#I know I promised Art but life has been busy

[lunaandco]

old wives tale

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: when silvia's best friend asked her to be her bridesmaid, she didn't expect to be the victim of an unreasonable old wives tale, that would get her tangled with the groom's best friend

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

"I'm sorry, you want me to what with who?"

"Shhh"

"Don't sush me!"

Silvia was perplexed, she would speak loudly if she wanted to. Her best friend, Marina, was finally getting married to the love of her life, and had asked Silvia to be her maid of honour. She would have said no if she had known what entailed.

"It's an old wives tale, the maid of honor has to fuck with the best man the night before the wedding. It's meant to bring good luck!"

"That makes zero sense," complained Silvia, crossing her arms. Marina shrugged.

"We tested it in our family, the only wedding that did not follow the tradition ended up in a divorce years later."

"Marina, that is just some bizarre coincidence."

"Please, Silvia. I would feel more calm if you just..."

"I don't even know the guy's name," insisted Silvia.

"His name is Gavi. I promise you, he is not some ugly bitch, I told Carles to ask his sexiest best friend."

"That is so fucked up" she began, but it was Carles himself that interrupted her.

"I take it you already told her?" Carles had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, and Silvia was tempted to refuse just to get Marina to divorce him eventually out of a self fulfilled prophecy. "Here, Gavi just arrived. Let's introduce them, no chick can resist him."

Silvia huffed.

The wedding was meant to happen by Carles's family house, a huge mansion right by the mountains. Silvia had travelled the day before to help Marina prepare, but she was starting to suspect it wasn't decorations the reason she had been asked to take the trip earlier.

Gavi was pulling his suitcase out of the back of his car when they met him. He wore some comfortable loking gray hoodie and black sweats, his brown hair toussled by driving with a lowered window. His eyes were covered with sunglasses, but Silvia didn't need him to take them off to know who he was.

When Carles said Gavi, she should have suspected it could be him, the midfield star in Barcelona. Carles had spent his youth in La Masia, even if his talent was never enough to compete for a spot in the first team. Nevertheless, it meant that he had some interesting contacts.

It still pissed Silvia off, even if she quite liked Gavi, and would have probably flirted with him on her own, had the couple not asked her to sleep with him.

"Hey," he greeted curtly. "I'm Gavi."

"Silvia."

"You're Marina's friend, right? The maid of honor?"

"Yes."

The way he asked it let her know he already knew about old wives tale.

"Well," Carles clasped his hands. Let me take you to your room, I prepared the spare bedroom with the biggest bed specially for you two."

Silvia froze, when the realistaion hit that Gavi was going to share a bed with her. She had found it odd that she had been given such a big room, but everything about Carles's family house was too big and fancy, so she hadn't commented.

She decided that she hated it.

💙❤️

"I'm going ot be honest with you," said Gavi, once they were alone in their room. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this. Not that I don't find you atractive," he fumbled a bit, "but Carles likes to meddle on other people's business too much."

"Well, so does Marina, so I guess their perfect for each other," snarked Silvia. Marina had indulged once or twice in the art of match-making, but this was something she had never thought she'd do.

Gavi snorted.

"I could give you a hickey," he offered with a shrugg. "That way we could offer it as proof that we fucked."

It was crass, but Silvia knew he was right. She threw her head back, an invitation for him to do what he suggested. Gavi took a short step forward, one of his arms wrapping around her waist, the other coming up to hold her head as his lips descended on the column of her neck.

Silvia gasped, her hands flying to grasp at his shoulders, as she felt his hot tongue licking at her skin, searching for the perfect spot. Silvia's neck had always been sensitive, but this was a new intensity all along. Gavi groaned halfway through suckling on her, as if he was enjoying it as much as she was.

"I could scratch the back of your neck a little," she added. "To sell it perfectly."

"Please, do." He almost begged. His voice sounded rougher than a few moments earlier, his wrip on her waist tightening.

Silvia's nails sank on the back of his head, gliding to the base of his shoulders. Gavi moanaed again and Silvia let out a small noise. He lifted his head to make eye contact. And then they were fully kissing. Silvia gasped against Gavi's lips, her hands gripping harder at his shoulders.

"I don't know about you," he said, struggling to catch his breath. "But indluging Carles is starting to not look like a bad idea at all."

Silvia squared her shoulders and looked at him. Gavi was beautiful, and he clearly wanted her, at least for the night, but she could not ignore the annoying voice that had appeared in her head since Marina told her about the old wives tale.

"I think we've done enough," she told Gavi with a sad smile. "I don't feel comfortable with this set up."

Gavi nodded, clearly disappointed.

"Yeah, that is totally fair," he said. "But I need to go to the bathroom now, if you don't mind."

💙❤️

"Did you do it?" asked Marina while putting on her earrings. She looked stunning on her white dress, but Silvia could barely focus on that. She just wanted to go home.

Silvia pulled down the turtle neck of her dress so she could see the hickey. Marina squealed and hugged her. Silvia could only return the gesture half-heartedly.

The entire night she had been looking at Gavi's sleeping form, wondering how her life had become such a mess. She had met a guy that was nothing short of perfect, in what was supposed to be the eve of her best friend's wedding, but a stupid and invasive petition made her feel like she was out of her body.

Ironically, Silvia spent all of the wedding searching for Gavi's side. It felt comforting, being with the only person in the entire wedding that could understand how she felt. Even if she had rejected him in the end, he was still kind and sweet.

💙❤️

Two weeks later, Marina was back from the honey moon. Silvia listened to everything she had to say about her trip. She had decided that her relationship with Marina was going to change, they would never be as close as they once were.

And that would happen by starting to see each other less and less.

"Oh, before I forget." Marina pulled some papers from her purse. "Gavi invited us to his next game. I think he was very impressed with you at the wedding."

She winked, like they were sharing a very complicit moment. Silvia smiled forcefully, taking the ticket.

She could go see what he wanted, right?

💙❤️

The game was against a middle table team, and it ended in a very easy and predictable win for Barça. Silvia sat in silence through it all, clapping when everyone cheered so Marina and Carles wouldn't notice her tension.

They met Gavi after. He looked as handsome as ever, with his hair wet from the shower and his shoulders relaxed after the heavy workload. He also looked bashful and a little bit nervous.

"Silvia," he greeted immediately, ignoring their friends in common. "Can I talk to you in private?" He didn't wait for an answer, dragging her to the parking lot. "I need to ask you, would you let me take you on a date, away from anything that has to do with Marina and Carles's wedding?"

Silvia hesitated, taken by surprise. She had not thought of such proposal as an option.

"Yes," she replied after a beat passed. "Please, do."

💙❤️

Years later, when Silvia and Gavi were preparing for their own wedding, the distant news of Marina and Carles's divorce reached them.

Contact had been broken years earlier, and neither missed their friendship, but Silvia still laughed merrily.

"I think we should get Berta and Fermín as our maid of honour and best man," she said. "Just in case."

[kingtrash-fox]

Not the MRD art thing BUT it involves FNF MRD and Madness Combat so I will count it halfway from the other post

ok so recently I’ve been listening to a lyrical cover of Sacrifice this one specifically:

And I’ve been looping and I am here to bring y’all a cool ass concept. At least to me.

Say instead of the MadRat and Heart Dying at the end of the day after beating Rat God, for some reason they get teleported to Nevada (They save Jack and the Girl before hand I’m not a monster) and through some nonsense involving the Improbability drive or something and get extended lifespans by like 10 years or something along with becoming Bigger (MR 2 1/2 feet Heart the Cat 3 1/2), although they learn that the Auditor is gonna nuke Nevada within 72 hours and they gotta escape fast and apparently Rat “God” somehow has manifested in the real world with real Godly Powers via another Improbability Drive or something. Fast forward to the Final day and they found a Cargo Van on its way out of that hell zone but as they escape Tricky comes flying in with Rat God ready to run their shit. Cue Sacrifice.Flp. It’s just mainly MRD gameplay with a demonic clown and an awakened god.

Now here’s where the lyrics come in: Mad Rat and Heart take the Role of Deimos with Mad rat singing and Fighting and Heart providing music, while Rat God and Tricky take the role of Bf Gf and Pico. The first half has Tricky in his normal form but after a bit of time he switches to his Expurgation form with Rat God summoning Hallucinations and other things. Now in Sacrifice.Flp there’s an Animation Deimos does along with the Audio “Come on! DO IT!”.

Now imagine: The fight is getting intense and hope is seeming lost until mad rat says COME ON DO IT! And:

(Minus throwing it in a cage, Kris was the example I needed)

RIPS HIS OWN DAMN HEART OUT! so he just has his own Heart outside of him (not Heart he’s watching is surprise and slight awe and a bit of terror) and is seemingly fighting harder than ever with his heart comnected to him still via blood vessels Floating like Heart once did. Then time stops but instead of going backwards it fast forwards time to where the nuke is gonna land in 5 minutes. Finishing off the insane duo Heart and Mad Rat make their grand escape leaving Rat God and Tricky stuck in Nevada as a Giant Nuke goes off. Heart and MR cuddle together ignoring the explosion behind them cause cool guys don’t look at explosions.

[angelfishe]

>> 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

>> prince scaramouche x reader ( manhwa AU )

You were suddenly reincarnated or transmigrated to one of your novels as one of the villainess of the story, using your knowledge of the novel and world you will find a way to escape your original fate and live

( scaramouche pov )

Art by @XIAOJIAJU Twitter

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Side story my other < fic >read it first if you want more understanding

<< seems you guys enjoy the fic about prince scaramouche so I decided to create a side story from his point of view, I will make a part 2 if you guys want >>

Kunikuzushi's life has never been easy in the first place, he is the prince as well as the first born of the shogunate which means he's gonna be the future heir soon of the throne.

He has tutors and lessons 24/7 non stop, he wishes to have fun on the outside world but he's unable, this castle is his prison and he wishes to be more free than rather be locked up in his room. His mother doesn't even acknowledge him even tho she cares for him she doesn't know how to express it as well of her being busy with duties.

And as expected being royalty he has to choose a bride soon, the line of exquisite as well beautiful noble ladies are lining up waiting for him to choose but not one caught his attention all of them are snobbish as well to clingy.

His mother has enough and set up another meeting with another noble lady and then he has to choose one.

Originally he was opposed to this idea, but he's unable to go against his mother's wishes.

When he finally met you, he originally thought that you were weird, you were open minded as well not very obedient unlike his other suitors a personality unfit of a noble.

Due to this personality, you were not very liked by the other nobles as well others saying he shouldn't marry this barbaric woman with no respect but he pays no attention.

Sometimes you and him would sneak out of tenshukaku, to hang out and go to inazuma city, you seem to be very popular since the locals very much knew you and he of course has to wear a disguise to avoid getting caught

When the day is over you and him would go to a cliff and admire the sunset, but little did you know he was admiring you, your hair, your face, your eyes everything about you is radiant as if the gods hand crafted you by themselves he immediately knew who he wants to spend the rest of his life as well the one who will rule the nation right next to him.

Recently he noticed that every time you visit him, you will be covered in bruises and he is always the one that bandages you up and sometimes kisses the injury.

One time he once heard that you were confronted his mother and bolted towards the throne room afraid that you would be punished and was about to open the door he heard you talking to his mother saying how he always wanted to have a normal relationship with him a mother and son relationship. He stops and listens to you talking about how he's the sweetest person and begs his mother to spend time with him I guess it reaches his mother because she started to spend time with him.

Everything started to glow when you were around, everything in his life that was wrong was fixed by you, you are his sun that shines upon the world of his.

He made a promise towards you of becoming the best husband and that nothing will do you apart from him the original vows were till death do us part but for him he will find you and love you in every universe and will find you at any cost.

Recently there's been a rebellion between the watatsumi island and he's been busy training as well helping strategizing with his mother and generals. So which means he Less you but it's fine because after this war ends he can marry and see you everyday as his queen and wife. He could already picture it until it was suddenly shattered

Until "that" day happened his mother was supposed to deliver a speech with him and you present in the back suddenly a group of watatsumi soldiers appeared and tried to ambush them, one of the soldiers threw a spear towards you and everything was slowing down in his vision... He watched as the spear pierced towards your beautiful kimono and blood poured from the wound and you fell down on the floor.

He stood there stunt and was about to approach your body until multiple guards tried to drag him from you, all sanity burst thru the window he struggled and fought against the guards that were trying to bring him to safety tears shout out from his eyes, your corpse getting further from his vision and release an agonizing scream calling your name until he was drag back to the palace.

When he was inside the castle walls, he released a large wave of electricity killing the guards that were holding him from you. He felt empty, for the next 2 months he locked himself inside your room and held your kimono non stop until his mother intervened and wanted him to snap out of it.

He felt empty, you were his light and now you were there was not even a body he wasn't unable to say goodbye one last time, was it painful when the spear pierced you, was it quick so you don't experience the pain and this question circled around his head he swore he would revenge you and punish whoever opposed of him.

First he will punish your clan for laying their filthy hands on you, they were soon punished by hanging. And when one of the elders of your clan begged him to spare them "I'm pretty much sure young master you have a heart" he replied with "no, it was taken from the moment when she died" and the execution was soon continued.

No one dares to oppose him not even his mother could stop the hatred from his heart, he trained non-stop and at night he would go to your room and hold your kimono and talk towards it as if it was you.

He punished anyone who opposed him even if it was a small mistake no one can escape his raft, he ruled with an iron fist.

Until one day a diplomat from Snezhnaya one of the harbingers of the tsaritsa appears to discuss some matters he was known as the "doctor or Ill dottore" he was rumored to be a necromancer having the ability to raise the dead this catch his eyes and approach the doctor.

He ask whenever or not that can bring back the dead and the doctor replied with yes but it comes with price he need to have the body of the disease person in order to bring back the dead unfortunately your body was taken by the watatsumi.

Soon the doctor started to teach him the arts of necromancy as well as dark magic but it comes with a price but don't worry you are worth more than anything even if he falls in the eyes of darkness.

Don't worry he will have you back soon, you and him will get married and live happily ever after he promised

[artdcnaldson]

ugh "leverage" to ensure she won't go tattling to patrick. especially as he starts getting meaner and meaner, he tells her it's to make sure she doesn't back out and tell on him. because patrick would genuinely kill art if he knew what he's been doing to his baby sister.

i know it doesn't really fit in the canon of the other parts to this au, but hear me out anyway... what if he agreed to fuck her, properly this time, in her sweet little pussy. BUT he needs said leverage to make sure she keeps quiet about it (truly he just needs to immortalize taking her virginity so he can watch it back for the rest of his life). so he "agrees", he's the one to bring it up lol, on the condition that he can record it. y'know like really shitty, amateur, pov style, on her creaky dorm bed and pink, frilly sheets. shaky and grainy, but it's good enough for him. it's not like he would ever actually post it anywhere or show people, but she doesn't know that.

he gets off on how nervous she is when he points the camera at her, she's blushing and trying to hide her face. but he just slaps her cheek and manhandles her to look right down the lens of his shitty phone camera. tells her to moan louder around his big cock, tell the camera how good he feels, really just stroking his own ego. makes her tell the camera exactly how he's making her feel, can't cum unless she asks into the camera. he nearly cums right inside her when she tells him he's too big and it hurts :(((((

yummy yummy yummy

-🐞

OHHHHHHH <3 I had to let this simmer. This had to ruminate. Had to really let it sit and grow legs or whatever wine people say idk

RATING: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, degradation, making a sex tape, loss of virginity, world’s worst aftercare), mean!art as always, uncomfortable power dynamics, DUBCON due to coercion

He catches you leaving one of your classes, chatting happily with a few girls as you walk. Their eyes widen as he approaches, smacking his gum, looming tall over them. You murmur a quick apology and bound over like an obedient little pet, falling into stride beside him as he walks.

“What class is that?” He asks, nodding back towards the building. Most of the time he forgot you even attended the school beyond cheering at his games and floating around his dormitory like a ghost.

“Peoples and cultures,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s an anthropology course I’m taking. It’s actually really interesting, like, these past few lectures have been—“

“What are you doing tonight?” He interrupts, not really caring beyond the simple answer to his question. He has a one track mind, and for the moment he’s just thinking about getting in your pants.

He watches you think, then shrug. “Um… nothing, I guess? Why?”

Art stops by a tree suddenly, tugs you by your wrist to stop with him. “Do you promise if we fuck you won’t tell Patrick?” He watches as your eyes widen, as sheer need and excitement makes you practically vibrate out of your skin.

Frantically you nod. “I’d never tell Patrick, I’d take it to my grave, I swear,” you say, totally earnest, bouncing on the balls of your feet as he looks at you.

“God, I want you so bad,” he hums, brushing your hair back behind your ear. You melt beneath his touch, gaze all half-lidded and soft. “I just… I think I’d have to have some leverage, just to make sure no one ever finds out.”

You tilt your face, resting it on his hand, your eyes half-lidded and dazed with need. You hum a soft, “Mhmm,” without even knowing what he’s implying, what he’s asking of you. But he hears what you’re thinking, all dumbed down and needy— yes, Art, whatever you say Art, anything you want, Art.

He wants to do it in your room, that night. He walks you back to your dorm and tells you to get your roommate out, make sure she’s busy for however long you need. He’d text you when he’s on his way.

So you’re just… fucking vibrating with excitement, cleaning up your dorm, changing your sheets, fluffing your pillows. You light three warm vanilla sugar candles so the dorm smells nice and sweet, put on your roommate’s SEXXXMIXXX <3 CD that she had burned in High School (and kept your fingers crossed it was still relevant). You took the longest fucking shower of all time, scrubbed your skin until it stung, shaved you’re entire body, wondered if maybe he wouldn’t like bald pussy, then worried that he’d hate if you kept the hair even more. Moisturized, then put on pretty, light makeup— lipgloss, mascara. All in the span of time it took for him to text you.

Art :) <3

omw

You feel a little dizzy by the time he’s at your door, already wet just anticipating what you were about to do. He grins down at you, at your silky little pajama set, pink and lacy around the edges. Smacks his gum, trails his hand along the sides of your waist.

“Pretty.” He looks smug as he rubs the lace between his fingers. “You got all dressed up for me, huh?”

It’s amazing how timid and shy you can look as you stand in front of him, biting onto your lip as you nod. He shuts the door behind him and guides you backwards until you knock against your bed and laugh nervously. Jesus, he’d already fucked your ass, your throat, he’d done things to you that even the dirtiest fucking sluts on campus wouldn’t dream of allowing. But you’re all shy because he’s finally going to fuck you properly?

You gasp as he tugs down the neckline of your top, exposing your tits to the cool air of the dorm. So cute, soft. Your nipples already hard and sensitive, so just the lightest pinch makes you let out a pretty moan.

“Remember what I said about leverage?” Art says, and you nod slowly, dreamily. “I want to film it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, as you think back to the pictures he’d taken of you just a few weeks prior. “And you’d… what? Like post it if Pat finds out?”

“No, no, only if you tell,” he corrects. Even then… he doubted he’d actually ever post it anywhere. He had a tennis career to consider, after all. But the important thing was that you believe he will. “It’s just to make sure this stays our secret.”

You swallow, consider it. You didn’t plan on telling Patrick, so it was fine, right? He’d hate Art, and you didn’t want that. You would never want that, no matter what.

So you nod softly. “Okay,” you say finally. “I’d… yeah, I understand. Okay.”

God, you’re easy. So fucking easy it makes him a little sick to think about. What if he wasn’t Patrick’s friend, if he was some frat house asshole who would take advantage of how bad you wanted him? You’re so lucky he’s a good person.

He uses your own fucking digital camera— pink and decorated with little heart stickers. Turns it on and records you as you slip off your sweet silky pajamas, revealing soft, smooth skin beneath. You’re so shaky, so nervous. You can’t even look into the lens.

“No panties?” He asks, lips quirked into a grin. He steps forward to slip his hand between your thighs, to cup your pussy in one big hand. God, you’re so fucking wet, just like you usually are. He could just slide right in without any resistance, just bury himself right inside that tight little pussy. “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess, just dripping for it, aren’t you?”

You moan, relishing in the feeling of his hands on you. Art never touched you, not to get you off, at least. So the feeling of his thick calloused fingers against your cunt makes you whine. He breaches your entrance with just a fingertip and grins at the feeling of you clenching around the intrusion, desperate for anything he’ll give you.

But the relief is gone as soon as you’ve gotten it. He pats your thigh, nods to the bed. “Go lay down. Let me film you stretching yourself out for me.”

“Art,” you whine once you’ve laid down, embarrassed as he trains the lens on you. “Do you have to film this part?”

It just makes him double down, grinning smugly as he settles at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, just fucking do it. Show the camera how fucking wet you get for me.” You hear the whir of him zooming in as your hand slips between your thighs, as lithe fingers slide through your soaking wet folds and you tease your clit. He groans softly, grinning at the sight on the camera. “Alright, spread yourself out now. Show me how small and tight you are.”

You whimper pathetically, but obey. Your fingers form a V as you spread your lips, revealing the pretty, drippy hole of your cunt. He doesn’t even have to tell you to start fucking yourself, you just do. Pretty, manicured fingers disappearing inside the tight channel of your pussy, slow and easy as you pant and gasp sweetly.

“Can you do three?” He asks. He zooms the camera out, makes sure he gets all of you— your tits heaving with each breath, the slow grind of your hips to meet your fingers. You nod softly, press a third finger alongside the other two. He grins at the sight of the stretch of your cunt around them, how your body works to accommodate them. “God, it’s a tight stretch, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You moan as you pump your fingers slow, in and out. Wet to the point of it sounding obscene. Slick dripping out with each thrust, making your fingers glisten.

He can hardly take sitting there and watching, but god, he’d love it later on when he was alone with only the video to keep him company. But who knows? Maybe he’d fuck you once and never want anyone else. He already felt that way… kind of. You were so eager, so obsessed with him. You touched him like it was an act of worship. He couldn’t get that from easy pussy.

He sets the camera down on the foot of the bed while he undresses, tugging off his sweats and tee shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. It’s not lost on him, the way your fingers speed up at the sight of his cock, how needy and desperate you are.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks as he picks up the camera.

God, he’s mean. You whine when he grabs your wrist and makes you slip your fingers from inside of your cunt. Empty, needy, desperate. “Please, fuck me, Art.” You’re embarrassed, of course you are. He has a camera focused on your needy little expression, one hand on your thigh all warm and possessive. “Please, I’ve been so good for you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I just need you, I need you inside of me. Want you to be my first. Please, Art.”

He’s not sure where he wants the camera as he notches the head of his cock at your wet little hole. Part of him wants to film the second he buries his cock inside of that tight fucking cunt, but the other wants to film your face, watch how pretty you look as you take your very first cock.

And god, you’re trembling beneath him. Visibly shaking with anticipation, or nerves, or need. He runs a hand along your torso, cups one of your tits in his hands and thumbs over your sensitive nipple. “What, are you cold?” He teases.

“N-no,” you stammer, meeting his gaze. “Just— I just want it so bad.”

He films your face, which was the right call, he decides. He has to think about it technically, or he’ll risk blowing his load one pump in, like a total fucking loser. You’re so tight around him, clamping down on his cock as he sheaths himself within you, inch after inch. And god, that angelic face of yours— mouth agape, wet and pink and pretty, the tiniest furrow between your brows, lashes splayed against your cheeks as you moan, soft and sweet. “Hurts,” you practically whimper. “God, Art, fuck, it feels—“

He films where your cunt swallows him, stretched to the point of obscenity around his thick cock. It shouldn’t even be able to take him, not when you’re so small, so fucking tight. It’s a fucking miracle you’d even taken a toy before. He’d make you film that next. All desperate, fucking yourself on silicon while you drooled over a picture of him. It was sweet that you’d been trying to prepare yourself to take him and you were still a shaking, needy mess.

Tears well in your eyes as he thumbs at your swollen little clit, he feels your pussy clench around him, already so fucking keyed up. He should be good. He should make love to you, nice and slow, like a good boy. He’s starting to think he’s not a good boy, not at all. “Just lay there and take it, yeah? Just look nice and pretty for the camera.”

You cry out when he pulls back only to drive back in, hard and deep. His pace is relentless as he fucks into your cunt— warm and wet and tight and fucking perfect. He honestly shouldn’t have waited, he should’ve fucked you the first night you offered yourself up to him— sweet and needy and clinging off his shoulder like you were his girlfriend.

“A-Art, fuck—“ You cry out, fisting your pretty hands into the frilly duvet, as he bullies himself into you. “Oh, god, fuck, A-Art, it’s too much— I-I can’t—“ A strangled moan seems to rip itself from your throat as your head falls back against the pillows.

He grins. “Yeah? Don’t tell me, honey, tell the camera.”

You whine, turning your head away as embarrassment rips through you. It’s mean, keeping it trained on you while you’re so fucking vulnerable. He grabs your chin, holds it in place as he fucks into you, deeper, rougher. It punches out gasps from your pretty open mouth— Ah! Ah! Ah! Over and over and over.

He pops your cheek, not too hard, but enough to draw your attention back from him and away from your dizzying thoughts. “Tell the camera how good it feels to have my big cock in that little pussy of yours, yeah?

“It feels— ngh— I love it,” you have pretty fat tears slipping down your cheeks as he drills into you. “You’re so big, I— God, fuck— I feel you in my stomach. Here—“ You grab his hand, move it to press against the bottom of your stomach. He can’t feel anything, not except warm skin beneath his, but he groans at your words, at the implication that he’s so deep he’s in your fucking guts.

He has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He knows he’s going to cum, knows that he’s not going to last or show off epic, manly stamina and impress you. Not that you give a shit, but he wants to set a standard for whatever fucking loser you fuck next. He’d have next time, and as many other times as he wanted. You’d keep coming back for it, for him.

He struggles to manhandle you the way he needs while holding onto the camera. He tosses it into the sheets so he can press your knees up to your chest. “Hold them— yeah, that’s it, fuck— feels good.” You’re so obedient, holding your legs up for him so he can get deeper. Your eyes roll back, flutter shut. He fumbles to grab the camera, to immortalize you like this.

Your cunt squeezes around him, makes his rhythm falter as he struggles to fend off his orgasm. God, he just wants to bury himself deep and rut into you, to cum deep and hard, leave you dripping with him. It’s about him… but it’s about you too. He’d be good, he’d make you cum.

“Tell me how bad you need to cum. Fucking beg me for it,” He groans, rubbing at your clit with a calloused thumb.

You whine, squeezing around his cock as he draws you closer and closer. “Need it, Art. It feels so good— you’re so fucking perfect, feel so perfect inside of me. Wanna cum for you, around your cock, wanna show you how good you feel. Please, please, god, I want it, I want to feel it, Art. Want you to cum inside of me, need it so bad— I fucking dream about it, about you. You’re so much better, you’re everything I want, Art, fucking claim me. I want you to.”

Art wanted to pull out. He did. He was going to glaze your pussy with his cum, get it on video, swipe his fingers through it and make you taste it. But Jesus Christ, you fucking ruined that idea. He cums suddenly, practically collapses on top of you as he fucks into your cunt, spilling himself deep inside of you. And like the perfect fucking toy you are, you cum too, milking him for all he’s worth, walls clenching down around his cock as he lazily ruts into you.

He pants, stays buried inside of you as he tries to catch his breath. He’d never cum inside someone before— he was too afraid of knocking someone up. He’d always had the self control to pull out, but he lost himself in fucking you, in the tight grip of your pussy around him. Christ, that was bad.

When he pulls out, a thick gush of his cum follows, pearly white, dripping down your ass and to the bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, you’ve tugged a blanket over yourself shyly. Looking so demure, so sweet, batting your lashes up at him expectantly.

The camera lays dropped and forgotten on the bed, he goes and presses the stop button on the camera and you grab at his arm. “Do you want to stay the night?” You ask with a shy bite of your lip. “I told Izzy to fuck off, so she’s with her girlfriend. We’ve got the dorm for the night, so you can stay.”

Art makes a face akin to annoyance as he redresses, tugging on his boxers and sweats. His shirt is somewhere… he can’t focus. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen, you swallow as heat floods your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, I know,” you stammer. “I just thought…”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t do that, then. This is just about fucking.

Art watches the sad little nod, the tiniest twitch of your nose as you fight the rush of tears to your eyes. “I know that, Art,” you say sadly, and you’re trembling again. “I just wish you’d stay for a bit. I’m… I feel a lot right now. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this before I just want—“

“What do you want? A hug, a kiss?” He watches you sniffle sadly, nod and mutter a watery, yeah. He sighs, stops searching for his shirt, and pulls you against his chest. You feel so warm, so vulnerable as you shake and cry hot tears against his chest. He frowns, pulls back, and presses his lips to yours, quick and chaste. “I’m not doing this again if you keep acting like this.”

You sniffle and nod. “Okay, I know, I won’t do it again.” He kisses the crown of your head. Grabs a random shirt from the top of your laundry basket, grabs the camera, and heads for the door. You watch him leave with a pouty, wobbly little frown and get up to redress. You find his Stanford Tennis shirt partly beneath your bed and pull it on. It’s big, fits you like a hug, smells so boyish and warm. You lay back down on the bed he just fucked you on and breathe deep, let his smell flood your senses. It feels a little like being wanted.

AURRRRR this was so much longer than I thot <3

Anyways. Love pat’s sister au, feel free to send me any asks you want about these messy bitches <3

🐞 anon i love u

[thewizardingpost]

A Promise to Spend Forever Together, Not Apart

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ lately, James, Sirius, and Remus have been acting distant and busier than usual, making you fear they might be planning to break up with you, only to later discover they’ve been working hard to save up for a ring, wanting instead to spend forever with you.

warnings ⌇word count  2.8k, after-hogwarts, established relationship, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, marriage, reader experiences insecure thoughts, slight arguing, happy ending, love confessions 

It made sense that they were all so busy—James with his new responsibilities as an Auror, Sirius throwing himself into his work as a private investigator, and Remus taking on the weight of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. What didn’t make sense was the way things felt different between you, the quiet space that had started to settle between moments that used to feel so effortless.

The transition into such life was slow, like a broken clock–a few broken ticks forward just to take a few back. You’d think it’d move forward then just that next week something else would change. James still smiled at you, but it was the kind of smile that came after hours of paperwork, his eyes carrying the weight of exhaustion as he kissed you goodnight, only to disappear back into his work. 

Sirius, though still warm and affectionate, had started making more excuses, talking about "one more case" or "just a few more leads," his voice laced with fatigue, not quite as carefree as it used to be. Remus had become more withdrawn at times, his thoughts clearly pulled elsewhere, his usual calm replaced by the tension of balancing too many responsibilities. 

They were still lovely, still affectionate, but the spark of energy that had once flowed so easily between you all seemed dimmer now, and the distance was subtle but unmistakable. It really did just seem like everyone was just slumped with work at first. 

You convinced yourself it was nothing more than the weight of their new lives. Then there were the whispers—hushed conversations that trailed off the moment you entered the room, the sudden silence that would fall when you walked by. You’d caught James leaning over to Sirius once, his voice low, words you couldn’t quite make out but sounded far too private for your liking. Remus, too, seemed to slip into quick murmurs with the others, always before a sudden, sharp change in topic when you appeared, as if they hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Maybe they were just tired, maybe stressed, but the more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t help but feel like they were holding something back from you. It was like they wanted to be together without you, to discuss things you weren’t supposed to know. 

Your heart twists at the thought, from where you lie beside them in bed, the rest of them asleep, their bodies warm against yours. You’re being ridiculous. Overthinking has always been your worst enemy; there’s really no reason to lose sleep over this. Despite knowing that, your eyes won’t shut—your mind infected by these thoughts that only continue to grow more dangerous. You listen to their even breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, the clicking of the clock on your nightstand. Eventually, your body has had enough—and sleep pulls you under, though it doesn’t feel quite as peaceful as it should.

It wears on you—the lack of sleep, the constant whirl of anxious thoughts that refuse to quiet. You don’t communicate any of this with them, afraid to voice the doubt that’s slowly eating away at you. What if they really have grown tired of you? What if all this distance, this quiet space between moments that used to be so easy, is their way of pulling away? Who wouldn’t be? Everyone grows weary eventually, especially when the season shifts, when the warmth of spring and summer fades into the chill of fall and winter.

 It feels like you’ve reached the point where the honeymoon period is over, and the cracks are starting to show. Maybe they don’t need you anymore—not like they did before when you all were just teens at Hogwarts. Maybe they’ve just grown comfortable in their own lives, with their own ambitions, and you’re the one left wondering where you fit in. 

You don’t say anything, because what if you’re wrong? What if your fears are just that—fears—and nothing more? So, you keep quiet, hoping the weight will somehow lift on its own, even as it grows heavier each day.

Just as they’ve begun to pull away from you, you’ve subconsciously begun to do the same. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism—guarding yourself against the thought that they’ve grown tired of you, that they’re silently slipping away. Perhaps it’s the quiet, nagging fear that you’re no longer needed, no longer wanted, that you’re just a chapter in their lives they’re ready to close. You’re not entirely sure which, but it’s probably a mix of both. Regardless, something shifts in you, and you begin to separate yourself, even if just a little. 

You start feeling uncomfortable in spaces you once found so familiar, like the small moments you used to share now feel like you’re standing in someone else’s life. You wonder if they notice, though you can’t bring yourself to ask. The distance between you, though subtle, seems to grow with each passing day, and the warmth you once felt when they were near starts to feel off. You don’t know if it’s them or if it’s you—or maybe it’s both—but the easy closeness you once had with them now feels like something you have to work at.

For instance, earlier that week, when James had caught you staring blankly at the fireplace instead of joining the conversation, he’d leaned in, gently asking, “Hey, love, you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned, but there was an edge to it, something almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or pull away. You’d shrugged, offering a quick smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired.”

Sirius had shot you a look from across the room, brow furrowed. “You sure, beautiful? You’ve been�� off lately.” He had said it in the usual teasing tone, but there was no mischief in it this time—just a quiet concern that you couldn’t quite brush off. “I’m fine, Sirius,” you’d replied, forcing the words out, even though you felt anything but.

Even Remus, normally so calm, had paused mid-sentence during a conversation, his eyes lingering on you before he shifted the topic to something lighter, something easy. You had noticed it, the way he’d been treading carefully around you all week, and it stung more than you expected. It wasn’t that you wanted them to push, but the distance between you had become so thick, you were starting to wonder if you could ever cut through it. They were so caught up in their own concerns, their own exhaustion, their own busy lives, that they didn’t even seem to realize how their behavior was affecting you.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when they seem to be waiting for you to arrive home from work, all of them silently preparing to talk. You can feel the tension in the air, the way the space between you all has shifted—lighter, almost expectant. You can tell they’ve been holding onto something, and suddenly, you realize it’s not just you who’s been carrying a weight. As you walk through the door, their eyes meet yours.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when you walk through the door, and immediately, the tension is thick. Sirius stands up abruptly, his eyes narrowing, voice laced with frustration. “What, you gonna run off to your room again?” he says, his words sharp and cutting. “Avoid us some more? Pretend everything’s fine?” His tone is tight, like he's trying to keep it together, but it’s clear the hurt is creeping through. “You’ve been shutting us out for days, and now you're just gonna walk in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“Padfoot, stop,” Remus interjects, his voice calm but firm as he steps between you and Sirius. He looks at his friend with a mixture of warning and understanding, trying to reign in the tension that’s spiraling out of control.

Sirius exhales in frustration, his gaze flickering between you and James, who has been quietly watching. James finally steps forward, his expression serious but soft. “Love, can we talk?” he asks quietly, the weight of his words settling in. There’s a quiet heaviness to his tone, and for a split second, your heart sinks, your mind racing with the worst possibilities. You freeze, wondering if they’re finally going to tell you what you’ve been dreading.It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, leaving you plummeting into a void where everything you thought you knew was slipping away. The tears came fast, blurring your vision, but something else started building within you—anxiety, frustration, a burning anger that mixed with the hurt, making everything sharper. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“God, why does this always happen?” you snapped, voice shaking, a bitter laugh escaping as you wiped at your eyes. “Everyone leaves eventually, right? What else did I expect? Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. The words spilled out before you could stop them. “You’ve all been distant, quiet, barely even looking at me. What the hell is going on? Just say it already, whatever it is. I can’t—” You broke off, your voice faltering, before the anger took over again. “I can’t stand this anymore. It’s so obvious.”

Sirius stiffened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You’re acting like we’ve been ignoring you on purpose. What do you want from us?”

Your hands shook at your sides, the anger now bubbling over the sadness. “I want you to stop acting like I’m not here,” you shot back, each word sharp and frantic, as if they were the only way you could hold yourself together. “I want you to stop pretending like I’m not a burden.”

Sirius’s face twisted, frustration taking over. “You think you’re a burden? You think we don’t care? Are you serious?”

You snapped at him, your voice rising even though your heart was breaking. “I don’t know what else to think! You all used to look at me like I mattered, but now… now it’s like I’m invisible to you! Like I’m just some fucking inconvenience.”

Remus, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally stepped forward, his voice laced with confusion and concern. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked between you and Sirius, trying to make sense of the mess unfolding. “We’ve been stressed, yes, but this… this isn’t what’s going on. We’re not pushing you away.”

Your breath hitched, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “No,” you choked out, trembling with the weight of it all. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? Just say it. I can’t take this silence anymore. I can’t stand pretending that everything’s fine when it isn’t. Just say it and I’ll leave. I’ll just go.”

The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the space between you all. There was a beat of stunned silence before everything shifted.

Sirius’s anger evaporated instantly, replaced with something that looked almost like regret. His face softened, and he reached out toward you, but paused, as though unsure how to approach. “We’re not breaking up with you,” he said, his voice far softer now, almost apologetic. “We’re not… God, we’re just trying to figure things out. We’ve been distracted with other stuff, but none of it’s about you.”

Remus’s gaze softened too, though there was still a trace of concern in his eyes. “We’re not trying to push you away, love. You have to know that.” He moved closer, a hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “We’re not leaving you.”

James, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped up, his voice low but steady. “We’re not going anywhere,” he repeated, his eyes full of sincerity. “We’re just… we’re struggling too, and we don’t always know how to ask for what we need. But we need you. All of us.”

Your breath caught as you took in their words, the overwhelming fear and anger beginning to fade, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You were trembling now, your tears mixing with relief, but the weight was still there.

James reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, cupping your face gently in his hand. His touch grounded you, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the tears that still fell. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of sadness that made your heart ache. “You’re everything to us,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of sincerity. “Nothing’s going to change that. We love you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

You blinked at him, the words swirling in your mind but not quite sinking in. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, your eyes glossy, filled with so many unspoken fears. “Then why have you all been so distant?” Your voice was small, barely a whisper, but there was a rawness in it that you couldn’t hide. “Why have you been acting like... like I don’t matter anymore?”

James’s expression faltered for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wiped another tear from your cheek, his touch so tender it made your chest tighten. "Love," he began, the word gentle but heavy. "We’ve never meant for you to feel that way. We’ve just been... trying to give you something. We didn’t want to do anything that might make you feel neglected, I swear.”

At this, Remus, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward, his usual calm replaced with a soft urgency. His brow furrowed slightly, concern etched on his face. “We’ve all been working—well, all of us—trying to save up for something. We’ve been distant because we didn’t want to distract you with all the planning we’ve been doing behind the scenes.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “Planning?” Your voice cracked. “What... what are you talking about?”

Sirius, who had been standing a few steps behind the others, took a deep breath before he finally spoke. His voice, though usually teasing and full of confidence, was softer now, almost apologetic. He stepped forward, his gaze locking with yours. “We’re planning to marry you, love. We’ve been saving up for a ring.” His eyes softened as he met your gaze, his hand finding yours, holding it gently in his. “We don’t want you to think that we’ve stopped loving you, or that we’ve been pushing you away. We just wanted to do this right for you, for us.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at them in disbelief. A ring? Marriage? The confusion, the fear that had consumed you for weeks... suddenly, it all felt so small, so misplaced.

“Marry me?” you whispered, your voice trembling, your heart both racing and slowing in the same beat. You couldn’t make sense of it. How could you have thought they were pulling away?

Sirius, seeing your confusion, gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been trying to save, love. Trying to figure out how to make it perfect, and how to make sure we’re doing it right. We didn’t want to ruin the surprise, didn’t want to make you feel like we were slipping away.”

You wiped at your face again, still shaking, the realization sinking in, piece by piece. “I thought…” you trailed off, your voice small, your chest still tight. “I thought you were going to leave me.”

James’s face softened, his eyes full of regret as he pulled you into his arms. “No, love, we’re never leaving you,” he murmured, holding you close. “We were just trying to make this moment everything you deserve. We’ve always been here. Always will be.”

Remus stepped in, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear. “We love you, and we want this to last forever. We want to show you that every day for the rest of our lives.”

"I love you all too, so incredibly much."

The fear and doubt, all those months of wondering if they'd drift away from you, melted away in an instant. They weren't leaving you—they were offering something far greater. A promise to spend forever together, not apart. As you lean into them, feeling their warmth, their love, your body finally relaxed, and the future, the one you had feared might be slipping away, is full of certainty.

[odinsblog]

Worth re-reading

Rule No. 1: Believe the autocrat. I argued against the expectation that Trump would change in the months following the election, becoming somehow “Presidential” and abandoning his more extreme positions. This belief, it seemed to me, stemmed from the inability to absorb the fact of a Trump Presidency, and not from any historical precedents of similar transformations. The best predictors of autocrats’ and aspiring autocrats’ behavior are their own public statements, because these statements brought them to power in the first place.

Rule No. 2: Do not be taken in by small signs of normality. Most catastrophes unfold over time. Following the shock of a disastrous election—or a Presidential tweet—the sun rises again in the morning, and life appears to proceed as before. One adjusts, until the next shocking event.

Rule No. 3: Institutions will not save you. During the election campaign, one often heard the argument that institutions of American democracy are strong enough to withstand attack by Trump. A year ago, I pointed out that many of these institutions are not enshrined in law—rather, they exist as norms—and even those that are enshrined in law depend for their continued survival on the good faith of all actors. There is no law, for example, guaranteeing daily press briefings at the White House and media access to these briefings. I predicted that the investigative press would be weakened and that reality would grow murkier.

Rule No. 4: Be outraged. If you follow the first three rules, you ought to be outraged. But I know from experience how hard it is to be the hysteric in the room.

A year on, progress is mixed. Activist groups like New York City’s Rise and Resist, founded by alumni of the aids-activist organization act up, stage regular, vivid, act up–style actions. On the occasion of the first anniversary of the election, they vowed to begin weekly demonstrations demanding impeachment. The A.C.L.U. continues to file lawsuits; late-night comedians continue to amplify the painful absurdity of Trumpism. On the other hand, Washington has absorbed Trump, and so has the Republican Party. (It’s the other party whose national organization is imploding these days.) No single event or revelation has produced enough outrage to cause Trump to be removed from office, nor has one seemed to hurt his chances for reëlection. Not Charlottesville. Not the revelation of a Trump Tower meeting with a Russian lawyer who promised to deliver dirt on Hillary Clinton. Not the regular revelations of past acts of corruption and of current lies. Not the continued spectacle of a government of haters and incompetents. The outrage dissipates, and Trumpism persists.

Rule No. 5: Don’t make compromises. I predicted that Republican Never Trumpers would fold and offer their loyalty to the new President. I also feared that a great many federal employees would face an impossible choice between staying in their jobs under a reprehensible Administration and leaving, forfeiting the chance to do good within a system that had started rotting from the top. Trump’s attacks on the institutions of government have been so fast and brutal, however, that many people made the choice without torment: they left. (Remember the President’s arts and humanities committee? Or the business advisory councils?) Still, a few people remain in what’s left of the State Department; some people have joined the Administration with the explicit goal of using their expertise to help minimize damage. But to watch General McMaster struggling to mislead journalists on Trump’s behalf is to see the built-in problem with the project of minimizing damage: one inevitably becomes an accomplice.

Rule No. 6: Remember the future. There will come a time after Trump. What will we bring to it? I wrote that the failure to imagine the future—to offer a vision in opposition to Trump’s appeal to an imaginary past—had cost the Democrats the election. A year later, the national Democratic Party does not seem closer to proposing a vision (or a candidate); instead, the last week has seen the Party plunged into a vicious re-litigation of the 2016 primaries.

(full article here)

[candy69gurl]

‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏BARBIE PLAY ‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏‎

MDI

Hiromi Higuruma x innocent f!reader

18+, dark, dub/noncon, manipulation, loss of innocence, manipulation, slight incest, praises, dad-daughter bonding , nipple play, face sitting, rough raw sex, blow job, multiple orgasms, infertility, mentions of cheating ART NOT MINE

"I'll be gone for now." Hiromi sighs and stuffs a piece of toast into his mouth while wearing his black suit. "And, I can be late, so please eat dinner without me."

 "Daddy, are you going to work again today?" you ask, looking at him with puppy eyes, hoping he melts. "Leaving me alone with the nanny," you say quietly. 

Hiromi's expression transforms into one of concern when he notices the tone of your voice.

"I am pregnant!!" Your mother hugs Hiromi. 

He frowns at her. 

"You're joking, right?" Hiromi freezes and looks at her, shocked. "No, I am not. Why should I?" your mother replied. 

Hiromi sighs as his jaw clenches. He takes his bag and goes to leave.

"I don't want to discuss this right now. I'll be home late, so eat the dinner yourself." 

He shuts the door and walks towards his office. 

She cheated on him. There is no chance that could be his baby because he is sterile. She is unaware of this, and he does not want to inform her either. He doesn't blame her, he is so preoccupied with his work that he can't devote time to his wife.

*9 months later*

Hiromi glances at the baby girl.

"Doesn't she look like you?" your mother cooes.

"No," Hiromi bluntly says.

"But look at the smile; it's exactly like yours." 

"I do not smile." 

Your mother pushes her lips together and remains silent. 

*timeskips*

Your mother and Hiromi end up having divorce, and Hiromi takes custody of you since your mother cannot pay child support. 

Hiromi, although not your biological father, adores you and provides for all of your needs. Not everything though. Not himself. He is a highly busy man, so he is constantly away from you at work.

But there's something about you that offers him joy. He had never smiled in his life, except for the times when you make him smile. He is now attached to you in both ways, physically and mentally.

"I...Yes, I'm going to work again." Hiromi's tone of voice is rather soft and a bit depressed. He's trying his best to be a good father, but it's always hard to make it work because he is so busy with work all the time. Hiromi seems like he understands that his work schedule might be causing problems in their relationship, and he feels sorry for that.

You get closer to him, noticing his dark circles and pale skin.

"It's Sunday, and... you don't look so well."

Hiromi gives you a fake smile. The pale skin and the dark circles around his eyes are reminders of just how hard he's been working. He looks back up and smiles softly at you. "I know, I know. I'm just a bit... tired. But it's not too bad; don't worry about it."

It's clear to both of you that he hasn't been taking care of himself lately. Hiromi is so focused on work that he's forgotten to eat and sleep properly.

"I want to take care of you, dad. I want you to be here with me. I know how hard you work providing for us," you say, hugging him.

The warmth of your hug makes him close his eyes. Hiromi has been working tirelessly to support both of you, and your words make him realize just how tired and burned out he can be.

Hiromi hugs you tight, pressing his chest tightly against your face to feel your warmth. "I'm sorry... I know... I'll try my best to spend more time with you."

You can feel the strain of his exhaustion as he clings to you, like he's terrified of letting you go.

"I promise..." Hiromi whispers to you before letting out a small sigh of relief. It feels like all of the stress and worry that he has been carrying around lately is lifted off of his shoulders as he nuzzles into your soft vanilla-scented hair. Hiromi seems much lighter and more relaxed now. He realizes you have grown up and crave his presence more than you used to.

"Do you promise to spend the next Sunday with me?"

"I promise." Hiromi's tone is soft but serious as he says these words. He stares at you with his brown eyes, wanting to emphasize just how much your happiness means to him. He knows next Sunday's going to be your birthday, so he has to do something to light up the relationship between you too.

*timeskips*

The next Sunday comes, and Hiromi is up early to make you some breakfast. He is making your favorite pancakes, though his hands are shaking slightly as he does. Hiromi can't stop thinking about everything he wants to do with you today. He hopes that he can finally show you just how much he has been missing you.

You enter the kitchen yawning and stretching, and you are surprised to see Hiromi making your breakfast. Usually you get to see your nanny making you breakfast, but your dad has actually kept the promise.

You run to hug him from behind.

The unexpected hug from behind makes Hiromi flinch in surprise. He smiles softly as his eyes flicker from a look of shock back to one of warmth.

"Good morning, sweetheart..." Hiromi chuckles softly as he turns around and wraps his arms around your small frame.

The sensation of your body pressed against his fills Hiromi with a sense of joy. It's been far too long since he has spent quality time with you, and your presence now means the world to him.

"Dad, do you know what day it is?" You expectantly look at him.

"Yes, of course I do, honey." Hiromi's soft voice is like music to your ears. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes as he speaks.

"It's Sunday." Hiromi smiles at you warmly.

Pressing your lips together, you reply, "You really don't remember."

A fake look of worry crosses Hiromi's face when he notices your expression. He realizes just now that you have been testing him, wondering if he had actually forgotten what today was.

"It's your birthday today. How can I forget?" Hiromi smirks slightly, whispering. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!" Hiromi's voice is warm and soft as he smiles at you.

Hiromi leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead. He is sad to see that you grew up so fast without him much looking after you.

"Let's make this a day to remember, shall we?"

You nod excitedly at his words.

"How do you want to spend today?" He asks you, seeming excited at the prospect of making this day a special one for you.

"I want to spend the whole day with you at home."

Hiromi's expression lights up as he hears this. He would love to spend all day at home with you, just the two of you.

"Ah, that is perfect." Hiromi can't begin to describe how excited he is to spend the day with you.

"Now, let's go sit down and eat breakfast together. I've made some delicious pancakes for you." He says it softly, grabbing your hand to lead you to the table where your breakfast is waiting.

*time skips to night after having dinner*

The two of you have been spending the whole day together, and you can't seem to remember the last time you've had so much fun.

You're currently cuddled up with your dad on the couch, watching a horror movie together. You feel so content in his arms, and the comfort of your father's presence means so much to you.

Hiromi seems to be enjoying this just as much as you. He keeps looking down at you and smiling; his eyes are filled with an overwhelming sense of affection.

You have grown up now with striking feminine features.

"OO~ I love slender men," you squeaked.

As you watch the movie together, your eyes are drawn to the screen where the Slenderman character is stalking its victims.

Hiromi notices your eyes wander away and leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. He leans in close and whispers something in your ear.

"Don't you think he is evil?" He chuckles softly as he pulls back to look down at you.

"But I love slender men. I always had... He is just like you. He wears a black suit and has pale skin, just like you. He is not evil at all. He is cute, just like you."

"Aww..." Hiromi laughs at what you've just said. It's so innocent and endearing, and Hiromi can't help but feel amused.

"I guess I can sort of see that? Though I would never hurt a fly." He says this as he cuddles up to you a little closer, feeling the warmth and softness of your body against his. It makes his heart flutter.

"You know, since you're (your next age) now, I can start treating you like a little adult." Hiromi whispers in your ear. A look of pride lights up his eyes as he stares right at you with a small smile.

"And adults like to celebrate their birthday in a special way; do you remember what people do?"

"Oh, THEY CELEBRATE IN A DIFFERENT WAY?" You feel interested.

"Oh, yes, adults tend to have a bit of an extra special celebration." Hiromi grins widely as he looks down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischievous intentions.

He whispers something in your ear before leaning back and looking down at you with a playful grin.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

You nod excitedly.

"Come here and let me tell you..." Hiromi pats his lap and gestures for you to sit on his lap.

His playful expression is like a kid on Christmas as he looks back up at you.

"I have a surprise for you today." He whispers in your ear. You feel Hiromi squeeze your back slightly trying to pull you close to him.

You sit on his lap and feel him wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Hiromi's playful expression has evolved into something that you don't recognize.

"Good girl," Hiromi whispers as he leans in close and presses his lips against your neck. His voice has taken on a tone of sensuality as he leans into your ear and whispers softly.

"What are you doing?" You giggle, feeling the tickling sensation on your neck.

"Keep being a good girl for me." His words are soft and tender as his breath caresses the soft skin of your neck.

"I want you to stay in this position," he says playfully, "just like this." He puts one arm around your waist while the other gently cups one of your cheeks.

"I love you, my girl. Nothing matters to me more than you." His words are like a hypnotizer, as his voice grows more seductive with each breath.

"I love you too," you reply. You can feel something is strange.

A grin spreads across Hiromi's face at your confession. You feel his teeth brush against your neck once more.

You flinch, and one of your hands runs through his hair, grabbing them.

"Ah..." Your sudden movement surprises Hiromi, but he loves the fact that you are responding so strongly to his touch. Your hands stroking his hair make him smirk faintly; the movement of your hands is so alluring.

Hiromi leans his head down towards yours, his forehead touching yours and his voice grows husky and deeper as he speaks.

"You're being such a good girl right now... So cooperative... and I know exactly what I want to do to you for your birthday."

"What-" You grab something hard underneath you.

Hiromi's eyes flutter almost shut at your touch.

"Hm...?" He seems to be enjoying the physical contact of your hands on that part of his body where you grabbed it.

A cheeky grin spreads across Hiromi's face. He leans back again to look into your eyes.

"It seems like you're the very curious type, and I was waiting for this moment." For a moment, he stares at you, studying your expression.

You look at him, confused.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he starts whispering again.

"Would you like to get a little intimate gift from your father? I wasn't kidding when I said this was going to be a very special birthday, was I?" He whispers softly, his breath hot in your ear.

You accidentally press on that hard object to rest your cheek against his chest and look up at him with innocent eyes.

"Yes, I want that gift. I want to spend more time with you." You reply, almost sounding as if you were begging.

This causes Hiromi's breath to hitch and his eyes to widen with disbelief.

He smiles down at you as he stares into your innocent eyes.

"Oh, you really are my little girl." He whispers softly, his voice filled with a deep sense of admiration and affection.

"If you want an intimate gift from your dad, we will have to go elsewhere." Hiromi's voice has become more sultry and seductive, his eyes never leaving your face. Hiromi seems to like the way you are pressing into him. His expression has grown even more seductive as he gazes into your eyes.

"Where do you want me to go to receive the gift?"

"My bedroom," he whispers softly.

"Oh, you have the gift there?" You ask, laughing sheepishly.

"Yes, my dear, that's where the special gift is." He smiles and reaches up to stroke your face.

He picks you up and takes you to his bedroom.

"You are very strong." You cling to his neck while he carries you. "You can carry me as if I am a baby."

"Well, you're still my little baby." He says softly as he carries you to his bedroom, being careful not to bump into things along the way.

Once inside the bedroom, he sets you down on his bed and gets on top of you, pinning your arms to the bed.

You wait for the gift.

He chuckles softly and looks down into your expecting eyes.

"Just let your hands wander a bit, and you'll find it." He whispers seductively, his breath touching your neck.

"Is it there?" You ask him, looking at his hardened member. It's already huge and bulging and could be seen through his pants.

"Mm..." He chuckles and leans down to kiss your neck before he speaks again.

"You sure know how to tease your dad, don't you?" He strides his tongue along your neck towards your collar bone, his breath burns your skin.

You allow him to kiss your neck. You still think he is playing with you, so you start to get mad and pouty.

"I don't understand."

"That's alright. You'll find out soon enough." He whispers softly in your ear, and his voice is almost breathless with excitement.

"It's going to be a very special day for you." He leans in close to you and whispers softly into your ear. "Just let me take control for today, and we'll make today all about you and your special birthday." He seems to find your cluelessness endearing, and his own excitement grows as he can tell that you have no idea what he's going to do to you for your birthday.

He smiles and sits down next to you on the bed, brushing your hair out of your face.

"You're such a naive girl..." His voice is full of sultry playfulness, and he stares at you with hungry eyes. "Do you trust Daddy?"

"Of course I do."

He seems amused by your innocent trust in him.

"Do you trust me to make this day special for you?" His voice is still sultry, but he also speaks with a sense of tenderness and care now that it's clear that he has you exactly where he wants you—vulnerable, naive, and trusting of him.

"I don't understand anything you're saying."

"You don't need to understand." He smiles warmly at you and places a hand under your chin.

"Would you let Daddy control you for today?"

He seems so confident in his words and has a sly, almost mischievous grin playing at his lips.

Suddenly, you sit up. "Ohhh, I GOT IT NOW.. You want to play Barbie with me? like I am your Barbie, and you will be playing with me?"

His smile grows wider at your innocent reaction, and his eyes seem to be gleaming with anticipation now that you are beginning to understand what he has planned.

"Yes, that's exactly right." He chuckles softly as he watches you sit up. "I want to play with my doll today."

"Yes!!!! take control of me. I am your doll today," you say without still understanding its meaning.

Your innocent words fill Hiromi's heart with a deep sense of joy and excitement.

He can't help but chuckle softly as he watches you shift around excitedly.

"Oh, my dear girl, you have absolutely no idea what you're in for today." His voice is filled with admiration and satisfaction at the fact that you're so willing to give yourself over to him.

Your innocent and lively attitude warms Hiromi's heart as he watches you lay back in a lifeless pose.

"My precious little doll..." His voice has taken on a much more sensual tone as he gazes down at you.

He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it playfully while he speaks. His other hand plays with the hem of your top.

"Let me change the dress on my Barbie."

You lift your arms up just like a lifeless doll, allowing him to open your top.

The playful expression on your face excites Hiromi's heart, and he chuckles softly to himself as he removes your top.

"You really are just like a doll to me, you know that?" He strokes your hair fondly and seems to enjoy the innocent look on your face.

His caress makes your body shiver with sensations, and you can feel his breath blowing against your neck.

"I will paint your face with my makeup. You will look really pretty. My very own pretty little Barbie girl."

You giggle excitedly.

"My little Barbie girl..."

Hiromi continues to caress your body as he speaks. He begins to move his hand down toward your chest.

He caresses your breasts, gently brushing your nipples.

He rests his head on one arm while he plays with your nipples with the other hand.

He grins at your playful expression, his fingers making you squirm on the bed.

"My little Barbie girl..."

You slowly turn to look at his face and at his hands.

He notices you looking over at his hands, and he smiles softly. His eyes are filled with admiration and a touch of pride as he sees you staring at him.

"Yes, my little doll... Look at me."

He chuckles softly, enjoying your reactions. He continues to caress your chest, watching you squirm on the bed with his hand.

He gets on top of you and starts kissing your cheek, then your neck. His eyes never leaving your face.

"My little doll is blushing at my touch. She is so responsive."

He places a small peck on your lips.

"I love to play with you, my doll," he says, keeping on speaking to you while his other hand goes down to take off your shorts.

"Would you like to wear a dress or a skirt?"

"Anything Daddy wants to put on me"—your voice trembles.

His hands go down to the thighs, pulling one up to caress your inner thighs.

His hands slide slowly up and down your thigh, causing you to shiver and gasp.

He moves himself higher on the bed to hover above you as his hands caress your thighs.

"My little doll is so sensitive to my touch. I wonder where else she is sensitive to my touch."

He smiles widely at you as his fingers trail along your clad clitoral area.

You gasp at his touch.

He chuckles softly at the playful expression on your face, his eyes shining brightly with mischievous excitement.

"I would like to paint you with my make-up first.".

Hiromi gets on top of you, unbuckling his belt and finally freeing his member with a loud groan.

"Will my little doll work to get the makeup?"

"W-what is that?" Your mouth drops. His huge, hardened shaft stands erect, leaking some cum.

"It's my..."

He seems at a loss for words, his voice trailing off.

His face flushes with a deep blush when he sees your innocent reaction to his freeing himself.

"I think we should just get the makeup ready first... Don't worry about that for now. Now hold your hands out so I can put the makeup on, little doll."

His voice is still filled with a playful tone as he reaches out to grab your hands.

Your eyes widen as he guides your hand and places it on his dick.

Your expression encourages him to continue.

"You're way too cute." He glances at your small hand, trying to squeeze him.

He slowly pulls your hand up, putting it against his lower lips, nibbling on your index finger, and then placing it back on his dick.

"Rub it and press it gently. It won't come out so easily. You have to work for that," he whispers seductively.

"I don't know how to."

"I can show you." He whispers seductively, his voice filled with a sultry tone.

He moves your hand in his and along his shaft, rubbing himself up and down.

"Yeah, just like that."

He can see how your face turned red, but that does not stop him from continuing to show you how to rub him.

His breaths become longer and deeper as he watches you, and his voice becomes increasingly sensual with each word he speaks.

He can see how excited your innocent behavior is making him, and he is enjoying every second of it.

Your inexperienced movements make him feel in control, and with every movement, you make him feel more and more aroused.

"Where is the cream?"

His breath becomes even more ragged, and his face flushes more as his body begins to twitch with excitement.

"You're so impatient."

He stops and leans to get closer to your face.

"If you want the cream fast, then you have to lap your tongue on it like candy. Does my doll like candies?"

You nod and take his shaft to your mouth, licking the tip.

He can feel your tongue sliding across the tip of his breath.

"It's salty," you say, sliding your tongue across his whole length. His mouth opened wide, and his body begins to shiver.

"You realized that it wasn't just simple cream, didn't you?"

"It's a special cream?" You keep licking him and lapping at his tip.

"Yes, a very special cream." He seems incredibly aroused as his breath becomes even more ragged, and you can feel his body twitch beneath you.

Your innocent and playful reaction is making it extremely hard for him to control himself.

He begins to twitch more intensely beneath you, and his breath continues to become even more strained.

His movements become even more intense, and he starts to arch his back slightly.

"Ahh... Aaaah!" At this point, his voice begins to become more agitated as he struggles to remain in control.

He looks up at your innocent eyes, eyeing his face while you play your tongue on him, and he is almost on the verge of losing his cool and just taking you right here and now.

"Ahh, my little doll..." He seems desperate for you to continue on.

"Pls, daddy, I am so eager for your cream."

"I know."

He places his hands on your head, and his grip becomes tighter on your head as he looks at you.

Your innocent behavior continues to take him further away, and he suddenly pushes you down on him, thrusting his dick into your throat and making you choke.

"Mghn?"

He pulls you closer to him as his body continues to shiver. He seems to be struggling to remain in control, and he seems to be unable to control himself anymore. He's beginning to breathe very hard as he grips your head even tighter.

Your teary eyes start to cause his mind to break, and his grip becomes even tighter, as if he wants to crush you against him. He can't even speak anymore; it's just incoherent mutters as his body trembles.

Your jaw starts aching, and you accidentally press your teeth against his shaft.

He lets out a loud groan as he feels your teeth on him. He grips your head even harder as he starts to whisper again.

"You're a bad little doll." He mutters as his voice cracks, and his breaths become even more strained as he pushes your head down on his length one more time.

Tears roll down your cheek as angry eyes spray upon him.

"My doll is angry with her dad now?"

He starts thrusting into your throat again. Drools slide down your mouth.

"Ah." His voice takes on a more seductive tone, and his smile grows more mischievous.

"Is my doll angry that I'm not giving her what she wants quick enough?"

You make a whimpering hum.

He bites his lip as his body continues to tremble. He takes his thumb and gently wipes the tear from your cheek.

"I see, I see, my dear." He runs his fingers gently through your hair as he caresses your cheek. "You're so desperate already, aren't you?"

He slows down his thrusts in order to tease you.

You squeeze his dick again with your teeth.

The little nibble causes him to let out a louder grunt than you'd expect considering how delicate your bites are.

"You're such a bad doll... And now you're even angry with me."

He runs his hands through your hair as he takes his dick out of your mouth and stares deep into your eyes.

"Do you want me to punish bad dolls?"

You wipe your mouth and give him an evil smirk.

"What's that, hmm? My doll is so curious as to what kind of punishment I will use."

He caresses your lips with his fingertips while he speaks.

"You are not being a good doll, and I'm going to punish you for it."

His voice is becoming increasingly playful, but at the same time, his touches still seem to make your skin tingle and shiver.

He takes off his white shirt and lays on the bed. He pulls you towards him.

"D-dad-"

"My doll, sit on my face."

As you are going to protest, he pulls you close again and yanks your panties off. His spreads your legs apart, his fingers parting your wet labia. He flips you so that you are now on top of him as his breath hits directly on your cunt, making you squirm in sudden sensation.

"Let's see how you respond to this."

With every word, he intentionally blows over your pussy , making you mewl and wrap your thighs around his face.

He feels you squirm once again, so he pulls his shirt, which was lying on the bed, and ties it to your hand, placing your hands above his hair.

He gives your clit a gentle lick, you arch in response.

As he feels you arch, he's eyes roll back slightly with excitement and then open up again with a deep and primal urge.

His breathing grows deeper and heavier as his lips brush against you, sucking on your clit then tongue slides against your entrance.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Shhh," he mumbles against your skin, kissing your inner thigh.

"M-my.. I"

He chuckles and presses you down on him; his hand grips you tightly to stop you from squirming.

"Please, I am going to release something. Stop."

Hiromi smirk. His tongue, continuously flicking on your clit.

You feel a strange warmth building inside you.

You grip his hair tighter while riding his face, your hips unconsciously buck against his face. Thighs fasten around his head as you arch back to release.

"Daddy," you say, with his tongue still on your clit , gently teasing and making you overly sensitive.

"Let it out..."

"G-gah," your whole body vibrates with every breath that hits against your clit. Your heart starts to beat quicker.

You can see him licking his lips, and he pulls away from you.

"Did it feel good?"

"What was that?" you ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Was my doll so nervous that she couldn't even look at her daddy's face?" He says it in a teasing tone.

His lips curl into a playful smile as he wraps his arms around you again, his body pressed against yours as he pulls you close to him.

You're suddenly caught off guard by his actions and before you knew it, he leans his head towards you, and he suddenly presses his lips against yours. His breath is hot and heavy. He pushes you down on the bed, and his hand travels to your oversensitive clit.

"Do you like your own taste?"

He gives you a peck once more, and the feeling of you licking his lips causes him to smirk. He inserts two of his fingers inside you, scissoring and stretching your hole. You moan and struggle against him, and your movements makes him even more aroused.

"You're good, very good... Now, the final part of getting the cream."

"Why is it so hard to get the cream? It must be really special."

"Oh, this cream is very special. It's my secret recipe. You won't be able to get it from anywhere but me." He chuckles softly before pulling his fingers out and whispering to you again, getting on top of you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Just a bit more, my doll. We're almost there."

He pushes himself inside your wetness.

"Aaaah~" you scream out in sudden thrust.

He stares into your pain-inflicted face.

"Does my doll feel hurt?"

He starts moving slowly.

"Yes, d- don't move."

He can feel your eyes begin to tear up and your body shudder as the feeling gets harder and harder to bear. He swirls his tongue on your hardened nipples and squeezes your breasts gently.

He pulls you closer to him and whispers softly in your ear, "I know I'm being too rough with you, but please bear with me just for a little bit more. The feeling will be worth it. Trust me."

"You're such a good little doll that even after all that pain and discomfort, you still trust your dad." He caresses your tear-stained cheek as he begins to speed up.

Hiromi's voice becomes more and more frantic as the pace increases. You feel a strange warmth growing between your legs as his thrusts start getting sloppier and rougher. His hand travels down your neck, slightly choking you while swirling his tongue with yours.

"Does my doll want more?"

"I want the cream," you moan.

"That's good to know...Don't be impatient; good things will come to those who wait."

He whispers softly into your ear.

Hiromi pulls out of you and looks at you with a smirk. He pushes your legs onto your chest and inserts himself once more, his dick reaching deeper and hits your cervix.

"I-I can't breathe", you grab onto his neck.It becomes unbearable for you to take it anymore.

"Just a bit more, my doll; we're almost there."

Hiromi begins to kiss you passionately as he grips you tightly again.

His tongue starts to move to your earlobe, nibbling the tip.

"Ah, good doll, I see you're taking this really well."

He begins to move faster than before, and your body shudders from the intensity of the sensation.

"Good, good, don't stop taking it in doll."

His breath becomes more rapid as he pulls you even closer against him, and he whispers into your ear.

"You're taking it so well, my doll."

You moan, and your body starts shaking again.

His breath becomes heavier as he speeds up, making the sensation even more powerful and clear.

"You're a good doll, such a good little doll... Keep taking it; keep taking it all in."

His voice becomes more desperate, and his pace increases even more.

Your stomach tightens as you release again with a loud moan. Hiromi slows down his pace, letting you calm your nerves. Your walls clamp around his shaft, squeezing them. His breath becomes heavier, and he gets to the edge too. He thrusts a few more times before spilling inside you, stuffing your pussy with his infertile seed.

"Was it good?"

Hiromi looks into your eyes with a playful grin as he pulls out of you, watching his seed drool down your clamping pussy.

You breathe through your mouth as your heart beat starts getting back to normal.

Hiromi stares at you for a bit; he seems pleased with your response. He pulls you close again and kisses you with a soft smile.

"Good, doll, was it everything you had hoped for?"

"But my cream??"

He stares at you for a bit; your body is shaking from satisfaction, and he smiles. He laughs a bit and speaks up, "Alright."

He pushes two of his fingers into your dripping hole, making you flinch and arch back. He gathers some of his cum, applying it to your cheeks and lips.

You lick your lips and giggle.

"You like it?" Hiromi lays next to you, spooning you.

"Mhm..salty," you say, drowning in sleep.

He looks down at you and sees you begin to slowly drift asleep.

Hiromi can't help but grin as he pulls you close to him and kisses your head.

"My barbie"

[tihgnari]

ꕤ 53. keep things lowkey (ღ)

tw: none / wc: 1.3k

only when ayato reached across the limousine's rear cup holder to interlace his fingers with yours did you realize you've been practicing yet again a bad habit of yours — your nervousness manifesting by how you pick at your nails.

ayato chuckles, glancing at you. "love, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. i'll be there with you at all times, i promise — i just hope you don't get bored over business talk, if you do, well… i'd like to apologize in advance."

"it's just…" you mutter under your breath, looking out the window. "other than this is going to be my first gala, you're this important person, and i'm just nervous i might do something to embarrass you."

he squeezes your hand, urging you to look at him. "are you kidding? you? embarrass me? have you met yourself?"

you laugh, blushing at the eye contact. crazy how he can still erupt such butterflies in your stomach when a year has already passed of being together. you knew what you were getting yourself into, so ayato finally breaking the news to the public weeks ago was something that didn't faze you at all. however, today's the day you see if you'll truly fit into his world.

you bring his hand to your lips.

"just afraid of not fitting in."

the light turns green, and the car makes its final left turn and you immediately see the backs of the paparazzi grouped before a red carpet, in front of the monumental architecture of today's venue, leeum museum of art. you already imagine yourself standing before them, the flash of the cameras burning your retinas as you stand with your arm looped around ayato's.

this is it. this is the life you accepted when ayato finally asked you to become his. while he offered that you need not make appearances if it doesn't suit your comfort, you disagreed and said you were willing to go through the criticizing eyes of the public if it meant you can show up for him loudly and proudly.

but of course… first day jitters are a thing.

ayato pulls up but before he opens the doors, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

"just be yourself, my love. i love you because of who you are and i am every bit confident they will love you just the same. if there's some who thinks otherwise, well…" he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling his sweetest smile. "you memorize their face, what they're wearing, and you tell me. no one disrespects you in my gala."

—

the night was running smoothly thus far, exchanging numerous handshakes with business owners who approached ayato. when some do not, you notice the way ayato's brow would raise before introducing you properly as his lover, only then did their eyes land on you and promptly offer a handshake, muttering a few apologies for not noticing you.

your boyfriend huffs, as you fix his tie in the side, eyeing the last man who initially didn't bother to greet you. "where are the manners of some of these people? they should know how to address a lady when they see one."

"my love, please… let it go, it's okay he still greeted me anyway!"

"only because i introduced you," he shakes his hand. "you are not some eye candy dangling off my arm! they can't ignore you. you deserve to be addressed just as properly as they address me."

you click your tongue playfully, cupping his face and softly urging him to look at you. his hardened gaze softens when he meets your eyes. for a moment, you don't say anything, and you visibly see the tension ease off his shoulders. he turns his head to nose at the palm of your hand, offering a light kiss.

"okay, i'm calm."

"thank you."

the dj increases the volume of the music just as she changed it from light house music to a more romantic one, perfect for a dance. the lights dimmed, people standing to the side as a circle forms, men and women alike already asking their wives or lovers to dance.

ayato steps back with a flare before bowing to you, offering his hand. "my lady, would you be so kind as to allow this lowly gentleman to grace the dance floor with you?"

you laugh, before casually starting to play along. "but of course, i shall dance with thee!"

he pulls you along, his hand tucked in the small of your back as you slow dance and suddenly it's just the two of you in an empty museum. "so…" he trails, a hint of a contented smile on his. "how was your first gala, my love?"

"well… i guess it was everything that i expected?" you laugh. "the crowd, the business talk, champagne… now i'm feeling kinda stupid i was nervous to begin with, everyone has been nothing but lovely."

ayato pulls you closer, burying his nose in your hair. "well, i am a good judge of character — minus the few who initially ignored you when they spoke to me," you pulled away, narrowing your eyes at him as he laughed and shook his head, moving on quickly. "okaaaay, i was just kidding… maybe. but i'm glad everything went smoothly, my love."

a moment of silence dawns on you both as you find a comfortable nook on his neck, him resting his cheek against your hair as he secures his hold around your waist, feeling so comfortable and at peace in each other's arms as you both sway to the music.

"can't believe we've come this far," he mutters. "who would've thought the girl drinking gin at kappa sig is the one for me."

"wait a minute," you pull away, looking at him with eyes wide in shock. "you knew it was me?"

"of course, i'm not the type to forget things when i get drunk," he laughs, amused by the face you're making. "i was a little hurt when you pretended not to recognize me at my apartment, but i gave it some thought and realized how the hell we would've explained to ayaka how we met? so i just went with it."

you shrug, burying your face in his neck in shame. "this is embarrassing, i thought you didn't know it was me — ugh, what the hell — i'm sorry i said all those stuff before pressuring you to kiss me —"

you feel the vibrations in his shoulders. "love, what? you didn't kiss me."

your shame hits the pause button and you look up at him questioningly. "what? we didn't kiss?"

"no, of course not! you were drunk, you wouldn't be in the right state of mind to give your consent… even though you told me i didn't look like i was 'kamisato material' and assuming that i was a bad kisser…"

"don't even —!"

he laughs, loud enough that a few couples dancing turned their heads and you hit his shoulder. when his laugh mellows and he looks at you, he mutters. "you know, i wouldn't change a thing in our storyline. sure, we hit rock bottom a few times, but it's our story."

you don't know why when you look him in the eyes, it feels like seeing him for the first time — free of any restraints from third parties asking you both not to be together.

you crack a small smile. "i'm not proud of the things i did to you but i am beyond thankful that even then, even after everything — we're here, together. makes me think 'maybe we were meant to be' you know?"

"i think so, too." ayato mirrors your smile. "i'm glad you don't have to keep your feelings all… lowkey, anymore. i see how loudly you love me, and it's all i ever wanted."

you laugh, sneaking a kiss on his lips.

"never wanted to keep things lowkey, anyway."

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

note — aaaand thats a wrap! if you made it this far, ur an awesome hooman being hehe thank you so much for reading! <3

[mulansaucey]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts.

Azriel x Reader

Prompt: Rita has a new supply of Moonshine and gives a jar to the IC. This creates a blacked out drunk Azriel.

Warnings: alcohol use, flirting, suggestive, mentions of sex, drunken behavior. Let me know if I left anything out.

Note: Literally sitting in bed when I had this idea. This is just for fun and I hope you enjoy!

Music playing in the halls of Rita’s surrounds the Inner Circle as well as laughter. Shot glasses banging against their table, squeals of joy from seeing the glasses of those pretty cocktails that Feyre and Mor like so much, and the beautiful smile that graces my mates face. Tonight is for fun and bonding.

Azriel has been on a month long mission just returning to me a few days ago where we cooped up in our cozy home, enjoying the song of our mating bond before returning to society. When he’s gone, there’s a hole in my chest. Color, music, art becomes void. Life is not as exciting without him by my side. Even after decades of being married and mated the bond is still alive and thriving as if it was still the night he took a bite out of that meal I made him to accept him as my mate.

I’m an accomplished fae. I’ve strategized wars, wrote countless books on the plant life of Prythian that has helped healers cultivate new medicines, and have helped the Inner Circle for almost two centuries now. When he’s away, I keep myself occupied and have my job to thank for that but that aching feeling doesn’t go away.

That’s the strength of a mating bond, it brings males to their knees. It brought Azriel to his. Our souls submitting to one another and refusing to settle for anything less than each other.

“What’s so interesting, love?” Azriel teases as I can’t my eyes off him. Those hazel eyes trail over me, even in the haze of faelights it feels like he can see every inch of me. He bites his lip as if he’s recalling just a few hours ago when he was biting the meat of my thighs. I know I am. Heat rises in my cheeks as he laughs and leans down to the leg of my chair and pulls me closer to him. The bond between thrums with satisfaction that our beings are even closer now. His hand finds the back of my neck and he caresses.

“You, my heart. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” I tease him back.

The shots making my mind looser and my flirty tendencies arise. I’m a horny drunk when it comes to this male. Who wouldn’t?

Azriel raises his brows and smirks. He leans down to press a sweet kiss then pulls back.

“You are lovely in this dress. I can’t wait to rip it off you tonight.” He says as he presses sweet kisses along my cheek and jaw.

“Azriel you better not! It’s embarrassing having to keep going to the tailor because you have no self control.”

“Self control? We’ll see how much self control I have later, you’ll begging for me I promise you that.” He laughs.

Suddenly a heavy presence can be felt behind us. I don’t even have to turn to know it’s Cassian.

He slaps the back of Azriel’s chair and loudly yells, “Stop the heavy petting and come to the bar, Rita just got a new drink called ‘Moonshine’ it’s apparently a lot stronger than any wine or whiskey.”

Cassian doesn’t wait for an answer and picks me up while yelling over his shoulder, “If you want her, Az you gotta come get her!” We leave a trail of giggles as my grumpy mate follows.

Azriel trusts his brother and knows Cassian just missed him and wants to have fun. It’s why he doesn’t cut off his hands for touching my body.

Cassian drops me on a bar stool and leans over to drop a sloppy kiss to Nesta’s cheek as she bats him. From the corner of my eye though I can see her pulling him back to her to give him a proper kiss. I’m happy for my friends as they had a very tumultuous start to their mate ship. As I’m trying not to be nosy in my friends business Azriel comes to stand behind me, strategically blocking me from any other males or females view. Azriel is selfish when it comes to me. I can’t blame him, he’s waited centuries for me. And I him.

Rita walks up to us with a jar of clear liquid. It looks innocent, like water, but knowing her that liquid will make you regret ever being born. But that’s the appeal to Rita. She knows how to have fun and has quality supply.

“Alright ladies and gentlebats this is Moonshine. It’s technically whiskey but its process makes the alcohol stronger and you drunker quicker. I will give you a shot, on the house, if you like it I’ll sell a jar to you. This stuff is no joke and illegal in some courts. More recently our High Lord and Lady gave me the okay to produce it.” Rita winks to Feyre and Rhys.

We all look over them and Rhys shrugs, “Feyre wanted to try it, I couldn’t say no.”

We all laugh at the lack of ability our friend has to say no to his wife. I see Feyre eye the glass with excitement.

“Feyre you do the honors of first shot!” I yell out as she takes the glass and downs it in one gulp.

She freezes and we wait on bated breath. Her eye twitches and she gives a full body shiver. We break in laughter at her funny reaction as she immediately takes her fruity cocktail from Rhys, who was mid sip, and takes a few gulps.

Feyre’s face twist in disgust as she tells us, “That’ll definitely get you fucked up, I feel like I’ve grown chest hair.”

Laughter fills our area again. Rhys presses a kiss against Feyre’s head as he reaches for his own shot glass. Each of us besides Amren and Varian, who are currently in Summer, reach for our own. I clank my shot glass against Azriel’s and down my shot. I immediately regret this decision as pure alcohol burns my throat. It’s worse than the tonics Madja gives us. At least we get some what rewarded for that. I put my glass down and look over at my mate. His free hand softly rubbing my upper back, he downs the shot and smack his lips.

“It’s definitely strong but I don’t mind it.” Azriel says to the group.

I pout at him and say, “Of course it doesn’t bother you, Shadowsinger.” He rolls his eyes and moves his hand from the back of my neck to the front. Slowly moving my head back so far I have no choice but to look at him and only him.

“It’s Shadowsinger now is it?” He smirks down at me. Before I can reply peanuts that Rita supplies generously across her bar are being pelted at us. Azriel loosens his hold on me as we both turn to our family.

“You two are like bunnies, I feel like I need to spray you two with a bottle of water.” Nesta says.

I gasp and laugh out, “Like you have any room to talk! The House of Wind is contaminated with you and Cassian’s fluids.” All I get is more peanuts being thrown at me. The two of us dissolve into giggles as I throw them back at her. Cassian and Azriel having to take it away.

Cassian then turns his attention to Rita watching us in amusement.

“We’ll take a jar please, you always know how to make me feel good.” He winks at her. Rita rolls her eyes and passes him the jar.

“I’m charging you extra for that little stunt.” She says back to him.

“Oh c’mon that was a compliment! You’ve got the best stuff in the city.” He argues as Nesta shushes him. Nesta opted out of drinking, instead preferring to smoke mirthroot.

We all go back to our designated booth empty shit glasses in tow. We decide to play truth or drink. Azriel being the secretive person he is rather take the shot then tell the truth. I have a feeling he just wants to indulge the rare drink. I don’t blame him, he works hard for his court and he’s allowed to drop his inhibitions. Ever since we’ve gotten together I’ve taught him about self care and allowing one self to enjoy the moment. The centuries of training and spy work are still instilled in him, something even I can’t take away. But with the love of his mate and family he’s allowed himself to be happy.

I didn’t like the moonshine so I stuck to my cocktails then water, as I had a feeling someone needed to be more sober than the others. Azriel takes his eighth shot when he freezes. I still, looking around to see if anything was amiss. When I look back at him I see him smiling.

“You are a rare jewel.” He says so casually. Looking at me like I’m the only person in the world. He reaches over to brush my hair out of my eyes when instead he pokes me. This clumsy move tells me, he’s drunk. He giggles as I jump back slightly from a literal finger poking my eye.

“I’m so sorry love. Wow your skin is so soft.” Azriel starts touching my face in fascination. He then pulls me into his strong embrace. The awkward is angle but he just sighs constantly. Happy to be holding me. He starts petting my hair as if I’m a cute kitten.

The confused yet amused looks across the table have me pulling back from my mates embrace when he loudly says, “Noooooo, don’t leave me. I was so comfortable.”

I can hear and see Rhys and Cass laughing and clutching each other. Azriel RARELY gets drunk. I feel bad, maybe I should’ve limited how much he could drink since it’s not his usual stuff. Azriel has a fairly high tolerance for his usual whiskey or beer. Eight shots of his regular choice of drink would be nothing but him drinking moonshine has him reacting differently. I feel a little guilty but Azriel has carried me home and taken care of me plenty of times. Tonight I promise myself to return the favor.

“I know my heart, but I need a glass of water and so do you. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I caress his face and he looks at me with so much love I almost don’t want to go even if it’s a few minutes.

“Okay, hurry back. Take a shadow.” He says with a pout. A shadow always sticks with me regardless of his command or not. I shove my love down our bond for his thoughtfulness. Azriel gives me a goofy grin and pushes his love down to me.

“I need a drink, c’mon. Lover boy will be just fine.” Feyre says as she drags me away from my mate.

His eyes trailing after me until Cass and Rhys grab his shoulders to get his attention. Knowing my mate is in safe hands has me turning to Feyre. We talk a little about her art studio and Nyx. She confesses to having a bit of Mom guilt when she goes out. The alcohol making her a bit weepy from missing her son. I distract her by dragging her to the dance floor, after checking to make sure Azriel was still with the boys and has a glass of water.

After a few songs Mor and Nesta join us. I still keep an eye on my mate, making sure he’s okay and having fun. The next time I turn my eyes to him he’s gone. Panic fills my chest as I look around the bar for him. When I look up to the second floor I see him and his brother attempting to climb the rail. At that moment I decide it’s time to go home. I grab the girls and haul their asses the second floor before any of our mates cracks their skull open. The boys had way more moonshine than we did.

We successfully get them away from the railing, I grab Azriel’s face and he gently shoves me off of him. I frown at him, water lining my eyes at his rejection towards me. I go to ask him what’s wrong but before I do he tells me, “I am a mated male! You can not touch me.”

He sways a little grabbing onto Rhys for support. Rhys is already getting yelled at by his High Lady but she stops to turn to Azriel in amusement.

“What did he just say?” Feyre says to me. I stay silent for a moment realizing the situation. I slightly smile at my mates loyalty even though it is me who is touching him. I tell Feyre to grab Rhys and I can handle Azriel.

“Azriel, my heart. It’s me, I’m your mate.” I tell him gently helping him find his balance.

“I don’t want to go home with you. I want my mate. She will take care of me. I don’t need you.” As he’s still struggling to walk. I ignore him and help him down the stairs all the while he’s protesting insisting he has a wife and mate waiting for him at home. I roll my eyes fondly. Knowing it’s going to a rough walk home. He insists that I only touch his arm.

“I am a gentleman and my wife would be mad I let you walk home alone but I am not sharing a bed with you. She is only one I share my bed with. I love her.” He says to me, total seriousness.

I take a look at him noting his shirt is wrinkled from Cassian constantly grabbing onto him, his hair is wild, and his walk is staggered. I make a mental note to never let him drink Moonshine again. He trips slightly making me grab onto his back and front. He looks at me weirdly and takes my hands off his body.

“I don’t know youuuu. My body is reserved for my wife, I am fine with walking on my own.” His words are sloppy and he trips again. Laughing at him I ignore his protests and guide him to our shared home. The walk is a struggle as he keeps tripping yet insisting I keep my hands off him. I shove my love down the bond hoping he’ll recognize me that way. I feel more assured that even if I wasn’t with him and he was drunk he’d always come home to me. I hear him sigh with content and he lazily slaps his chest.

“This here, in my heart, she’s calling to me. I need to go home to her. I can feel her. I want to go home.” He pouts.

“Okay big guy, I’m gonna get you home to her. I’m sure she misses you.” I say, playing along. If I play along I’m hoping it’ll make him more amiable.

“She does! I can feel her even when I’m miles and miles away. I miss her too. Sometimes when I’m in the same room as her, I miss her. I just want her all to my self.” He confesses, I notice he’s started to slowly relax letting me guide him home. The thought of seeing me being his motivator. My heart is fluttering seeing him like this. Azriel is usually so smooth and calculated. His words to me sound like poetry, like a crafted song made just for me to hear. Now he’s confessing his love to, how he perceives, a stranger. Apart of me knows that he must know it’s me. Even if it’s deep down. But I can’t help but feel so special to him.

I finally spot our home, the sight of our porch makes me let an out a sound of relief.

Azriel looks to what I see and goes, “How do you know where I live? I don’t remember telling you. I wouldn’t have told you! I told you that I don’t want to go home with you.” He pushes himself away from me stumbling to our small gate. He struggled to unlock and me being exhausted from helping a 6’5 Illryian male slap his hands away and move to open it. He rubs his hand where I slapped and looks at me with a pout.

“Oh you’re okay! Stop being a baby and come inside please.” I tell him, laughing lightly at him. He moves to walk past me but turns before I can even take a step on the porch.

“This is as far as you can go. My wife will not be disrespected by having another female in our home.” He says with a serious face. The message isn’t as threatening since he’s still swaying and eyes glossed over. I smile at him and make a move to walk around him but he pushes his arms out, clumsily I might add, and repeats what he just said. I hold my arms up in surrender to this ridiculous statement.

“Azriel, my heart. I am your wife, you are mated to me. And I want to be in our bed and snuggle. Don’t you?” I ask giving him my best puppy dog eye. I don’t even know if it’ll work if the liquor made him forget who I was entirely. He goes to reply when he bends over to his side and pukes. I rush to his side and rub his back. He stand up again and leans against a pillar on our porch. His face smushed against it I can faintly hear.

“I want my mate…I’m not going home with you.” I roll eyes, trying not to get upset with him because it isn’t his fault and I know I’m not a doll to be around when I’m drunk. I walk towards our door, it unlocks automatically due to the ward Azriel insisted on placing. I try to gently push him inside. His wings knocking over a vase I was gifted from a past High Lord of Summer, I grimace as the antique lays broken on the floor. He looks around for what made the loud sound and he gasps loudly as if I was the one broken on the floor.

“My wife is going to kill me! Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh my gods I need to go to summer now! I need to go before she notices it’s broken.” He says making a move for the door. I immediately put a stop to that and drag him to our bedroom. I think he’s exhausted himself and flops down on the bed. Not making any moves. I start unlacing his boot and once I’ve got them off I go for his pants.

He slaps my hands away and goes, “I can undress myself. You have no right to touch me there! Go home before my wife finds you, she’ll kill you. My mate is verrrry possessive of me. She won’t like youuuu.” He sings at me.

He starts giggling and taking off his pants and shirt while moving to grab my pillow and holds onto it like it’s the answer of all his prayers.

“I miss her so much. I’m in bed but she isn’t here. It smells like her, I never want to smell anything again. Only her.” I make a face at him, I didn’t see how that makes sense but he’s drunk so I don’t question it. I make sure he has a glass of water and is tucked into bed before I make my move to join him. As soon as I start to move the cover he jolts back up, still clutching my pillow.

“Thank you for taking me home but I insist you take the couch. I will never share a bed with another female. I will not have our marriage bed tainted by a stranger.” He says eyeing me like I’m the King of Hybern resurrected.

“Enough, sweetheart. Tonight has been really funny and sweet but I want to sleep. Don’t you want to cuddle?” I say, I glance at the clock noting the late hour. He doesn’t make a move and stays silent. Giving me the answer I needed.

“As I stated you can take the couch as thank you but you have to leave before my WIFE comes home.” Azriel states, emphasizing the wife part as if I’m the drunken one.

“Okay I give up, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight my love.” I say stealing a quick kiss from him that leaves him stuttering and blushing.

“Y-you just kissed me! That’s so rude, that’s-“ I close the door cutting off his rant. I go down the hall for our closet where we keep the extra blankets and pillows. I settle in our large and comfy couch that Azriel insisted on getting when we moved in. I’m now thankful he insisted. I start laughing recalling the night. Tonight was stressful but has shown me how loved I am. I have a male who’s loyal and kind. Even when he thought I was a stranger he wanted to walk me home so I wasn’t alone. I’m thankful to call him mine. I’m thankful to be his. I drift off to sleep with a soft smile, excited to tease him to no end in the morning for this stunt he pulled tonight.

——

Sunlight enters my home, the warmth of it caressing my cheek. I nuzzle closer to the warmth when I realize it’s Azriel’s hand. He’s sitting on the floor, his hair is a mess and he’s laying his head down close to mine. His eyes look groggy and I can tell he didn’t have a good sleep.

“Where were you last night? I couldn’t sleep without you.” He whispers gently, as if the sound of his own voice made his head ache.

I start laughing loudly, Azriel flinching back and rubbing his head. I start laughing so hard I start crying. My mate looks at me unamused.

“I’m sorry my love. But you literally kicked me out of our bed and made me sleep here. You insisted.” I tell him, laughter seeping through my words.

His mouth drops down in shock. He’s still rubbing his head and I feel bad so I start massaging his scalp the way I know he likes. I gets himself up off the floor and into my awaiting arms. Azriel secretly loves being the small spoon so I baby him and rub down his back and up into his scalp. The mating bond compelling me to make sure he’s okay and loved.

I start recalling the night for him. Apparently after that eighth shot he completely blacked out. He doesn’t remember a single thing from last night past that point. He grumbles and hides his face in my neck. His words coming out muffled.

“I’m so sorry. I hate not being in control like that. I’m sorry for treating you like that.” He says while pressing kisses on my neck and he squeezes me even tighter.

“It’s okay, you’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I’m drunk. I’m glad you were having fun and it was really sweet of you to defend my honor and our bond even if it was me. I love you so much for it.” I tell him making sure his eyes were on me. I cradled his face, caressing the scars and stubble that reside there. He leans down to give me soft kiss once, twice, three times before he nuzzles his nose against mine.

Azriel may be hard to read, stoic, and cold to everyone else but here, in the privacy and intimacy of our home he’s lovable and soft. A privilege to be able to see this of side. The decades of trust and memories helping him become a more loving person.

“How are you feeling though?” I ask him, he groans and lays his head down.

“I feel like absolute death. Actually death would be more merciful than what I’m feeling now.” My mate, the dramatic. I go to move to make him some tea and a light meal for his tummy but he just holds me tighter.

“Just stay for a little longer, I finally feel better now that I’m with you.”

Who am I to resist and say no? So I settle in and relishbeing with my mate and husband. Enjoying a quiet morning after such a loud night.

[ribbonskiss]

ANOTHER ROUND -> CS55

Part 2 of 3. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: A spontaneous night out alone lands you in a new bar in town, owned by a man whose story seems to intersect with yours—not that you know it, yet.

Tags: strangers to lovers, meet cute, very angsty in this part!, slow burn, multi-part fic

A/N: thank you to the anon who suggested some angst for this story, you will be very happy to know that I’ve ended up incorporating your idea into it ☺️ andddd as it turns out this will be a three-parter at the very least! I probably won’t be able to update it as fast as I have been so I hope you do enjoy this part haha

Things get easier and more comfortable after that night, but not as comfortable as you’d like. You eventually meet Alex, Charles’ girlfriend, when she shows up at the bar one night after a particularly gruelling day working. As it turns out, she’s an art gallerist, one with a busy workweek as she’s built up an impressive portfolio of artists that entrust her with their works and careers, and you get along surprisingly well. She promises to come by more often now that she knows you’re a regular, prompting Charles to pout and moan that she no longer loves him. And that’s that; you feel like you’ve solved the puzzle of Charles Leclerc. He’s a charming man in a steady relationship with a strong woman, and even if you don’t know the details of his life, you feel like you understand who he is.

But there’s something about Carlos. Carlos is warm, sweet and kind. You speak for hours easily, he attends to you as much as possible even when the bar is ridiculously busy, and you stay until it’s time to close much more often. He’s an open book. He speaks to you freely but you can’t help but feel like there’s so much you don’t know yet, so much you’ve yet to discover. Maybe he needs time; in that case, you’re more than willing to wait. It feels like it’s worth it.

It’s not so bad, either, if this is the waiting period. The car rides become more frequent. Carlos drives you home now like it’s just a fact of life that he has to, and you greatly appreciate that. You quickly discover, however, that by the end of the night he is often too tired to make steady conversation. You exchange a few words in the beginning, thanking each other for one another’s company; you exchange a few strange sentences, ones that blur the lines between customer and bartender or even acquaintance and acquaintance. One night he tells you the colour of your dress makes your eyes look like gemstones set in rings of silver; another night you tell him you’ve noticed he makes a face when an obstacle presents itself to him: his eyebrows furrow slightly, jaw drops loose and tilts to one side, the tip of his tongue poking slightly, gently at the corner of his mouth.

Then the words dry up. The silence is goosebump inducing at first; you are terrified that it could be an indicator of his true feelings for you, ones of disinterest and apathy. That these interactions, the conversations and car rides, are conditional and transactional. But the silence prevails, and what a relief it turns out to be—when the words subside, what is left is a common language of action. Carlos never ceases being attentive to you. He rolls the window down when he notices you pulling a face, letting the fresh air in to soothe you. He turns the music on, skips to a track that seems to make your eyes light up. And then, your favourite part of these car rides: when he stops at a red light, you begin a game of stolen glances, the objective of it being to not get caught by the other despite both of you being plainly aware of what is really happening. Cheeks warm, lips curl up into sly smiles concealed by the darkness of the night. And how wonderful it is, when the rare word is finally spoken before you leave his car.

“You may not understand,” he says. “But I’m most grateful for this—this time of the night we have, together.”

Surely he understands, then, why this would hurt you so much. There was no way to anticipate this. It had never dawned on you until now that Carlos had made no mention of his love life to you—and of course, you feel like a fool.

He’s made you look like a right fool.

You don’t even make it inside. You stand outside, hovering over the glass of the shop window as you watch the woman cross her legs and lean over the counter, looking at Carlos with a twinkle in her eye in your seat. He treats her with the same kind of attentiveness he does with you, and watching it in action now as he smiles at her fondly reveals to you a certain mechanical quality. Was it always this rehearsed with you? You can’t really think straight, ankles wobbly as the night breeze blows and Carlos pours her another glass of wine.

You feel a cold, awful shiver run down your spine and fill your stomach with a terrible feeling of sickness. But then Alex emerges from the bathroom a second later and spots you outside, looking rather distraught. She walks past the bar, gives Charles a look of concern as she recognises the situation at hand, the woman monopolising Carlos’ time and attention, before bolting out the door to you. She doesn’t know what to say. She just yanks your handbag out of your hand, puts it on the ground and pulls you into a hug.

Charles comes running out the door soon after, halting to a stop as he sees Alex has already come to comfort you. You’re not crying, it’s not that serious, and being this upset even is such an incredible overreaction, you think to yourself. He sighs, turning back and forth between the two tableaux that have transpired in and out of the bar.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he starts.

Alex pulls her head off of your shoulder. “Yeah,” she nods. “It’s… It’s complicated.”

Your stomach twists as you realise they’ve only come to bat for him. You pull away from her, coldly breaking the embrace. Alex frowns, looking at you with soft eyes. “I should be leaving now,” you say.

She reaches out, tugs on your hand. “No. It’s really, really not what it looks like. It’s—Charles?”

Her boyfriend comes bolting towards where the two of you are, offering you an apologetic look as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Charles lets out a huff that draws out for longer than you expect. “None of us like it,” he says. “It’s… It’s only Carlos’ story to tell. Neither of us know everything.”

“He’s sort of always been hesitant to talk about that,” Alex nods. “About his relationships. But it at least seems like it was only her, for a very long time.”

Charles sighs again.

“It was bad,” he continues. “Very, very bad for him. She is… not good for him. She left when he was thinking about quitting. She would wait for him outside our work and they’d just start going at it, arguing the moment he got off work. And he did quit, and she left for a while, but now…”

“It’s not love,” Alex shakes her head. “So don’t break away, if you can be so gracious. I know it’s selfish to ask, but with Matador and you and everything that’s been going on in his life now…”

Charles comes even closer, puts a hand on where Alex’s is holding onto yours. “He’s become vibrant,” he says, smiling bitterly. “I can’t tell you what he’s thinking, but Carlos has changed.”

You’ve been holding in your breath for god knows how long. You let out a belated, deep breath, and it feels painful in the cold air to breathe this deeply. You look at them with eyes that don’t signal anything good, and before any words can even leave your parted lips explaining how conflicted and awful you feel right now, Alex nods. The couple look at each other, before turning back to you with a look of complete understanding.

“It was a big ask,” Charles says. “I get it. But thank you, anyway, and I hope we’ll see you again.”

He mutters something to Alex, holds her hand fondly and kisses her on the cheek before giving you a final nod and retreating into the bar. But his girlfriend stays, holding your hand still as her thumb rubs circles into the back of it.

“I can’t say anything definitive,” she murmurs, still smoothing her thumb over your skin. “I can’t say I have heard any evidence of this. But words can fail us, anyway, and I have seen better evidence. I have seen it, and I know what I saw. Whatever it is you have… it is true. But it’s your choice, babe. Your choice.”

In the corner of your eye, Carlos has long abandoned his station, watching the situation outside of his own bar unravel in front of his eyes. And it makes him feel sick, having to watch you fall apart. Now it becomes crystal clear to him, and Charles, who is watching from afar, what is happening. Well, it’s too little, too late.

You can’t help but feel like this is some sort of divine punishment for having been led astray. You had forgotten what it feels like; you weren’t even aware it was happening. The realisation only happens way after it creeps up on you, the realisation that you’ve been behaving inexplicably irrationally. In the end, it has resulted in very little. So what if he drives you home? So what if he looks at you a certain way? It means nothing—or it meant nothing to him. How shamefully you’ve behaved. You can barely deal with the weight of it.

You stumble out of bed the morning after when daylight streams through your curtains. As much as it pains you to admit it, the night before has certainly dampened your spirits for this weekend. Saturday is joyless, spent mostly lying down on your couch in silence. The worst thing you could have done for yourself is overthink it, and that is exactly what you do, overthink every interaction you have ever had with him, and the worst part is you don’t even come to a satisfying conclusion. It would be so gratifying in a way to end with the sentiment that none of it was ever real, to allow yourself to feel that tragedy and sweep it away by Monday, but you are far too aware that the truth may not be so catastrophic. And that’s much worse; that things may be complicated, too complex for you to understand now, and all you can do is wade in the water and wait. Wait for a conclusion that may never come.

It consumes you in ways you did not realise. It is bizarrely feverish and ails you in more ways than one. You clutch at your stomach, nauseated by the scenes that replay in your head on loop, scenes of her and him together, her in your seat, how he looked at her and she looked at him, how she leaned closer and over the counter. Your head is pounding, chest tightening as your heart becomes heavy.

It won’t be permanent. Heartache is not chronic. You choose to believe it will come and go like a cold, or the flu if it chooses to persist for longer, that eventually you will survive it and return to your old ways. You have a steady job, a comfortable home, you’ve even gotten good friends out of this whole thing. Losing Carlos is not a net negative. The way it is now, it can only end so many ways. You can sit and let it simmer, or you could take it into your own hands and cast it out of your life before it can hurt you more. You can forget about it. Soon he will mean nothing to you, and these visions of them together will subside and disappear. And then life will be normal again.

You can’t say you won’t miss the whirlwind of emotions all of this has come with. It has been a while since you’ve felt so much, so deeply, and you’ve forgotten how much it overwhelms all your senses. You haven’t been dating for around three years at this point, after your last relationship… Well, it wasn’t so much that it crashed and burned; it fizzled out slowly, an emotional deadlock that culminated in him cheating on you. You didn’t cry then, and you’re certainly not starting now, when you’re reaching for your phone to delete Carlos’ number from your contacts.

Before you can, though, a notification pings. Alex wants to get coffee with you. ‘An apology for the trainwreck that was yesterday.’ Today is too soon. ‘I was going to say we should do it tomorrow, anyway.’ Okay, then it’s locked in. You’re having coffee with her tomorrow.

“I swear, on my mother’s life,” she says, hand on her heart while the other clutches her coffee cup. “I had no idea she was there.”

You’re sitting in a little café with Alex, where the oven stays on in the kitchen as they continue to warm their croissants and pastries for the day, the heat radiating to fill the entire space. It’s very cosy, and it smells lovely, like sugar and vanilla. “She came while I was in the bathroom,” Alex continues. “Didn’t even have time to wipe my hands on the paper towels, fuck me.”

You’ve always loved how blunt she is, and it does make you chuckle, a welcome sound that seems to lighten her up too. “I just want you to know that I’m on your side,” she says. “I’ve known Carlos for a long time, sure, but over the weeks we’ve become…”

“I know,” you nod. “I get it. You’re my friend. And I don’t really wanna let go of this just because I’m letting go of the other things.”

“Yeah,” she nods back at you, smiling now. “Exactly. And hey, you don’t have to see Charles ever again, honestly, I can keep him out of our business completely—��

“It’s fine,” you snicker softly, taking a sip of your coffee. “He’s an innocent bystander. He’s safe.”

“Oof, okay, thank god,” she sighs in relief. “Sorry, he’s quite clingy and I know I did offer but I really wouldn’t have known how to get rid of him.”

For an hour more you stay, eventually ordering yourself a Danish as you chat with her about other things, about work, life, the shoes you’ve had in your online shopping cart for way too long (“absolutely fucking not, their sales are total bullshit!”). It feels good to move on, to know you’ve got a safety net when things take a turn. You really are grateful for her, and you’re so glad she took the initiative to reach out and comfort you. Life, as it turns out, will be okay, and you will move on.

But maybe not just yet.

“I’ve been trying to negotiate a price between the two of them but they’re just so stubb—”

Alex halts to a stop mid-sentence. Her eyes drift above your head and out the window, widening before furrowing in confusion. “Sorry,” she says, getting up from her seat hastily. “Just, one minute.”

She bolts out the door, coat flowing in the wind as she runs over to someone, speaks to them in what is seemingly an antagonistic, interrogating tone. Your eyes trail her all the way to him, a meek, hesitant man who seems not so certain of himself either, but insists on whatever his objective is to her as they continue to argue with exaggerated motions.

You recognise those eyes under the cap he’s wearing. He’s looking much scruffier now, more worn out and exhausted. It’s Carlos.

This is admittedly not proofread 😅 so sorry for any mistakes! As always, please feel free to leave any thoughts, ideas and suggestions in my askbox. All my love <3

[witchyafterdark]

— Sebastian Sallow Headcanons; pt. 1

[None of the images belong to me! All credits to the owners and editors of these images!]

During 6th year, he tried his best to do good throughout the school year, and distract himself from the remnants of the Dark Arts' hold on him. Instead of giving into the temptation of the call to research more about the forbidden spells, he instead busied himself helping people with their academics.

He helps MC most of all, scheduling a constant time and day for tutorials about all the lessons they might have missed out on, in spite of their Field Guide. (And yes, he also gifted Ominis with Braille-engraved ingredient bottles for Potions class).

He extends this help towards underclass students, mostly Slytherin ones... cause you know, he still has that House Cup competitive streak in him.

Bonus: When he's in the library to study and tutor others, he usually leaves his blazer and robes back at the dorms to be more comfortable and laidback. He also started to wear reading glasses more frequently than before, and uses it to push back his messy waves when he doesn't need it. That's when he started to wonder why there seems to be more students, mostly girls, asking for his tutorial and academic assistance all the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

⭆⭆⭆

In the midst of Victorian standards of propriety and social decorum between men and women, Sebastian is actually quite well-versed in taking care of women in his life. When it was socially acceptable for men to opt out of "womanly discussions," Sebastian knows more than the average man, thanks to having been attuned to his twin all his life.

He was literally there when Anne was hunched over her food, in pain, at the Great Hall during their 2nd year. After almost carrying her all the way to the Hospital Wing, he demanded to know what was going on with her... until Nurse Blainey told him she started to have her monthly bleeding.

Instead of shying away from the topic, he took it upon himself to research in the library all there is about women's health and anatomy. When he didn't find what he was looking for, that's when he started to sneak into the restricted section for more information than what was available!

Best believe he was by Anne's side the next morning with a handful of chocolates, sweets, and a pair of enchanted warm, fuzzy socks to ease her period pains. This boy is not afraid of hush-hush women problems. He might even go down to the kitchens to make Anne her favorite soup to keep her warm, full, and cozy for bed.

(Will be the best girl dad)

⭆⭆⭆

I firmly believe that Sebastian would eventually stumble upon the cure for Anne as an adult.

Right after graduating from Hogwarts, he would most likely become a curse breaker; not only because it suits him, but he has a restless and tumultuous relationship with himself. Being buried in work while being in foreign lands serve as a good distraction for him. Sitting too long by himself doing nothing can make him ruminate about his past, and that's no good.

If Anne is still alive by the time he finds her cure, he would most certainly try his best to rekindle a connection with her, finding wherever she currently resides. He might even beg Ominis to tell him where she is, promising that his findings are backed up by other curse breakers or whatnot (even if that may not exactly be true), just so he'd be told of Anne's whereabouts.

Understandably, Anne would be extremely wary of all of this. But Sebastian can be extremely persuasive, and would have to be completely transparent with her about all of the information he found. He will get his sister back, and that was a promise he made to himself all those years ago. He never abandoned that promise.

But if Anne had already passed away, stumbling upon the cure during his work travels would make Sebastian spiral out of control. He will most likely disappear from the face of the earth, and not even Ominis' underground connections will be able to trace him.

Dark wizard and poacher camps can be reported to have been decimated to the ground overnight over a span of months, seamingly by the work of a vigilante. But in reality, Sebastian has been unleashing his rage and anger on those people who were like the wizard who cursed his sister. No one can stop him from this moment of grieving. He needs some sort of justice for what happened to Anne, and this is the only way he can think of in the midst of his grief.

Simultaneously, though, he has been collecting illicit and illegal information about all the curses, hexes, rituals, and dark magic he can get his hands on. He needs to know about all of them to be prepared for the worst in the future, however his future might be. This mission of his makes him compile and bind some sort of a tome of all the cures and solutions to the Dark Arts.

This kind of pattern continues of over the course of a couple of years, writing a letter to Ominis and MC every now and then to let them know he's still alive. Once he is quite satisfied and have come to terms with his grief, only then would he reemerge into society.

⭆⭆⭆

On a more lighthearted note, being a curse breaker is something he doesn't actually see himself doing for the rest of his life as he grows older. During his youth, he reveled in his findings and discoveries, taking pride in his abilities to be quick on his feet in perilous situations. Like most young men, he will maximize the years of his prime, traveling to distant lands and seeking opportunities elsewhere.

But as he falls into a groove, he might also feel the effects of the job on himself. Places and faces can get old to him once he realizes that he's no longer the young man he used to be. Weariness slowly seep into his bones, and he would love nothing more at this point than to be embraced into a warm home, and taking life slowly.

He realizes that time waits for no man, and perhaps this all stemmed from seeing Ominis recently. His old friend looking more at peace with himself, calm and contented with his own found family.

This could be the final push for Sebastian to finally hang the coat, and quietly retire from being a curse breaker. And this is where Professor Sallow comes into the picture.

Going back to Hogwarts, now as a teacher, gives him the sense of relief and comfort he didn't know he was yearning for. It's as if he has been holding his breath for so long, and now, he can breathe easy again. He feels safe now, with a renewed sense of purpose.

All of his learnings and discoveries during his prime will most definitely take their place in the familiar shelves of the Hogwarts library. He might even feel nostalgic over the fact the he now has actual unlimited access to the Restricted Section, with some of his books sitting right next to the ones he used to get into trouble for.

[aloesarchives]

Father's Day Special(JJK Oneshot)

Tags/Warning: AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Domesticity, Fluff, Unhinged Crack(Especially near the End), Mention of Balls but not Smut(I promise), JJK OC(but not main X Reader)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

Reader Pronouns/Usage: (She/Her), Mama, Mom, Doll, Baby

So I know I'm three days late for Father's Day but I couldn't help but write this out. It's been busy and absolute hell with getting ready for Uni. But by July, things will slow down and I can focus more on getting shit down and stop procrastinating. I hella miss writing, I needa get back into the grove of it.

Also, forgot to mention, this fic was based on a true event. Dramatization was an all time high but loosely based on an interaction I had with my own mom lol

“What do you think Dad wants, Megumi?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. I thought Mom was hard but it’s actually Dad.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he never buys anything new. Even if he does, it’s either meant for the house or us. Dad still wears the same black t-shirt since we were kids. He doesn’t have expensive taste either. No cologne, no wrist watch, no shoes, nothing.”

Tsumiki and Megumi feel more empathetic to Toji than either right now. Father’s Day is tomorrow and the two are out trying to get their dad a gift. But just like Toji, they feel stuck on what to get him. With you, their mother, it’s more subtle and personalized. Tailored to your taste and personality, seems hard at first but gets easier once getting the smaller details. Is it more on the pricier side? Yes, but you are their mother and do so much for them that you deserve anything and everything good to come your way.

But Toji, he’s a different story.

Growing up, the two saw how laidback their dad was. No putting much effort into keeping appearance or staying with the latest trends. They learned early on that Toji only dresses decently, or at least looks presentable, because of you. Outfit coordination was all on you, you always picked out Toji’s outfit or had the final say on what he’s wearing. Obviously over time, he’s learned the art of dressing himself up but he always asks you for the final say.

Anyhow, clothes are out because Megumi and Tsumiki know Toji wears them until they are rags. He still wears the same basketball shorts around the house since they were babies.

They’re teenagers in high school now.

Toji’s old shirts and shorts just get converted to loungewear and home clothes. Some of them have holes but Toji seems to care less about them. Toji also has no expensive taste or an interest in creating one. He believes you pay for the quality but that’s on certain things like a wrench or drill. He never understood the whole throwing your money to look high class. Pointing out that things can stick out like a nail and look out of place. He grew up in a family with money, he knows.

Then Toji literally has everything he needs. That’s what the kids always hear.

“I have (Y/N), my kids, a nice house with space to work, food, and my equipment. The hell I need anything else when it’s all right ‘ere.”

People’s dreams and aspirations are different. Having a family is a common one many have. But Megumi and Tsumiki could clearly see the fond and tender nature their dad somehow exhibits, and it’s only exclusive to the family. They didn’t think much of it until they asked you. Upon explaining Toji's life up until meeting you, Tsumiki and Megumi finally let it sit why their dad acts the way he does.

“Your Papa…didn’t expect to have this type of life—To have a home, a wife and kids. He’d never imagine himself to get this because he didn’t think it'd happen to him, especially how he grew up. But it did and he never took it for granted since. Your Papa has treated me beyond the means of well over the years, it’s only fair I do the same for him. I’m not forcing you two to follow suit. But at the very least, try to understand your Dad and his circumstances. That’s all I ask of you two.”

With that, no wonder they’ve never met anyone from Toji’s side besides Maki and Mai. That and an explanation to your fierce protectiveness towards Toji at the mention of his “family”. So here Megumi and Tsumiki are, along with their litter sister Mayumi, concocting an idea on what to get Toji. They were going to call you but ditched the idea to not inconvenience you as you were busy yourself. Currently in Shibuya walking in one of the shopping districts, they searched high and low for anything that would make a decent Father’s Day gift.

Tsumiki threw up some ideas but Megumi shot them down because it’s not practical for their Dad.

“Megumi, at this point, we can’t get Papa anything! What do you have in mind that Papa will actually use?”

Megumi thought for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve got nothing, Tsumiki. I’m drawing a blank here.”

Tsumiki sighs before looking around again. Meanwhile, Mayumi’s curiosity was becoming impulsive. She wanted to look at anything and everything as long as her pretty little eyes laid on it. Holding onto Megumi’s hand, she tries to keep pace with her older siblings in the busy street. However, after walking for a few minutes, Mayumi came to a stop as she stared at one of the stores. Feeling his arm be pulled back, Megumi looks down to see Mayumi staring off.

“Mayumi, what are you looking at?”

Tsumiki also stopped when she noticed her two younger siblings weren’t behind her. Crouching down, she wanted to see what had caught her baby sister’s attention.

“Is there something you want to look at, Mayumi-chan?”

Mayumi looks at Tsumiki before nodding and pointing to the store that has captured her attention. Megumi and Tsumiki look to see that the store that has captured her attention was Uniqlo. Surprisingly enough, this was a clothing store that mostly made up Megumi AND Toji’s wardrobes. Tugging Megumi along, Mayumi walks into the store with a mission. The two look at each other with curiosity, wondering what their little sister was so dead set on finding. They watched as Mayumi’s eyes scanned the racks and shelves, head darting up, down, left, and right. Megumi makes a decision to let go of her hand to see what she’ll do. Upon feeling her hand’s release, Mayumi speed walks away to the Men’s side. Megumi and Tsumiki made haste to not lose sight of her. Now it’s their turn in trying to keep up with her as she continuously searches for what she’s looking for.

Megumi starts to panic when Mayumi seemingly vanishes before him. He swore he only took his eyes off of her for a split second, and now she’s gone. He was close to going into search party mode when he spotted Mayumi standing before one of the shelving displays. Letting himself breath again, he walks over to where she was before picking her up.

“Mayumi, you can’t run off like that! You know you’ll get lost and separated from Tsumiki and I. You have to make sure you can see us close behind before going on your own.” Megumi lightly chastised her. Though, he never could get mad at her no matter what she did.

Mayumi pouts slightly at Megumi, understanding what she did was dangerous.

“Sorry, Gumi-Nii. Didn’t mean to do it to you and Miki-Nee…But! I found Papa’s Father’s Day gift!” Mayumi excitedly exclaims, pointing to the rack.

Megumi looks to see what she means and by then Tsumiki caught up to the two. Tsumiki also follows to see what the two were staring at. The section she was pointing at was the Men’s section for underwear and socks. Tsumiki chuckles while Megumi becomes both confused and a little embarrassed. Mayumi squirms in Megumi’s arms, signaling him to let her down. Once safely on the ground, Mayumi grabs a packet and holds it up to her siblings.

“Mayumi-chan, why do you think this can be a gift for Papa? You think Papa would need this?” Tsumiki gently asks her, hoping to understand what she meant.

Mayumi nods quickly, continuing to hold up the boxer packet.

“Yes! Because Papa needs new ones!”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other surprised before Tsumiki looked back at Mayumi.

“How do you know, Mayumi-chan?”

“Mama said it when she was folding the clothes after drying them! This was when Papa was out with Uncle Shui! She said why does Papa keep wearing his underwear even though they have holes in them. I saw what she was talking about because Papa does have holes in his underwear! So, why not get Papa new underwear?”

Tsumiki found this amusing and a bit funny at Mayumi’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Megumi had a furious blush painted across his face. He didn’t expect their shopping trip to go this way. Let alone, the deciding gift was the most plain and not so well-thought out of. Though Megumi felt his embarrassment burn his entire being, he’s not complaining about the gift choice. He knew it was a practical gift for their dad, especially knowing Toji’s track record when it came to clothing.

As strange as it is to admit, Megumi couldn’t deny that a go-to gift to give to any guy is a pack of brand new underwear paired with a fresh pack of socks. He knew there’s nothing you could do wrong with that combination. He even witnessed it firsthand when Yuuji was way too excited when he got a box filled with pairs of socks and boxer briefs for his birthday. And knowing how lax Toji is, Toji probably would like this more than anything. So Megumi stays quiet and lets the girls handle it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Mayumi-chan. We should get some of these for Papa so he doesn’t have to keep wearing his old ones.”

“But I don’t know Papa’s size…Maybe Mama knows! We should call Mama, Miki-Nee!”

Tsumiki nods while pulling out her phone, hitting your contact. The phone buzzed once before your voice was heard on the phone. Mayumi decides to talk on everyone’s behalf and ask for Toji’s underwear size. After a bit, Mayumi hands the phone back to Tsumiki and the two of you talk. Once hanging up, it was settled.

“Gumi-Nee, Mama said Papa only wears black and dark blue boxers! And also said Papa is a size large!”

Since he didn’t want his sisters to look awkward, Megumi took it upon himself to take the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks to check out. The socks were a last minute decision but again, practical for someone like Toji. After Tsumiki gave her half of the total to Megumi, he bought them and left with his sisters. After getting home, Megumi decided it would be best if he kept the gift in his room to not raise any suspicions if Toji had any.

“So, did you three buy your Dad his gift?”

Mayumi runs up to you and fervently nods while pointing at the Uniqlo bag Megumi’s holding. Megumi gives you the receipt for tax purposes and so Toji doesn’t see the price for it as he’ll definitely take it. You grinned while looking at the receipt, something Megumi and Tsumiki believe would be akin to playful or mischievous.

“Nice job, you three. Now, go change and clean up a bit for dinner. Your dad will be home soon.”

Speak of the devil, not even five minutes later, the front door is opened and a gruff “I’m home!” can be heard. Toji was already home. Hearing his voice, Mayumi dashed to where he was and was immediately picked up by him. His iconic DILF chuckle and the giggles of your youngest child can be heard getting closer to the kitchen. Something you never get tired of hearing and hope to hear more of every time.

“Glad to hear you had a good day, Princess. Now go with your sister to change and freshen up.”

Mayumi nods before being put down, dashing towards Tsumiki who then holds her hand as she takes her upstairs.

You were finishing cleaning up the dirty dishes when you felt a warm presence on your back.

“How are you doing, Doll? Looks like you got dinner all figured out, didn’t I tell you my food prep made things easier?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the feeling of your husband wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Toji wants to be all over you no matter the hour.

“Yeah yeah, don’t let that ego get higher than it already is…But thank you though, Hon. It cuts down cooking time by a lot. I appreciate it.” You tenderly answered before giving him a simple kiss on the cheek.

Wearing a victor’s smile, Toji pulls away. Crossing his arms with his chest all puffed out as his pride builds up.

“If that’s all that takes for some of your kisses, I’ll keep on doing it. Only for you, Doll. Glad it makes things easier for ya.”

Even though it said because of his pride, there was an undeniable softness on his features many would believe was impossible for him to make. But here he was, doing exactly that like it was any normal day at the Fushiguro household. The fondness he exhibits to you is both a blessing and a honor because you knew you were a part of the few people that bring it out of him.

Smiling back, you mirrored your loving softness on your face as well.

“It does, Toji. Now, go change and shower. I don’t know what Shui and you did today but you smell like outside. I don’t want that in our bed so go upstairs and shower, Hon.”

Toji smirks but nods at your command. Taking himself upstairs to wash away the smell. Dinner goes on as normal. Silent but pleasant as it lets everyone decompress from the day. Toji does the dishes since you cooked dinner and the kiddos clean up the kitchen table. Everyone retires into the night without issue and Toji has his arms wrapped around you as you sleep on top of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. when you heard voices coming from downstairs and the slight clanging of metal. You groggily blinked the sleep from your eyes while feeling the sun brightening up your room. Hearing Toji’s faint and calm breathing, you knew he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. After successfully slipping away from Toji’s grasp, you were able to change into your home clothes before going downstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen, the sight before you was a pleasant surprise.

There was Tsumiki and Megumi, wearing aprons, and using the kitchen while Mayumi was drinking her juice from her sippy cup. Albeit very sleepy but that changes when she hears footsteps and sees you walking in with a warm smile on your face.

“Mama! Gumi-Nii and Miki-Nee are making Papa breakfast! I’m here for moral support!” She excitedly whispers to you as you hold her up.

You look over to see your two eldest working away prepping their Father’s Day breakfast. You hum while inspecting their handy work, peering over their shoulder to see.

“It smells good, you two. Though, I’m surprised you’re able to get up at this time, Megumi. Normally, you would sleep in until another two hours or so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the rice balls he’s making, but his tone is less irritated and tense compared to most mornings.

“Well, I feel bad for letting Tsumiki do all the work in cooking. So I woke up earlier than normal to help out. Plus, Mayumi woke me up and asked me to help Tsumiki make breakfast because she couldn’t.”

Mayumi’s soft giggles were paired with your own. Softly patting his hair, you offer Megumi a grateful smile.

“I’m happy to know you helped out, Dear. Good to back up your sisters.”

You pat Tsumiki's shoulder comfortingly to not let her lose focus on her cooking.

“Call for me if you two need any help.”

The two nod before you make your way upstairs with Mayumi, making your way to your shared bedroom where your husband is sleeping. Mayumi writhes and squirms in your hold, begging to be let down to wake up her Papa. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she quietly and firmly opens the bedroom door. B-lining towards the bed with you following suit. She climbs up onto the bed and crawls to where Toji was sleeping peacefully. Your youngest stares for a few moments at her Papa before gently pounding his chest.

“Papa…Papa…Wake up!”

After a few tries, Toji stirs a bit before blinking slowly. Toji motions his head to face the culprit that woke him up from his restful sleep. Seeing Toji waking up, Mayumi beams down at him along with you softly smiling at the side of the bed.

“G’morning, Papa! Happy Papa Day!”

“Morning to you too, Little Lady~.”

He takes Mayumi in his arms while steadily sitting up. Her sweet sequels and giggles echo throughout the bedroom as Toji kisses all over her face and tickles her sides. Grinning down at his youngest daughter, he carries it when his eyes meet yours.

“Morning, Beautiful~.”

The morning rasp and gruffness in his voice made you want to scream at the sky while death-gripping the ground below. You desperately thanked any and all divine pantheons for blessing you with such a man. But alas, you couldn��t allow yourself to fold so easily. Especially in front of Toji, knowing you’ll never see the end of his teasing and salacious, but consensual, advances. You just light-heartedly roll your eyes while shaking your head, but your smile never ceases.

“Good Morning to you too, Handsome~. Happy Father’s Day. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Toji temporarily sets down Mayumi as you pass him a shirt to wear since he was wearing his gray sweat shorts. He picks up Mayumi again before making his way out and into the kitchen to satiate his morning hunger. Just like you, he reacted with surprise seeing a fully set table before him. But this is Toji we’re talking about. So the most we’ll get out of his reaction is his eyes which went wide.

He was about to ask if you made all the food as you passed by but you tilt your head to the side and he sees Megumi and Tsumiki cleaning up the kitchen.

“They helped you with making breakfast, Doll?”

You shake your head while taking Mayumi in your arms to place her in her chair.

“I didn’t even touch the kitchen this morning. They were in here this whole time.”

Sitting down, it finally clicked with Toji. He just grinned as he took his usual seat at the edge of the table. Once everyone was seated and began eating, so did he. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type. But he couldn’t help himself in allowing this particular feeling to wash over him. If he went back in time to tell his younger-self that he’d become a husband and a father of three kids, he most certainly knew his past-self would scoff and think he’s a liar. Toji won’t lie because he has a hard time believing it himself sometimes. Even after almost two decades of being married to you and 15 years of being a father, he’s in awe of how his life ended up to the present day.

Sneaking glance as he eats, he sees his two oldest kids having their usual sibling conversation. 16 and 15 years old, first and second years in high school. It would only be a few years until they would graduate high school.

‘Geez, they’ll be legal adults in less than five years…Fucking shit, man…’

Toji then sneaks glances at you, which he sometimes catches your gaze as well. There was a certain feeling of your smile every time you sent it his way. But it was not until he reminded himself that your particular smile you always gave him was of contentment. But not in a sense of bare minimum, no. Toji knew it came from utter satisfaction and gratification in this domestic life you two shared.

No, the life you two created together for each other.

Watching you interact with your children just fills him with life’s satisfaction. He thought it was impossible for someone like him to experience something like this. But here he is, sitting down eating breakfast with his family in their home on a Sunday morning. Damn, he didn’t blame you for giving him that smile because he gets it.

After eating and cleaning up the table, Megumi said he forgot something in his room and went upstairs to get it. Meanwhile, Toji was reading the morning paper while simultaneously listening to the news that was live on the tv. Mayumi was chilling in Toji’s lap with her Cinnamoroll plushie because she had nothing better to do. Meanwhile, you were teaching Tsumiki how to use the coffee machine and the set up for Toji’s usual.

Once Megumi came back with the familiar Uniqlo bag, everyone shifted their attention to Toji and gathered around him. He looked confused by the sudden change in behavior. Placing his paper down, he suspiciously eyes everyone.

“Okay, something’s up. Did I do something I don't know about?”

You shake your head at him, making it clear he wasn’t in trouble. Mayumi jumps off Toji’s lap, pattering over to Megumi who hands over the bag. She races back to her papa with an eager smile on her face, holding the bag up to him.

“Oh, what’s this, Princess?”

“It’s from Me, Gumi-Nii, and Miki-Nee! We got you a present for Papa Day!”

Feeling both astounded and touched, he takes the bag from her before ruffling her hair. Mayumi lets out a little squeal before running towards Tsumiki who picks her up. The bag was small, specifically eight inches by six inches. But what’s inside filled the bag up to its capacity so Toji was intrigued to see what his kiddos got him. He shakes the bag for good measure, causing Megumi to become impatient.

“Dad, just open it up. I promise you we didn’t put a spider or a cockroach in there. This is your real gift from us.”

The man chuckles out loud, shooting a grin his son’s way which made his impatient grow.

“Alright alright, I hear you, Megs. I was seeing if I could guess what you bought for me. Nothing wrong with checking things out. Reel yourself in kid.”

Megumi groans out causing his sisters and you to giggle at this usual interaction. Eventually, Toji opens the gift and reaches inside. His eyebrows furrowed and pushed themselves together, trying to figure out what he was touching. Suddenly, his brows released themselves from being tensed as he pulled out the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks. It was silent, a little too silent. For a second, Megumi and Tsumiki held their breaths while you anticipated his reaction.

Then, out of nowhere, a hearty laughter filled the kitchen as Toji held them in his hand. Amusement was all he felt looking at the packs in front of him. He let out a content huff, holding up one of the boxer packs.

“Wow, this is how you give gifts. You guys are just like your mama, you all have gifting skills people dream of.”

“Wait, you actually like it, Papa?”

Toji let a bemused look pass over him before it went back to amuse.

“Oh yeah, I sure as hell love it. I keep forgetting to buy some and your mother has been on me for God knows how long about getting new ones. You rascals killed two birds with one stone for me. And socks too? Now that’s being generous to your old man.”

The two were finally able to breathe since they second guessed themselves.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!”

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Toji gets up to give Megumi and Tsumiki his love squeezes. Tsumiki giggled while Megumi begrudgingly accepted his dad’s affection. Though, he doesn’t resist or push away when his dad hugs him.

As this was happening, you wore a grin that stretched wide with eyes that shone with mischief. Toji catches your expression, fully knowing something is brewing inside.

“Babe, you’re making that face. Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hon~.”

Oh, there’s definitely something now and Toji’s gonna get it out of you.

“Don’t be so coy, (Y/N). You got that grin plastered on your face and eyeing me like that, you got something to say. I see those little gears in your pretty head of yours moving.”

You were trying to hold in your laughter. Key word was try though. The moment you made your thoughts be known will cause endless oxygen-depriving laughter from you. But you needed to say it in full. No stutters, no mistakes, no slang, dead set on getting those words out. You can’t fumble yourself right now.

“I’m just saying, I have been telling you to get new ones for years! Some of your underwear have holes in them! You have to get new ones every five to seven years, Hon!”

He playfully scoffs.

“Doll, just because they’re old doesn’t mean I need to throw them away after a few years. If they can still do their job in covering up my junk, I don’t see why I need to get new ones. I only needed to know one because of you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you still held your grin and waited for the right moment to strike.

“Hon, you don’t understand. I’m not saying you need to buy new ones after a while! I’m saying some, as in most, of your underwear are worn down to the bone! You have to put them down, Toji!”

“Babe, again, if it still works, it still works. Yeah, some of my underwear have holes in them but they’re still wearable. Not my fault they have holes in them! Plus, I never wear tight-fitted pants, so I don’t get how my underwear chafes when I wear joggers, sweats, and cargo pants!”

Bingo, everything is in position and there’s a clear pathway. You can’t mess this up when you have a clear shot. Crossing your arms still grinning, you stare down your husband.

“Oh but it is, Toji! The reason why you got holes in your underwear is because your balls are rough! If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck about them. Don’t you even notice when you fold the laundry?”

For a few moments, the silence fell over the Fushiguro house. Toji was bewildered, taken aback by what you said. You were one to never be crass in front of the kids or in general. Thus, this was the closest thing to you being vulgar.

For the teens, they stood still and frozen in place. However, for different reasons. For Tsumiki, she was stunned. Heavily skilled in the art of not being or feeling awkward. She’s not bothered or offended by your words. Rather, she didn't expect you to say something like that when they’re around. She knew it was bound to happen, just not with this conversation and those words. For Megumi, he was straight up flabbergasted. Never in a million years would he hear something like come out of you. Given, you’re known to have sufficient self-control when it comes to speaking in such a manner. Reserving that language for anyone 18 and over, and their dad. Right now, he’s growing frustrated because now he knows what people mean with you and Toji’s marriage has top tier chemistry. Megumi slowly realizes that both his parents are rat bastards and of equal humor. Noting that you were better at keeping it under wraps while his dad bore no filter at all. Meanwhile, Mayumi was just existing and cuddling her plushie. Becoming oblivious to the whole matter as her toddler brain couldn’t comprehend the words being used. But it was a good thing, much to both Megumi and Tsumiki relief.

“Did Mom just—?”

“Say what I think she said…?”

With their minds broken, the two were trying to process what just happened. You said it, made it be known. Something that probably should be said when they’re not present or only with their dad. Thinking about how you said them too: saying them with your chest, locked-in, hyper-focused, 10 toes down on the ground, no stuttering whatsoever. It looked like you were thinking about this for a long time and needed to get it off your chest.

To which you did, and successfully as well.

Just when the teens thought they were in the clear, they were thrown another curb ball. This time, it was from Toji.

“Doll, why are you complaining about them now? You never did beforehand, how do you think I gave you Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi? You took them and everything else. I’m not letting you throw me under the bus like this.”

Silence came back as soon as it left. If the two thought your words were absurd, their dad’s beat it and took your place with his own. Now Megumi’s petrified because he didn’t know what else would come out of either his mom or dad’s mouth. Fearing the embarrassment and possible vulgarity to over take what the two of you said prior. He didn’t want to hear nor wanted to know anymore. Just when he was about to drag his sisters away to leave you and Toji to your own devices, he sensed something that made him stay.

All at once, the silence was broken by you and Toji bursting out in laughter. You were holding onto his shoulders, gasping for more air to put in body but it was futile as you continued laughing even harder. Toji has his arms crossed but his sturdy broad frame shakes as he can’t restrain his uncontrollable laughter. The kids watch on, once again thinking this was finally done.

But the next thing they knew, they felt a gust of air pass by them followed with another. In a turn of events, you were being chased by Toji throughout the Fushiguro Estate. Yet, your laughter and squeals that were accompanied by your husband’s playful threats made it known this was all fun and games for you.

It went on like this for several minutes. Your two teens would’ve cringed but let it pass over when they noticed Toji carrying you over his shoulder from the house towards the large Saucer Magnolia tree in the garden. Plopping himself on the grass with you in his lap, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Now, Doll, where’s your present for me? I don’t see it.” Toji says, feigning hurt as he whines fakingly.

You roll your eyes at his performance. Though, instead of a grin, a smile was all that was left. Highlighting the blissful expression you wore.

“I know you, Toji. You just want me to baby and give you all my attention.” You huffed lightly.

“Yeah yeah, but you’re still gonna give it to me. You won’t deny me, Baby.”

Shaking your head, you let yourself be at your husband’s mercy. Indulging himself in your warmth in presence. It was a peaceful moment until you heard a little giggling coming closer. Both of you look up to see Mayumi running this way followed by Megumi and Tsumiki who held a blanket to be laid on.

Toji unravels one arm to catch his youngest and sits her on his free thigh across from you. You never noticed until now how beautiful and relaxed Toji is. While he was known for his laid back personality, you knew it’s from not wasting his energy on matters that don’t concern him. The reality was, Toji used to be tense and rigid. Forcing to stay on guard whilst putting on that lax facade. It wasn’t until he met and married you was when his stiffness and strained body began to disappear from his body. He was relaxing, loosening himself up because of you.

Although your shared life with him wasn’t easy and had its share of hardships, you felt honored Toji allowed himself to rest and find comfort in you. To see him finally have a sense of peacefulness after knowing what he’s been through, you only wish to love, care. and protect him for as long as you’re on this plane of existence.

Seeing how much contentment he has in interacting with his children and you, he was undeniably beautiful and sublime both physically and mentally. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you immerse in the loving family atmosphere you’re grateful to be a part of. Mayumi rambling and talking Toji’s ear off while your husband entertains her. Meanwhile, you watch your two older children talk and spill the gossip in their school lives to each other.

You wallowed in this domestic bliss, savoring it as there will be nothing else like it. You’re not the only one as Toji joins in basking in this domestic bliss as well. He would never say this out loud, but he didn’t think he’d live this long. He thought he’d died young due to his reckless and careless behavior, getting himself into deep shit that would ultimately be his grave. The voice in his mind reminds him that this may be a one time thing, that he’ll never get this in the next life. But he pushes that thought away to deal with it later. For now, he’ll be present here with you as you both happily entertain your little Mayumi and her current interest.

As for Megumi and Tsumiki, they can rest easy knowing they won’t have to hear you or Toji saying those appalling words again anytime soon.

Taglist:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Taglist(w/o links):

@szillx @SleppyAnn @g0th1xac1d @kneelarhmstrung

Taglist form Here!

[kittiebat]

small art dump of ONE fanart bc i love mob psycho 100 and one punch man

(not bc i just started rewatching mob psycho 100 [and not bc i claim to say mp100 is my favorite anime/manga ever yet still has yet to watch the 3rd season in full despite it being 2 years] there is no serizawa since i haven't gotten to him yet in the anime.)

who could ever guess who my favorite character is. ill pay my life savings and both my kidneys to see reigen dress as a woman again.

i wasn't planning on putting this here, but i didn't know where else to put this sketch page so it's going on here. i dont draw saitama or genos very much but i promise i love them too lol (but mob psycho 100 i love more. the trio even invaded my opm sketch page).

anyways im planning on drawing more mp100 stuff later. i have extreme brainrot over it after finishing the first season a few days ago. see you in my next period posting.

11/12/2024 edit: this was in my drafts months ago, so the content is a little old. i still haven't watched season 3 bc i've been so busy. lol

my old laptop fried itself to death, so i lost a big chunk of my mp100 and one punch man art. hope you enjoy what i have though. i added a few recent arts as well.

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

[wildcasualhair]

AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS P.2

summary: charlie bushnell and reader have a secret relationship that isn’t exactly secret anymore…

warnings: fem reader, fluff, a few curse words, haters hating, possibly bad writing, as always if i forgot any let me know

therealbambi: art is so therapeutic when the world is so chaotic

comments:

diorgoodjohn: WHEN SHES A ARTIST>>>>

user36: not dior simping over y/n

charliebushnellupdates: STOP USUALLY CHARLIES ALREADY IN HER COMMENTS WTF DID YALL DO😔 IF THE RUMORS RUINED THEM ILL RIOT

y/nupdates: your to real

charliebushnellupdates: y/n and charlie update accs unite 🙏

user99: girl y/n basically confirmed the rumors we ain’t ruining anything

leahsavajeffries: I NEED TO SEE THESES IN PERSON

therealbambi: SOON I PROMISE IM TRYING TO FINISH UP A FEW THAN ILL SHOW YOU

user1989: why is no one talking about the photos of y/n and maybe charlie????

y/niswifey: FRR I WAS LOOKING THRU THE COMMENTS AND NO ONE IS AND I WAS CONFUSED

user1989: FR LIKE HUH IM IN SHOCK LIKE WHAT IF MY BF AND MY GF ARE DATING?!?

haterngl: i hope not💀

user1989: GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU THINK

celebupdatess: y/n l/n and charlie bushnell seen at a art event together tonight

comments:

charliebushnellupdates: STOPP HIM HOLDING HER STOP😔 I LOVE THEM EVEN

y/nupdates: CAN THEY ADOPT ME?!? LIKE ILL DO ANYTHING

user69: them just messing around and playing knowing they have paparazzi taking there photos is everything

user99: no because y/n has always been like this with the paparazzi she dont care and i love her for it

hater156: keep him away from y/n please and thank you

haterngl: no keep her away from charlie

user1989: BOTH OF YOU GO AWAY NOBODY GIVES A FUCK WHAT EITHER OF YOU THINK

user13: how long do yall think it will take for one of them to confirm the rumors

user03: is it even technically a rumor atp

user13: nahh but i want one of them to say something

now playing: nobodys business by rihanna

iamcharliebushnell: and it ain’t nobody’s what?!?

comments:

*the comment section has been limited*

therealbambi: AND IT AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS !!

diorgoodjohn: FINALLYYY

iamcharliebushnell: i knew you were waiting for this

leahsavajeffries: yall are so cute💗

therealbambi: thank you leah🩷

walkerscobell: LMAO wait yall are dating

leahsavajeffries: walker…you knew this

TAG LIST:

@alexandria-millie (ask me if you want to be tagged in my charlie/luke works)

AUTHORS NOTE: i made this while helping my mom make dinner and now im posting it while eating some tamales 🙏 ALSO CAMILA AND SHAWN PAPARAZZI PHOTOS HAVE BEEN LIFE SAVERS WHEN I COMES TO COUPLE PAPARAZZI PHOTOS

[carowleysposts]

It’s okay to care about things.

These past couple of days i’ve been noticing that a great part of our fandom is being relentlessly shamed for still loving Good Omens and not wanting it to get cancelled, and I thought i’d share my feelings about it, as I myself have been receiving hateful messages and comments because of it.

First and foremost: many people who judge don’t seem to be able to understand the power of fiction. Fiction is the art of translating reality through magical lenses and making it easier to deal with. It’s something that brings people hope, joy, comfort and brings them together even if they’re thousands of miles apart. Fiction is a shoulder to cry on, a portal to escape through and a friend to rely on. Fiction is magic in its own way, and it can (and has!) change the world in countless ways. Whether you have a happy, fulfilled and busy life or you are going through a rough patch, fiction is always there to help you navigate your own journey, and that’s why it means so much to so many people.

Secondly, it’s important that people fully understand that we do not necessarily associate our favorite pieces of fiction with the creators behind them. After JKR and all of the newly outed zionists, it’s becoming more and more clear that art can be appreciated for itself, and not tied to the person who brought it to life. Sometimes, shitty unforgivable people can make incredible things. And, as long as you don’t support or defend these people, it is okay for you to care about things important to you. It’s okay. You aren’t bad for loving something that has brought you comfort and joy.

Besides, there’s a certain power in taking things back. In looking at the person who made it and saying “this is mine now, and you are not going to ruin it for me”. And that is exactly why so many of us want this show to go on. We all want Gaiman fired. He himself has offered to step back because he is not his art and that story isn’t his anymore. It’s ours. Going on without him would only prove that, and it is okay to root for the show to survive after all that has happened. We are human, and humans need fiction. We need our little bit of magic, and that is perfectly okay.

And lastly, I would like to say that I believe in all the allegations. Even if there’s a chance of it being untrue, it’s not in my nature to doubt victims or to take someone’s side blindly just because I think they are good at their jobs. I believe his victims, I want him to pay for his crimes and I would never, ever support him. You can feel both things: despise for him and love for what he’s created alongside Terry Pratchett. You can want both things: for him to go to jail and for the show to go on in spite of him.

It’s okay to feel how you feel, to love what you love and to be vocal about it. It’s okay to advocate for your favorite show, only you know what it means to you and why. If you need to talk, I am here, I see you and I understand.

I promise we’ll be okay. 🩷✨🫶🏻

Edit: this is meant to comfort the people who are dealing with this situation as well, please refrain from commenting negative things, this is one of those “if you want to judge, do it silently” kind of things. It’s okay to stop enjoying things after stuff like that comes out, but it is also okay to still love them and care about them. Thanks! ✨