy shakes his head and puts the cat down. It sits and looks up at him, her tail swishing from side to side. Tommy picks up his bag. “I have to go home now,” he mutters. “You better clean up. The mice will smell you from miles away.”

He sighs and walks on. It only takes him a few seconds to notice that the cat is following him. “I don’t have any food for you,” Tommy tells her. “I don’t even have proper food for me. You met the wrong kind of person today, Brownie. Sorry.”

I mess up everything good in my life anyway. 

The cat isn’t impressed. And she continues following him until Tommy reaches his house.

* Brownie loves tuna.

She makes slurping noises while eating, inhaling the whole bowl in a few minutes, then looks up at Tommy, licking her nose.

“What? You want more?” Tommy asks, smiling for the first time in days. “Well, I only have one more can left, guess I will have to go to the grocery store again.”

He feeds Brownie more tuna, then bathes her because she’s reeking. The cat makes less fuss than he would have thought when her fur is being soaped up, washed and dried. Maybe she’s relieved to get rid of the garbage stench.

Tommy watches from the couch, as Brownie slowly inspects every corner of his house, smelling his plants - nibbling at each one for a second - and marking his furniture by rubbing against it, her tail raised in the air. She likes it here, Tommy realises. Well. What do they say? A cat chooses her home?

He doesn’t have any cat stuff at home though. No toilet. No food. No toys. He will have to get all of that from a shop. Tommy fidgets with a tissue and makes a mental list in his mind. The grey fog in there lifts as he focuses on the present and the fact that he now has a cat to take care of. He still can't believe this is his life. He stumbled over a cat and now everything changed. It's making him anxious in a whole other way.

Brownie looks at him, meowing quietly as if she can sense his emotional distress.

Evan would love her, Tommy thinks, still smiling.

God. Evan.

Sadness and regret hit him like a tsunami wave. Sudden. Cold. Painful. Drowning him in memories that wipe the smile off his face. Evan looked so hurt. Tommy never wanted to hurt him. Not him. He hunches over when the waves of aching pain reach his stomach. He wraps his arms around himself, blinking frantically as tears fill his eyes.

God. I miss him so much. I’m sorry. If I could go back in time and fix this - I would … 

Suddenly, Tommy feels something warm nudging his leg. He looks down, seeing Brownie rubbing her head against him. He can hear her starting to purr.

Tommy smiles through the tears, scooping Brownie up and gently placing her against his chest, where she stays, purring and starting to move her paws against him in rhythmic movements, baking biscuits. She’s warm, soft and still smells like soap. It’s nice. “I thought I needed cake. Didn’t think what I actually needed was a cat,” Tommy says quietly, sob-chuckling. “Look at you. You just arrived here and you already act like the world’s best comfort pet. Come on. Let me wipe away those tears and then I’m going to buy you some things you will need.”

* Brownie sniffs Evan’s shoes once, looks up at him for a scrutinizing moment, then walks away, showing him her butt.

Evan’s brows furrow. “She doesn’t like me.”

Tommy chuckles softly, putting his hand on Evan’s back. “Give her some time. She listened to me sobbing about missing you for too many nights.”

“Maybe I should move from cakes for humans to baking biscuits for cats,” Evan says with a small smile.

“But you have to put tuna into them,” Tommy says. “Brownie loves tuna.”

They look at each other, smiling, both knowing: Not everything is resolved. There’s still a lot of talking to do. But they showed each other that their relationship is worth fighting for.

(AO3 Link)

[starconstruction]

Ok!! I would love to see something with Choerry!! I can suggest tags I would particularly love, but plot I would have to brainstorm 😅

Tags: Heavy impregnation(!!!!!!!!), belly bulge, squirting&multiple orgasms, deepthroating, nipppleplay/breasfeeding, thighjobs/feet. I saw you like yandere. Maybe some heavy jealousy?

Literally anything you’d like !!

Plot suggestions are here just cause I’d feel bad just asking for a member and you doing all the heavy creative writing (but please do anything you’d like with it if you have an idea you want!!): coworker lip makes choerry jealous, forcing her to make m!reader remember who she belongs to.

Or maybe she tags along with? Anything you desire!! Hope to read it someday!

Thanks

Jealous Loving Partner

Yandere Choerry x Male Reader (Smut)

Smut Tags: Impregnation, multiple orgasms (both people), foot worship, foot job, feet kink, deepthroating, edging, belly bulge, squirting, creampie, riding, nipple sucking.

Crazy first ask, thank you for submitting! I hope it is up to your standards, I only feel a bit of shame.

WC: 2046

not proof read

The monotous clicking of your keyboard resonated through the sterile office, scents of an overabundance of old paper, laying anywhere and everywhere there was space, on the tables, on the floor, in cabinets. The intense workload was stressing you beyond relief. You were one of the only few employees left at this ungodly hour, it paid extraordinary amounts of money, but 80 hour work weeks has their toll on your body.

You sipped on your coffee, the comforting taste of dirt filled your mouth. It was disgusting however it gave you vital energy. Only one more hour and you can finally go home to your loving partner, Choerry. You two had been together for a little over 4 years, she was quite intense. Only a penny drop away at any moment, her messages frequently popped up. She could message you 10-20 times an hour and would get sad if you didn't respond to every single one. But apart from being a bit obsessive she was perfect.

You were engrossed in your work, ignoring the bright bursts of light that radiated from your phone, desperate to finish those projects that haunted you, a gentle hand pressed against your shoulder, distracting you from your goals. It was your coworker, you knew very little about her. Her brown hair laid flush on her shoulder, she was wearing a grey cardigan, shoulders exposed as she looked at your computer.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Y/N right?" She said, voice quiet as she got your attention.

"Yeah, what do you need?" You replied, pulling away from your desk to give her your full attention.

"I have an issue with my computer, I'm on graveyard shift so I cant call someone else later, you're really my only hope." She looked down at the ground, giving a pleading smile.

"Sure I'll help"

-

What you hoped would be a small few minute job ended up being an entire hour long venture, the computer locked her with violence and aggression. Kim Lip, she said her name was. Her conversation was light as you two sprung words between each other, leaving work to the side as you fought tooth and nail to get this working.

Your shift was over, you being able to finally get out this office for the next few hours. "Alright Kim Lip, I'm out for the night." Slinging your bag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave when she stopped you. "I'll walk with you" she said. Coming behind you as you two left the building.

Your jaw dropped, Choerry was waiting for you outside. Staring daggers into you and Kim Lip, her feet digging into the ground, stomping as she dragged you away from her. "Piss off" she barked, venom spitting out of her words. Kim Lip looked at you in confusion as you got put into the passengers seat of the car.

Choerry opened the driver's seat as she clambered in, the air filled with tension. You watched in fear as she turned on the car. The music cranked all the way up, her face was an unreadable anger. Not sparing you a glance as you two sat in painful silence. You were in for it the second you got home.

--

Choerry pressed you into the wall of your shared bedroom, her body resting against you as she pulled your clothes off, fabric teared as she grabbed your shirt with reckless abandon. Buttons popped out as her hand gripped your chest, squeezing and groping every part of your torso. "Who the fuck was that?!" she growled, her teeth biting into your neck as you gasped in pain. "Are you fucking cheating on me with that whore?!" she continued.

"What? Choerry she's my co-worker." You said, trying to soothe her unrelenting anger. Choerry's biting got even sharper, blood drawing on everywhere her teeth dug into. "I don't fucking believe you!" Her hands playing with your pants as she shoved them down with your underwear in one fell swoop.

Her hand roughly stroked your cock, aggressively going up and down with no care for your pleasure. "Bet you wish it was her? She looked pretty maybe you wish it was her!" Choerry shouted, pumping her hand on your dick. Pained gasps left your mouth as she showed no signs of slowing down. "Choerry I-" She cut you off. "Shut up! You will take what I give!"

Her eyes stared up at you, intense orbs of anger. Her lips brushed against your tip, taking you into her awaiting mouth as she bopped up and down, licking your dick from the tip to the base, her blonde hair fired everywhere as she kept sucking, heavenly sensations shot over your cock, your hands desperately grabbing onto the wall. Fearing what would happen if you dare touched her.

Choerry's lips pressed against your crotch, breathing in your scent as your cock laid jammed in her mouth, drool formulated all over you as it started to overflow, dripping out the corners of her lips, landing on your balls as she held you there, your dick fully wrapped in Choerry's mouth.

She finally pulled away, giving you a second of respite from the luxury of her mouth. Her anger still fully visible, you were in the eye of the storm. Her hands braced you as she thrusted you into her mouth once more. Much rougher than before, gagging all over your length, vibrations pulsing on your tip, her head game was divine. You felt your orgasm on the verge of the horizon. "Choerry darling I'm going to cum!" as soon as those words left your mouth, her mouth withdrew. The sensation of being edged burned, leaving a painful singe in her absence.

You couldn't begin to complain as your body was thrown onto the bed. Bouncing against the mattress as your body landed in the middle, Choerry approached the bed, swaying her hips as she got to the edge. She looked so hot, a beacon of danger and desire. Her hand reached into her bed compartment, pulling out a gleaming pair of handcuffs. Trapping you against the bed.

"Baby, you need to make up for your cheating." Her hand ran up and down your chest, goosebumps coated your body as you shuddered.

"I didn't chea-" A strong force came down on your face. "I said no talking!" Her actions brought fear to you, Choerry has always seemed possessive but this was so out there. You swallowed your saliva as she took off the lower half of her clothes, throwing them everywhere and anywhere.

She sat down on your legs, crushing them slightly as she Choerry's feet pressed up against your nose, the intense stench of sweat filled your nostrils, her soles rubbed against your lips, the salty taste of sweat lingered on your mouth as she kept playing with your mouth. "Clean them off, show me how much you love me" She beamed a terrifying smile as your tongue went up and down, tasting more of her sweat as you lapped her feet clean.

Choerry jammed her foot into your awaiting mouth, swirling your tongue around her toes, wiping the dirt away as you gave her what she wanted. The loss of power intoxicated you as you took every action, her other foot trailed your body, finding it's way to your shaft. Still rock hard and throbbing as she grinded her foot all over it. Muffled gasps combined with gags as her foot pressed against the back of your mouth.

Her foot rubbed you violently, the sensation too much to handle as she got off on your misery, your loving partner turning into a demon in the bedroom. Choerry's foot withdrew from the depths of your mouth, saliva dripping on your chest as you caught your breath. "Good boy! You are being so good." She wrapped both her feet around your length, working harmoniously as she grinned, the feeling of her soles was soft and undeniably perfect. Bucking your hips under the pressure of Choerry's nonstop actions, the familiar feeling of the orgasm trying to come out yet again, her feet rubbed your balls and you felt seconds from unloading.

"No. You don't have the right." Her voice laced with a thick venom as she channeled her inner sadism, feet withdrawn as she got off your legs. You whined when she left the room, forcing you to lay there and contemplate your feelings. She was back promptly, the rest of her clothes removed. Holding something in her hands.

"You see these?" Her hand revealed a set of pills. You gulped. "That's right honey.. My birth control, I don't think we need them anymore. You'd agree right?" Panic seized your body as she stared at you, awaiting the correct answer. Your throat went dry as you thought about all the consequences of every possible answer. She wasn't just speaking from the loving woman she was usually, coming from a deep wish to have you by any means necessary.

"I'm waiting." She spoke bluntly, getting clearly frustrated as she stood there, this wasn't logical, wasn't normal. But deep down you wanted to take the next step with her. "Yes. Choerry. My love, let's go further." She smiled sweetly, throwing those pills into the wall as she approached.

Choerry straddled your body, right above your shaft as it pointed against her cunt, rubbing against her, getting the tip wet in her essence. A deep breath came from her mouth as her body lowered into yours. Her walls clamped down on you, the first inch being tortuous as she started to sink down, the sensation was overwhelming. Loud gutteral moans came from your lips as Choerry started screaming, "Fuck... My love! Your dick is so good, I love you!" she gasped, bouncing up and down violently as the bed shook. "I love you!"

Her fingers dug into your chest, leaving red marks as you met her halfway, skin slapping as your crotches connected. You knew you weren't going to last very long after her precious edging. She could sense your closeness as you thrusted more irregularly, "That's right baby, make me a mommy! Cum in me!" She let out a satisfied moan as you shot your load into her pussy, giving her the present she wanted. "Hmmm that feels good.. Your cum is so warm.." Her body gasped, she kept bouncing despite your sensitivity. Pain erupted all over your body for the 5th time today.

"Choerry please.. Slow down" Your voice was pained as you laboured to speak, it seemed to only spur her on as she kept bouncing, even stronger as she started gripping on you even more intensely. "Fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum baby!" She shouted as your shaft fucked your cum further into her. Large amounts of her liquid shot over your shared bed as she came undone.

She held herself there as she let you relax, no thoughts were in your head as you breathed in the shared scent of sweat and sex, your hands laid on your bed as Choerry smiled at you. "I think you can go another round yeah? Really make sure I get pregnant" You really couldn't go another round, but her smile was so disarming. Nodding as she started picking up the pace. You ignored the burning sensation in your loins as she moaned.

Choerry leaned forward, holding you up as she brought her breasts to your mouth, "Suck on my nipples baby, imagine how full they'll be when you knock me up." Her voice was glazed over as you took her left boob into your mouth, sucking on her bountiful bosom, her skin slightly sweet to the taste as she arched her back. "Fuckk keep sucking, right there." Her hands pressed into the back of your head, clinging onto strands of your hair.

Your orgasm hit like a tsunami as you shot another load into her awaiting body, biting her nipple as you doused it in saliva. Your orgasm triggered a chain reaction, another douse of her squirt hit the bed. She removed your hungry mouth from her breasts, smiling. Her stomach was bulging with your load, completely stuffing her.

"You are mine, completely now baby. No more co-workers."

She was batshit insane, but she was yours, and you were hers.

[hwalovs]

Absolution, My Fine Friend (M)

Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader Word Count; 4.9k Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.

Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.

First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)

A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment. 

It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one. 

The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it. 

Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.

He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations. 

Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed. 

Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one. 

He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried. 

Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them. 

Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?

Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice. 

His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him. 

“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”

“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?

“Father?”

His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”

It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.

“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”

“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept. 

Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one. 

“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin. 

Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch. 

“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross. 

You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder. 

“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”

“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”

Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”

“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”

There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly. 

“How can I resist, Father?”

Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”

There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”

“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-

No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.

“So, you’ve confessed?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”

“Liar.”

White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed. 

“No-”

“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”

Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten. 

His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his. 

Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice

“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”

Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness. 

Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing. 

“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”

A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in. 

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”

He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”

You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”

“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar. 

“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?

“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-

“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid. 

“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”

A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places. 

“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”

“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”

Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat. 

“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”

Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso. 

He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading. 

“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”

Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in. 

He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.

“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence. 

“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful. 

“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”

“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip. 

“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you. 

“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”

“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat. 

“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more. 

“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”

Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side. 

His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin. 

Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside. 

“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat. 

He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat. 

“Be quiet, Jayce.”

Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned. 

“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”

You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”

“What?-”

“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front. 

“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”

Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-

“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”

Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.

“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”

Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven- 

Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?

You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”

Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”

“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”

Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place. 

Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”

He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other. 

You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”

He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice. 

“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit. 

“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”

His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening. 

With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks. 

It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.

His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs. 

Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue. 

“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-

“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin. 

Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him. 

“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit. 

The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.

“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”

He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible. 

“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace. 

There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. 

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers. 

“Jayce-”

“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about? 

His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders. 

“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”

He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you. 

“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”

“You can finish father, come on-”

“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer. 

“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”

Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.

He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling. 

Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him. 

Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face. 

Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak. 

A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.

“Father?” 

Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.

[norikuna]

So fun how you write Geto, I would love any fic or headcanon post for him? If you take requests?

i'm answering this two months late i'm so sorry 😭 but yess <3 i love him, please have some random, nonsensical headcanons for boyfriend!geto

if you leave food around him, it's gonna be gone. you once brought home a specialty cake, placed it in the fridge, and it somehow went mysteriously missing. geto even has the audacity to look you in the eye and say 'damn, who ate that thing?" while there's still vanilla buttercream crumbs over his mouth

once got so hammered he sang the sailor moon opening during karaoke and vehemently denied it the next day

any time you text him 'pick me up' he's always got some attitude about how he's not your uber, but still shows up in like ten minutes because yes he really does love you

loves staying up late, but will be so confused by you waking up early. you sent him a good morning text at 7am, and he replied at 7:01 with a 'never text me this early again. good night.'

on those rare occasions that he drinks, he gets annoyingly giggly and affectionate. once drunkenly declared 'i have the prettiest girlfriend in the whole world' and immediately planked out on the pavement.

actually falls asleep really easy. always claims he's just resting his eyes but he's dozing off in two minutes tops. you've learnt to just throw a blanket over him at this point.

geto becomes a sad victorian child when he's sick or injured, 'please take me out to the gardens one more time' 'my love, i fear this is the end of me.' (its just a mild cold)

he'll grab things from high shelves for you, but at a price. he'll always hold it out of reach and asks 'what do we say?' or 'whats the magic word?' until you pay him sufficient thanks and compliments

randomly breaks into the bit i fear. you've seen geto whip out a cockney british accent for no reason at all sometimes, "oi, what's all this then?"

when you first started dating, he claimed he wasn't whipped for you, but he has 100% waiting outside a store for you despite the fact that you were taking ages. gojo once quipped 'damn you're just her little errand boy now, huh?' and geto chased him around with a stick for an hour

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 26

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24 • Part 25

• ··········· • ············ •

Thanks to whatever gods were now in charge of watching your endeavors, you made your way quickly and easily through the aqueduct. A mix of Viktor’s knowledge of the place and your ability to unlock doors and create distractions meant you didn’t need to go through the rocky riverbed.

Once on the other side of the river, you both made your way silently toward the main city, and when you arrived back at the park, the sun was already low on the horizon.

Viktor paused next to the small bench you had met by that morning, scratching the back of his neck and biting on his cheek, and you frowned.

“Spit it.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow when he looked up at you, but then his gaze drifted away.

“I have a…suggestion to give you, but I’m afraid of what you might think of me after.”

Your frown got deeper as his cheeks got redder.

“Go on.” 

“My apartment is closer to the aqueduct than the penthouse, so…” He cleared his throat. “I think it would be beneficial…and far less exhausting… if…youspendthenightatmyhouse.”

The last part of the sentence came out as fast as the hex claw laser. You got 'spend' and 'house'…ah…

…

“You don’t have to; it is completely up to you, and even if you say yes and then change your mind, you can go! And the walls are really paper-thin, so if you are worried that I do anything to you… I mean you do have magic and I'm not exactly the strongest man in Piltover…once…Jayce gently pushed me away from an experiment, and I toppled over… Embarrassing, really… Why am I telling you this?”

You blinked a couple of times. At first I'm shocked that he had actually asked you to spend time at his place, especially after the day you both had. And then at his comically dramatic rant, a smile appeared on your face as he kept going.

“Alright, sounds like a good plan.”

“Besides, your mother isn’t here yet, and you’d be alone and…wait, what?” He finally stopped to look at you.

“It’s a good idea. We’ll be able to squeeze a few more hours of sleep in and do some planning.”

Viktor started to nod slowly at first and then enthusiastically. His face opened up with a nervous but bright smile.

“You want to go get takeout at Voltaire’s? I’m sure I can convince him to get you some tart…” He announced as he passed you by, waiting for you to follow him.

“No need.” He adjusted his cane, and you could have sworn he had a little more pep in his step. “Jayce came over the other day; his mother usually makes him bring me food. I fear she thinks I can’t feed myself.”

“Eh…pastries and dessert don’t count as a balanced meal plan, Vik.” You joked, and he gave an ‘I don’t care’ type shrug. “I’m just happy you're eating.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You shifted your backpack’s straps, realizing what you had blurted out.

“Well, work…”

“I can eat and work! That is why I have two hands…” He made a gesture of screwing a bolt and grabbing something to eat.

“Wow…efficient.” He made an agreeing sound with his throat, and you laughed.

“Keep doing it! As much as people would kill for those cheekbones, gaunt wouldn’t look good on you.” You winked at him and laughed when he touched the reddening apple of his cheeks. 

Viktor joined your amusement as you both walked towards the Artist Quarters on your way to Engineering Street. 

The small apartment Viktor had inhabited was, in fact, closer to the aqueduct, between the riverbed and the Academy. Most of the people working in the Academy had housing there. Mostly because the rents were low for them and proximity. It was a step up from dorms, but not really an upgrade in luxury.

And while Engineering Street was quiet throughout the day and night, you’d even say a bit boring, the Artist Quarters were a lively and colorful place, becoming more energetic at night.

The buildings were smaller, with a maximum of 3 floors, but bright with small shops on the floor levels. Bakeries, art shops, music stores. The cobblestone streets were filled with chalk drawings on the ground, and the streetlights had string lights hanging in between them. 

The colors seemed to become brighter in these streets with the number of flowers and small trees and the strewn artists painting on the streets or people drinking and eating on the restaurant’s patio.

You passed by an art supply shop, and someone inside shouted Viktor’s name and waved at him. Viktor did the same, warmly greeting the elderly man storing a display of watercolors on a shelf, and you became curious.

“Mr. Felton sells me the pencils and chalks the council hates so much.” Viktor explained when he saw your expression.

“Have you ever tried drawing?”

“Oh no! Jayce is the artist of the two of us. He’s in charge of doing the initial designs and sketches…I’m good with a ruler, though!”

You were chuckling at his pride and confidence when he suddenly veered right and started to fish something out of his satchel. He took out a key and shoved it into the intricate front door to a beautiful blue-tiled building.

When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned back and mentioned for you to come.

Viktor, head scientist and co-creator of Hextech, did not live on Engineering Street… Viktor, the color-coding aficionado, lived in the Artists Quarters. And you knew, in your heart of hearts…in the depths of your soul…there was nothing that made more sense than this.

His never-stopping mind didn’t need the monotony of the academy-assigned living quarters. It needs the bustle and the bustle and the colors of this place. You wondered if anything would have been different if the other Viktor had had this thought.

…

The building was beautiful outside and in.

On the outside, the light blue tiled walls were decorated with white columns and stone windows. There were three floors, with the two higher ones having a small veranda on them, just big enough to have two chairs on them. The ivy that crept up on the walls broke the symmetric façade of the building, clinging to the columns and tiles like veiny tendrils of bright green. What really got your attention at first was the front door, a white wood double door with intricate carvings and colorful glass panes, finished with a beautifully curved glass canopy.

The inside of the building was just as wonderful, with pastel brown painted walls and various little plants scattered on corners; the well-used wooden floors gave the inside a cozy feeling. In the middle back of the foyer was an old, small elevator that Viktor quickly made his way to, only stopping at the metal mailboxes to see if anything had been left to him. Nothing.

When you got to the elevator, you noticed Viktor’s hand tapping on the handle of his crutch. He was biting his cheek and slightly frowning, breathing in and out deeply at points.

“Are you alright?” You asked, leaning against the cage of the elevator.

“Mmm?” You nodded to his fingers on the handle, and he stopped, clutching the handle tighter. “Sorry…I--”

“Remember when you said I could change my mind and go? The same applies to you. I can just go.” You made sure your tone wasn’t disappointed or angry or any unintentional emotion that would make him feel bad when there was absolutely nothing to feel bad about. You’d respect his decision the same way you know he’d respect yours.

“No…” he quickly interjected. “I…this is not because I don’t want you here. It is because I do. I’m afraid I may do something that will scare you off…”

“I don’t scare easily.” You want to add, ‘I once spit in the face of a god,’ but then he would start asking questions. So you just touched his hand and smiled. 

The elevator stopped with a mechanical groan, and Viktor nodded, more to himself than to you, and walked out to the second-floor foyer. He opened the door and walked inside with you close behind. However, you couldn’t make it past the door frame without gasping wide-eyed while your mind blanked.

Something about butterflies and wings came to mind, though.

The inside of his apartment was the exact same floor plan as the other dimension. A small kitchenette to the left with a window on top of the sink, and the rest was open space. The glass and wood door to the balcony was on a diagonal corner in front of the main door; next to it was a small arrangement of windows with curved lines going through them, giving them a delicate design. There was a room to the side, which you guessed was the bedroom, and another room at the end of the open space, the bathroom. It wasn’t cramped, but it was small.

You knew this floor plan like the back of your hand; you could close your eyes and go from here to the bathroom without bumping into the wall.

What changed, though, made the entire home feel different. The decorations and the colors. The lived-in details of the furniture.

The walls had been painted a deep forest green, instead of the neutral gray of the other dimension. There were decorations on the walls, diplomas, and schematics displayed proudly. The wooden floors were shiny and covered with rugs here and there.

The small table that served as a divider between the kitchen and the living space had a napkin holder and a wooden straw table mat. There were pans on top of the fridge and plates on the dish rack. There were two mugs on the sink, one of them with ‘man of progress printed on it. 

It contrasted with the table that only served to hold books, boxes, and schematics. On the other timeline, glasses and plates were stored so as not to catch dust from not being used.

The living room had three bookcases filled with trinkets, books, vinyl records, and their player. 

The books weren’t just academic, like the other apartment’s shelves, but also biographies and fantasy, architecture, and philosophy.

You could see the collector's edition of your mother’s saga neatly tucked into a shelf with small ceramic figures of the main characters in front of them. 

There were photos of him, Jayce, Sky, and even your mom and Willah. Noticeably he didn’t look particularly comfortable in any of them, but it was a stark difference from the single photo of Jayce and Viktor at the inauguration of the hexgate and the framed newspaper clipping of the hex crystal discovery. 

The couch was a light dusty pink color with decorative pillows and two folded blankets on the back of it. It was a sharp difference from the leather-bound couch with blankets thrown about and his bed pillow shoved into a corner.

Behind a clothed divider, a desk and some scientific material were completely thrown around, but the mess was enclosed there. Near a big window, you saw the single-seat, twin version of the couch your mother sent to the lab. Tucked in a nook surrounded by plants and books. 

There were shoes on the shoe rack and coats on the coat hanger. There was an open book with a cover-up on the end table near the couch. There were tea stains on the dinner table. There was a life being lived here.

As you walked around the home, with Viktor trailing in front of you explaining and adding commentary to the million new things you were finding in the familiar house, you found yourself wondering why the Viktor you knew from before couldn’t have been gifted this…why was this Viktor standing in front of you smiling and being a generally happy human while his cosmic twin coughed himself to death? It made you sad and happy and angry and relieved.

“Are you alright?” Viktor tapped your shoulder, something he had now started to use to catch your attention instead of grabbing you.

You took a deep breath and mentioned the couch, silently asking permission to sit. Quickly he nodded and grabbed some pillows to make space for you. 

When you fell onto the leathery furniture, he took the place next to you, looking concerned.

“V…I…need to--”

“Meow”

Your speech was interrupted by a long, muffled meow by the front door, accompanied by small scratches on the wood.

“Oh…No, no… I’m sorry…Give me a moment…” Viktor gave an apologetic smile and got up, while you looked on intrigued by this.

He walked towards the bathroom door and opened it and then went back to the front door and did the same. The blackest of black cats intertwined itself on Viktor's legs, giving out small greeting squeaks and purrs.

“Go. Go on. Yes, I know.” Viktor said, smiling softly at the cat, talking back to them as if he could understand. 

The scientist softly nudged the cat with his foot, making the furry critter understand the big human wanted to move.

The cat finally acknowledged you and walked slowly towards where you sat, sitting gracefully in front of you and staring. Their blue eyes looked at you, and you swore that if all of the lights in Piltover were to turn off, the cat's eyes would be the only thing beaming.

“You have a cat.” You stated more than asked.

“Eehhh…Technically, the building has a cat. She just heard me first.” He limped back towards the couch and sat down.

“What's her name?” 

“Noir…Nono for short.” 

The cat leaped to the couch and smelled the hand you gave her. After a while, she deemed you worthy of her time and pushed her head into her hand, while Viktor stroked her body.

“Nono.” You called, and she looked at you. You presented her with your name, and she meowed.

When she was sick of the attention, she jumped down and walked to the bathroom, where you heard the telltale signs of her munching on her food.

“What were you saying?”

Viktor’s face was the definition of relaxed, the concern from before being replaced with a soft gaze and smile. 

Was the need to come clean to him about his cosmic twin attempting to end the world worth him losing his peace? Would the information you were about to vomit change what he has so carefully built?

“I…think I just need to eat.” You gave him a bright smile, and he laughed quietly.

“Very well.” He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter, and you followed him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You already were, the familiar floor plan making you feel at home. You sat at the dinner table watching him open his fridge and take out some glass containers with food and place them in the oven to heat up. 

Viktor sat on a chair next to you and slowly took off his leg brace, sighing in release.

“If you want to, you can shower. I can go ask Madame Theroux, my neighbor, if she can let me borrow one of her kid's old clothes… I think she might have something that fits you.” 

“Oh no…That’s too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense.” He got up and grabbed a discarded cane that was hooked on the divider and walked towards his bedroom. 

After a while, he came out holding two fluffy towels and handed them to you. “She probably already heard I have company; might as well come clean sooner than later; otherwise she’ll be knocking on my door to snoop.”

“Sounds like a charm.” You grabbed the towels.

“She is actually. She’s very protective of us…the people in the building.” He smiled and mentioned the bathroom door. “If you could just leave the door ajar so Nono can come in and out…otherwise she will throw a tantrum.”

The black cat, now curled up on the couch, meowed at hearing her name. You nodded and walked to the bathroom while Viktor made his way to his neighbor's door.

“Oh…you can use whatever you need from there.” He opened the door and paused again. “There’s a robe on the back of the door if you need it.”

The door clicked shut, and you looked at Nono, who looked up at you and blinked slowly.

The bathroom was big, and while in the other dimension, it was just a well, normal bathroom; this one had been enhanced to help Viktor with his disability.

There were grab rails next to the slightly raised toilet and in the shower nook. All of the towel racks were sturdy enough to assist if he needed.

The floor had several thin anti-slip rugs, and the shower also had one that looked like wood. 

There was also a stool inside the shower that you assumed he would use when needed.

You and Viktor in your timeline had once talked about this, making his house accessible for when he needed it, but his answer had been dismissive. A shrug and an ‘I spend more time in the lab anyway.’ Maybe you should have insisted; maybe you should have been more enthused about making it easier for him. Maybe if you had, he would have seen you in a better light after he had gotten the news.

It frustrated you that ‘maybes’ were all you had now. Even if you went back to your dimension, those things would still be in a maybe and if pile.

You heard the door close and started your shower quickly. You heard a knock on the door.

“There is a chair outside the door, in arm's reach for you to take. Madame Theroux said she threw in some undergarments…I didn’t check.” 

“Thank you.” 

You finished the shower and grabbed the clothes. Some red cotton checkered bottoms, a matching shirt, a white undershirt, and undergarments. It looked cozy, and it did fit you perfectly. This brought up the question of how Viktor had described you to the neighbor for her to get accurate measurements.

Walking out of the bathroom intent on joking about it with him, you stopped when you saw him haul a blanket and what you assume was a pillow to the couch.

“Oh. You are done.” He smiled, grabbed some clothes from the back of the couch, and walked towards you. “I think the food will be done soon. I am going to take a shower too, and then we eat, yes?”

You were still looking at the pillow and the sheet that was already tucked into the sofa. 

“This for me?” You blurted it out before he passed you, and he shook his head.

“No. You’re my guest. You sleep on the bed.” He sounded proud of himself. “May I?”

Viktor pointed to the door of the bathroom, and you noticed you had been blocking his path. You took a step forward, and he smiled, walked inside, and pushed the door almost closed.

The ruffling of clothes snapped you out of your stupor, and you walked towards the kitchen, throwing daggers at the couch.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart @deceivethedreamer

[ash-unhinged444]

Bake with me?!:Valentine’s Day

It was the day after you baked cookies with your big bro, your hair still smelled of the peppermint shampoo he got for you. It was Valentine’s Day at school and again like every year you didn’t get a single valentine, when you walked into your home your big brother greeted you.

“Hey little dude! How was school? Happy Valentine’s Day, Come here!” He pulled you into a hug smiling wide, and as his big and strong arms wrapped around your body, your face resting in his neck as you tensed up while a couple tears rolled down your cheeks and you whimpered into his t shirt “n-happy v-valentines day”.

He broke off the hug and he leaned down a bit as he looked into your eyes

“Woah hey hey, what’s wrong buddy? What’s got you so upset? Did something happen at school? Were those kids mean to you again?” he shot up straight and clenched his teeth “I swear if they lay a hand on you again- they’re not going to like what the-“ you hugged him tightly again shoving your face into his soft t shirt, he smelled of his cologne and that scent always brought you comfort. He wrapped his arms around you again and you say “no one h-hurt me.. n-no valentines..” he kisses the top of your head and lets out a sigh “ugh.. I’m sorry little dude.. that doesn’t make any sense, you’re so cute and sweet and kind.. whoever doesn’t give you a valentine doesn’t deserve your time. How about big bro treats you tonight? Hm?? We can have your favorite snacks, and I’ll make us a treat and we can watch a couple movies hm? How’s that sound?” He asked as he held your head close and played with your hair lightly.

You nodded as he played with your hair and then he breaks off the hug and kneels down to meet your eyes, he wiped your tears and sweetly said “how about you go change into some comfy pjs and I’ll get our nest set up and make us a treat and our snacks mm? Sound good?” You nodded again and went to your room to change into a soft cropped t shirt and a pair of soft black sweatpants. As you came back to the living room the couch was set up with your favorite blankets, a couple plushies, and the coffee table had all your favorite snacks, some candy, a bowl of pretzels, and 2 pb&j sandwiches without the crust cut into triangles. You sat on the couch and got comfy and tangled in the blankets, put on a movie as you waited for your big bro to come sit by you.

Your big bro was in the kitchen making chocolate covered strawberries, it’s Valentine’s Day of course, and they were your favorite treat, he made your strawberries them extra special this year; first, he soaked them in plain vodka overnight, then he hollowed them out and put some melted chocolate inside of them, then he dipped the tops of them in crushed graham crackers. After an hour he brings two plates and 2 bottles of water to the couch and sets them down on the coffee table along with the other snacks.

“Alright buddy, I have our treats here hm? Ohh you look so comfy cozy.. what movie did you pick?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around your back feeling your warm soft skin peaking out of your crop top and pulled you close.

“Mm. It’s uhm- a new one it looked uhm nice” you say as your head rest on his shoulder, the smell of his cologne filling your nose, you inhaled and exhaled slowly as you began to relax.

“Mm here, have a berry, I made them special for you little dude just how you like them.” He took a strawberry and held it up to your lips, and you took it in your mouth mindlessly as you watched the tv screen.

Your big brother rubbed his big hand up and down your back slowly, as you ate the berry you loved the taste of the chocolate and graham cracker but something tasted off, maybe it was just a less ripened batch this year..

He rubbed your back as you both watched the movie, grabbing a couple pretzels and ate them, then he grabbed his pb&j and he took a couple bites then asked “mm another strawberry bub?” As he held it up, your lips still had a little chocolate on them as you opened your mouth eating the second berry.

“How do they taste? Are they yummy?” He sweetly asked while his hand trailed up your shirt rubbing your bare back lightly. The berry tasted so delicious, but something was still off about it, your throat began to sting a little and your brain got a little spacey as you kept watching the movie..

“Y-yeah they’re g-good..” you said softly before licking the chocolate off your lips, as you licked your lips your big bro lifted your chin to look at you and he softly planted a kiss on your half chocolate coated lips, it sent shivers and a bolt of electricity down your back.

“Mm.. your lips are so soft bro, and they taste so delicious..” one of his big hands kept rubbing your bare back up and down slowly, and his other hand cupped your face to hold you up as he kissed you again so softly and slowly..

“Mmh. B-“ you whimpered against his lips while he grabs another berry and softly slides it into your mouth. “Shhh., just relax and enjoy the berries.. I made them so special for you.” Your eyes widen a bit before they shut half way as you chewed the third strawberry. Your mind felt weird like time was moving slower, your eyes fluttered a bit he moved his hands from your back to your waist then massaged your thighs and hips slowly.. you tried to break the kiss and push him off but your stomach was filled with butterflies. He gently got ontop of you and straddled you, his weight pushing into you, why was he ontop of you? Why did these strawberries taste off? You felt confused and spacey as he ran his big soft hands up and down your sides, then he slowly started to push his hips into yours, the cloth of your sweatpants and his sweatpants causing friction and you let out a soft whimper, looking him up and down with your heavy eyes. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? You just wanted to watch the movie, you didn’t expect this to happen on Valentine’s Day..

“Mmm, here, have another berry little bro, you’re so calm and light underneath me aren’t you?” he slid another vodka soaked berry into your mouth and teased you while his hips kept grinding into yours. The butterflies and knots in your stomach got more intense as you moved your hands around slightly not knowing where to put them as you watched him grind into you while in a daze. He grabbed your hands and put them to rest in the dips of his hips, you held on tightly as the friction between both of your sweatpants grew.

“Aww, are you getting flustered little bro? It’s okay, you don’t have to be shy.. all brothers do it. It’s perfectly okay.. you’re doing so well.” You whimpered softly underneath him as your hands tightened around his hips, your whole body was flustered and your bottom half was getting hotter as the friction grew harder between you and your big brother.

“Mm…come here buddy..”

He got off your lap and sat beside you then he gently pulled you onto his lap, holding your hips firmly.. your eyes fluttering as your brain got more and more spacey, your throat burned a little and you licked your lips as you let out a soft whimper “b-but- mmh.. wha-“ your big brother leaned up to plant his lips on yours again, slowly kissing you over and over. He slides his warm tongue into your mouth and rubs it against yours, both of your lips getting covered in the strawberry flavored saliva. He ran his hands all over your body gripping and rubbing your hips, waist, thighs and ass, you whimpered into his lips as he made out with you, making you feel so small in his big strong arms. As he dug his fingertips into your hips grinding them back and forth into his bulge you felt his bulge grow bigger and harder, your eyes widened as you opened your mouth mid kiss to let out a soft whine. He softly said against your lips “shhhh. Big bros going to teach you something really cool okay? Just relax you can trust me” he rubbed your hips once more before cupping your ass gently and he broke the kiss off “mmm.. here why do you sit in front of me hm? I’ll help you, don’t worry.” He picked you up off his lap and set you infront of him on your knees, and when you looked up at him with your heavy glassy eyes, mouth wide open he stroked your cheek slowly before saying “you look so cute like that.. right in that spot..” he grabbed one of your hands and said “rub it through my sweats.. cmon you can trust me I’ve got you, you deserve a good Valentine’s Day bud.” You nodded as your eyes half open and mind moving so slow, you bit your lip as you squeezed and rubbed his bulge as it grew through his sweatpants. “Mmm god I never realized how good your hands felt little dude..” he said as he took his sweatpants and boxers off and tossed them aside, your heavy eyes looked him up and down and he took your hand and put it back on his bare cock “mm god your hands are so soft.. ffuck.. here c’mere..” he slides his soft fingers under your chin and guides your face closer to his hard cock, you fixated on it with your big heavy eyes.. it looked so hard and yet so soft and gentle at the same time..

“Mm.. you look so good like that… open your mouth for me.” He demanded sweetly while he rubbed your chin holding it softly. You opened your mouth half way and your big bro rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, then slide his thumb into your mouth rubbing it against your tongue softly before he grabbed his cock and put the tip of it against your lips and tounge..

“Mmm… your lips are so soft, ffuck just..- wrap your lips around it and lick it slowly hm??”

You wrapped your saliva covered lips around big bros cock and sucked on just the tip gently and your eyes fluttered a little “ffuccck my god your mouth feels soo warm and soft.. my god…” he moaned as he put a hand in your soft hair and held onto it grabbing a handful while he rubbed your red hot cheek with his other hand. You drooled as he thrusted into your mouth lightly while your half shut eyes looked up at him, he looked so relaxed, was he enjoying this???

Time passes as you continued sucking and licking on his hard cock, he moaned and groaned louder “gaaah fuck my god little dude.. your mouth is phenomenal… I’m getting close, mm.. if I would’ve known it would’ve been this easy to have your mouth I never would’ve soaked those strawberries in alcohol.” He chuckled and stroked your hair as his hand gripped harder, and your eyes widen a bit, drool running down your soft lips and chin… all down his shaft. He grunted and slid his hand under your chin holding your head in place as he groaned louder while tensing up, and finishing down your throat. “My god dude, you did such a good job.. here come here..” he put his arms around you and lifted you into his lap pulling one of your soft blankets over you and cuddled you close. Your lips covered in saliva, cum, and hints of alcohol soaked berries. “Mmm.. you did so good little bro, I’m so proud of you, you pleased brother so well didn’t you?” You nodded slowly as you closed your eyes and nuzzled your face into his neck, his cologne filling your nose..and fell asleep peacefully.. is every Valentine’s Day going to be like this? Is everyday going to be like this? Either way, you wouldn’t have it any other way..🖤

[justwinginglife]

Playing the Player

Short little piece I wrote for our king Gen Narumi because I couldn't stop laughing thinking about him playing a cozy game (as a cozy gamer myself). God, he'd be so much fun to play with.

“I’m not playing your boring farming game.” Gen crossed his arms stubbornly. When he saw your unbudging expression, he shook his console at you, emphasizing the fighting game that was currently on the loading screen. “I play games that are interesting.”

You stared at him, unamused. 

He frowned. “I mean it, I’m not playing your game. You can’t make me.”

You raised a brow at him, still silent. 

He swallowed. “I don’t think I’d like it anyway… I mean, what is there to even do?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” 

–hours later–

“You MISSED the bug! It’s flying away! Don’t just stand there, run after it!”

Gen’s brows furrowed in frustration. “I’m going, I’m GOING! It won’t get away from me again!” He practically broke the joystick, edging it forward as his character chased the animated bug in circles. Finally, he triumphed and captured his prize. He turned to you, presenting the screen proudly, like a little kid waiting for a gold star. 

You smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “Nice job. You got a big one too.”

A grin spilled across his face. “See, I told you that this game was no problem for me!”

You frowned suddenly. “But your crops are dying.”

His eyes shot open. “What do you mean, where??”

You pointed to an area in the background, where the plants he’d sown in game only two days ago were plainly wilting for all to see. “You forgot to water them, didn’t you?”

He glared at you. “I wouldn’t forget something like that!” He bit his lip as he thought about it more. “I…okay…so I might have been busy in the mines, BUT I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE, OKAY??”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you just suck at this game, Gen. Maybe you shouldn’t play anymore.” You said nonchalantly. 

His eyes narrowed and his lips puckered into a slight pout. “I don’t suck! Just you watch, I’m gonna have corn growing AND wheat AND potatoes and it’s going to be AWESOME. It’s gonna be even better than your farm, just you wait!”

You bit back a laugh. Gen Narumi was no match for reverse psychology. 

The moment this new farming game was announced, you knew you were going to make him play it with you, and the moment you saw it release, you set your plans in action. You knew he’d be a stubborn bastard about it in the beginning, but even the “big and strong” Captain of the First Division wasn’t immune to your methods of persuasion. He was your boyfriend first and foremost, and you knew how to get to him better than anyone else.

You smiled to yourself as you logged onto your own console, settling in beside him as you joined your co-op world. 

He’d occasionally nuzzle against your shoulder as he gamed, or massage your feet while he watched cutscenes play out, but what you loved the most was his ongoing dialogue while he played.

“Babe. Babe. BABE. How did I LOSE a heart with Penelope?”

You peered over at his screen. “Wrong dialogue choice, sweetie.”

His brows furrowed. “The fuck you mean, wrong dialogue choice??”

“She doesn’t like what you said, simple as that. Give her a gift and she’ll be fine.”

“Alright, alright.” He raced back to his house, rifling through his chests to find something -literally anything- of worth to give her. When he finally presented her with a shiny rock, he frowned at the screen again. “I lost… ANOTHER HEART???” 

You stifled your laughter. “She doesn’t like rocks, babe. Try a flower.”

Pouting, he made the pathetic journey back to his house to retrieve a flower. He was about to leave, but then hesitated at the door. He gazed over at you. “Um… what kind of flower do you think she’d like?” He asked shyly.

God, he was adorable. “The wiki says she’s into sunflowers.”

He smiled. “Thanks, baby.” He kissed you before unloading the rose in his character’s inventory and opting instead for a sunflower. When he made his merry way back to the NPC and then cursed to heaven and hell because he couldn’t gift her something twice in one day, you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. He glared at you and mumbled something under his breath about how you could’ve told him that would happen and how he was taking back that kiss he gave you. 

“Just for that, I won’t have your back anymore when we go fight in the forest. You’re on your own, you can say goodbye to getting the legendary sword.” He grumbled. 

You pouted. “Aww, come on, baby. Don’t be like that. You know you love me, you wouldn’t leave me stranded and helpless in a monster ridden forest, would you?” 

He was silent. 

“Baby.”

Still silent.

“I’ll help you catch that rare fish?”

His eyes lit up. “Fine, fine. Let’s get you that damn sword.”

After months of playing together, stealing time in between training sessions, after long days at work, and even on transit to missions farther away, the thing that finally brought your lengthy playthrough to its end was him marrying you in game. As he watched your character walk down the aisle, he suddenly began to think about what it would be like to marry you. To spend the rest of his days like this, snuggled up on the couch beside you, teasing you, letting you tease him, feeding each other snacks as you gamed together. Maybe even teaching your future kids how to game. And then suddenly it was all too clear to him.

He had to marry you.

That was his happy ending.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter