#IM SORRY I had to get my blood sugar up before I helped with dinner and that I’m not fast enough for you when you explain to me we need a

[distracted-milkshake]

dad called me a piece of shit :/

[cvtqr]

we only have 15 minutes, sugar

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; mentions of past jean x reader, oral sex, masturbation, recording, manhandling?

february 19th

you always found eren jaeger attractive, especially tonight at this party. his long hair thrown up into a messy bun, his white shirt with water split on it - making it see through. god you were about to start counting his abs. but who you were really here for? jean. you guys weren’t in a relationship or anything, just friends who liked to help eachother. it started off when you guys would go to eachother for advice or he would find himself in your dorm room ranting to you. just helping eachother with little problems of course. that doesn’t mean sucking his dick was that much of a stretch from it, right?

anyways jean was in a frat house, along side eren. they were throwing a party, and somehow jean convinced you to stop by. you didn’t know if you were regretting it or not. jean was no where to be seen so you just sat yourself on the kitchen counter drinking some punch you found in a bowl. you were admiring eren from a far, remembering all the bad things jean had said about him. how he just annoys the living shit out of him. but god, how attractive he was. you could’ve sworn you looked down at your phone for not even a minute when you heard someone clear their voice right in front of you. you looked up to be met with eren.

“uh hi?”

“hey hey! erm- y/n. we had physics last semester together. eren, eren yeager.”

yeah, i already know your name

“oh hi!”

“my friend reiner over there says he knows ‘ya too. wanna come play truth or dare with us in the backyard hm?”

slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you jumped off the counter, centimeters away from eren.

he let out a low chuckle, placing his hands on the counter, trapping you inbetween the granite and himself. he looked you right in the eye before reaching one of his hands back to grab a chip in the bowl behind where you were sitting. your breathing shakened a bit and you rolled your eyes at him, looking down.

he let out another chuckle before grabbing your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at him. “no need to roll your eyes sugar. if you were expectin-wanting something else, just say it. i’m not a mind reader baby.” he gave you a little wink before letting you go and backing up.

“i erm- i gotta pee i’ll meet you guys outside.”

he gave you a small head pat before running towards the back door.

right when you turned around to head to the bathroom you crashed right into jean, stumbling back a bit.

“oh hey jean!”

he sent you a blunt hey and started walking to the back door with an annoyed look on his face.

tch, what’s his problem.

your little bathroom excuse wasn’t actually an exuse, the amount of punch you were drinking finally caught up to you. right after you sat down your two best friends since birth, sasha and connie came bursting through the door, hysterically cracking up.

“YOO IM TRYING TO PISS.”

ignoring your comment they both collapsed onto the counter laughing their asses off.

you lightly smacked sasha on the back of her head, since she was the laughing the closest to you. “i swear if one of you idiots don’t tell me what the problem is-”

“YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE OUTSITE FIGHTING OVER YOU-” connie said between laughs practically screaming.

“my who?”

“JEAN AND EREN. I-I ASKED FLOCH WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING AND THEY SAID IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND HOW JEAN IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU ARE SO GOOD AT SU-”

“GOD SASHA YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL HER THAT PART”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING!”

“SORRY, sorry y/n. apparently jean saw you and eren in the kitchen and well, tried beating eren up.”

letting out a sigh you pulled up your pants and ran out of the bathroom.

running outside you found jean knocked out in the arms of marco and eren standing up, wiping some blood out of the corner of his mouth while winking at you. walking right up to him you slapped him right across the face.

he let out a deep, long chuckle.

“i need to talk to you.”

“lead the way sugar.”

you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside while feeling every single pair of eyes on you.

“where’s your room.”

“if you wanted to get me in bed you could’ve just asked baby.”

god can anyone be that full of themselves

“no - no. i don-”

“i’m just joking sugar. follow me.”

he grabbed your hand and led you up into his room, closing the door behind him.

“what the hell was that all about.”

“for the record he started it. he got jealous for no reason and i wasn’t going to let him use me and his rag doll. and you shouldn’t be with someone like jean anyway. you should hear the way he brags about you being his bitch whenever the house is hanging out.” eren plopped down onto his bed

with that you didn’t know who to be mad at this point. he patted his lap signaling you to come over and sit on it. ignoring him you rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, causing him to chuckle again.

“you should clean your wounds that looks pretty deep on your cheek. and take a shower you smell like dirt and grass.”

he got up and headed over to his bathroom door. leaning on the door frame he turned back around.

“only if you stay.”

“hmph, i’ll think about it.”

15 minutes later eren walked out of the bathroom. you were no where to be found. he did know that he’d get back to you one day, considering you left your phone number on a gum wrapper in place of where you were sitting.

february 26

friday strolled around as quick as ever. this week you talked to eren a few times. he texted you on sunday night to have a good week. sicne he was being nice you replied with a “you too:’)”

after that he texted you yesterday afternoon asking if you wanted to come to another party. you never responded, and now it’s friday, 2:05. you just finished all your classes, and you’d be lying if you said you had anything else to do. well except for the pile of homework you usually wait until sunday to do.

sighing you texted him back saying you already had plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. after that you decided to take a short nap. what you thought would be a short nap turned into you sleeping until 6:30. you figured you should get up and get some dinner. you decided to grub hub some taco bell and eat it in the dinning hall. after getting your food you sat down in the corner of the room. it was pretty empty since it was pretty late for dinner.

“ouch, i’m offended.”

you turned around at the familiar voice

“even jean could convince you to come out but i get some lame exuse.”

“it, it wasn’t an exuse. i do have plans.”

“yeah with yourself.” he pulled over a nearby chair and sat next to you.

“i ditched the party, it was pretty boring.”

“so you came to bother me?” you said while still stuffing your face with your food

“yeah pretty much, you wanna hangout?”

“i mean do i really have a choice?”

he leaned over and grabbed one of your nachos, shoving it in his face.

“no not really sugar.”

rolling your eyes you threw out your garbage and led him to your dorm room. since it wasn't that far of a walk, neither of you said anything on the way there. he just simply followed you. 

once you got into your room you shut the door behind you. 

“if you’re sitting on my bed then shoes off.”

“demanding” he said while slipping his shoes off and plopping onto your bed

“soo..” he said as you sat down next to him.

“wanna watch a movie or something? i see you have a tv in here.”

“sure, let me just fix my blankets so get up.”

he nodded and chuckled, getting up. you pulled down your comforter so there was room to get in, and threw all your blankets into the corner before grabbing your remote and slipping into your bed.

“is this an invitation to come lay with you under your blankets.”

“shut the light.” you said while pressing power on the remote. 

the last thing you remember from that night was cracking up with eren over some stupid movie the two of you put on. before you knew it you woke up with a tight grip around your waist. you look over to see eren, still sound asleep. he was so pretty. you figured the two of you just fell asleep while watching movies yesterday. moments like these you were grateful your roommate was on back at home for family issues.

you tried slipping out of his grip before he pulled you back in and groaned. he was still sleeping so you figured you weren't getting up anytime soon, so you closed your eyes and drifted off back to sleep. you woke up about two hours later to find no eren, but a note.

forgot i have to work on a project with floch. i had fun last night, lets do it again soon :)

you were in a good mood the rest of the day. 

may 15 

its almost been four months since you've met eren. you also cut off your contact with jean. he was a good fuck while it lasted. over the last four months you and eren got closer than ever. hanging out almost everyday, going to parties together, falling asleep cuddling every weekend, you name it. yet again, friday came around. instead of cuddling, you and eren decided to go to a party at some sorority house. 

three hours later you were sitting in a circle with a bunch of people you recognized / were friends with. you were all playing a game of truth or dare, cracking up at each other. everyone’s secrets were coming out and people were doing some crazy things. and the list of things we had to do on campus was piling up. for example, connie has to pull a prank on professor ackerman during class on monday. until it was sasha’s time to ask you.

“hmmm. OH Y?N! truth or dare babes!”

you really had to think this one over. sasha had the power of exposing every single one of your secrets if you picked truth, but she's also kind of crazy so who knows what she would dare you to do. after a small debate in your head you went with dare.

“i pick dare.”

“alright! hmmMMM. i dare you to go into an empty room with eren for 15 minutes.”

you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks when you stood up and stretched your arm out for eren to grab. 

you both left the living room and headed up to a room while hearing the small, faint giggles from your friends.

entering the room eren shut and locked the door behind the two of you.

“so.. what do you wanna do?”

“hmm. we only have 15 minutes, sugar.”

this is it. the moment you've been waiting for. you had eren right in front of you. just go up and kiss him already! 

as you slowly walked up closer to him. he flipped the both of you, pinning you up against the wall. 

“let me see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, sugar. pleaseee you don't even want to know the amount of times I've fisted myself to the mere thought of it.”

you gave him a nod and that was all he needed to pull you off the wall and push you down onto the bed. pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, he grimly smirked. 

“don't you dare cum without my permission.” was all he said before going between your legs and flicking his tongue onto your clit. your breathing quickly became heavy and irregular before he shoved two fingers, palm deep into your cunt. 

“ahh~ f-fuck eren-” you blurted out while starting to move under his touch, slightly bucking your hips up. 

that was until you felt a strong pair of hands hold your hips down. 

“stop moving or i’ll stop.” he hissed out before going back down on you, eating you out more forcefully than before, brining you right to your climax.

“f-fuck eren i need to cum- please let me cum. pleaseee~”

“no.” he said while pulling his fingers out of you.

“the only place you’re cummin’ is on my cock. you hear me?”

you wiped away the slight tears forming in the corners of your eye while nodding.

“that's a good little girl.” eren said while smirking

he swiftly grabbed you and flipped you over onto all fours, while shoving your face into the mattress. your first reaction was to perk your ass up for him.

“well someones eager aren't they.” was all he said before pulling down his pants just enough for his fully hard cock to spring out. he could've came just to the feeling of eating you out. 

he leaned down into your ear while whispering, “as sweet as sugar.” he started jacking off while still leaning down, before quickly cumming all over your ass. 

did he just?

he pulled up his pants before getting up and heading up towards the door. 

“well sugar, looks like our time is almost up. we should get back to the ga-” he was cut off by you running up to him and clinging right onto his shirt. practically crying you were blurting out small no’s.

“f-fuck the game, er - eren please just fuck me.” you were so desperate to the point where you were choking on your words. 

“aw, i’m sorry baby i didn't mean to make you cry.” he said while stroking your hair and patting your head. “come suck me off in my car and maybe if you do a good job i'll take ya home and fuck you, yeah?

may 18

sitting in your first class of the morning you were bored out of your mind. getting some lecture from professor ackerman after connie drew all over his desk.

that was until you got a snapchat notification from eren. opening it you were oh so grateful you had your headphones in. it was a video of eren cumming all over his laptop with a video of him shoving his cock oh so deep into your pretty little cunt. 

with the caption of missin’ the taste, sugar :’(

you’d be sure to pay him a visit during your lunch break.

[mxvladdy]

heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!

A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!

Hope you like it!!

Case of the Munchies prt 3!

Word Count: 4.2k

Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos

TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore

Satan

As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.

He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.

When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn��t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.

He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.

Mini Fic

His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.

Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.

“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.

“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.

“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.

Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.

You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”

"I thought you would never ask."

Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.

You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.

"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.

Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"

"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.

“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.

He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.

“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.

“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.

You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.

He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”

Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”

You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”

“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.

You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”

Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”

“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”

Belphegor

After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.

In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.

But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.

When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.

Mini Fic

“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.

You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”

“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”

Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.

“Rude.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.

���Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”

“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”

“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.

Imagine what those brothers would do to them…

You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.

“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”

You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Diavolo

It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.

He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.

He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.

The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*

He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.

Mini Fic

Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?

Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.

You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.

“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.

Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.

You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.

Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.

“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”

“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.

Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.

The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.

“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.

“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”

“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.

You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”

Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.

You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”

He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.

“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”

“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.

“Of course!”

The food was as wonderful as his company.

Barbatos

You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.

He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.

Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.

He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.

He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.

Mini Fic

Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.

Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.

He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.

You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.

You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.

“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.

“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.

“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”

Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”

Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.

“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.

“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”

“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”

“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”

He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”

[yeojaa]

IDK IF UR STILL TAKING REQUESTS🥺🥺🥺 sorry if IM botherinh😭😭 BUT MYBE A FINDERS KEEP HERS drabble where jk n oc get in to an argument after chap 3 n jk apologizes or something like that😭😭🥺😭🥺🥺

[ read part one / main story ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  this is soft angst. JK being his usual idiot self, reader being... well, sad, and yeah. just pain (but w a resolution. ish).  wc. 1.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif beta’d a bit of this but i wrote most of it after so any dumb mistakes are my fault and my fault alone. 🤡  author note.  this isn’t 100% what you requested but... the first part kind of is, and then this is the resolution (because people requested it). if you’d like another drabble, please feel free to request!

In true fashion, Jungkook tries to fix the problem in the only way he knows how:  with money.

He puts the two of you up at the Four Seasons for the entire week, orders room service at all hours of the day and has treats from all of your favourite spots in the city delivered.  (Macarons, candied nuts, that one bakery that does those salted honey pies you inhale like a wild animal.)  He runs baths for you, fills the tub with your favourite scents (always Diptyque) and massages his tattooed hands all over your scalp.  He makes sure you wake up to the smell of French toast and fall asleep on a bed of roses, curled up in his arms and little else.  

He spoils you until you can hardly see the floor, designer shopping bags strewn throughout the suite.  (His sisters help him decide what to buy, mouths sealed shut otherwise.  They know better than to get too involved in his relationship with you.)  Dinner is somewhere new every night but always at a Michelin-starred restaurant, space booked out to the extent it’s just the two of you and a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Of course, he thinks things are better.  Assumes they must be, because there’s never been a time where money hasn’t solved his problems.  No matter how much, throw enough of it at something and the problem will go away.

But you don’t go away.  Neither does your sadness.

“Baby.”  It’s your last night together before you’re back to some semblance of normalcy (not that Jungkook’s life was very normal to begin with).  He thinks he’ll miss it more than you will, if your lacklustre reactions have been any indication.

You’re fresh out of the shower - you’d turned down his offer of a bath, locked the door on your way into the washroom - and wrapped in a fuzzy white robe.  “What?”  You’re focused on running a comb through your hair, unbothered by your boyfriend who sits at the edge of the bed, legs wide and hands extended toward you.

It bothers him a bit (read: a lot).  You’re better than you were, offering tiny smiles when he begs for them, accepting his kisses without complaint. It isn’t you though.  Not the snark and the sass and the decades of friendship that normally thread your relationship.  A book with its spine about to snap, held together by cobweb.

Despite the time you’ve spent together the last few days - almost every hour, sans when you were at work - you’ve been distant still.  Not mean, of course (no, never mean, because you’ve always been soft on him) but different.  Softer and harder all at once.

“Come here,”  he coaxes, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you between his knees effortlessly.

Normally, you’d curl around his shoulders, rake your nails through his hair.  This time, you only allow yourself to be with him, palms flat upon the ridges of muscle plating his back.  You don’t pass affection into his hair, don’t form a cradle for him to rest his head.  (It doesn’t feel like home - not like it should.)

Jungkook hates it.  Absolutely fucking abhors it.  He wants his girlfriend - his best friend, his love - back.  Not this spectre that’s taken up your space. 

(He almost forgets that he’s the reason you’re the way you are.)

“What’s wrong?”  The shape of his mouth curls, bottom lip pouting into that trademark expression that usually has you relenting, melting into a puddle of goo in his arms. 

This time, you shrug, movement dislodging the soft soft terry cloth from your shoulders.  “Nothing.”  Dumb as he might be - oblivious in the way only someone like he can be - he can tell you’re lying.  Offering the untruth right between your teeth, expecting him to accept it.

That bothers him even more.  It’s one thing to put up an act, entertain him as if you were a court jester.  It’s entirely another to treat him as if he’s a child, feeding him lies without a care.

(Notwithstanding the fact that Jeon Jungkook is, for all intents and purposes, a manchild.)

“You’re a shit liar,”  he retorts, grumpy, coloured green and blue until his insides feel like mud.  It’s strange, the discomfort that sinks beneath his skin and sticks his bones together.  Like wading through quicksand or a bog, stuck to a place he doesn’t want to be.  “Talk to me.”

“About what?”  You’re deflecting, refusing to meet his stare, holding yourself within the confines of your robe as if you can’t bear to open up to him.

That hurts more than he expects.  Slips sadness in alongside the frustration.

“About what’s bothering you.”  The fact he has to do this is driving him mad.  It’s akin to pulling teeth and he hates the dentist.

You scoff then - which he doesn’t expect.  The sound kicks him right in the stomach, a sucker punch he doesn’t see coming.  “You want me to talk about you?”  It’s an uncharacteristically mean answer, brought on by whatever’s been bothering you, turning blood to battery acid.

“Excuse me?”  

“You heard me.”  

For the briefest moment, he considers lashing out in response - giving back exactly what he’s getting.  But then he spies it, just there, past the usual warmth of your stare.  It’s hiding behind crystallised amber, peeking past the edges.  So much sadness it steals his breath right from his lungs, stripping him bare of red hot fury and leaving him lily white and lovesick.   

When Jungkook speaks again, it’s feather soft, terribly light, begging and pleading in a single utterance.  “Please.”

There’s silence for a beat, then another.  It stings for each second it continues, treading misery all over the thing that beats in his chest.  He’s not used to this.  (You’re his first and only love.  A part of him is grateful for that;  another hates even this.)

He almost asks again - readies it on the tip of his tongue.

Then you’re unloading, giving him everything he’d asked for and more.   

“I love you,”  you tell him in a reedy voice, uneven like the foundation you’ve built together.  Haphazardly thrown into place and hoped for the best on.  “But you’re an idiot.”   

(He deserves that, he supposes.)

Your voice is static, stretched thin and gossamer thin.  Cheek pressed to his curls, you find comfort in your hiding place, as if shielded by the dark.  “I’ve loved you for years and that’ll never stop.  But when you do stupid shit, it’s so hard.”  Your words are honeyed, thick and heavy as they lay into each strand, seep quietly into his ears.  Where they’d normally fill him with ecstasy, delight, send him on a sugar high - these ache, sink right to the pit of his stomach.  “I would give you anything.  Anything.”

“I know.”  Really, he does.  He’s known that since you were kids.  It’s why he’d fallen in love with you, even before he’d realised he had.

“Then why do you test me?”  

It’s not rhetorical.  You want an answer - something real you can hold between your hands.  Something to act as the salve for all the hurt, to bandage the wounds left behind by your uncertainty.  (He’s the same as you - needs to know he means as much to you as you do him.  But you show it in different ways and that’s what’s brought the two of you to this point.)

“I’m sorry,”  he answers, sliding his arms more securely around your waist, face buried into the soft fabric of the robe, into the warmth that lies beneath, into the heart that beats a rhythm identical to his.

“I don’t want sorry.”  After all, you’d already gotten one.  Weeks ago, when he’d pulled the stupid sophomoric stunt, he’d apologised.  Had been apologising every day since then, but in all the wrong ways.  “I want better.” 

It’s as if all of his bones have been cracked open, the weight of your words settling like sand, discomfort and grit snapping his head to attention.  “You want better?”  There’s nothing but alarm in Jungkook’s expression, eyes wide, throat knotted in worry.  “I��”

As always, you read him like an open book.  Hands smooth down the sides of his cheeks, palms searing over his reddened cheeks.  “Not like that.”  You’re reassuring him even as it should be the other way around.  (How ironic.)

He exhales a deep breath.  Doesn’t tear his stare from yours.  

“I just need you to be better.”  You’d never ask this of him if it weren’t important, if you didn’t feel his ignorance and immaturity splintering your insides into glass shards.  You’ve always accepted him exactly as he was, all the good and bad and ridiculous.  

This is different though.  You love him.  You’re taking a chance with him just as he is with you.  Laying your heart in his hands and trusting him to keep it safe, handing out the key in the hopes of building a home.  

So you ask - for both your sakes. 

He promises he will be and you believe him.  Have to.

For both of your sakes.

[witchy-lili]

Sander Sides Coffeeshop!AU

I imagined Logan with an apron, it made me happy, so I wrote this eldritch monstrosity. Enjoy~ ---------------------

It was an early fall morning at the Cafe, the rain calmly pouring on the tainted windows. A calm atmosphere enveloped the place, only every so slightly disturbed by the jazz music coming through the antic jukebox. This thing was already in the facility when, the owner, a middle aged man bought it. He was calm, seemingly cold at first, always steady and organized. He was one of the things that made this small coffeeshop so special. All the regulars knew him as, Logan. He came here every morning, four hours before the opening, making the fresh pastries and sandwiches, putting the chairs and tables down and overall just being an average worker. He always finished twenty minutes before the opening, and always used those few instants to settle down, drink a nice cup of coffee and read the news or write a bit in his notebook. The first clients started to arrive, making him put his pen down and finishing the black beverage in a gulp before standing up and putting on his iconic navy apron. 

 -Welcome to Blue's, what can i serve you today ? 

 The same song everyday, same rhythm, same orders, same everything. I wasn't boring, he liked the regularity, and people always thanked him for bringing such a peaceful place to the community. But maybe...it was time to bring some new notes in the melody. He went in the kitchen to take the orders out and served them to the clients. 

 -Oh my god Janus they were right ! This place is so fricki-likin adorable ! 

 -Calm down Pat', you're too loud. 

 The bubbly and air-headed "Pat" started walking across the place, looking with little stars in his eyes, not seeing  that his leg was in the way of the poor waiter, who tripped, letting go of the fortunately empty tray. 

 -Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Im so sorry sir ! 

 Logan re-adjusted his glasses, lifting his head up to see a nicely dressed man, presenting a gloved hand to help him stand up while "Pat" apologized again, and multiple times, taking the tray in putting it on the counter. -It's okay gentlemen, im not hurt. 

 He didn't make the effort to take the man's hand to stand up and took time to properly scrutinize him, realizing that he had severe scars on the left side of his face, what were those ? How did he get them ? So many questions that will probably never have an answer. The gloved one gently smiled at him while he went behind the counter to take their orders.

 -So. Do you want something ? 

 He maybe came of as a bit rude, but how was he supposed to react when two dingus came causing a scene i the cafe ? He hated all the attention driven at him and was absolutely embarrassed. The duo walked up to him, the scared man opened his mouth to talk before being unceremoniously cut by the "tripper". 

 -For Janus over here a black coffee with no sugar and for me it will be a coffee with six pumps of vanilla, two tea spoons of nutmeg, six pumps of caramel, three and half table spoons of shaved milk chocolate, three pumps of praline with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle on top, oh ! With cookie crumbles, almost forgot those ! 

 It wasn't even coffee anymore Jesus christ. Janus looked at the barista shrugging with a small amused smirk. Logan sighed and went to make the two drinks, repeating the second order on loop in his head. 

 -You think he's angry with me Janus ? 

 -No, i think he's concerned about your heart-rate and the sugar concentration in your blood, love. Logan came back with their orders and was surprised to see them sitting at the bar. Right in front of him. Why. Janus was calmly sipping on his coffee while Patton took  a big gulp of his unholy drink. The barista's face didn't let see any emotion but he was offended, and disgusted that he had to make such a thing and that it was actually consumed by another human being. -A really, appreciable place you have here mister. -Thanks. -You're the only one working here ? -Owner and employee. -But i have a question. Why the "Blue's" ? -Blue is my favorite color. This conversation was dryer than an oatmeal cookie in the middle of the desert. Fortunately, Patton tried to break the awkwardness. -Oh my god ! What are the odds, i also like blue ! My shirt is blue ! -This is cyan. -Well...it's a shade of blue ! Janus giggled at the attempts of his friend before turning to Logan with a pawky smirk. -I haven't recalled seeing ice cream on the menu but holy hell this place's atmosphere is colder than a family in law dinner in the middle of Antarctica. Logan threw a side, electrified look at him which he didn't seem to mind a all. -People don't speak to me usually. They take their coffee and continue their day. -Well unfortunately for you.. He looked at his badge on the deep blue apron. -..Logan, but i really like learning to know people. And you good sir, have  peaked my interest. Logan rolled his eyes, turning his back to go and serve other customers. “Peaked his interest”. Huh. What a weirdo. ---------------------------------------------------- That’s all for now grimlins and fanders, maybe I'll get back at it one day, maybe it will just be a series of one shots ! 

[cheshiresense]

Ok so Im going to take this chance and go wild: GiottoxMukuro + Bad Vongola AU

UM. So, I sort of just sat on this last one cuz what even lmao. I checked AO3 and omg this ship exists??? but there’s like just two fics under it. But alright, here’s my stab at this very random pairing, it doesn’t even quite get all the way to a pairing, but I gave them both page time and at least you gave me something new to try XD Sorry it’s so late.

ALSO YAY I FINISHED ALL TEN

1. Ok so! First thing’s first - how do I stick these two into the same time period? Either full AU or time travel/reincarnation fuckery. Let’s go with reincarnation. Sort of. Where Neo Primo is literally Neo Primo ;)

Tsuna is dead. They’re in the future arc, he’s being forced to take the boss trial, and Hibari suffocates him just a little too long. So Tsuna dies at the feet of his ancestors, and Giotto is forced to witness the death of a fourteen-year-old boy who had never asked for any of this bloodshed but had also never backed down from it, never folded, even under the pressure of so many Vongola bosses. And Giotto is angry. He has spent centuries watching his beloved Vongola become mired in blood and sin, built on an empire of corpses and suffering. He is so sick of it, of not being able to do anything about it, but his latest descendant is dead, and his body is empty of a soul, and in that moment, more than anything else, all Giotto wants is a chance to act, to be something other than helpless, to fix even just a little of what his bloodline has broken.

Will and Flames and desperation are powerful things when combined.

Next thing Giotto knows, he’s opening his eyes to a cold-looking training room, the remains of a cage that killed a fourteen-year-old boy splintering around him, and it barely takes a thought for his Flames to surge up and out and slam the Cloud - Hibari Kyouya - into the far wall with a viciousness Giotto had spent the majority of his first life keeping under wraps. For a split second, he almost kills the Cloud for his gall. A Guardian who could murder his own Sky - however well-intentioned or unknowingly - is no Guardian at all, but then, out of all of the Tenth Generation, as far as Giotto can tell, not a single one of them had had a real bond with Tsuna. The one who’d come closest had been the Mist, but after ten years and the weight of Vongola’s sins on his shoulders, even that connection had dissolved.

If Giotto is honest, the person Tsuna had become ten years later under the crushing pressure of that Sun Arcobaleno and the Vongola had been near unrecognizable compared to the boy Giotto had so admired. But that man is dead, at least for now, dragged under by too many enemies and too many bad decisions, and all that’s left is this younger version, dragged to the future against his will and forced to fight a war of someone else’s making.

Not even that anymore obviously, and all that’s left is Giotto, a bloody legacy to his name and too many regrets to pay for. All he can do is live out Tsuna’s life now and hopefully undo some of the damage Vongola has wrought. Tsuna wouldn’t want him killing this Cloud though, and so Giotto lets him go in the end. Hibari gets to his feet, something bloodthirsty and thrilled gleaming in his eyes, completely ignorant of the fact that he’d killed his Sky, and all Giotto can think as he recalls the way Tsuna had always had to bribe this man for him to even consider helping is how Alaude must be rolling in his grave.

“I’m done,” He says instead, slicing a cool look around the room, and then he walks out, back to his room. Nobody stops him, but Giotto wouldn’t have stopped him either, with the shadow of his Flames licking across the concrete floor.

2. Giotto does his duty. Ten years in the future is far too late to really change anything significant, so the faster he takes care of business here, the sooner they can all go home. In the meantime, it amuses him - in a funny world-burning sort of way - how none of Tsuna’s friends seems to realize anything is wrong, that the boy they profess their loyalty to is gone, and his body has been usurped by an interloper. Giotto considers himself a decent enough actor, but for a bunch of Flame-actives with Vongola rings on their fingers and Guardian titles to their names, they’re a rather oblivious lot.

(All of Tsuna’s past and present and future sits in his memories now though, and Giotto can’t say he’s terribly surprised. The person these children wanted to follow was never actually the boy Tsuna had been, not entirely. They pay attention to the parts of him that they like, and ignore the rest like they don’t exist. It infuriates Giotto, because Tsuna deserved better, but Tsuna is dead, and even if Giotto has every intention of at the very least demoting them from their Guardian positions once they’re finished here, he cannot truly harm these children Tsuna had called friends.)

So he does his duty, fights the battles people want him to fight, and smiles blandly back in the face of Reborn’s suspicious glances. That hitman at least can sense something is off, if only because his student no longer cringes or screams, but no one save the Vongola bosses knows the details of what happens in the Vongola Trial, and it’s easy enough to balance Reborn’s misgivings with that.

It’s fun though, messing with the pseudo-baby. The last time Reborn tried to shoot him awake in the morning, Giotto had set the entire room on fire and ended up singeing off Reborn’s sideburns. The resulting training session had been grueling, but it had been worth finally getting back at the man first responsible for more or less browbeating Tsuna into obedience.

Pettiness aside, Giotto does put effort into training. Tsuna’s body is in decent shape, but it could be even better, so Giotto does his best to make it so. The weapons of the future are something of a marvel too, and he smiles indulgently at the full-grown wing-adorned flame-pelted Leone di Cieli that gracefully leaps out to greet him, but in the privacy of his rooms, he lets his Flames swirl free and summons the phoenix that had been his constant companion in his first life, the soul of his Flames, his will made sentient.

“Natsu,” He names the lion, after Tsuna, and welcomes Persephone home as she does a sweep of his bedroom before landing light and delicate on his shoulder, the way she’d always done in battle.

The looks on everyone’s faces when they see her with him is enough to make Giotto smile for the next week.

3. It becomes clear soon enough that they’re going to need all hands on deck for the final confrontation against Millefiore, but even before that, Giotto begins asking some pointed questions that Tsuna had thought but hadn’t quite been brave enough to ask.

“When are we getting my Mist out of Vendicare?” He enquires one night over dinner, and smiles pleasantly as everyone freezes. “We require all the aid we can get, yes? And Mukuro has always been strong.”

“Jyuudaime!” Hayato is the first to burst out, chair skidding back with how emphatically he stands up. “We don’t need that bastard!” Giotto looks at him, not a twitch in his expression, impenetrable as ice even as he keeps his features soft, and Hayato falters. “Or- Or even if we do, he can just possess Dokuro! He can’t be trusted if we let him out!”

Giotto stirs more sugar into his coffee - rich and sweet, gave G a minor aneurysm every time he saw it - just the way he likes it. “So we make him serve, and offer nothing in return?”

Giotto waits out the confused spluttering around him. Reborn is drilling holes into the side of his head but he pays the baby no mind.

“He has been imprisoned for ten years,” Giotto continues in mild tones. “And has remained loyal all this time, si?” He glances briefly at Chrome, the younger one, who stares back, meek and mute. She is loyal to Mukuro above all others, and it would’ve been so very easy for him to influence her into betraying Vongola - betraying Tsuna - anytime.

That he hadn’t, in all this time, is… something. It’s something. The lingering threads of a frayed potential bond. The stubborn refusal to give up something he’d once perhaps considered his. A promise once given - keep my people safe and you will have my allegiance - and never broken, not by Mukuro.

People have often remarked on how similar the First and Tenth Generations are. Personally, Giotto has never seen two sets of people so different.

“I wish to free him,” He says at last, over the voices of those trying to convince him otherwise. “Loyalty deserves loyalty returned. Whatever else he used to be, he has bled in my service for ten years. Surely that is enough to justify his release?”

It is not a question, and everyone knows it. Reborn is all but glaring now. He doesn’t like this new Tsuna who does not cower even in the face of his bullets.

Giotto is spiteful enough to enjoy every moment of it.

It is Takeshi who relents first. “Okay,” He says, all easy agreement and assessing eyes, and maybe this one at least is not so far removed from Ugetsu’s blood after all. “But how are we gonna do that? Vendicare’s hard to break into, right?”

Hayato - the only mafia-raised of the lot - looks positively horrified. “It’s not hard, Baseball Freak, it’s impossible!”

“But Mukuro already broke out twice, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Giotto interjects, smiling at Takeshi, who preens a little under the attention and is in some ways possibly the most insane of them all. Giotto does have a fondness for those who consider laws as guidelines at best. “So, I suppose we need a Mist.” He takes a gulp of his coffee. “The Varia has a new one these days, don’t they?”

Three conferences, five one-sided shouting matches, and a hefty sum of money transferred over to the Varia accounts later, Giotto has secured Xanxus’ partly baffled, mostly irritated agreement for Fran’s services. Fran turns out to be a rather… precocious young man, but he has Mist Flames and skills that almost rival Mukuro’s, and Giotto is relatively content to leave the breakout to him.

His confidence is not misplaced. Days and half a dozen more battles later, with Byakuran grandstanding across from him, Giotto’s entire ill-fitted, misfit Family is gathered, and the First Generation appears at Giotto’s silent command to unseal the Vongola rings.

(All of them know what he is, the soul peering out from behind Tsuna’s eyes. But in this one moment, not even Daemon gives him away, and Giotto is free to finally unleash his carefully controlled wrath on the Family that had decimated his.)

Millefiore doesn’t stand a chance.

4. “You are not Sawada Tsunayoshi,” Mukuro - the older one - says in deceptively light tones as he joins Giotto on the balcony. It’s late, the night before they would all finally return to the past, and the two of them are probably the only ones still awake.

“No,” Giotto confirms, because there’s no hiding it from this man. “I’m afraid Sawada Tsunayoshi perished in Kyouya’s Box Weapon when he and Reborn attempted to force a Vongola Trial.”

Mukuro, staring out at the sprawling woods before them, does not visibly react, does not even move. For a moment, it doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing, and that’s what gives him away.

Giotto does not say he is sorry. He is, for this, and for too many other things to list, but whatever connection had formed between Tsuna and his Mist had been lost a long time ago, and sorry only sounds trite in the face of such a travesty. The only reason Mukuro had never drifted away, Giotto suspects, was because the Mist had refused to let go. Mukuro himself would never admit it, perhaps never even acknowledge it to himself, but if there was one thing Giotto had always envied Tsuna for, it was his ability to earn a Mist’s devotion so completely.

(And so it had hurt all the more to watch the years go by as Tsuna allowed Vongola to convince him to leave Mukuro in Vendicare. Hurt most of all to realize, one day, that Tsuna no longer cared so long as Mukuro continued reporting in and doing as he was told.)

“What will you do with my younger self?” Mukuro eventually asks, carefully void of every emotion save for the thinnest veneer of detached interest.

“Free him,” Giotto replies promptly, seeing no need for word games here. Reborn had tried to interrogate him about his Vongola Trial, and Giotto had given him every answer but a straight one. It had been highly entertaining. “If he wishes, he will have a place in my Famiglia. If he does not, then I will ensure he is able to start a new life elsewhere with his people, without Vongola dogging their every step.” He pauses, absently considering his hands, more solid than they’ve been in four hundred years. “Even Tsunayoshi’s fear of Reborn was not enough to stop him from asking repeatedly after you. This is the least I can do for your younger self when Tsunayoshi worried about him so often.”

Mukuro scoffs, a hollow puff of air that fades to nothing. “Had he a few more years in him, you would’ve had nothing to concern yourself with.”

Giotto inclines his head in acknowledgement but says nothing more. There is probably no one who knew Tsuna - who fought him and lost to him and understood him - more than Mukuro. The Mist doesn’t need Giotto expounding on the rise and fall of one of the brightest and most short-lived Skies the world would ever see.

“You will not tell the others about me?” Giotto asks instead, more curious than any kind of anxious about it.

Mukuro tips a mocking facsimile of a smile in his direction, looking him straight-on for the first time since his arrival. “What business is it of mine, if Vongola wishes to destroy itself?”

Giotto half-smiles, half-grimaces. He supposes this is hardly a surprise either; it was never Vongola that Mukuro swore unspoken fealty to.

So instead, he reaches out, gently catching one of Mukuro’s hands in his own and knowing he can only because Mukuro allows it. Mismatched eyes watch him like a hawk, a derisive curl on his lips that freezes when Giotto presses the flickering heat of a piece of Sky Flame into his palm.

Then he steps back, once, twice, enough room to sketch an esoteric bow, too formal for this age but recognizable enough here and now if Mukuro’s sharp intake of breath is anything to go by.

Gratitude. Apology. And a dissolution of debt and duty between Guardian and Sky.

If Mukuro so wishes, even after Giotto is gone, the shard of Sky will ensure a clean break from Vongola, and not even Sawada Tsunayoshi will be able to track his former Guardian down. It is all Giotto can offer him.

He straightens, glancing at the piece of Sky now settled into the shimmering form of a phoenix feather. A new life, if Mukuro wants it.

He meets the Mist’s gaze. Mukuro is the first to look away, fingers curling around the feather, eyes on the horizon, and he doesn’t speak again.

Giotto nods, takes his leave, and he does not see the Mist again, not this version at least. Once time straightens itself out, the adult Tsuna of this universe will return, and while Millefiore is no longer a threat, Vongola - and its Decimo - will still be the same stagnant bloodstained mess.

There is nothing Giotto can do about that, but at the back of his mind, he wonders if it wouldn’t have been better after all to have let Millefiore wipe Vongola out.

5. Later, much later, after a jailbreak and Daemon and a broken curse, Giotto and his Guardians - still no bonds, but he can’t seem to find a good time to get rid of them, so maybe instead of that, he can educate them to be better - sit down for a Family dinner at the most upscale banquet hall Namimori has to offer, with the Ninth and his men, the CEDEF and even Varia. They’re in public so everyone has their law-abiding citizen face on, but (a redo of) the Inheritance Ceremony is imminent, and Timoteo smiles, sly and pleased that all the pieces have finally fallen into place. He waves Giotto into the seat on his immediate right and doesn’t even question how very little Giotto resembles Tsuna these days, ascribing the changes to Reborn’s training and recent battles and growing up, and looking no further than that.

The food is good, Italian but cooked by the best chefs on Vongola payroll. Giotto stares Kyouya into grudging silence over the fare, and then he focuses on chatting amicably with Timoteo, weaving smooth flattery into casual but attentive conversation the way he’d learned to do a lifetime ago.

Giotto watched Timoteo grow up. There is no skeleton in his closet that Giotto did not witness him stashing away. But he is old and past his prime and he will soon learn that his successor is not as easy to control as he’d hoped, as he thinks, so Giotto can smile back now and give him his momentary triumph, smile and sip his wine and not let his eyes linger on every bite of food Timoteo takes.

During a lull in the conversation, he turns and catches Mukuro’s eye. His Mist is seated beside his female counterpart, all the way at the end of the line, farthest from his Sky to any outsider’s eye. But Mukuro smirks back from behind his cloth napkin, and as the Nono’s dessert is carried in, the faint twist of Mist Flames - unnoticed by all except two - darts into the panna cotta.

Timoteo eats his fill, compliments the chef, beams at Giotto’s gently filial fussing again like the kindly grandfather he excels at pretending to be, and nobody thinks to question how masterfully Giotto draws all attention to himself and his rowdier Guardians, never letting the generally jovial mood falter, his Sky Flames a subtle pulsing encouragement beneath it all to distract them from the knife at their backs.

The whole affair is a success. At the very least, nobody threw any food, no fights broke out, and no one lost their tempers. It almost feels like a miracle.

They part ways in groups, and to their credit, Hayato and Kyouya only try to kill each other after the elder Vongola party is gone. It doesn’t take long for Ryouhei to join in, and at a glance from Mukuro, Chrome scoops Lambo up and picks up her pace to catch up to a laughing Takeshi.

Mukuro falls into step beside Giotto. Giotto had asked, after the Arcobaleno business was finally over, if Mukuro would stay. Mukuro had asked what Giotto would offer if he did.

“A place in my Family, for you and yours,” Giotto had sworn. “And a hand in toppling the Vongola Empire once and for all.”

Mukuro had smiled, ten years’ worth of another world’s memories behind it, and six lives’ worth of suffering driving his answer.

“Tsunayoshi would never have chosen this method,” Mukuro says now, voice pitched low but as idly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Giotto smiles, grim and long past the point of any return.

Tsuna was his favourite. He reminded Giotto of the man he used to be, when Vongola was still a goal wrapped in optimism and determination, before they’d become embroiled in the mafia and Giotto had spent the next four hundred years after his death watching his life’s work build itself a throne of corpses.

Tsuna was his favourite, but he was also an ideal Giotto won’t ever be again, and cannot be if he truly wants to see this iteration of Vongola dead in his second lifetime. Tsuna would’ve been eaten alive by Vongola - Giotto had seen an entire future’s worth of proof of that.

“I am not Tsunayoshi,” Giotto says, and it is another regret he will have to carry, but their world is neither kind nor fair, and Tsuna as he was would never have survived it.

Mukuro studies him, a thoughtful tilt to his head, and something like fascination glitters in his eyes. “No, you are not,” He agrees. “But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Giotto glances at him, then ahead, at children who had almost killed and been almost killed mere days ago, now roughhousing amongst themselves. “The world could do with more Tsunayoshis.”

“The world needs more of you,” Mukuro retorts just as swiftly, a sardonic sort of amusement in his smirk. “In that other future, Tsunayoshi proved beyond a doubt that everything he promised, he couldn’t keep, didn’t he? And yet here you are, Vongola Primo, poisoning your enemies over dinner, and just yesterday you had me hide you while you met with Gesso and Simon and Giglio Nero in private. You certainly don’t waste any time.” His smirk widens. “If Vongola isn’t careful, you’ll turn half of Europe against the older generation before they realize it.”

Giotto hums and doesn’t deny any of it. “You would be willing to aid me though?”

Mukuro arches an eyebrow, and his right eye flickers briefly with Mist Flames. “Have I not been doing so already?”

Giotto nods. “Yes, and I am grateful. But lending a hand now is not the same as devoting at least the next ten years of your life to a goal most would consider impossible. And I am not Tsunayoshi.”

Mukuro’s steps slow, then stop entirely. Giotto blinks and halts as well, half-turning.

“Does that matter so much to you?” Mukuro asks, peering at him with surprisingly genuine puzzlement. “Do you think it matters so much to me? That you are not Tsunayoshi?”

Giotto half-shrugs, and Mukuro shakes his head. “Tsunayoshi had a heart that I will never fully understand,” He says, blunt in a way he almost never is. “He was naive and foolish, hopeful and soft, and it made him as weak as it made him strong. I could trust him to never turn on Chrome or Ken or Chikusa, even if they or I tested his tolerance, but by that same logic, I could never have trusted him to stand firm against Vongola’s ideals, no matter what he proclaimed. And I was right, wasn’t I? In the end, Vongola destroyed him, and he became one of them.”

He pauses, his gaze sliding away, hands coming together to twist one of the rings on his fingers. Then he looks back at Giotto, and his next smirk is equal parts challenge and approval. “You though. You have witnessed the results of letting your previous Mist Guardian walk free, and spent years watching your descendants commit atrocities in the name of strengthening your organization. If I were to promise you my loyalty, and then betray you sometime down the road, you would slit my throat yourself. But at the same time, at least I know - you are both ruthless enough and determined enough to see your objectives through to the end, with a conviction that’s centuries in the making. The current Vongola would have to kill you to stop you.” His right eye flares indigo again. “So I suppose that is where I come in.”

Up ahead, the others turn a corner, still bickering. Giotto thinks Takeshi has probably noticed that he and Mukuro have fallen behind, and of course Chrome knows, but neither of them stops to wait either.

Mukuro steps back, once, twice, and Giotto’s eyes widen as the Mist lifts a hand to brush over the earring he hasn’t stopped wearing since he got it. And then… well.

The Mukuro from the future must’ve known how because this Mukuro doesn’t even look awkward as he drops to one knee and bows his head, just a dip, slow enough to look deliberate, proud enough to meet Giotto’s gaze again afterwards.

“You asked for ten years, Neo Primo,” Mukuro announces. “So, very well, I will pledge you ten years of my life, for you to use as you see fit, so long as you keep your word. We can revisit this in a decade, but for the next ten years, I will make you untouchable to your enemies and sow discord amongst them in your name.” He smiles and it’s a mad and bloodthirsty thing, the same furious hateful beast he’d aimed at Daemon Spade when he’d sought to rip Chrome from Mukuro’s side. “And should the worst come to pass and I go the way of my predecessor, may my life be forfeit at your hands.”

He reaches up, catches Giotto’s hand in his own, and his red eye glows as orange and indigo burst into existence between their fingers, a blaze of light under the night sky as they twine together, fierce and unyielding and true.

They both gasp from the surge of power that rushes through them as the Guardian bond snaps into place, the first one Giotto will ever have in this body, the first one in over four hundred years, a core of Flame that promises a home, something Daemon had never been able to give him, and Giotto doesn’t even think before he’s yanking Mukuro to his feet and reeling him close.

Tsuna had been short for his age so Giotto isn’t quite eye-level with his new Mist, but it hardly matters when he curls a near-bruising grip along Mukuro’s jaw and sees the same hunger and possessiveness he feels reflected in the illusionist’s eyes.

“A Guardian bond is not something I take lightly,” Giotto murmurs, and he knows even without a mirror that his own Flames are burning in his eyes. “You are mine now, and I do not share. In ten years, you will pledge another ten, and another ten after that, and any who dare to try and take you from me, I would run rivers red with their lifeblood.”

(These oaths are old, old and binding and near-forgotten, bastardized ten ways to Sunday but still echoing of power, and even in Giotto’s time, only G and Ugetsu had sworn them. That his new reign would begin with one, when as far as Giotto knows, none have spoken them in centuries - perhaps it speaks of the dawn of a new age.)

Mukuro inhales shakily, not at all prepared for the sheer depth and intensity of a true Flame bond. But the grip he has on Giotto’s wrist is just as tight as Giotto’s, and it only takes him another breath to regain his bearings.

“As you Will it, Giotto,” Mukuro murmurs, and it crackles over Giotto’s skin. No one has spoken his name since his resurrection.

The bond settles between them, calm now but no less potent. Giotto lets go, tickling a tongue of Sun-tinted Sky Flame along Mukuro’s skin to soothe the sting left behind. Mukuro only huffs a breath of laughter, gaze still unwavering on Giotto’s face.

“Well then,” The Mist - Giotto’s Mist - smiles, quieter, more serene, like a glass-spun secret cloaked in shadow, but exultantly bright all the same. “Long live the new King. May your reign be long and prosperous.”

[gwoongi]

(abandoned) it’s late, just stay

john wick / reader genre: sugar daddy au rating: general, mature themes words: 2.4k warnings: sugar daddy relationship, slight john wick 2 spoilers i guess a/n: this 1 is for me. i wrote her in a heat,,,she’s literally not finished. but im adding her to my online portfolio 4 the memories. Also fyi the profile was made before i indulged in seeking arrangements and as a sugar baby i know that ur not allowed to mention 90% of brooklynbaby’s bio in ur bio but who cares man this is fiction and im making it up

At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”

Sometimes, John doesn’t really know how he gets himself into awkward situations.

The first few occasions, he figured it was merely a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While, actually, this always worked out in his favour, John began to notice that it was more frequent that he ended up at a bar with some people he didn’t really know, or being invited to a baby shower as the date of a woman he had never even met before. Granted, John enjoyed company whenever he could get it, and whenever it avoided conflict; however socialism has never been his strongest asset. No, he simply prefers silent gestures or glances across rooms, ‘eye conversations’ where he says hello and nothing else for the remainder of the evening.

“You just need to loosen up a bit,” is what Addy had told him, whilst slipping him a glass of straight Bourbon. It had been a relatively quiet evening in the Continental, and just when John thought he could have five minutes of peace and quiet, Addy has slipped in his line of sight. “You know, go out. Make new friends.”

“You’re my friend,” John replied. He made no room to elaborate on that statement, swallowing the contents of the drink and pushing it back to her with a short nod. She sighed and rolled her eyes, doing her job.

“No, you know what you really need?” He didn’t answer, glancing at her through his hair as she filled his drink and rested her weight on her elbows. Instantly, John didn’t like the feeling in his stomach when Addy raised her eyebrows suggestively, tugging on her bottom lip with newfound excitement: “I think you need to get laid.” 

And when John scoffed with humour, she tried again, “and not like, laid as in you have a one night stand. No- hear me out, John! You should invest in a sugar baby. You know, someone you can spend time with when you’re not doing the dirty work for everybody else. It’s fun, and frisky, and also means you can start spending some of the millions you have stashed somewhere not being used.”

She tutted like a scolding mother, “Selfish boy.” Addy then smiled, “Maybe instead of retirement, what you really need is something to help you unwind.”

John scoffed, gulping back the Bourbon. “I’m married.”

At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”

That’s really all the thinking he had done on the subject of John- John fucking Wick- investing in a sugar baby. He simply took it in stride, almost complimented by the assumption that he was attractive and rich enough to have someone leaning on him for money and sex, and stored it away for future thought when he was lost and drunk. John never actually considered the possibility of “putting his bills to good use” until fucking Santino D’Antonio decided to light a bonfire inside his house. Having lost virtually everything related to Helen, he found himself back at the Continental, back to listening to Addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to Seeking Arrangements.

John doesn’t know why he’s doing this, staring at the laptop screen that smiles at him. For circumstances, Addy had loaned him her laptop for the evening he spends at the Continental, and he’s too busy browsing the elaborately made profiles that he barely registers the fact that he is still wearing his suit. He pulls at the cuffs of his blazer and is midway through taking it off when he stumbles across a profile- one of which is oddly amusing- titled brooklynbaby. He racks his mind for the reference but can’t seem to place it.

“A sugar baby suggests that I sleep with them, and as I said,” John had mentioned back in the bar, “I’m married.”

Addy had grabbed his hands and groaned, “Look- you might surprise yourself. And, I’m not suggesting that you throw your wife away for somebody new. I’m just saying you need to...make use of yourself. Honestly, you’re too sexy to be stored away like this. Most sugar babies are dumb and unobservant, they won’t even know who you are.”

brooklynbaby makes an adorably hilarious first impression, and John is hesitant to browse her profile. If he wanted to “make use of himself” by investing all of his personal time into somebody who in truth wanted him for his dick and his bank balance, then it needed to be somebody at least near to his wavelength. Somebody who was smart, but clueless at the same time, and somebody who was the complete opposite of Helen. The last thing he needed on top of a handful of a baby was the guilt of moving on. But still, even when he pinned her tab and returned to scrolling through the profiles, John realised that most sugar babies were simply trolls hidden behind pretty pictures, or girls who wanted money for pleasure and not for need.

He went back to brooklynbaby. Three times. Three times, before he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck it,” and favoriting her account, and pressing to send a message.

Even online, John was never great with words. He typed, and backspaced, and typed again, trying to come up with something interesting to make up for the bland profile he made around thirty minutes ago.

From: johnwick So. You like dogs?

If Addy were here, she would have slapped him.

Almost immediately after it sends, John lets out a frustrated noise and tears his gaze away from the screen. Dating just wasn’t like how it was when he met Helen. Why did everything have to be so complicated, and mysterious, and why the hell does he even have to waste his money on somebody when he could be saving this money to eventually, whenever the day comes, retire? John wrestles with the dilemma of deleting the whole account when a notification bell rings through the laptop speakers.

From: brooklynbaby yes, I love dogs!!! :D (typing) do you have a dog?

John breathes a sigh of relief.

From: johnwick Yes. I do.

From: brooklynbaby oh, great. :) (typing)

John’s leg begins to bounce quickly, the table wavering with the glass on top, like an earthquake. Suddenly, brooklynbaby stops typing and John stills. Why did she stop? Did he do something wrong? Honestly, women are so hard to please nowadays.

From: brooklynbaby want to be my sugar daddy?

Never mind.

From: johnwick I would.

From: brooklynbaby cool

Neither him or brooklynbaby says anything for a few moments, and John doesn’t notice. After-all, he is still a working man, busy with life and revenge and trying to stay alive for more than three seconds. When he goes back to the laptop and sees no reply, he frowns.

From: johnwick I am sorry. I really don’t know what I’m doing. What am I supposed to say?

He makes a mental reminder to have words with Addy later.

From: brooklynbaby /(*u*)/ you’re cute we could make dinner reservations and talk over terms if you’d like!!! i say reservations because they’re fancy and if anything goes wrong, we can pretend we’re… business partners? discussing business?

Without even really realising, John finds himself laughing shortly, settling back into the chair. All of this feels weird, as in typing to a stranger he’s planning to spend his money on and occasionally fuck. John quickly revisits her profile and spends four minutes analysing her profile picture. If this is her, then she’s really very beautiful. A steal.

From: johnwick When are you free for dinner?

From: brooklynbaby hmm well i’m dogsitting tomorrow, but i can be free for the day after!!!! is that okay ^_^

From: johnwick That would be fine. [Address] at 7pm, does that work for you?

brooklynbaby pauses.

From: brooklynbaby omg am i gonna have to dress fancy?

From: johnwick Don’t feel pressured. I only own black.

From: brooklynbaby well….guess i’ll bring out like one of my old uni party dresses :( but you have to promise not to judge me!!!

John laughs again. At some point during the evening, he ends up with a planned dinner reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Brooklyn, and he’s also 2 grand poorer thanks to the generous donation in brooklynbaby’s bank account for a nice evening outfit.

When John returns the laptop to Addy the following morning, he was admittedly expecting the rant that followed. She had glared at the laptop being handed back over the bar and refused to serve him until he came up with a reasonably valid excuse as to why he wasn’t putting himself out there for a bit of company. John had blinked with an unimpressed look and drummed his fingers.

“I have dinner reservations with someone tomorrow at 7pm. Also- can I have a drink?”

But of course, with work being as tedious as ever and with his whole day being completely ruined by a blood stained shirt and poor room service for the first time in his many years of frequenting the Continental, John didn’t amuse himself with brooklynbaby until he logged onto the site on his phone, and saw that she had messaged thrice during the day. He almost felt guilty, until he saw a string of numbers at the end of the last message. He deemed it less necessary to read her above messages and instead went right to texting.

brooklynbaby ok. so should i just ask for mr john wick when i get to this restaurant??? sorry for so many texts im just kinda nervous

me Yes. I booked under my name and I will be waiting for you when you arrive. Why are you nervous? Didn’t you ask me to be here?

brooklynbaby well if we’re going to be technical then YOU asked me to dinner first :P and im nervous because i have nooo idea who you are send a picture?

John sank into bed.

me Maybe I like the element of surprise.

brooklynbaby seems a lil unfair that you get to see me but i dont get to see you :( ive seen ur dog before you thats saying something

me You could have used any image. If we’re going to be technical, I don’t even know your name, or if that is really you in the image.

John really hadn’t been expecting a full blown nude image at 4:15pm in the afternoon, but he will admit that it was nevertheless what he needed to break some steam. He had arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes earlier than expected, but that’s okay, Mr Wick. Right this way! Now that he was sitting here, at an empty table overlooking Brooklyn and the lights, with an already ordered bottle of wine, John could understand and relate to the first date nerves. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Not since-

brooklynbaby uhhh im kind of here like ten minutes early should i wait outside for you :3

He laughs, mostly to himself.

me I’m already up here. I ordered a rosé, is that alright?

brooklynbaby YES IM RUNNING

And, surprising himself also, John had clammed up and reached for his glass. Thankfully, the owner of this restaurant knew John by face and order, because, after-all, this had been his go-to with Helen. These days, he doesn’t have time to go out to new places and eat new things, and so had panicked, and picked a place with sentimental value, and a history of good food. He gulped back his glass of Bourbon and waited until the door at the other side of the room opened meekly, and he tried to appear vacant as the waiter led a woman across the room and towards him.

“Your date, Mr Wick.”

He left curtly and brooklynbaby followed his body as he left, her feet firmly glued to the floor as her head looked back over her shoulder. John took this as an opportunity to look at her body, covered in a beautiful dress he felt proud of paying for. Finally, brooklynbaby looked towards him and paused, observing him and his clearly surprising appearance. John then remembered the gash on his cheekbone and the way he probably looked very off-putting with an unshaven face and long hair, but brooklynbaby smiled softly and raised her brows, beating him to helping her in her chair as she quickly sat down and looked at his glass.

“How did you know I liked beards?”

John didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t.”

brooklynbaby rolled her eyes with a grin. “Of course you didn’t.” She looked up, then, properly taking in his face. John did the same, looking at every feature present and coming to the quick conclusion that yes, she was definitely the woman in the pictures, and yes, she was one of the most gorgeous humans he had ever seen on planet Earth since Helen herself.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said honestly. “But, more than my expectations. I don’t believe I’ve really introduced myself- I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

He tried it out in his head. Y/N. Y/N L.N, Y/N L/N, Y/N Wick-

“John,” he replied and she sniggered and rested her chin in her palms.

“You’re seriously so handsome,” she complimented. “Are you sure you’re not married, or something?”

Her gaze panned to his hands where she noticed the wedding band, and for a moment, she hesitated. John wasn’t ashamed of the ring, nor embarrassed to be seen wearing it. He toyed with it on his finger, looking at her from across the table. “It’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded meekly. “I see.” She cleared her throat, “divorce? Planned divorce? Affair?”

“No, I’m widowed,” he tried out a joke, but she only looked more uncomfortable. Her mouth gaped and she fumbled for words.

“Oh, John, I’m really sorry- no, really, I’m so sorry,” she stumbled, and John watched her carefully across the table. “God, how fucking insensitive. Sorry, I guess that just. Wow, that never really crossed my mind. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past,” John said, finding finality in that sentence. “I’m trying to move on from it.”

Y/N nodded sympathetically. “No, yeah, wow, I get it. Completely. I...hope I live up to great expectations, then?”

John smiled and looked past her, noticing the waiter rounding the corner with the bottle of rose. “You’re getting there, Miss L/N.”

[freddiesaysalright]

Blessed Part 3

The Peace Like a River Sequel

Summary: Gwilym and Y/N are married. Violet is six years old. Baby number two is on the way. There are still some shadows that plague Y/N in her marriage to Gwil, and Violet is suddenly resentful of her parents. The Lee family tries to stick together.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @simmisblog​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @readinghorn​, @riddikuluslypotter​, @doingalrightt​, @misslolasworld​, @lemurian-starship​, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80​, @imgonnabeyourslave​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @ixchel-9275​, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867​, @unicorn-princess-1999​, @delilahmay39​, @chlobo6​, @dragon-out-of-water​, @radio-hoo-ha​, @agentmalfoy24601​, @thigh-your-mother-down​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @anotherhystericalqueen​ If you want to be added, let me know!

A/N: Fluff, fluffity, fluff fluff fluff

Haven’t read Peace Like a River? Start here!

Part 1  Part 2

Part 3 here we go!!!

Gwilym swallowed nervously outside Violet’s door. You looked into his face and gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you whispered.

“I hope so,” he breathed back.

You took the knob and turned it, opening the door slowly. You found Violet sitting on her bed, reading a favorite book of hers. Gwilym had given it to her as a Christmas present, and she had read it so many times now the spine was falling apart. It was something they bonded over since after you moved, Gwilym was the one who read to Violet before bed. It instilled such a love of literature in her already, and you were very proud of her reading abilities for her age.

“Hi, Violet,” you said, surprised at the calm in your voice.

When Gwilym showed you such understanding, you felt it was easier to extend the same to your daughter. He was right, after all. Something must be wrong for Violet to lash out the way she did.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked in a small voice.

You and Gwilym took seats on her bed beside her. You gathered her up in your arms.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” you said. “I was scared and upset, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“I forgive you, Mommy,” she returned.

You kissed the top of her head.

“Sweetheart,” Gwilym said. “Will you please tell us what’s been on your mind? We want to support you and get to the bottom of this. Help you work it out.”

Violet detached herself from you and sat back, pulling her knees into her chest. She rested her chin on them, looking pensive.

“I don’t wanna make you guys feel bad,” she said.

You and Gwilym exchanged a surprised look.

“Have we done something wrong?” you asked.

“No,” she sighed. “But...I dunno…”

“Talk to us, lovie,” Gwilym urged.

“Everything’s different now,” she said. “With Sybil.”

“What do you mean?” you wondered.

“Well, the way everybody talks about her...I hear what the doctors say,” she went on. “Dad’s not my dad.”

Oh. You looked at Gwilym again, and you saw the color drain from his face. The time had come where Violet could comprehend that Gwilym was not her father. She was too young to understand the way babies were made, but she was old enough to register that one man made her, and another made her sister. 

“It makes me feel different,” she continued. “Like I’m the oddball. So when Robbie started teasing me about my accent, it made me feel like that even more.”

She sniffled as more tears welled up in her eyes. She looked directly at you.

“Mommy, did you even want me?” she whimpered. “Like you wanted Sybil?”

Your heart shattered inside your chest. You felt your own emotion threatening to make you have a complete meltdown at that question, but you held it together. You took your daughter in your arms again.

“Oh, baby,” you said, stroking her hair. “Of course I wanted you. You were...well, you were certainly a surprise, but when I knew I was going to have you, I didn’t want anything more. In fact, you made me the strongest I’ve ever been in my life. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

She released a little sob and clung to your shirt.

“My real dad...he wasn’t a good person, was he?” she asked, looking up at you.

You truly ached for her. Her tear stained face and red, puffy eyes showed how deeply this had affected her, and the torment she’d been through over it.

You shook your head.

“No, he wasn’t,” you told her. You gently wiped away her tears with your thumbs. “But he gave me you. And for that, I will always be grateful. My perfect little girl.”

Gwilym watched you in amazement. You weren’t lying to Violet, but you weren’t sugar coating anything either. The balance you maintained in this difficult conversation was truly impressive. It took some courage to look your child in the face and tell them a harsh reality like this. He fell in love with you all over again in this moment.

Violet nodded and then turned and looked at Gwilym.

“I feel like I forced you to -”

“Oh, Violet, don’t,” he said gently. “C’mere.”

He sat further back, against her pillows, and she crawled into his lap.

“Y/N, could you give us a moment alone?” he requested.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet, and walking to the door. You told them you loved them and then departed, heading downstairs. You felt some relief after talking to Violet, and understanding her at last. It was a good idea for her to talk with Gwilym alone. They needed to clarify their own relationship.

Gwilym pulled Violet into a warm hug. He held her a moment and let her cry into his chest. This was such a heavy weight for a child, and he wanted her to know she didn’t carry it alone. He would always support her, no matter where she came from or where she went. He put every ounce of his love for her into the embrace, and he just hoped she felt it.

“That’s it, love,” he soothed. “You have yourself a good cry.”

She hiccuped and burrowed further into him.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” he went on. “And you’ve had so much going on inside. Let it out.”

He rubbed her back until her breathing evened out again and she relaxed against him. 

“You have never forced me to be your dad,” he said. “Yes, you called me Daddy and it stuck, but I wanted to be that for you long before you said the word.”

“Really?” she wondered.

He nodded. “Really. I love you very much. I may not have made you in your mum’s belly, but you are my daughter. I have the papers to prove it.”

She giggled. He smiled and pulled her away to look in her eyes.

“You are my daughter,” he repeated. “Mine and your mum’s. Blood doesn’t make a family, darling. Love does. And we’ve got plenty to go around.”

Her face scrunched as she considered the meaning.

“I think I understand,” she replied. “Like how Uncle Ben, Uncle Joe, and Uncle Rami aren’t your brothers, but they’re still my uncles.”

“Exactly!” he said excitedly. “They aren’t my brothers by blood. But I love them enough to be my brothers.”

Her face began to fall again. “But Sybil...she’s gonna look like you.”

“She might,” he agreed. “But things like appearance don’t matter. The things I hope you inherit from me are not my lips or my eyes. I hope you inherit love from me. That comes from the inside. You and Sybil are both my daughters, and I will love you equally for the rest of my life. And beyond.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he assured her. “That day you called me your dad for the first time…” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “You made me happier than I ever thought possible,” he choked out.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him.

“Daddy, are you crying?” she asked.

He chucked and blinked the tears back. One got out and rolled down his cheek. “Yes, love. Sorry. I just love you so much and I never, ever want you to doubt it.”

It was her turn to wipe his face.

“I believe you,” she said. “I won’t doubt again. I promise.”

He grinned and held her close again.

“Very good, my girl,” he said. 

An understanding formed between them now. Violet felt closer to Gwilym than ever. As she inhaled the smell of his cologne from his shirt, she recognized it from when she was even littler. A vision of a hotel room swam before her, and the memory wasn’t totally clear, but she felt her mother and father there. This father. The one she chose.

When dinner was ready, you went back upstairs to check on Gwilym and Violet. You found them cuddled together on her bed, fast asleep. You watched them for a moment, becoming softer than butter, and as you gazed on their peaceful faces, you saw a similarity. It was impossible, but for a moment, you almost believed Violet had Gwilym’s profile. Or maybe it was his hair? Anyway, she looked like him.

***

The following day, you began researching marriage counselors for you and Gwilym. You ended up switching to family counselors so Violet could come if she wanted to talk any more about what she was going through. She said she was fine for now, even if she was still grounded. You still weren’t sure what being grounded meant for six-year-old, but you were content with her just staying in her room for now.

You booked an appointment with a counselor for the following week. Gwilym offered to go with you, but you said for the first one, you should go on your own. That way you could explore your feelings without worrying about who you might hurt with what you found there. You were nervous, but still felt that it was a good idea. You had never really processed everything with Henry, and you wanted to learn how to cope with it without saying or doing things that  would negatively impact your new marriage.

During your first session, Gwilym decided to take Violet out for ice cream. She had handled her grounding well, and he thought she deserved a treat. Plus, he was eager to spend as much one on one time with her as possible before the baby came. That way, she would be further reassured of his dedication to being in her life. Especially since she may begin to feel neglected when the baby required more attention.

“How was school this week?” he asked when they sat down on a bench together.

Violet put a large spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and mulled it over.

“It was okay, I guess,” she said. “I don’t think I missed too much while I was out. I apologized to Robbie, and he forgave me. Then he said he was sorry for making fun of my accent.”

“I’m glad you made up with him,” he said. “I’m proud of you for saying you’re sorry. That’s not always easy.”

“Really? I feel like Mommy says it to you a lot.”

Gwilym paused, mid-bite into his ice cream. Now that he thought about it, you did have a tendency to over-apologize. He realized it was another habit you’d formed to ease tension. Whether by joking or apologizing, you had to alleviate it.

“With Mum it’s different,” he said. “For most people, saying sorry is difficult. People don’t like to admit when they’re wrong.”

“Well, we learn in school that it’s important,” she said. “If you hurt someone, that’s what you say. And to say it like you mean it.”

“Very good,” he praised. “I’m glad you’re taking your lessons to heart.”

“How are you doing, Daddy?” she asked.

He chuckled and reached over to muss her hair. 

“I’m doing just fine,” he said. “It’s sweet of you to ask.”

She beamed at him.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re worried about Sybil.”

His brow furrowed. “Why should I worry about her?”

“Maybe not her, but you!” she returned. “You’re gonna have a whole other kid! Are you scared?”

Gwilym laughed. “Ah, I see. Well, I’m a little scared. But I’m mostly excited. Besides, I have your mum with me. I’m not as scared when we work together.”

She swallowed another spoonful of ice cream and looked thoughtfully out across the street.

“Mommy was alone when she had me, right?” she asked.

“She was, unfortunately,” he said. 

“Do you think she was scared?” she wondered.

“Probably,” he answered. “But not for too long.”

She perked up. 

“Then she got you!”

“She sure did!” he agreed. “Now, we’re a team.”

“The best team,” she affirmed. “Am I on the team too?”

He kissed her head with a smile.

“Of course you are, darling,” he said. “There’s lots you’ll need to teach your sister.”

A beat passed and they both took a few bites.

“Daddy, where do babies come from?” she asked suddenly.

Gwilym choked on the bite he was taking. He took a few moments to cough, and Violet - fretting slightly - patted him gently on the back. Her little hand didn’t really do much for him, but he thanked her anyway. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry, love, you caught me off guard there,” he said. 

“Do they come from somewhere weird?” she pressed, cocking her head to the side as she looked up at him.

“Sort of,” he answered. “You’ll learn more about it when you’re older.”

She pursed her lips and then relaxed them. She shrugged.

“Okie doke,” she said simply.

Gwilym inwardly thanked the heavens above that she let it go. That was not conversation he wanted to have with Violet without you around.

They stayed out another hour or so before heading home. Gwilym was relieved to see you were back, and eager to hear how it went. Violet went tearing into the house, and Gwilym came behind her, closing the door softly.

“Mommy, we’re home!” she cried, throwing her arms around you as much as she could. Really, she hugged your baby bump.

“Hi, sweetie!” you returned. “Did you have fun with Daddy today?”

“We got ice cream!” she told you.

“Well, I hope you still have room for dinner,” you said, eyeing Gwilym as he approached.

“Of course, we got small cups,” he assured you. “Now, give me a kiss.”

You giggled and gave him a swift peck on the lips.

“Mommy, can I watch She-Ra while you make dinner?” she requested.

“Sure thing,” you said. “Go ahead, baby.”

She clapped her hands and started toward the living room, but she came to a sudden halt. Turning on her heel, she hurled herself at Gwilym and wrapped her arms around his legs.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Daddy!” she said. 

She smiled widely at him.

“You’re very welcome, lovie,” he replied.

With that, she disappeared into the living room and switched on the television.

“So,” Gwilym said, looking at you. “How’d it go today?”

“Really well,” you told him. “I sort of got through my history with Henry and she mostly listened. I told her about us too. Even the letters, but she said it was romantic.” You laughed a little. “I felt a lot of relief afterward. Would you come with me next week? I think it could be really good for us to go together.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “Anything for you, love.”

[cole-grey-writes]

Kiss Me Better

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Character(s): Sam Wilson

Pairing(s): Sam Wilson x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing, completely inaccurate medical procedures because im not a doctor and 16 y/o

Summary: You were injured on a mission and in order to stave off infection, you have to get a shot...

OLD A/n from over a month ago: I got shots at the doctors probably a week ago (and I'm just now finishing this because frickin executive dysfunction kicked my ass). I don't have a bf/gf in real life to kiss me better, but I can always pretend with fanfiction. Enjoy

NEW A/n from right now: shit it’s been a long time huh? yeah, this was supposed to be uploaded over a month ago but for some reason I just... didn’t put it up. Idk, I think I was going through some shit so I wasn’t interested in anything at all and I was super unmotivated. Anyway, I finally got it up. Hope you all enjoy :)

“Sam!” you say his name with joy. The pain coursing through out your body isn’t enough to keep you from throwing your arms around your boyfriend as soon as he’s close enough to where you sit on the plain white bed in the SHIELD medbay.

You wrap your arms around him and squeeze as hard as you can without causing pain to shoot up your arms from your injuries. Sam returns the favor and hugs you close to his chest. You can’t help but wince when he unknowingly presses into a large bruise stretching across your stomach, but you don’t want the hug to end so you try to hide it. Sam obviously sees right through you and let’s go, although he doesn’t stop touching you. Sam’s hands rest on your arms gently, trying not to press on the bruises and cuts that are covered in bandages.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. You are an absolute moron,” Sam tells you, pointing a finger. Your mouth falls open in offense and try to say something but he interrupts you. “Did you think jumping in the line of fire was really your only option?”

“...Well, it seemed like the only option at the time.”

“Jesus,” Sam swears. “You are just as bad as Steve.”

“I am not nearly–”

“Don’t you dare try to deny it,” he tells you. He reaches up with his hand and shuts your mouth for you. “You know it's true,” Sam says it without judgement, like he knows how much people’s lives mean to you.

“Agent L/n,” SHIELD Doctor Vivienne Becker is suddenly standing next to you. She addresses you with a comfort as if talking with an old friend. Or maybe with exasperation of talking to an annoying younger sibling.

“Vivienne,” you greet back with a much lighter tone than her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Dr. Becker says, “but you're covered in contusions, lacerations, and just had two bullets removed from your femur and scapula.”

You tense when you feel Sam shift next to you, feeling his gaze on the side of your face. You aren’t even looking at him and you just know that his eyebrows are raised in scorn. “Oh, so you were shot, too?”

“Uh.”

“Fortunately, there was no damage done to any vital organs or major arteries.”

“Well, at least that,” Sam mumbles.

“However,” Dr. Becker interrupts pointedly, “there was foreign residues found on the bullets that were designed to attract special bacteria.”

You sigh. “And now it’s in my blood.”

“Correct and we’ve figured out how to neutralize the effects, but…”

“‘But’?” you wonder, whining. “‘But’? No, why ‘but’, Vivienne?”

“But,” Dr. Becker continues, “the treatment is in the form of a syringe.”

You suddenly sit up straight. “A shot?!” you scream, eyes going wide.

“A shot?” Sam wonders completely cluelessly. “What’s wrong with a shot?”

“It is one shot and it will be injected into your right shoulder,” Dr. Becker informs you before walking away to let you wallow in self pity.

You groan and throw your head back because fucking goddamn it, this would be your luck. A shot right when you get back off the field.

“What’s wrong with a shot?” Sam wonders again. You sigh heavily and took at Sam with your eyebrows raised. He looks at you blankly for a few seconds before he breaks out into a smile. Sam aws at you, causing you to purse your lips. “Are you afraid of shots, baby?”

You click your tongue and say, “Sam,” while growing more annoyed with his sugar sweet smile.

You ignore him (whether it’s because you love him or because you have no idea how to respond to his question, you don’t know), deciding instead to work out some stress by looking at anything other than the needles that seemed to be everywhere you look now.

Sam actually has to reach over and stop you from wringing your hands dry. “Come one now, baby,” he untangles your hands and intertwines one of yours with his. You aren’t able to help just melting under his smooth and caring voice. “It’s just one shot, it won’t be that bad.”

You hum doubtfully, squinting your eyes at him but squeeze his hand harder. “I hate shots,” Sam nods understandingly. “Shots suck. Shots can go fuck–”

You don’t get a chance to finish your rant because Dr. Becker walks back over to you and wonders, “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, you squeeze Sam’s hand to reassure yourself. “I suppose,” Dr. Becker doesn’t say anything, turning to grab the syringe. You bite your lip to steal yourself.

“Hey,” Sam says softly. You look at him and he shows you your interlocked hands. “Here, you can squeeze my hand to help you through it.”

“You sure?” You crack a smile, feigning hesitation. “I might break your hand.”

Sam hums dismissively. “I’m sure I can bear it.”

Dr. Becker turns back to you with a syringe in her hand. You tense at the sight of it but Sam moves closer, the warmth of Sam’s body on your leg enough for you to let go of your lip.

Dr. Becker pinches your arm and starts to inject you. Your face contorts and you wince in pain. While you’ve been punched, kicked, stabbed, and shot many times, it doesn’t make this any easier. You have to squeeze Sam’s hand as hard as your weakened state allows you. And it may be a bit of an ego boost but Sam winces from your grip.

In reality, it only takes about ten seconds but to you, it feels like a lifetime before Dr. Becker pulls the needle out. “Alright, all done,” she tells you, putting a bandaid where the dot of blood is. “The medicine should take effect immediately, so you need to rest up as much as possible. You can get your crutches from Nurse van Wieren when you’re ready,” she tells you and then leaves.

You look up at Sam to see him with a small smile on his face, looking back at you. “What?”

“Now, was that so bad?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you conclude firmly. You watch Sam try to hold back his smile, but failing miserably. You click your tongue at him, half heartedly hitting him in the chest. “I’m serious. Feels like a rod going through my arm.”

Sam chuckles but says, “Sorry, it’s just…” Sam shrugs. “I didn’t know that about you.”

He says it warmly. It reminds you of the first time you two had met almost a year ago when Sam had tested your name on his tongue right in the middle of HYDRA 2.0. You and Sam exchanged phone numbers right after the whole mess had been cleaned up.

“You know now,” you tell him. “So what?”

Sam shakes his head. “So nothing. I like learning new things about you, even almost a year into our relationship,” and isn’t that the sweetest goddamn thing? You are the luckiest guy in the world. Sam’s tone goes comically serious. “No, seriously… you want me to kiss it better?”

“Shut up,” You blush. “And help me down,” Sam smiles, holding out his arms for you to grab. You put a hand on his shoulder, balancing yourself. Wincing as you shimmy your way off the bed, you favor the leg that didn’t have a bullet in it.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem, baby,” Sam coos while gripping onto you. “And be prepared because I’ve got a special dinner waiting for you when we get home.”

You snort and scrunch your nose. “Dinner? It’s 10 o’clock.”

“Then, it’s a midnight snack,” Sam tells you sassily.

“It’s not midnight, either.”

“Humor me.”

You sigh. “Fine, it’s a late dinner snack.”

“Alright, then,” Sam concedes. “Let’s go.”

Nurse van Wieren hands you your crutches as you and Sam leave the medbay. You smile and thank him before he walks away.

Sam’s words finally hit you as you get into the hallway. “Wait, waiting for me? How did you know I was coming home today?” you question, grabbing your boyfriend’s attention. You watch as Sam’s face begins to flush. You squeal. “Oh my god! Did you make SHIELD tell you where I was?”

Sam doesn’t respond for a few seconds before, “...Maybe.”

“Aw,” you coo, causing Sam to scoff.

“Yeah, don’t let it go to your ego, L/n.”

“No, but you have to tell me,” you tell him, stepping into the elevator before Sam does. You stand side by side, staring at each other with matching grins on your faces. “Is this special treatment reserved for me alone… or do you keep tabs on Steve and Nat, too?” as you expected, Sam doesn’t answer and you can’t hide your laugh. “That’s sweet,” you praise. “I might just have to tell Steve and Nat about it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Sam warns, though the smile on his face doesn’t disappear.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you agree without a second thought. “I know Steve would be indignant for about a week and who knows what the hell Nat would do to you,” you and Sam share a laugh, Sam’s gaze falling to the floor while you continue to stare at him because god, you love that deep, breathy laugh he does. You feel like you’re a goddamn king everytime you manage to get even a single giggle out of your boyfriend.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing Sam’s attention. He turns to you, looking extra adorable with his hands in his pockets and that tooth rotting smile on his face. “I think I might take you up on that offer to kiss me better.”

This causes Sam to hum smugly, his grin growing bigger and even more sugary. “Really?” Sam says slowly while he places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down tenderly. He’s obviously being careful of your wounds. Noticing this single detail about Sam and how he is around you, you’re struck with how much you love this man standing in front of you.

Sam places a chaste kiss right over your bandaid before he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers against your skin. You feel your heart grow warm at his words.

“I love you, too,” you breath. “Now, let’s go home so you can kiss me better. And before dinner gets cold.”

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

Southern Sweetheart

Here's 2.5k words of Southern S/O X Bakugou, enjoy the feast my darlins.

The smell of freshly tilled dirt just made you even more eager to see your family. The way the wheat fields moved like waves in the ocean eased your nerves and just proved you were finally back home. You finally convinced your boyfriend to tag along with you for the weekend, but he might've underestimated the extent of what was to come. This here land was your Homeland and he was in a strange alien world.

"Tch, I still don't know why we gotta come all the way out in the middle of nowhere to meet your fuckin family." Katsuki grumbled as he sank deeper into the passenger seat of your Wrangler.

"Cuz Hot Stuff, you've only met em once and it were only for bout 20 minutes. Besides they love ya as far as they can throw ya." You shifted gears to accommodate the transition from road to backroads, causing him to grip his seat a bit tighter.

"You good babe? I'm only goin' 50. Do you want me to slow down ya city slicker?"

OH BOY CAN YOU

"Fuck you, I'm just not used to these fuckin pothOLES" he reached for every handle your car had to offer and braced himself as he felt the wheels slam inside a crater.

You purposely hit a monster pothole head on to shut him up. Evoking a glare from your normally badass lover.

"Oh yer fine Katsu, if Ole Bessie here can handle a ragin' cow in heat she can handle a little pothole. Just try to relax and think of it like a rollercoaster." You slapped the side of your car door and gave him a wicked smirk.

"Only thing ya gotta worry bout is the rogue buck, so keep an eye out. It is deer o' clock after all."

"Tch I thought 'Ole Bessie' could handle a 'ragin' cow', you're telling me she can't handle a deer?"

"Not at 67 miles per hour, Katsu."

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING SO DAMN FAST"

"It's an unspoken rule to fly down these roads." You shifted gears and smirked as he sunk deeper into the seat due to the force of Ole Bessie claiming the road.

"Goddammit Y/n stop trying to fuckin scare me."

"Ah so it's workin then? Admit it Katsu!" You shifted again causing the speedometer to jump to 86.

"GODDAMIT YES OK IM FUCKIN SCARED OF YOU GOING THIS DAMN FAST ON A DIRT FUCKIN ROAD OK??" His were hands uncontrollably creating small Sparks out of sheer panic at this point.

"Fine, I'll slow it down a smidge. Jussa smidge though. How's 76?"

"GODDAMMIT Y/N!!!"

----

You smirk knowing what was coming up ahead. You knew Katsuki has probably never smelled farmland or even seen a real actual cow in flesh n blood and you couldn't help but giggle.

"THE HELL IS THAT?" He covered his nose and fanned the air staring at you accusingly.

"Well, roll up the windahs darlin', you're bout to smell some good ole dairy cows."

"What the fuck do you mean."

You point to his window and he looks out it to see a whole herd of dairys just grazing and swatting flies. You couldn't help but love his expression. You were right, he's never personally seen cattle before.

"Why are there so fuckin many."

"How do you think we fill up entire tankers full o' milk Katsu. We gotta have a bunch of em. You're lookin at this year's yearlin's. They ain't even fully grown yet and they're already built like tanks."

He pretended not to be interested but you could see him sneaking looks out of the corner of your eye.

Oh if only he knew what you had in store for him.

----

The sunset peaked over the crest of a corn field, you both were in the car for about 4 hours now and you still had a small bit to go still. You glanced over at him and he was sound asleep. His right hand propped his face against the doors' armrest and he was manspreading. His face was relaxed and showing you a softer side of him only you knew about. His gentle breaths putting you at ease. You couldn't help but keep stealing glances at him wondering how you could snag this piece of man.

You turned down the radio for him and you reached out to his left hand and rubbed the back of it gently. You were so blessed to have him by your side, especially since his family loved him to death even if they knew him so little. You truly were-

"FUCKIN CHRIST-" you slammed on the brakes causing you both to nearly fly into the dashboard.

Katsuki instinctively went into fight or flight and almost blew your windshield up before-

"MOVE OUT THE FUCKIN ROAD YOU GOTDAMN FUTURE VENISON BURGER" You slammed on your horn and the deer bounded back into the woods.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUS-"

"It's just a goddamn deer, fucker came outta nowhere I swear to Christ. Sorry to wake you up darlin'."

"Get out, I'm driving."

"The fUCk you are?! We're almost there anyway Katsu. Fucker probably came from out gotdamn land anyways." You pressed on the gas and continued your journey.

He huffed as you kept going, pretty much just blowing off his offer. At least he could collect his heart from the floor and relax a bit before finally getting to your place.

"Katsu, fair warnin, my family is well, out there."

"Really? I couldn't tell based off of you 'Darlin'"

"Heh, you gonna learn today then."

You whipped into the driveway causing Katsuki to glare at you for throwing him around. He looked to see what was your house, a seemingly picture perfect two storied ranch house fitted with an extended porch and a white picket fence. He would've made a comment about it being cliche before you rolled down the windows and nearly put your whole torso out of the window before-

"SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEY"

Katuski flinched at your loud outburst seemingly at random before realizing what that meant.

Out came your parents who replied with their own pig call and rushed down the steps. Your brother stood at the porch and just waved at you two.

"What in the fuck is going on."

----

After introductions and a night's rest Katsuki woke up to a rooster.

His eyes shot open and he flinched before he realized where he was. You were in the same bed and were snuggling into his bicep, he brushed some hair behind your ear and smirked before holding you closer to him. He was about to kiss your forehead before that damned rooster crowed again. You shifted in your half awake daze.

"Babe, there's an uncooked chicken nugget that's about to be deep fried, get up."

You mumbled incoherently.

He shook you awake gently, "babe I'm gonna roast that fuckin bird if you don't get up."

"mmm -Jerry alone…"

"What was that my lasso?"

"Leave Jerry alone.. he's a jackass but hnn…" you groaned reluctantly. "Wait… YOUR LASSO?? IS THAT A NEW NICKNAME KATSU??"

"Fuckin hell that's what got you up?"

----

After you two got dressed and made your way downstairs for a deliciously cooked southern breakfast of ham, bacon, eggs, and some buttermilk toast, you got your boots on.

"Where are we going now babe, I thought we were going to spend time with your family."

"We are. But if we're gonna stay here, we're gonna help round the farm. Besides I gotta force ya to meet some other family members."

He huffed and started putting on his sneakers before you stopped him.

"Uh uh, darlin' you need workin boots, not those. Good thing I already bought ya a pair." You shove him some cowboy boots and he nearly laughs.

"You're fuckin joking me right?"

You stare at him with a dead serious glare, "We both need em if we're gonna be doin the work that needs ta get done babe."

"What the fuck are we doing that needs these fuckin things?" He shakes the boots in the air

"Oh you'll see, sugar. Now c'mon, Curly's waitin."

-----

You lead your frustrated boyfriend out to the pasture and honestly you could barely keep your eyes off of him. The steel toe boots you got him, some blue jeans, and Lord have mercy on that plaid shirt he had on. He was the spittin image of a country boy, but-

"Where the fuck are we going. Who the hell is Curly?"

His question was soon answered when he was toppled over by a horned goat.

"THERES MAH BOY" you patted the goat and it bleated happily to finally see you.

"A FUCKING GOAT?"

Curly took this as a challenge and attempted to ram into Katsuki again only to have a palm stop his head.

"Yeah Katsu, Curly's a boer goat. He was supposed ta be a meat goat but we all kinda got attached. He's got a fiery attitude just like ya too." You shove Katsuki teasingly and Curly saw an opening, he rammed at the back of Katsuki's knees causing him to fall over.

"You really gonna let a lil goat push you round like that?" Your boyfriend growled in response.

You pull him back on his feet as you coddle him "Now c'mon, you're gonna learn how to ride a horse Katsu."

----

"I take it you've never ridden a horse before?" You leaned against the fence watching him scan the pasture

"Show me the nearest horse in the city and I'll be more than happy to ride the fucker." He glared at your stupid question before going back to panning the meadow.

"Don't be like that Katsu, our horses are two sweethearts, I think you'll like em."

"Well I don't see them so I guess we're not riding today babe"

You grab him by his hand as you lead him to the barn to pick up a square of alfalfa.

"Now when they come barrelin down to get this don't be scared of em. They can sense fear and your fear will make them scared. Horses are very emotion sensitive animals, so that means no yellin neither." You break the square in half and give him one before walking back over to the metal gates.

He climbs up on the first rung of the fence and just looks at you smugly, "I don't think they, want to see us today Y/n, can't we just-"

You bang your heel on the gate causing the lock chains to jingle loudly.

You've rang the dinner bell.

You smirk at Katsuki's face when he hears the thundering of hooves. Sure he thought he knew you had horses but not monsters.

Two horses came sprinting to the gate, one Belgian Draft and one Clydesdale.

Bakugou was so entranced by their sheer power of them just running that he didn't even realize they were coming in hot.

The Belgian nearly charged at Katsuki causing him to flinch and nearly fly off the fence.

"HO, Waffle that's 'nough now you damn dummy, you both best be kind to poor Katuski here. Ya damn near scared 'im to death with yer eagerness. Katuski, mere."

Katuski dusted himself off and picked up his dropped alfalfa, "damn fuckin overgrown donkey."

"Katsu I need you to stick your hand out and let ole Waffle smell ya first, don't face directly at em neither, they're a pretty animal so ya gotta not act like a predator." You patted the Clydesdale's neck as it ate the alfalfa out of your hand.

"Tch, you're practically attacking that one's neck and you're telling me not to act like a predator?" He huffed.

Waffle huffed and took a step towards him as an attempt to scare off your boyfriend.

"Waffle Ho, stop bein spunky. Katuski don't let him walk over you like that, side step to him and extend your arm out, but keep it at a downward angle."

He groans and does what you tell him. The horse smells him and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement when he feels the horses powerful exhale on his skin.

"Heh, you big bastard." Katsuki slowly holds out the alfalfa half and offers it to the horse.

Waffle takes the bit gently from his hand and trots off with it to eat it in the grass.

Katuski has a smile on his face and an idea crosses your mind.

"Wanna ride him Katsu?"

----

You saddle up both horses on your own despite Katsuki offering to carry the saddles for you. He could really appreciate their size when the seemingly tiny saddle complimented their sheer amount of muscle.

"So, you'll ride Waffle, and I'll ride Hades. Do you need help gettin on em?" You tug a bit on Hades' saddle girth.

"Are you sure you aren't the one who needs help?" He smirks and starts to make his way over before you fling your foot in one of the stirrups with seemingly unknown flexibility.

You fling yourself over on top of the saddle seat with ease and gently plop down, shifting a bit before flashing him a grin.

You watch him struggle for a bit before pointing out the mounting block and he cusses at you a bit before finally getting on.

"Now, these boys are work horses so they listen to direction pretty well. If you need any help just let me know darlin." You click your tongue and Hades starts walking, his hoof fall echoing in the barn before stepping outside.

You turn him around to face the barn to look at a very confused yet impressed Katsuki.

"M-move." He gently nudges Waffle with his stirrups to no avail.

"Katsuki these are workin horses, they got iron sides. Just click your tongue twice and he'll move."

He clicks his tongue and nearly falls out of the saddle when Waffle takes his first step. Then his second. And third.

You can see the excitement on your city slicker boyfriend's face as he realizes the meaning behind the best seat in the world is in a saddle.

He takes some getting used to the commands like Ho and Woa, but he's a surprisingly quick learner.

----

You start your car to head back home. Katsuki fully enjoyed himself and you couldn't have asked for a more supportive boyfriend.

Before your car lurches forward your brother runs to the passenger side and slaps a cowboy hat on Bakugou. He acts like he hates it but he doesn't take it off.

You two take off to head back home before you see him roll up his sleeves up to his elbows and fix his hat.

"You embracin the cowboy life now Katsu?"

"Never, but I can see the charm in it." He smiles genuinely at you for a split second before, "you do act a lot like Curly, are you sure you ain't related to him?"

"Oh ha ha Kat- DIDJA JUST SAY 'AINT'"

"No I fuckin didn't."

"KATSUKI 'YEE HAW PUT EM UP' BAKUGOU HAH"

This was going to be long trip back home for him.

[dregstrash]

Earning the Present(s) [3/4]

Who says presents have to be given on Christmas? (me, the very late, very sorry fic writer)-- another long one folks

Part 1 || Part 2

Summary: Five years after the events of the Ice Court, the six outcasts were in the prime of their lives. They had everything they had fought and bled for: money, power, promise, home. But this holiday season, a surprisingly altruistic event has them all under the same roof, and they all may have been a little older and a little wiser, but they were still those teenagers who had done the impossible and had almost died countless of times. And when the idea of a holiday gift exchange comes up the true test of their friendship and their growth is thrown into the rink.

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

WYLAN

Wylan wasn’t sure how he could have possibly ended up here. Whether or not it was by Ghezen’s Hand or from Inej’s saints, but he was positive that it had to be some sort of cosmic intervention that had led him sitting in front of his fireplace, holding his husband’s hand, and surrounded by thieves and an ex-convict.

“That was quite the celebration, Wylan.” Inej said from her place by the window. “I think Kerch might do some good having an orphanage like that in its streets.”

“Thank you, Inej.” Wylan smiled at her. “Getting it past the Council was tough enough, but I’m just happy to give some of those kids a home.”

Jesper snorted beside him, “Yeah, now there actually might be space at The Slat.”

“How did you get those fat birds to donate to your cause anyhow?” Nina brought up. She was tucked firmly under Matthias’s arm and looked positively comfortable.

Wylan felt a slight blush at the measures he had taken to ensure the Council’s support of such an extravagant building to house the countless of orphans roaming the streets, and he tried his best not to look at Kaz as he said, “Let’s just say the right leverage was applied.”

“Oh saints,” Nina rolled her eyes then turned a lazy finger towards Kaz, “You need to stop corrupting his sweet mind.”

Kaz’s lips twitched, “Van Eck doesn’t need me to corrupt his brain. That’s why he keeps Fahey around.”

“Hey,” Jesper protested, “That’s Mr. Van Eck to you, Brekker.”

Wylan grinned and settled to drink his tea as the argument continued on. He wasn’t particularly proud of asking Ketterdam’s most notorious villain to help to threaten the Kerch Council to make this orphanage happen, but he didn’t regret it either. He would have paid for the construction of the building himself, but the land that he was eyeing for the site was owned by the city. When Wylan had brought up his request, one of his father’s oldest friends (who had held a grudge against Wylan ever since his father received his life sentence in jail) suggested that the land would be best used for other means. 

And before he knew it, Wylan’s plans of the orphanage were starting to fall apart before they had even begun. It wasn’t just the orphanage that had been upsetting him. It was how easily the Council had looked over his request and how the idea of building an estate for the very act of charity was less worthy. Echoes of his father’s voice had resounded in his head, and this startlingly new conviction settled in his chest and one thing led to another and he had found himself sitting awkwardly in front of Kaz Brekker at The Slat stumbling through the situation.

“I’m willing to pay you half of the exported sugar I have coming in this month, if you can help get this off the ground.”

Kaz hadn’t moved throughout the entire exchange. He could have been a statue as Wylan talked and his dark eyes stayed steadily on him. Even when he had finished talking he remained still.

“Does Jesper know you’re here?”

“He does, and he highly discouraged me from coming. Something about getting into bed with a demon.” Wylan had explained.

“At least being married to you finally wised him up,” Kaz murmured before he looked past Wylan and got a familiar, distant expression on his face. “That sugar shipment, it’s coming from Zemini, isn’t it?” He had finally said.

Wylan didn’t bother asking how he knew that, “Yes.”

“The ship it’s on has one of the largest cargo holds in your fleet.” He said again. Wylan nodded. “Hmm...I’ll help if I can take that ship off of your hands for the rest of the year.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Wylan asked raising his eyebrow.

“I have certain business ventures across the sea, that require speed and space.”

“Right.”

“And just so we’re clear, Wylan. You’re asking me to convince certain members of the merchant council to approve your plans for this orphanage? Through any means necessary?”

“Yes.” Wylan cleared his throat, “It’s a good plan and this city could deal with at least some kindness. Even if it comes through the Bastard of the Barrel himself.”

Kaz’s sharp smile caught Wylan off guard.

 “Then the deals the deal, merchling.” He held out his gloved hand and Wylan shook it firmly. “Wait a couple weeks and suggest the plan again. You’ll probably be able to start construction soon after that.”

And true to his word, Wylan went back to the council and no sooner had he finished did they approve the plans and even called it Ghezen’s work that an orphanage should be built to educate those who had nothing. Jesper had scoffed at the reasoning, but was just as excited as his husband when Wylan drew up blue prints, started to hire crew members, and then ultimately its grand opening.

Jesper had been by Wylan’s side through it all. He helped with some of the ground work, supervised when Wylan was away taking care of his mother, and calmed him when the ever-present self-doubt started to creep back in his mind. After the Ice Court job, it had seemed almost like a dream for someone like Jesper to stick around to Wylan, but there he was. Then his tall, Zemeni, thrill-addict boyfriend had really thrown him for an absolute loop when they had gone out to dinner on their backyard and he had gone down on one knee. It was all impossible, but then Wylan said yes and the impossible became possible. And with this orphanage now open, even that had become possible.

For that reason, he supposed it wasn’t that impossible to have all of the people that had survived the most dangerous heist ever to be conceived by anyone to be sitting around the fire ready to open presents.

“Okay,” Nina announced finally, “Me first. So as tradition dictates. Whoever picked first has to give the present first. If I remember correctly, Matthias picked a name. Okay, my dear Fjerdan, who’d you have?”

“Uh,” Matthias said hesitantly. He pulled out a long, rectangular box from behind him and kept his eyes on the present. “I-uh-I didn’t know what else to get you, um, Inej.” The girl in question raised her eyebrows in surprise and stood up from the window, “But, I hope you find it suitable.”

Inej walked over and opened the box slowly. Wylan watched as Inej smiled gratefully as she pulled out a beautiful double-edged knife with a white marble handle.

“It’s of Fjerdan make,” Matthias explained his face flushing, “The inscription is from-uh- Fjerdan saint and uh-”

“Thank you,” Inej interrupted and further surprised the bulky man with a hug.

Matthias smiled in relief and returned the gesture.

“Splendid, Jesper you’re next.” Nina said.

“Ah, finally,” Jesper grinned widely as he separated his hand from Wylan’s. He dug around in his pants pocket and produced two small boxes. Wylan recognized the smile that was lighting up his face and he felt his insides swirl at whatever his husband had decided to gift their friend.

“Now, dearest Nina, since you only deserve the best. I hope these will suffice.” He tossed both boxes at her and she caught them deftly, “Though, I think one of those might actually be for Helvar.”

Curious, Nina opened the first box and positively giggled as she held up a scrap of black lace lined with a blood red border. If Matthias’s face was red before, it was practically boiling now. Even Wylan felt a slight blush creep around his neck.

“Ah, Jes, you shouldn’t have.” She held out the undergarments out for everyone to see and slyly glanced at her Fjerdan, “Think of all the things we could do with this, sweet.”

Matthias looked away fast and everyone laughed at his reaction.

Still giggling Nina unwrapped Jesper’s second present and the smile that settled on her face was far more genuine and real than Wylan had ever seen on her. “Jesper Llewelyn, how did you get this?”

Nina held up a thin chain up from the box and revealed a beautiful sun charm. It glinted against the fire light warmly, and had a clear jewel in the middle. 

Jesper shrugged, “I was in Little Ravka in the other day, and I happened to befriend a very talented Fabrikator. He insists it’s the purest form of gold out there.”

“Thank you,” Nina said.

“You’re welcome,” Jesper smiled back.

Wylan couldn’t help but reach back for his hand. It was so rare to see him this comfortable with anyone else or with any other group of people. He was never comfortable with any of the men that Wylan did business with and all of Jesper’s other friends lived far too close to the gambling halls. So to see him so happy made Wylan’s heart flutter in his chest.

The night went on and with each unwrapping came a surprised shock of actually receiving a perfect gift. Inej gave Jesper finely crafted holsters for his guns. Nina gave Wylan a Grisha made flute, that Jesper insisted he played for everyone. He obliged and marveled at the artistry of the instrument and the clear and pure notes that emanated from it. Then came for Kaz to give his gift and Wylan couldn’t deny the sudden shift of mood as they all waited for Kaz to come back from wherever he went to fetch his gift.

“Alright, Helvar,” Kaz reentered the room with a hefty box under his arm, “This was hell to try to get, but try not to kill it.”

He all but shoved the box at Matthias’s lap and went back to his seat by the fire. The other boy looked curiously at the plain box curiously.

Matthias’s furrowed brow quickly rose up as whatever in the box made a loud bark. Nina peered in and her mouth dropped in an almost comical O shape.

“How-what-I-” Matthias stammered as he lifted a gray and white pup out of the container.

Wylan gaped at the small creature that was now sniffing at Matthias curiously and even dared to nibble at the giant’s thumb. It let out a small whimper before Nina instinctively stroked it behind its ears. 

“He is adorable! Look at him!” She squealed.

Kaz shrugged, “I did a favor for a Fjerdan a while back, and I had a pack delivered to me for security reasons. As it happens, I had a litter of these runts running around and I kept a couple before getting rid of the rest.”

“By ‘getting rid’ do you mean a quick trip down the canal?” Jesper said hesitantly.

“Ugh,” Nina shivered, not taking her eyes off the dog, “Please don’t answer that, Brekker, I don’t want to hear the truth or the potential lie.”

Kaz’s lip twitched, but he stayed silent.

Matthias’s bewildered blue gaze met Kaz for a moment before he stammered out a quick, “Thank you, demji.”

A bemused expression settled in Kaz’s eyes before he saluted him in acknowledgement. 

The puppy was yawning and Wylan could have laughed at the sight of such a small thing nestled in Matthias’s large hand. And if Wylan was completely honest with himself, he could have laughed at the fact that Kaz had even thought of being so considerate. That he went out of his way to think of something Matthias would actually want-- that his gift was so small, fluffy, and....wholesome. 

“What are you going to name him?” Wylan asked finally.

Matthais looked down at the animal and nuzzled his face with its snout, “I’m going to name him Trassel....after a good friend of mine.”

Nina peered into the blue and black eyes of the puppy, and cooed to it, “Hi, Trassel. Welcome to the family.”

The dog barked cheerfully at that and settled to rubbing his face against Matthias’s hand.

After a few moments all eyes turned towards Wylan who had yet to give his present.

“Ah, right,” He said, suddenly feeling nervous. He got up from his seat and went behind the curtain to retrieve the long rectangular box. His stomach fluttered with anxiety as he made his way back to the circle of his friends. It wasn’t so much the giving of the present, but knowing what the recipient might do with the gift gave him a slight pause. But as he neared Kaz, he shrugged away the discomfort. 

“Here you go, Kaz, hopefully it’ll serve as a good backup.” 

Kaz took the box hesitantly, and ripped open the box. Wylan held his breath as he delicately lifted a cane. The handle was shaped like a crow about to take flight, and its dark-wood finely engraved with jagged lines, and its tip tapered into a fine point. 

“It’s-” Wylan started to explain in the midst of Kaz’s silence, “It’s Grisha made so it shouldn’t break when there’s a substantial amount of force applied. And- if you twist the handle-”

Before Wylan finished the thought, Kaz twisted the handle and the pointed end of the cane opened up and the neutral expression Kaz had kept on his face disappeared. He smiled as he examined the turned cane and the new opening of the cane.

“You made me a gun.” There was a slight hint of a laugh in his voice. 

“Wylan, my dear,” Jesper said looking amused and concerned all at once, “Did you just give the most deadly man in the barrel a weapon that is not only as strong as his current cane, but also a gun?”

He shrugged and tried to fight the smugness working its way in his chest at Kaz’s reaction to his gift. He had his own reservations when he had come up with the plans as soon as he knew who he had gotten for this secret gift exchange. Wylan had debated about it for a full day before he had drawn up the plans and then set up a meeting with Ketterdam’s few Fabrikators. There were always going to be monsters in Ketterdam, those with longer and sharper teeth, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt having one of those monsters as an ally and providing him with one more tooth.

“Well, Wylan,” Kaz’s grin was the widest he’s ever seen on him, “I will say, you never cease to surprise me.”

He twisted the handle restoring the cane to its proper form. 

At this Wylan did smile at Kaz. That was the closest thing to a compliment he’s given him in recent years and even if he had stopped working with the Dregs, there was still a small part of Wylan that couldn’t forget about his past. That feeling of doing a job well done or even earning a place in Kaz’s crew. 

And as the night continued on, with people playing with their presents in anyway they could, whether that be taking turns holding Trassel or making Wylan play or Nina offering to teach them some Ravkan games, Wylan couldn’t help but marvel at the warmth and radiating from the people around him. And when he noticed that Kaz had managed to slip away quietly, he decided that they needed this-- all of them. 

The crew who broke into the Ice Court, brought down a member of the Merchant Council, conned multiple countries, and fabricated their own plague, needed a chance to feel like the world wasn’t always escaping the past or fighting for their future. That for once they could sit around a fire with warm drinks in their bellies and live in the present.

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

Tags:  @krugerevengeinej @orangesnakesanddogs @i-hate-usernames45 @qrow-ismyspiritanimal @fangirl-ladybug @wraithpirate  @the-jennster @lagabygaby @rynli @noirmagic1 @shiyash @readmeaway @razz-dazzle-taz @queenofthebarrel @irepostthingsilike @irepostthingsilike @i-just-want-to-have-a-fun-time @smittenthing @highladyofthefoodcourt @emilily101 @sourbishop @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @alexbeatthebass @writtenwordheart @icefire0722 @ladyofvroses @bbenwyatt @zxyjxy @burnin-through-the-sky @thewoofster @daniellepal @goodie-giving-gecko-gets-gatos @bree-the-sloth @universallyghostjudgecalzone @thecrownedcupcake17 @kayleed77 @kanejandkruge

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

I’ve Read This Script

Summary: It always ended the same way. He really should have learned better by now, but he hadn’t. 

Notes: For the @secretsanders​! Happy Holidays, @im-not-leaving-my-room-fuck-u​!! Hope you enjoy my present!!

Also, yes, I forgot to put in a German translation, I’m sorry. I’ll explain what was going on there at the end, okay? :))

Title from Cleopatra by the Lumineers. Fight me, it works perfectly for this fic. 

Can’t think of any trigger warnings... maybe betrayal? Mention of death (of old age)? Some non-descriptive blood? That’s all I can think of... let me know if you see something else! On with the story!

He swore to himself that he would never fall in love again, not after last time ended in disaster and the complete shattering of Logan's heart for the fifth time in his extremely lengthy life. He should have known better, he should have known that Declan would only end in heartbreak, yet he foolishly listened to his heart and trudged onwards, deeper and deeper into a relationship founded on lies. Logan sighed and rested his head on his arms, leaning forward until the ribs were digging into his marble countertop. Colours and scents and sounds pushes against the barriers of his mind, and Logan groaned as he realized what was happening. After decades of this curse, he still triggered it because he couldn't handle his silly, illogical feelings. Logan gritted his teeth and shook his head, attempting to clamp down on the leaking memories of half a century ago. He couldn't risk going under, he had work in only a couple hours, he couldn't do this…

His brain, however, would not listen to logic or to his  pleas. These memories were determined to be acknowledged, to be remembered, to be seen, and Logan could not stop it, quickly losing the fight to the swirling technicolour vortex from his limbic system. He spiraled down, down, past kisses and missions, past stargazing and dinners, past betrayals and flashes of silver, and landed at The Beginning.

Lauren Johnson walked down the sidewalk towards her work, hurrying to her destination. She had awoken extremely late that morning, and while her employer would surely be fine with just this one instance of tardiness, Lauren did not wish to push. She was so focussed on her goal that she did not notice the change in traffic until she was tackled to the ground just before a loud screech cut through the air. She managed to push the person off of her and look around, her breath freezing as she took in the destruction before her. A car was flipped on its roof, flames streaming from the shattered windows. People were screaming and running, and Lauren barely registered a cool hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” a smooth voice asked, the hand squeezing Lauren's shoulder as they spoke. She nodded, still rattled, and turned around to face the stranger who had saved her life. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her savior, the most handsome man she’d clapped eyes on in this lifetime. Amber-gold eyes gleamed above a pair of dark sunglasses that rested on a sharp nose and high cheekbones. Sleek brown-blonde hair poked out from underneath his hat, and a sharp black and white suit accentuated his slim, perfectly proportioned and muscular figure. In short: Lauren was faced with an angel.

“Er… yes, I am alright, thanks to you,” Lauren finally murmured. The stranger grinned and pulled her up, brushed her off, and then pressed a slip of paper into her hand before pecking her on the cheek and bouncing off. Lauren stood there, dumbfounded, staring after the vanishing stranger who had saved her life. Finally, she shook himself out of her shock and started to sprint for work. She couldn’t be late.

Logan snapped out of his memories, heaving. He hadn’t remembered Declan before, and he’d forgotten how… charming he’d been. How wonderful those first few months had been. He’d forgotten the moonlit rendezvous, the fancy dinners, the kisses after Declan returned from missions… He’d forgotten all the good as soon as Declan stabbed him in the stomach for accidentally helping another spy agency. He’d barely had enough magic to transform, so heartbroken as he was pushed backwards off the roof, the last thing he saw before the Change being Declan’s amber-gold eyes, now cold and uncaring.

Logan forced himself to his feet. He needed to let go of those memories; they would only hurt more in the end. With that, Logan locked cool rain, searing adrenaline, and amber-gold eyes back inside a heavy iron-wrought box and locked it. He could not be distracted by these meaningless romantic notions anymore; he had work to do.

He managed to stave off the memories for another month, until… until a shy, anxious, darkly-dressed boy walked into Logan’s library, checked out a book of faerie tales, and smiled at Logan with a smile Logan hadn’t seen for 300 years. The last time he saw that smile, it was on the dying face of a young Prussian captain, slain by a rival in the halls of Sanssouci. Logan managed to hold on until the young man left, but the second his final black combat boot left, Logan sunk to the ground, breathing erratically. His coworkers were used to this and bundled him off to the Panic Corner to allow him to become lost in memories. Logan screwed his eyes shut, blushing at the feel of warm tears, and tried to stop the flood; he didn’t want to remember her, he didn’t want to go back there, he didn’t want his heart broken again-

Ludwig Amsel stepped into the large ballroom, eyes wide in shock. They had never been inside a room this large or extravagant before, and they were honestly a little nervous. So many people, so many new faces… Ludwig couldn’t handle this. They wanted to go home already. Ludwig was not looking where they were going, and they found themself crashing into another person.

“Ah, es tut mir leid! Bist du verletzt? Haben Sie noch einen Wunsch, Sir?” the person babbled, their high-pitched voice cutting through the fog in Ludwig’s head. Ludwig shook their head and faced the person, their heart hammering in their chest. Short black hair framed a delicate, pale face. Blue-violet eyes locked into Ludwig’s own crystal orbs, and a deep flush rose on the soldier’s cheeks (for that was what he was, Ludwig realized, a soldier).

“Nein, mir geht es gut. Ich bitte vielmals um Verzeihung… wie heißen Sie?” Ludwig asked, extending their hand for a handshake. The soldier snapped to attention, flustered.

“Ähm… ich heiße Hauptmann Viktor Hinterberg. Und Sie?” the captain answered, voice high and shaky. Ludwig nodded and shook the hand, smiling bashfully.

“Ich heiße Ludwig Amsel. Nett es Sie kennen zu lernen, Hauptmann Hinterberg,” Ludwig returned, slowly releasing Viktor’s hand. Viktor flushed and stammered, causing Ludwig to smirk at the adorableness.

“Ich… ich muss gehe. Schönen Feierabend, Herr Amsel.” With that, Viktor walked away, leaving Ludwig alone in the centre of a crowded room.

Logan snapped out of the memory, still crying. His coworker Neah knelt down, large amber-gold eyes (so much like Declan’s, yet not at all like his) boring deep into his soul.

“Which one?” they whispered, gently squeezing his shoulder in a show of support. Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes with his Doctor Who scarf that Thomas had gotten him for Christmas only a few days ago.

“... Viktoria…” he whispered. Neah nodded and sat back, smiling softly.

“The Evans boy, yeah?” He nodded, and Neah nodded back again. “Do you believe that reincarnation is possible?”

“Of course I do,” Logan mumbled. “How could I not, after everything I’ve seen?” Neah shrugged and passed him a Rubik's cube to take his mind off of things and began to speak.

“Could you tell me about Viktoria? Maybe that would help. I know telling people about Laurel helped after… that, so maybe this could help you?” Logan pondered for a second before shaking his head. He wanted to talk about Vik, truly he did, but how was he supposed to tell Neah about all the little trysts as even the Prussian king supported them and gave them a room and privacy at his balls? How was he supposed to explain the sunshine in his stomach every time he saw Viktor’s smile? How was he supposed to explain the feeling of pure love and trust that exploded out of him when Viktor revealed that she was in fact Viktoria, and Ludwig had been allowed to reveal that he was in fact Louisa, but they had despised both names equally? How was he supposed to describe the feeling of pure… death, that came when Viktoria was stabbed through the heart by a fellow captain, jealous of all the attention Viktoria was receiving from Frederick? How in the world was he to speak about the cold, empty, hollow feeling of wrath as Frederick had the captain executed and Ludwig watched? It all still hurt too much to recall, let alone recount to another person.

Neah nodded before standing up. “When you’re ready, come out, okay?” and left him alone to hug the black cat plushie with the mismatched yes that reminded him so much of Viktoria’s sparkling green and brown eyes that if Logan didn’t believe in human reincarnation, he’d believe Viktoria had become this cat that he hugged and cried into on a weekly basis. There was… an odd sense of comfort in that thought, no matter how illogical and false it was.

The next flashback occured only two weeks after the Viktoria one, this time while Logan was out getting coffee with another coworker, Sascha. He walked up to the counter to order his coffee (black, three sugars, no cream), when the sight of the barista caused him to freeze. The soft blonde curls, the clear blue eyes, the freckles, the soft sunshine smile, everything pointed to her and Logan just froze. Sascha noticed, grabbed both their coffees, payed the barista, and quickly walked Logan out to his car, muttering assurances and soothing platitudes until Logan was safely in the car and the coffees were safely out of his reach.

“Okay, Logan, talk to me, what’s going on?” Sascha requested, pushing his sunglasses onto his head so he could look Logan straight (ha) in the eyes.

“B… barista… Pénélope…” he stammered. Sascha nodded in understanding and took Logan’s hands into his own, rubbing his fingers along the knuckles soothingly.

“Just let it all out, Logan, it’s okay,” Sascha soothed. Logan sucked in a breath and tried to stop this, but it was too late and he was yanked under, the last thing he registered in the present being Sascha turning the keys to start the car.

Léone LeClair glanced up as the bell above her shop door tinkled. “Good morning! What can I get you?” she called, turning to face the new customer. Her next question died in her throat as the stranger gave her a bright, sunny smile unlike any that Léone had seen before.

“Good morning! Could I take six loaves of bread, some eggs, and a bit of milk?” the stranger asked, blonde curls falling into her crystal blue eyes. Léone snapped herself out of her stupor and grabbed the items the beautiful girl requested, smiling awkwardly.

“Of course.” They exchanged payments, and the stranger left, leaving Léone feeling incredibly sad and lonely.

The stranger kept coming back, however. She kept coming back to buy more bread, more eggs, more milk. She came to buy butter and cheese and pastries of all kinds. Eventually, Léone learned her name. Pénélope Bisset, a weaver in the next town over who only came here because the products were cheaper and the people nicer, in her opinion. Léone didn’t argue with her.

It was about a year after Léone first met Pénélope when Pénélope asked the question.

“Léone, I love you. You are so kind and sweet and just… I love you. But… I don’t know how to be with you.” Léone’s heart froze in her chest. Pénélope felt the same way as she. They… they had a chance.

“Pénélope, I must confess that… I also love you,” Léone murmured. She flushed, shifting in discomfort, as she waiting for Pénélope’s response. Pénélope clapped her hands together, grinning.

“Oh, Léone! Thank you! I… I’m so glad!” Pénélope cried, dancing around. She paused soon, though, her smile dropping. “What… what are we going to do?” Léone thought for a moment before slamming her fist into her open palm.

“We run. We run to another part of the land and live our lives alone out there.” Pénélope pondered this idea for a moment before agreeing, and Léone’s heart fluttered. She loved this wonderful beam of sunshine more than she could ever quantify.

So, without even another thought, both packed a couple bags of clothing, food, and money and ran. They ran to the edge of the countryside, bought goats along the way, and settled down, telling everyone nearby that they were sisters to avoid being murdered. They raised their goats, and three orphaned children, and finally, finally, after 40 long years, Pénélope died, breaking Léone’s heart for the second time in her life. She held her wife’s body and cried, crying even harder when she realized that Pénélope’s sunshine had left, never to face her again.

Logan snapped back to the present, heavy tears fogging his glasses and dripping down onto his knees. He startled as he registered a soft, warm blanket wrapped around him and his coffee shoved into his hands.

“Logan? You good? Do you need anything else?” Sascha whispered. Logan shook his head, and Sascha nodded. After a few minutes, Sascha murmured: “... Want to talk?” and Logan shook his head again. A few more minutes of awkward silence, and then: “... Want to go home?”

“Yes please,” Logan whispered. Sascha yanked out his phone, fired off a quick text (most likely to Thomas), and then put the car back in gear to drive Logan home.

“Mi corazón, come here! I have something to ask you!” Prince Raúl called, his deep, smooth voice bubbling with excitement. Prince León poked his head into the room, confusion and concern stirring in his mocha eyes.

“Yes? What is it?” León answered, his voice high. Raúl spun to give him a large smile and presented a gleaming gold and ruby ring.

“We’re getting married! Well, in secret, but we’re still getting married! Isn’t this wonderful?” León’s eyes widened and tears bubbled in them. He was… getting married? To the love of his life?

“Of course! Yes!” León yelped, throwing himself into Raúl’s arms, crying and laughing at the same time. Raúl was just as much of a mess, grabbing León and spinning him around before pulling him into a passionate kiss. León giggled and smiled into the kiss as Raúl slipped the ring onto his finger. For just one moment, all was peaceful and happy with the two princes.

Logan snapped back to awareness, sobbing his eyes out. “Oh, sweetie, shh, shh, it’s okay,” a voice was soothing him. Thomas. That was Thomas. His employer. “Logan, I’m not mad, I need you to breathe with me.”

Logan tried, he really did, but nothing was working. Raúl had been the beginning of the end, the last time he was uncursed, the last time he was human.

A small scuffle, and then a new, cool presence was in front of him, telling him to breathe. He shook his head because he couldn’t, he was sorry but he couldn’t, he was too lost…

“Ludwig Amsel, I need you to look at me right this instant,” a soft voice firmly stated, cutting through the mess that was Logan’s thoughts. Logan’s breathing and heart froze. Only… only one person should still know that name; himself. So how… who… what?

“Logan, it’s Viktor. Viktoria. I need you to breathe with me,” the soft voice continued. Logan managed to finally suck air into his lungs, and the voice (Viktoria, but no, she was dead) cheered him on and praised him. Logan finally, finally managed to get his breathing back to normal, and he finally glanced up, only to meet one brown and one green eye, the same eyes of Viktoria.

“Logan. My name is Virgil, but you used to know me as Viktoria. I’m here, darling, and I need you to calm down so we can talk.” Logan nodded, still confused. How did Vik-Virgil know who they used to be?

Virgil pulled Logan to his feet, giving him that small shaky smile. “Thomas told me everything,” Virgil murmured. Logan swallowed. How had Thomas…

“I met the witch who cursed you, Logan. They feel sorry for what they did, and they decided to help me help you break it,” Thomas explained quickly, arms crossed over his chest as a warm smile dimpled his cheeks. “So, I reached out to the three who mattered, found out they all lived here, and told them everything.”

Logan blinked, surprised. The witch… was… sorry? “And Patton- you’d know him as Pénélope- and I are good friends, so I told him. He’s running to get you some tea; Sascha told us you like tea. So, Patton and I are friends, and Roman is Patton’s boyfriend- you’d know Roman as Raúl I believe?- so he’s with Patton getting tea. And I’m here to calm you down.” Virgil rattled off nervously.

“Ah… my… apologies for freaking out…” Logan mumbled.

“Hey, hey, no. No need. You’ve been through a lot, Logan, and no one is going to fault you for some breakdowns,” Virgil cut in, eyes fierce yet soft. Logan bit his lip. He didn’t believe him.

“Logan. Thomas has closed the place, so we’re going to sit down when Patt and Princey get back and talk this all out, okay L?” Logan nodded, and Virgil nodded before stepping back. “Now,” Virgil continued, arching a dark eyebrow. “Tell me about yourself?”

Notes: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay, so, the conversation was basically: Virgil apologizing to Logan after bumping into him and asking if he could do anything. Logan says that he’s fine and then asks for Virgil’s name. Virgil gives his name, Logan gives his, and then Virgil runs off in Gay Panic.

Hope you liked it! Happy New Year everyone!

[seventven]

Tony being your sugar daddy + a “boobs guy” would include:

pairing: tony x reader

warnings: oh no hide your children this is about women willingly using their bodies and benefitting from it

a/n: hello i’m back after 4 months having graduated high school and being a bigger tony slut than ever before

also this is the longest “would include” i have ever written but i’ve been getting requests for this for months and it took me forever to get around to writing so enjoy

i am a firm believer in that every person in this world is either an ass or a boobs person

and anthony stark is the latter

personally i am an advocate for women embracing their sexuality and being proud of their bodies and showing them off in whatever way they like

so like imagine

y/n is tony’s assistant

kinda like that whole situation with natasha in iron man 2

except ya know y/n is an actual assistant lmao

and she’d be v good at her job and within months she’d basically be running stark industries

lets pretend pepper doesn’t exist ok im still salty about her

and every couple of days or whatever tony would pop into the office and do a bit of paper work

like signing things or whatever i dont know what CEOs do

and he’s sitting behind the desk in his office, a bunch of papers in front of him

and he’s bored out of his mind bc this stuff is the woRST

and suddenly there’s a knock on the door

and y/n cautiously peaks her head out from behind the door to make sure she isn’t interrupting him

and when tony motions for her to come inside she steps in and shuts the door behind her

and she’s wearing a classic little black dress that reaches below her knees but which shows off a lot fair amount of her cleavage

and tony doesn’t notice at first

not until she’s standing opposite him

“i’ve more things for you to sign,” she’d say and bend over his desk to place the paper work in front of him

and that’s when tony’s eyes would register the sight in front of him

because from where he is sitting he gets the perfect view of her chest

unfortunately, this only lasts about two seconds before she straightens up, smiles at him and heads for the exit

and tony sorta just sits in his chair and stares at the door through which she had left

because holy fuck

so then after that tony would start calling her down to his office more often than necessary

and though this may seem sexist, the way he gawks at her and whatnot

it’s not like y/n doesn’t know what’s going on

and it’s not like she isn’t enjoying it

because soon enough she’d start wearing tops and dresses with even lower necklines

and bras that made her plump flesh want to explode out of her clothing

and both of them would love it

so tony would start making excuses in order to call her down

“i need you to tell me what you think of this new project”

“i need you to explain to me what this document is about”

“i need you to help me find a suitable date for this meeting”

but it wouldn’t just be tony

y/n would quickly start to find ways to make her way down to his office

“sorry for interrupting but have you signed the...”

“don’t mean to take up your time but do you know where that file went...”

and it would literally be never ending

and i feel like their relationship would start with one of them just not being to take any more of this god damn tension

and they’d probably fuck on his desk one time when y/n came down to ask if he had a pen on something equally stupid

and while he’s fucking her on the desk he’d probably be absolutely captivated by the view of her tits bouncing up and down

and he’d be so handsy with them

and he’d probably cover them with bite marks and hickeys

and it would be the hottest thing tbh

and then after that incident they’d get a whole lot more flirty at work

because now they both know they are into each other

and i dig the idea of tony opening up his email one morning when he gets to the office

and it’s from her

and he doesn’t think much about it, expecting it to be more boring paper work

but it’s actually a v explicit picture she had taken of herself the night before and it gives him a perfect view of her chest

and the caption is something that makes the blood rush to tony’s crotch in an instant

and he’s still staring at the picture ten minutes later when y/n and another employee walk into his office

and tony quickly logs out of his email

and the other employee gets him to sign something

and as they are leaving y/n turns back around and sends tony a cheeky wink

and within twenty minutes he is calling her down to his office and fucking her over the table again

and for a couple of months their relationship would consist of nothing other than intense sex every once in a while

of course, with the occasional going out for lunch together and talking in the office

and tony would notice that she’s a fan of victoria’s secret

so then y/n’s birthday would roll around

and the guy would go completely over the top

like imagine y/n getting to the office on her birthday morning

and no one else is there bc she had arrived early as usual

and she sets her stuff down and notices a square black box sitting on her desk

and it has a huge silk bow and looks really fucking expensive

so she looks around the office, wondering if it’s from one of her coworkers but there’s no one there

so she lifts the top of the box

and inside, sitting on a silk cushion is a victoria’s secret fantasy bra

and let me remind you that those things cost like at least a million dollars

but tony has the money

and if he has the money who’s gonna stop him

and y/n honestly cannot believe her eyes as they examine the bra

and she’s shocked by the amount of diamonds and other precious gems covering the surface

then, she notices a black card tucked into the space between the cushion and the wall of the box

and on it is a hand written note from tony

asking her to wear the bra tonight and be ready to be picked up at seven and telling her to take the day off

and as she’s making her way towards the exit of the building

the box clutched in her hands so tightly her knuckles are turning white

she runs into one of tony’s personal drivers who tells her he has been ordered to escort her to several places

and at first y/n is hesitant bc what the hell

the most she was hoping for that day was maybe a box of chocolates from one of her friends and a gift card to sephora

but here she was, clutching a two million dollar bra in her hands and being led to a sleek black vehicle by one of tony’s drivers

and the car would take her to a bunch of different places all of which would have already been paid for and ready for her arrival

because tony wanted to spoil her rotten on her birthday

the day would consist of her being driven to a spa, nail studios, and extravagant shops that mr tony stark had already paid hundreds and hundreds of dollars just for making her experience there pleasant

and by the end of the day y/n would be driven home and given some time to get ready for wherever tony was bringing her to

and obviously as asked she’d carefully put on the fantasy bra and one of the outfits she had purchased over it

and then the driver would return at exactly seven o’clock and bring her to the fucking port or something equally weird

and tony would just be chilling next to his own private yacht

and he’d take her hand and lead her onto it

and they’d probably be served dinner by some fancy ass chef he had hired just for this occasion

and y/n would be very confused by the whole day but also very thankful and by the end of dinner she’d mention the bra

bc she’d honestly feel guilty having received such an expensive present from him

but tony would just chuckle and stand up

and he’d bring his chair around the table and sit down next to her

and he’d probably lean in and kiss her bare shoulder

and then he’d hook his finger around the strap off her dress

and pull it down to reveal just a tiny bit of the bra she was wearing

and he’d whisper something like:

“it’s all yours. this, and anything else you might want. just say the word”

and idk about you but i’d be shuddering and squeezing my thighs together

bc holy shit sugar daddy tony makes me wanna sin

and they’d probably have sex again

this time in one of the luxurious bedrooms on the yacht

and in the morning tony would be missing from bed

but she’d be served breakfast in bed by one of the yacht keeping people i have no clue what they’re called

and after breakfast she’d get out of bed and find another three bags or so from victoria’s secret and chanel waiting for her on the chaise lounge

and she’d get dressed and go exploring

and find tony on the deck and they’d spend a lot of time drinking champagne and having sex

and then the trip would be over and she’d return home and go back to her life in the office

but every week she’d find different packages from tony

whether it was prada, chanel, or versace, tony would have more expensive gifts delivered to her apartment every couple of days

and with the gifts came along the great sex and getting the opportunity to attend different fancy functions and being tony’s “arm candy”

not that she’d mind

bc as she’d get used to the gifts, the vacations and the luxurious lifestyle

she’d also become a whole lot more comfortable with this sugar daddy slash sugar baby relationship

she’d be more than willing to get called various pet names during sex

and tony would live for the excitement on her face every time she’d open a new gift from him

and although the other female employees at stark industries would begin to despise her for the close relationship she had with their boss

neither y/n nor tony would be willing to end the arrangement

and then over time their feelings might become romantic

but until that time they’d both indulge in the non romantic relations they had

but once they’d start developing feelings for each other i feel like the transition from being in a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship to an actual relationship would be very natural for them

firstly y/n would start staying the night at his place after sex instead of going home

in the office he’d start stealing innocent kisses when they’d pass each other in the hallway

and they’d start talking about serious aspects of their lives and just understand each other really well

and even after they’d officially get together, tony would still continue to spoil her

and i feel like at some point in the relationship tony would start to have doubts

bc lets be serious tony stark is too damn hard on himself

and because y/n is a lot younger than him he’d start to get a little paranoid

maybe it would begin with him noticing the way guys her age would stare at her longingly

or how the press didn’t think their relationship would last due to the age difference

but the feelings they’d have for each other would be as real as they get

and y/n would be more than willing to prove to tony how much she loves him

and at the end of the day it wouldn’t matter what way guys looked at her

or what the press had to say

or what the other employees at stark industries thought

the only thing that mattered was the fact that among the gifts and sparkly bags, the exotic vacations and expensive champagne, both of them found something they didn’t even realise they were searching for

[kpurereactions]

Im Yours | Part two

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Rating: Drama, Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS: Language, Eventual Violence, Lots of Smut Later on

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 FINALE

It's been three weeks. Three weeks of waking up early to be welcomed by BamBam, who now was so comfortable with you he started waiting in your living room and helping himself to coffee once he got there. Three weeks of the tinted car ride to the house filled with jokes and laughing as you and BamBam picked on the driver. Three weeks of making three meals a day for seven boys, and three weeks of still not knowing who the hell the seventh person was.

You didn't mind though, the boys you did know were enough as it was, given their loud personalities.  You'd find yourself in between meals still with the boys who came and went in usually groups of two. You knew they were mainly in there for the snacks you'd make but you enjoyed their company so much you didn't care. That didn't stop you from teasing them though.

"Can it Youngjae, I know you're only in here cause I'm preparing you a stupid cheese platter." Or "If I throw out this cookie dough would you leave me alone?"

Today was just like all those before, but today Yugyeom would take his boss the egg Benedict you had prepared before you turned to prepare it for the rest of the boys. Jackson always seemed to make you laugh so hard that you almost dropped your spatula, which would send Youngjae into a fit of giggles. BamBam finally walked into the kitchen, his eyes going from tired to excited as he watched the commotion around you.

"Oh, hey Bam, can you add oregano, vanilla extract, and more eggs to the grocery list?" You started as he walked over to sit on his usual spot on the counter. You turned in time to see him nod and you noticed something on the collar of his shirt. Wiping your hands on your apron you approached him and took the fabric between your fingers.

"Did you nick yourself while shaving?" You asked, eyebrows pushing together as you pinpointed the spot as blood.

"What?" He'd say rubbing his hands down his neck. "I don't think so?"

"There's blood on your collar..." you said pulling at it more incase there was a cut somewhere else he didn't notice.

As you pulled at his shirt, BamBam let his eyes flick up to Jackson and Youngjae, all of them knowing perfect that that wasn't BamBams blood.

"Take your shirt off Ill try to get that out." You said patting his chest and bringing his attention back to you.

Without wanting you to ask any more questions or suspect anything he quietly stripping of his jacket and white shirt while you quickly finish breakfast, Yugyeom and Mark entering. The kitchen just as you slid the communal plate across the counter to them. You turned back to BamBam and thanked him as he handed you his shirt.

"I cut my finger." He lied, folding his arms over his chest that was still covered by a wife beater.

You nodded and crouched, pulling a few things out from under the sink before turning the faucet on. The boys watched you scrub at the stain, cursing it as it only faded a little.

"BamBam how long ago did you cut your finger!? It's not budging!" You said, knowing that around the 12 hour mark was when this concoction you're grandmother had taught you stopped working well. He just shrugged and took another bite of his food.

You gave up, it wasn't going to come out fully and you were surprised you were even able to get it to turn to more of a light coffee stain color.

"Don't wait so long next time, BamBam, damn." You scolded tossing his shirt back to him.

Jackson chuckled at this, the thought of you scolding one of them was humorous, especially since if you knew how he really got that stain you wouldn't have even been in the same room as him.

"What do you MEAN he slipped?" Jaebum said dangerously to all of the boys as they crowded around the table. Seeing BamBam returning to his room without his shirt sparked curiosity in Jaebums eye. He didn't expect to have to deal with the fact that BamBam was wearing the blood of the man he had beat into talking the night before.

"At least she thinks it's mine!" He said waving a hand.

"This time!" Jaebum said smacking the table hard, causing everyone to jump and fully look at him. "I've been nice. I've let you have your friend. There was ONE RULE!" He said siting down to try and calm himself but just working himself back up again.

"If any of you slip up and she becomes suspicious, you are the one who'll get to shoot your new friend." He said before waving his hand.

You didn't mind that no one was in the kitchen with you, usually after breakfast no one was as they all left to get work done. You took this time to start preparing the meat for dinner, creating a dry rub and needing the meat through it. The sound of a light bang followed by the sound of muffled yelling startled you, but made you smirk and after a few minutes when Yugyeom and Jackson filed back into the kitchen and started to pick at the nuts you were going to use during lunch, you looked at them smugly.

"Someone got in troubleeeee." You teased not looking up from the meat you were working.

"You're a smart ass." Jackson said.

"What are you gonna do." You shrugged getting Yugyeom to laugh slightly.

You were really excited for dinner. You were making a personal favorite so when the boys slowly started to file into the kitchen from the smell all you could do was smile. Everyone was there, to include Jinyoung who had warmed up quite a bit since you first met him. Right now he was laughing at something Yugyeom had said his eyes watching your hands as they worked.

"Wow it smells amazing in here." You heard from beside you. You watched everyone straighten in the seat and BamBam hopped of the counter before you turned to the voice.

He was even more handsome up close than he was from where he stood in the balcony. His hair now sleekly swept away from his face and in one of the nicest suits you have ever seen. His lips had turned slightly up as he smiled at you before looking down to the food thy was cooking in front of you. Looking to Jackson you mouthed boss? And nodded when he rose his eyebrows as a way to say yes.

"Um, Brown sugar glazed porkchops with garlic lemon asparagus and a balsamic peach and feta salad." You said telling him the menu for dinner.

"Very impressive. Do you mind if I join you all?" He asked, his eyes not leaving your face as you smiled.

"The big bad boss is finally coming out of his cave?" It slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it and seeing the way Yugyeom's head snapped up to you instantly mumbled a sorry.

But the sound of him chuckling made you, and really everyone else in front of you, snap your head to look at him.

"Jinyoung was right, you do have a mouth on you." His smile dropped slightly but the spark behind his eye was still there.

"It's both a blessing and a curse." You shrugged biting your lip a little while making him chuckle again.

Dinner was a little awkward for the boys with him there, but you found yourself enjoying that he was there, as he asked you question after question. At one point his eyes tightened and his lips opened to revile the most beautiful smile you ever seen. You couldn't help but blush as he laughed, thanking yourself that it was an embarrassing story.

"Were such bad friends." Mark, who was still chuckling softly at your story of how you ran around your neighborhood naked until you were 7, said pulling your attention away to look at him. "We've been your friends for what? Three weeks now? I feel like I've learned more about you in the 20 minutes Jaebum has been sitting here." He said as everyone agreed.

"Well to be fair the only thing I know about you guys is your name." You shrugged, not really caring since they were fun to be around.

"Y/n." Jaebum said, obviously about to change the subject. "I think it's safe to say having you here is great for all of us, but BamBam was telling me you live almost an hour away?" He said, the rest of the boys sitting up and smiling as if they knew what was going to be said next.

"Yeah.. never realize how much you guys wear me out till we get in the car to go home." You said chuckling.

"They are behaving right?" He asked raising an eyebrow, you smiled noticing the two moles that kissed the bottom of his brow.

"If they weren't I'm pretty handy with my knife skills so you don't have to worry about me." You said making everyone around you laugh.

"Good to know. These guys can be animals sometimes." He said slightly raising his eyebrow even more as all the others looked to their neighbor trying not to be too cocky at the compliment their boss had given them.

You had stayed a little big longer that night, red wine flowing around the large table you all settled in. The boys even started to open up a little, chiming in with child hood stories here and there. You found yourself completely entranced by Jaebum as you laughed at everything he said and turning to look at him every time he made a noise. It was the getting to the point where you were blushing at every word he said towards you.

"Damn this wine..." you said looking at the last sip you had, shaking your head as the boys laughed before you're hands went to your hot cheeks.

"Okay, I'm going to start cleaning so I can go home." You said fanning your hot face before standing up.

"Don't worry about it," Jaebum started, catching your hand as you started to reach for his plate. "The boys will do it." He said.

You looked to the boys who all fell into a grumpy state before standing up and taking their plates. You sat back down and thanked Yugyeom for taking yours before turning back to Jaebum.

"I still should probably get home though, I'm a monster in the morning if I don't get eight hours." You said shrugging slightly.

"Alright. Let's go." He said smiling before instructing Jinyoung to get your things.

"Really, I can get my own stuff." You said as Jinyoung disappeared into the kitchen.

"Y/n, you have been basically babysitting these guys the least they can do for you is collect your knives. You shrugged at this, he wasn't lying.

When Jinyoung returned he bowed slightly before telling you goodnight and soon BamBam was exiting the kitchen.

"I think I'll join you tonight, if that's alright." He said looking to BamBam who just nodded and took your things.

[philsllamasdanslions]

Help I've Fallen (part three) BEING RE WRITTEN

Summary: Dans been blind since he fell off a cliff on a school trip in 7th grade. Phil lesters bullied him since then.

Tw: blood and swearing.

Genre: angst with a happy ending and some fluffy fluff.

Words: 1033

Please read the notes at the end as they’re very important too me! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After waiting a bit, Dan found himself in the small bakery and was currently patiently waiting for his cupcake. Hey, don’t judge! He deserved one after what he had to endure at school. It was hard being picked on and pitied. Sometimes he didn’t know which one he preferred. Although it was probably being picked on. Oh how he wished he could have a normal life, but no. That couldn’t happen, he had to go break the rules and it cost him his sight.

Sighing and shaking his head to clear the thoughts he of course asked for the pastel chocolate cupcake which was beautiful, a pastel cream swirled on top with some small fairy dust sugar sprinkled atop the dessert. You may be wondering why he got the pastel cupcake? Well he remembers what it looked like so he felt closer to his old self. His old self loved pastel colors but since he couldn’t see their beauty there was no point. When he was handed the familiar bag he thanked the man, Robert, before turning around to head to his waterfall.

A waterfall? You may think, but yes. It wasn’t really his, but it was hard to get to and people were rarely there. It was quiet and perfect for him to think or do homework when his mind simply would not let him rest. Which he had to admit was often. He was usually stressed or upset, but can you really blame him? Yeah, he could too. It always goes back to what he should have done, not what he did.

He walked through the crowds of people, probably heading home to kiss their wives and husbands hello before working on dinner, and started to trek through the woods, the path slowly getting slimmer as he felt the trees brush his bag. Oh how relaxing it was to just not worry about getting ran over or tripping on sidewalks. He was safe and content here, and he often wished he could stay here. Never have to worry about high school or parents.

~Phils pov~

I watched as Dan made his way out of the shop and into the woods. Why would he be going out there? There was nothing back there except trees? As far as he was aware that emptied out into the town over. ‘Leave it to Howell to do something stupid and unnecessary’ he thought with a bitter chuckle.

I let my confusion get the best of me and soon followed after him, panting as I tried to keep up with the boy in front of me. Geez he walked fast for not being able to see. Wait dammit that’s mean. Wait, I don’t give a fuck, he deserved it for something I’m sure. He always deserved it. I think. Whatever.

Soon the trees began to clear and a distant sound of water could be heard, the path clearing to reveal a large clearing with a waterfall in the middle. Flowers were blooming around the field and the waiter appeared to be a crystal blue which was very beautiful. Wow, I didn’t even know this existed. 'Leave it to Howell again.’ I thought snickering quietly.

I watched as he began to make his way to the waterfall, sitting down on one of the rocks. He pulled out a notebook and began to sketch, which I was confused on how that worked but whatever. He did what he wanted, I’m just here to watch. It would be unfair to pick on him where no one could help him. See, I’m not a bad person.

We sat there, me just watching him, for around an hour, the once blue sky starting to turn pink, signaling the end of the day is approaching. I had to be home soon as my mom was probably freaking out. Hopefully he decided to leave soon as I really didn’t want to leave him out here alone for some reason. Whatever shut up it’s nothing.

Soon I watched as he got up, heading towards the large waterfall. I felt an uneasy feeling as he stepping closer and I began to trek behind him making sure to be quiet. He had excellent hearing, I knew that from experiences the smallest sounds would send him running.

I was just beginning to believe that my mind was playing tricks and nothing was wrong when I heard a yelp and a large splash. “Dammit Howell.” Phil thought as he ran to the edge of the waterfall, looking down into the water for a sign of the boy. How did he fall? Wait he couldn’t see, fuck he could drown! Alright just be calm. I then heard a quieter voice calling for help, I hurried over to the edge and gasped as I saw him. Fuck.

He had blood running from his head somewhere. He must have hit his head. His arm seemed to be twisted in the wrong direction and tears were falling from his eyes quickly, some mixing with the blood making it ten times worse. Finding the path I hurried down to the water calling before I got to him. “Howell, im here to help okay?” I said stepping closer. His whimpering was beginning to escalate quickly into sobbing and I hurried over to him picking him up.

He screamed, more than likely in pain. Why am I helping him? Fuck it. He could be seriously hurt, just man up Phil. Shushing him softly I began the walk back to town. “I’m going to get you too the hospital, okay? Your gonna be okay.” I said. He nodded clinging tighter too me. He was clearly hurt if he was actually cooperating.

When we arrived in town I started to run, since he was light enough I didn’t have that much trouble and got to the hospital shortly. After he had been taken back for a check over I waked out. I didn’t need to check on him. He would be fine. This was a one time thing where I helped him. It won’t happen again and I don’t expect him to thank me. I’d probably punch him. Dammit Howell, you’ve just got to fuck with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hey guys! Sorry it’s late! I’ve been ill and haven’t had any motivation! I’ve changed The days I’ll be updating to just Saturday’s! But instead of just this one I’ll update this one and a short one shot or hc! I may write some things before Saturday and decide to post them but that’s the general plan. Thank y'all!💕