#and i wanted to play with their eye designs

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[prettiedup]

“You look good.” Ony states as he studies the false lashes that sits on top of your eyelids. His tatted hand reaches out to grab your chin. Silently, he tilts your head right and then left. He slowly nods his head in approval while continuing to examine the extensions. You had mentioned getting a more dramatic set this go round, and truthfully he was a bit nervous, he thought he would have to pretend to like them. But, to his shock, the dramatic fluff fit your face perfectly.

“Thank you, baby.” You find yourself fawning at both his compliment and being under his watch. You absolutely loved having all of your boyfriend’s attention, no matter the situation.

You lean closer towards him, the two of you meet in the middle where your lips connect to. Ony never liked quick kisses. He preferred to take his time gliding his tongue into your mouth, and sucking on your tongue. You were used to his antics at this point, and decided to just let him do as he pleased.

When he finally decides that he’s had enough, he pulls away from you. His eyes dart down to your lips before trailing back up to your eyes. He gives you a knowing smile when he sees the needy look you’re giving him.

“You aight?” He asks. He lets go of your chin, and adjusts himself in the driver seat. You nod at his question. Ony smacks his teeth at that. “Words, bae.”

“I’m okay.” You confirm.

He waits until you’ve buckled your seatbelt to pull out of your lash tech’s driveway. The familiar whine from his hellcat runs through your ears before he turns the music up. He hands you his phone, in a routinely fashion you open his apple music and begin searching for a song.

You choose a song you knew for a fact the both of you enjoyed singing.

You let the song play out before turning the radio down. “Where are we going?” You ask curiously.

“Imma drop you off at the crib, ‘nd then I have some plays to go make.” He explains.

Instantly, your attitude changed. You were no longer smiling. Instead, there was a pout on your lips while you gazed at him offendedly. Your arms found their way crossed against your chest before you even realized you were doing it.

Ony glances at you out of the side of his eye. Seeing you pouting and crossing your arms makes him sigh. “Don’t start.” He warns you.

“Why can’t I come with you? You usually let me come.” You ask in irritation.

“Cause I don’t want you to. Simple.” Ony responds with a lousy shoulder shrug. The stoplight turns green and his car grumbles as he accelerates.

You had this horrible habit of accusing. In your defense, the way you looked at things is like: my boyfriend is tall, dark, and handsome. If I’m attracted to him of course other women will be also. And so you found yourself accusing him of things constantly, sometimes without even meaning to.

“A girl must be there.” The words flew out of your mouth quicker than you could stop them. Ony had told you time and time again to stop accusing him, claiming that it’s both draining and annoying. You just couldn’t help it.

“Here you go.” He sighs. Instead of giving you an answer he just turns the radio up, blasting out any chance for you to keep your accusations going.

Your arms stay folded for the remainder of the drive. You childishly look out of the window the entire time, not once sparing your boyfriend a glance.

The millisecond he puts his car in park in his designated parking spot outside your loft complex, you practically hop out of his car. You don’t purposely slam his car door, you had used more strength than you intended to truthfully. Ony didn’t play about his car. The thousands of dollars he has spent adding modifications to it only backs up his claim. You knew just from that action you were going to be in deeper trouble.

The sound of your pink tory burch sandals clacking against the pavement, your numerous bracelets hitting against each other played in your ears as you tried to collect your thoughts. You didn’t hear his heavy footsteps trailing behind you which is both a good and bad thing.

You’re in the elevator when your phone lights up, displaying your lover’s contact. Your heart thumps in your chest a little faster as you contemplate answering it. With a shaky exhale, you answer.

“Hello?” You could hear the sound of his car switching gears and the clicking of his signal stick.

“What did I tell you about slammin’ my door?” He’s composed, which only makes you more anxious.

You bite down on your lip at his question. You look around the empty elevator as you try to come up with an explanation that was good enough. You were acting childish but you just felt undeniably angry at him for not even offering you an invitation.

“You made me mad.” Your voice is lighter and apprehensive.

You could hear Ony kissing his teeth at your admission. “Why do you not understand that what I do ain’t a fuckin’ game, mama? This shit aint sparkles and rainbows. I’m mad at myself for even exposing you to this shit. This typa shit ain’t for you.” You’re his babydoll. Pink, glitter, soft scents, doe eyes, and pouty lips. Violence doesn’t fit in your criteria, it just isn’t you. How polar you two are is what drew Ony to you to begin with.

The elevator dinged and slowly opened its doors. You step out, your grip on your phone tightening as you rationalize his words. There’s a frown on your lips that you’re positive Ony would have plucked away if he was standing beside you. His explanation made sense, and deep down you knew you had no business mingling with a crowd like that. Hell, you had no business mingling with Ony.

“But, I’m grown,” You whine. “I should be able to choose where I want to go and what I want to do.” You’re putting up a weak argument against him. The both of you knew it too.

“Yeah but that ain’t you.” He reminds you. “Running the streets with me ain’t safe. And your safety is the most important thing t’me.”

You hum at his words while you bring your hello kitty printed key up to the doorknob. You still vividly remember the day Ony surprised you with it. You guys had been together for some months, and were beginning to discuss hypothetical ‘what if we lived together’ scenarios. A few days later Ony had gave you a solid black box with a light pink hello kitty key in the inside. That was the start of something incredible.

“My baby’s so stubborn.” Ony could hear the sound of the front door slamming shut. Your sandals and shuffling played through his speakers, he had told you to pick your feet up when you walked, and like always, what he said went through one ear and out the other.

“‘M notttt.” You whine.

“Yes you are. But it’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got somethin’ for that attitude you had earlier.” He promises you.

You have to pause in your tracks. Instantly, there’s throbbing in between your legs. A surge of horniness courses through your body. This is how the game between you two went. You would pick at him for something—anything, just so you could act out, and so that he could put you right back in your place.

“You don’t sound mad with me anymore though?”You frown.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna set you straight for acting out like that. I’m bout to pull up tho, imma text you when I’m free. Love you, mama.”

“I love you, baby.” You say before hearing the call end.

There’s butterflies swarming in the pits of your stomach as you try to imagine what he could possibly be planning. When Ony made promises like that, he made sure to keep them. He’s a man of his word and never switches it up.

[maximoffsgirl]

Peace in Chaos

summary: You can’t say no to the twins; Wanda, can’t say no to you. It’s a dynamic that often works in their favor—especially when they desperately want something. The twins know that, if all else fails, they can rely on you to soften Wanda’s resolve, even if they trick you along the way.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. The twins are close to 7/8 years old. Wanda is referred as mama/mom, Y/N is referred as mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️

word count: 3.311

not proofread!

When Wanda first joined the Avengers, she spent much of her time locked away inside the room they designated as hers, finding solace in the company of old books she had never had the chance to read before. Among those books, she stumbled upon a collection of poetry and came across a single phrase, quoted by Emily Dickinson; a phrase which was still written at the beginning of the diary Clint had gifted her for Christmas when the Avengers Tower became her home: "The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care."

At first, Wanda found the phrase peculiar. How could her heart, which had never known a single day of peace, possibly want anything? Yet, as time passed, she began to understand. It was precisely because her heart had endured so much chaos that it longed for something different.

Stability was a foreign concept to Wanda. Her life had always been beyond her control, and when her powers came into the picture, they only added to the turmoil. But the constant inconsistency made Wanda’s heart want one thing more than anything in the whole world. A family.

She yearned for a family like the one she once had. A family she could come home to at the end of the day, where she could sink into the couch with the weight of the week pressing down on her shoulders - an uncomfortable ache, yet in a place where she felt comfortable. An environment where a television program no one was really watching played softly in the background while someone shared the details of their day. Wanda’s heart craved for care and tenderness, something solid yet gentle—a sanctuary that felt soft, safe, and unshakably real.

After the life she had lived—always running, fighting, and losing—it felt almost unbelievable that Wanda now had everything she had ever wanted cradled in her arms. Hard to believe, I know. But with your head resting against her chest, your body nestled between her legs as you scrolled through your phone, Wanda was certain that she needed nothing more. She closed her eyes  briefly, letting herself savor the peace, the warmth, and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

The sounds from your phone mingled with the lively chatter drifting down from upstairs, where the twins were deeply immersed in a passionate debate about something. It was chaos. But it was her chaos. A chaos that she chose and was looking forward to every single day live in. 

“Hm? What are you doing?” Wanda asked, her arms tightening around you as you started to move. Her voice was soft but carried a hint of reluctance. She tilted her head a little to the side, wanting to know what you were planning. 

You turned to face her, a small smile on your lips. “We forgot to put the plates in the dishwasher,” you replied casually, as if that alone was enough reason to leave Wanda's embrace. To your wife, it definitely wasn't.

Wanda let out a low, drawn-out groan, clearly unenthusiastic about you leaving the comfort of her body pressed against yours. She held you a little tighter, silently protesting your attempt to get up.

“Don’t you need to finish your mission report?” you teased gently, raising an eyebrow at her reaction. Your words made her sigh in mild defeat. She had mentioned earlier that she needed to wrap up her mission report after dinner. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed—especially when it meant sacrificing time with you—but it was something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she hated it.

“I do,” she complained, her tone carrying a mix of annoyance and reluctance. Her thumb gently brushed against your cheek. It was obvious she didn’t want to move, but the mission report wasn’t going to complete itself.

Before either of you could say more, a sudden, loud noise from upstairs interrupted the moment. Both your heads turned toward the ceiling in unison. Wanda frowned, her brows knitting together as she stared at the source of the commotion.

“What are they doing up there?” she muttered, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of irritation.

“Probably destroying your things,” you joke, smirking at her. Wanda didn’t share your amusement; instead, she shot you a stern look, her concern evident. That only made you chuckle softly.

“Relax, baby” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips, your way of soothing her. With a lazy stretch, you slipped out of her warm embrace, earning a soft groan of protest as you stood. “I’ll get the dishes,” you said with a playful shrug, heading toward the kitchen while Wanda remained on the couch. 

She reached out for you, calling your name with a playful pout on her lips, as if trying to coax you back into her arms. But all she got in response was a teasing kiss blown in the air, followed by a few more chuckles from you. "You're impossible," Wanda muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile she couldn’t quite suppress

A few minutes later, Wanda mirrored your actions with a resigned sigh. With a stretch and a yawn, she slowly pushed herself off the couch, kissing your shoulder once she moved past the kitchen to her home office. She opened the door with another huff, the thought of that mission report weighed heavily on her, already draining her energy before she even began.

As peaceful as the silence was, it didn’t last longer than fifteen minutes—a brief reprieve, but in a house with twins, it felt like a blessing. The twins knew better than to disturb Wanda when her office door was closed, understanding the importance of letting her work in peace. However, today was different. They had something important to ask her, and they were certain that mama wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was truly important.

Wanda, ever attuned to the sounds around her, heard the soft footsteps and hushed whispers before the three gentle knocks echoed on her office door. She glanced down at the mission report in front of her, then dropped her pen onto the pile of papers near the notebook, her attention fully shifting to the interruption. 

“Yes?” she called out, her voice loud enough to reach her sons, signaling they had permission to enter.

The door creaked open slightly, and two sets of curious eyes peeked through the gap. First, Tommy, with his usual impatience, then Billy, who always seemed a bit more cautious. Their wide eyes and raised eyebrows said it all—they had something to ask. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, her stern demeanor softening instantly. She gestured for them to come in, her smile softening as she watched them shuffle inside, their little hands fidgeting with each other in anticipation.

“Is everything alright?” Wanda asked, her voice filled with the kind of tenderness that only a mother could provide.

The twins, true to their age, began poking and nudging each other, whispering in hushed tones while they stood in front of their mother - who was looking at them with amusement as they continued to argue who would be the one to initiate the conversation. 

“Mom, we have something super important to ask. But… promise you’re going to listen first” Billy tried to negotiate, his little feet shuffled nervously as he spoke. Tommy, by his side, nodded his head in support, his wide-eyed expression practically daring Wanda to disagree.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched her boys’ antics. Leaning back in her chair, she murmured a soft, “Okay…” her tone amused yet curious, ready to hear what the twins were planning. 

“So.. we saw something on the internet..”

That wasn’t entirely true. Long before the twins were even born, you and Wanda had agreed, in a heartful parenting talk, that unrestricted internet access wouldn’t be part of your children’s childhood. That being established, the closest the twins got to the “internet” was their tablets - with a few games they begged to have since all their friends were active on and the little maximoffs were being left out- streaming shows, and, on some occasions like weekends, YouTube videos.

Still, Wanda stayed quiet, her expression neutral as she listened to Tommy’s words. Even if he couldn’t possibly get whatever their idea was from the ‘internet; more likely, he was just saying it as an excuse to shift the responsibility off himself and his brother. 

“And we wanted to try.. We wanted to have a night pool party”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, glancing between her sons with growing curiosity. She had a sneaking suspicion about where this was headed but decided to feign ignorance, opting to play along.

"A night pool party..." Wanda repeated slowly, dragging out the words with a hint of amusement as she looked at her sons. Her lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "And where would this happen, exactly?"

"Here! Tonight! We've already planned everything," Tommy blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

Billy immediately hissed at his brother, shooting him a sharp glare. That definitely wasn’t part of the carefully rehearsed convincing speech they had agreed on beforehand. 

Wanda frowned, her amusement fading. If it were any other season, the idea might not have bothered her as much. But her sons wanting to swim in the freezing water of the pool outside? That was a firm no. The idea would only serve so they’d catch a cold and be miserable for the rest of the week. Besides, late hours weren’t meant for pool parties—especially not in this weather and not with the age they had. 

There they stood in front of her: matching cozy pajamas, hair lazily brushed back, and fresh-faced from their recent bath. They looked absolutely adorable, and Wanda couldn’t bear the thought of letting their idea ruin that. Spring was just around the corner, and while her children were undeniably the cutest in the world, she had no interest in dealing with two sick little ones—especially when even the smallest sneeze turned them into impossibly needy bundles of chaos.

“No.” she simply replied, looking back to the now black screen of her notebook. 

“But mom,” the twins protested in unison, their voices carrying the familiar tone of pleading.

Wanda, however, was unmoved. Her decision was final, and she wasn’t about to budge. Crossing her arms, she gave them a firm but gentle look that clearly said, not happening.

“No is no, boys. I’m not going to repeat myself. When it's hotter we can think about it”

The twins left her office with matching little huffs, their quiet complaints trailing behind them. They knew better than to argue further or try to reason with their mother—her decision was final, as always.

But the twins, as stubborn as any Maximoff to ever walk the Earth, weren’t ready to give up just yet. Instead, they exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. They’d just have to come up with another strategy.

It was no secret that, between you and Wanda, you were the parent more likely to entertain the wild ideas your sons came up with. Camping in the backyard? Of course. Nearly a liter of milkshake, even if it was freezing outside? Without a doubt. If it sounded fun, you were usually on board.

You didn’t blame Wanda for seeing things differently. After everything she had endured in her life, control and structure brought her a sense of peace she had rarely known before. Ensuring that the household stayed balanced and comfortable wasn’t just her way of parenting—it was her way of feeling secure.

But that didn’t make her the “boring parent.” If you asked the twins, they’d insist that mama was just as fun as mommy. Sure, she was a little scarier when she got angry, but that only made her the perfect balance to your more carefree approach.

Although they knew better than anyone how to take advantage of your different personalities.

At times like this, when Billy and Tommy had their hearts set on something, they knew they could always count on you to try convincing Wanda to let them have their way.

Sometimes it didn’t work—after all, undermining Wanda’s authority wasn’t part of your parenting playbook, nor was it in hers. But there were moments when a little push for compromise didn’t hurt, especially for something harmless enough to reconsider.

That’s why you felt two little fingers poking each of your shoulders while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. Turning around, you were met with the two most adorable faces you’d ever seen.

“Hi, boys. Already tired of breaking the house upstairs?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

They responded with cheeky smiles, and without a word, Billy climbed up to sit beside you on the couch, Tommy quickly settling in next to his brother. Their mischievous grins told you they had something up their sleeves.

“Mommy…” Billy trailed off, his voice sweet and direct. “Can we have a swim party tonight?”

His question was much more straightforward than Tommy’s had been when they’d asked Wanda.

You frowned slightly at the idea. The weather wasn’t exactly cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm enough to make a pool party seem like the best choice. You thought about it for a moment. The pool was clean, they’d have fun, and it might tire them out enough for an easy bedtime.

“Hm. Why not?” you said with a shrug, giving in to their request. The twins smiled, happy to finally receive a ‘yes’ to their idea. 

“Can you convince mama then?” Tommy asked eagerly, his excitement practically radiating off him. Billy let out another huff, clearly annoyed by his brother's impatience.

You turned your body to face them, a sigh escaping your lips as you realized you'd fallen for one of their tricks, again

“Don’t turn this on me, boys,” you said, shaking your head. But when they hit you with those puppy-dog eyes, you knew you were in trouble. You sighed again, giving in.

“Okay, I guess I could try to convince her... but if she doesn’t budge, I won’t try again, alright?”

The twins nodded eagerly, their smiles growing wider once they got you to agree with their idea. You ruffled both of their messy hairs playfully before standing up, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward Wanda’s office. The twins’ giggles echoed behind you, but you knew you had your work cut out for you if you were going to convince Wanda.

Just like your sons, you approached Wanda’s office quietly, giving a few light knocks before stepping inside. Wanda, who was about halfway through her report, looked up and smiled at the sight of you. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, she rolled her chair back slightly and patted her lap, inviting you to sit.

You settled sideways on her lap, and Wanda wasted no time wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you close, sighing with the familiar weight of your body upon hers

“How’s it going?” you asked, your fingers working gently at the tense muscles in her neck. Wanda let out a soft sigh, her smile a blend of contentment and fatigue.

“Annoying, as always,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. Her hand drifted to your thigh, her fingers lightly running over the fabric in soothing motions as she added with a small smile, “But I’m halfway through it”.

“You know... the twins mentioned something about a night swim tonight,” you said casually, your tone light but deliberate. “And, apparently, I’ve been tasked with convincing you,” you added playfully, though there was a touch of seriousness behind your words.

“Have you now?” Wanda replied, her voice mirroring your playful tone but laced with even more amusement. She arched an eyebrow knowingly, already piecing together where this conversation was heading.

“I know you already said no, but they’re so excited about it, Wands,” you said, trying to play the kids’ happiness card against her. Wanda rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She saw right through your game but decided to let you play it anyway.

“And just think about it,” you continued, your hands gently moving along her neck, down to her shoulders, and back up again in soothing motions. “We can turn on the pool LEDs, make it fun. They’ll tire themselves out, and bedtime will be so much easier.”

You laid out the positives, your tone soft but persuasive, waiting patiently for her response.

“Love.. I know. But it’s late and It’s not even hot” She tried to resonate with you, sighing with each argument, knowing she has already lost. 

“They’ll be alright, babe. Let them have this,” you said with a convincing smile.”

Wanda let out a heavy sigh, her expression unamused as she looked at you. “If they catch a cold, you will be the one taking care of them,” she said firmly, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

But despite her words, you both knew the truth. If that scenario played out, Wanda would be right there, rolling her eyes but still doting on the sick twins, as she always did.

You stayed wrapped in her embrace for a while, both of you savoring the quiet presence of each other. Wanda adjusted you on her lap, shifting just enough to free both hands so she could continue working on her report. You rested your head against her shoulder, your warm breath brushing against her neck, which made her smile softly despite her focus on the task.

The content of the report didn’t matter to you now—you’d already heard all about the mission the day after she got home. So you stayed quiet, simply enjoying the comforting warmth of her body and the peaceful moment you were sharing.

After that,  you and Wanda made your way to the living room, stepping in quietly. The twins were curled up on the couch, watching something on Netflix, completely oblivious to your arrival. Wanda stepped forward, arms crossed, hands on her hips, and her head tilted in mock frustration.

“I can’t believe you both!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp and disapproving.

The twins froze, their eyes widening as they turned to face you both. Wanda’s intimidating stance and your almost-guilty expression made them shrink in their spots, unsure of what they’d done.

“What are you two doing? You should be getting ready for the swim party!” Wanda said, feigning exasperation but failing to hide the faint twitch of a smile.

The twins blinked at her, then at each other, before springing up from the couch in pure joy. “Oh my god, seriously?!” Tommy shouted.

“YESSS!” Billy cheered, both of them jumping around excitedly as they circled their mothers, their energy contagious.

Soon, the house transformed into its familiar brand of chaos. The twins, now dressed in their swimsuits, were already splashing around in the pool, the colorful glow of the LED lights—courtesy of Tony Stark—dancing across the water. Their laughter echoed through the backyard, only occasionally interrupted by shouts of, "It's so cold!" Wanda, unimpressed, responded with a dramatic eye roll, her arms folded across her chest.

Standing at the edge of the pool, Wanda kept her distance, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she watched the scene unfold. She made no effort to join the fun, choosing instead to watch with a raised eyebrow and an air of feigned detachment. Yet, the slight tug at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Somehow, despite her initial objections, Wanda found a sense of peace in the chaos surrounding her. The sound of Tommy and Billy's laughter brought a soft smile to her face, and she even chuckled at your playful teasing—directed at both her and the twins.

Two days later, the inevitable happened. The twins began sneezing, and you found yourself on the receiving end of a very pointed lecture from Wanda. But, as always, her frustration melted away with a sweet kiss, leaving her shaking her head in exasperated affection.

It was a different kind of chaos—one filled with sniffles, tissues, and extra cuddles—but it was hers. Wanda’s heart had finally found something. Had finally found peace in the beautiful mess of it all.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: college kicks ass, but I kick harder! a lil shorty smut for y'all 💗 happy holidays loves! felt cute, might delete later 🙈

Bunny & Her Man. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentleman!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex (f receiving) fingering, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Reader referred to affectionately as Bunny.

Summary: in which Terry is head over hills for his girl, and shows it.

it's a new day,

no time to play, we're in love.

Bunny loved her man, and the best part about it was, her man loved her even more.

Terry literally adored Bunny, anything she wanted she got, he definitely made it his mission to be the sole provider in their relationship. He took immense pride in Bunny's degrees, her smarts matching how extremely stunning she was on the outside. And for as long as she managed to take care of herself before he came along, putting her degrees to good use—he halted that when he arrived, letting her know that if he allowed her to still provide for herself, he was no use to her around. So she let him. And she loved it.

Bunny loved how much her man splurged on her, she'd become a bit of brat by now. Receiving huge bouquets of her favorite yellow roses every Sunday, date nights were a frequent for the duo, and she was no stranger to designer bags and shoes. Whatever tickled her fancy.

So that's why when she texted Terry the day prior, that she was oh so tired of fucking him in the states, he replied twenty minutes later with a screenshot of a red eye flight to Grace Bay scheduled the next morning.

And he wasted no time in rectifying her complaint, not even allowing her the time to be rightfully jet-lagged after the flight, the second they entered their hotel room Terry was feral.

Bunny huffed, her thighs pushed rigidly against her chest, Terry's big hands squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh there as his lips sucked on her overly sensitive clit— the sucks, loud, lewd and sloppy. His stormy eyes trained on her facial expressions for his own validation, only feeling satisfied when he seen her big brown eyes roll into the back of her head for the third time that afternoon.

"Ssshitttt!" Bunny whimpered, her eyes low and dazed as she looked down at her man in between her legs, his tongue making dizzying, swirling circles around her clit, her body slightly jerking and trembling. "I'm bout to cum again, baby!"

"Mm-mm," Terry hummed in disapproval, lips suctioning around her clit briefly before pulling back with a loud pop. His pointer and middle finger replacing his soft lips, as his calloused fingers rubbed slow, agonizing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching her arousal leak out of her earnestly before averting his sole attention on Bunny's pretty face. "You asked daddy to cum, or you thinkin' for yourself again? Hm?" He muttered, voice dangerously low.

"What I tell you bout thinkin' when I'm fuckin' you?" He hummed, using the dripping arousal to slowly slip his two fingers inside of her sopping pussy, gummy, wet walls squeezing around his fingers as a choked out gasp slipped past her already parted lips.

Her body was on fire, and Terry's voice was not helping. Everything felt too tight, or too good, or too sensitive. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her heavy, labored breathing. "Not thinkin' daddy," she slurred through a moan, vision blurring as he continued to pump his curled digits into her, hitting that sweet spot he knew so well inside of her. Her own hips absentmindedly bucking themselves unto his fingers, matching his quick hard thrusts. "Need to cum for you so bad, daddy, please!" She squeaked out, voice so small beneath the squishy sounds of her pussy being dug out on his fingers.

"Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my fingers," Terry tsk'd ignoring her plea to cum as he kept driving his fingers in and out of her, denying her the pleasure of cumming, but still wanting to make her, "pussy gushin' and talkin' all on my fuckin' fingers. Shit so fuckin sexy."

"Oh my god," Bunny huffed through a drawn out moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers at his lewd words, legs trembling beneath his hold, her own hands letting go of the vice grip she held on the hotel sheets, flinging them to his impending wrist, she didn't know how much longer she could continue holding on.

"Feel that pussy clenchin', you gon cum on daddy fingers without his permission?" He asked tauntingly, still giving her no leads on an answer yet. "You better not fuckin' cum, bitch. Hold that shit," he firmly stated, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched her lips fall into that familiar frown, her eyes rolling back once again, and her body going limp. "Hold that shit," he reiterated more firmly, slipping his fingers out of her and landing one single slap against her messy, sloppied pussy.

And that one slap relieved the heavy pressure in her stomach. Bunny squealed as her juices spurted out of her, soaking her thighs, and the sheets under ass.

Terry tsk'd, a surge of pride surging through him at how good he could make Bunny feel. What he could do to her just with his mouth and fingers. So Bunny got whatever she wanted from him, and he got whatever he wanted from Bunny. Even exchange.

"And just when I was about fuck you so good," he taunted leaning down to softly peck Bunny on the lips, her lazy whine a reply of protest, "couldn't hold it no more mama?"

Bunny shook her head slowly, jerking once more when she felt Terry's fingers softly skating up and down her sensitive, heated core. "That's too bad baby, cause now we gotta start all over. Daddy gotta make sure you understand the rules." He stated smugly, free hand slapping against her cheek firmly.

hope you enjoyed bunny 🙈. next fic will have a tag list & my masterlist is in the making!

[helluvathings]

He is the Law

Did anyone else find this unsettling? On cue, all five non-Lucifer Sins stood up and backed Satan like his own personal chorus, declaring his law as absolute. Bee doesn't look happy about it. I think Ozzie looks dutiful. Bel wakes up to stand and sing along when I believe she'd been napping.

We saw Fizz beg Ozzie to do something, and Ozzie looked saddened, but he didn't act. Bee and Ozzie rolled their eyes when Satan (according to Viv) told a direct lie, but neither called him out.

On the door, Satan's symbol is directly below Lucifer's, and he seems to have tangible authority over the other Sins. Ozzie and Bee fought back while the trial was still in the air, but the second Satan made his preference clear, no more protests (possibly because they have their own controversial relationships to protect).

It's distinctly different from how Bee, Ozzie, and Mammon interact. Ozzie was very willing to physically fight Mammon for Fizz but won't say a word speaking up against Satan? Mammon openly flirts with copyrighting Lucifer, goads Bee this episode, and mocks Ozzie for loving Fizz, but shows Satan obedience? I wonder how entrenched this behavior actually is and where it comes from (tradition? fear? genuine respect?).

I've seen posts calling out Ozzie for not doing more, but unless/until further information comes out, I wonder what he could've accomplished. Satan is framed as 'the dangerous big boss,' to the extent he has the other Sins reciting an assertion of his authority like kids in a classroom. The whole courtroom is designed to have him his own separate place, with the other Sins very much sidelined. It makes me doubt how much wiggle room the others actually have, and what the consequences are for failing to play their role.

Additionally: I'm curious if this becomes a point of conflict, especially between Ozzie/Fizz and Bee/Vortex. The system, with Satan in charge, would've executed an imp on shaky testimony. That same system spared Stolas, who readily admitted much worse "crimes," because of his status. Notably, Ozzie and Bee are part of this system, and they're sticking to their script, protesting when it's safe but no further, even when it treats 'lesser demons' like their partners as expendable.

After Mammon's threats to Ozzie in 2x07, I wonder if this dynamic relates to how that foreshadowing plays out. If at some point, he'll have to choose between Satan's law and Fizz, and if his seeming friendship with Bee (who's in a similar situation) might be relevant.

I could see it going either way; those two kept quiet here to directly shield themselves and their partners from suspicion, and it's no more complicated than that. Or the way they echoed Satan is an indication there's more to explore in their relationships, and there might be conflict lurking in the future. I'm torn between wanting to see extra layers, and hoping their relationships genuinely are as wholesome as they seem. It'll be something to watch for in Season 3, I suppose.

[reginalusus]

Ok so what if I put them in Dark Souls.

Ok, ok, ok, this fucking concept has been stuck in my head for around two months and I never bothered to draw it because I don't enjoy drawing armour and shit as you can see, but I managed to get a rough sketch of some stuff out yesterday and today.

If you would like to hear me yap about how DC Dank Souls would work and Two-Dads boss fight and their designs, feel free to go under the cut. ^-^

So it's basically a Souls-like game where Gotham is a decrepit, corrupt kingdom, even more so now that Bruce Wayne/Batman has died, and the player plays as a random, chosen Gothamite that must take down the villains/morally questionable of Gotham. Obviously I'd have Harvey and Jason be the final boss due to their personal connection with Bruce. They'd have the biggest banger of a boss theme known to man and work as a duo, similar to how Sister Freide and Father Ariandel work, or Lorian, Elder Prince and Lothric, Younger Prince etc. (both from DS3).

Some quick notes about their designs.

Harvey - Blindfolded like Lady Justitia. - His scales are a sacred chime, so they can emit miracles and be used to buff. They are also pointed with a dagger - can be used to stab as a back-up. - Due to Harvey having 'fallen angel' imagery, he DID have angel wings, but over the years and as his corruption grew, they became tattered and broken and sore. They drag behind him like a cape.

Jason - His lower body is bandaged, similar to the bandages he was wrapped in prior to being placed in the Lazarus Pit. - Grim Reaper imagery, but rather than a scythe, he uses twin sickles. Sickles are normally better for prying the hard-to-reach and tougher elements of a crop. - His eyes glow similar to the Lazarus Pit.

First Phase Harvey and Jason share a health bar in the first phase. Jason is very aggressive and will attack the player with quick and brutish heavy attacks with his dual sickles. He can also throw knives, use the environment to leap around and use a chain grapple to grip the player forward. Harvey will buff Jason in the background with his scale chime. Sometimes he will buff Jason's speed, sometimes his strength - however, before he does this, he will flip his coin and there will be a distinct ding. When that ding goes off, the player has around three-five seconds to hit Harvey and prevent the buff. The player can choose to be aggressive to Harvey since he is mostly idle during this phase, but he can admit a divine AOE (Call of the Jury, perhaps it's named) from his chime that will push the player back, forcing them to fight Jason. Git gud.

Second Phase Once the health bar is drained, a cutscene will play. Jason will fall to the ground in defeat, spluttering blood and essence from the Lazarus Pit. He dies. Harvey will fall beside him and cradle him, weeping and lamenting as he does so. He will mumble something like, "a second death to a second life would pleaseth us… however, for one as beloved as thou, we want a third," before carrying him to the Lazarus Pit. He will set Jason into it, before turning to face the player and removing his half-helmet, as well as his blindfold. They will drop to the ground, and from Harvey will admit Janus, melting into view gracefully at his side as a sort of spectre. Double health bar now, woo!

This fight play similarly to the Pontiff Sulyvhan fight from DS3. Harvey will no longer bear his scales and coin; he will swap them for dual swords resembling the Sword of Justice. Harvey's attacks are not as heavy as Jason's, but they are smoother and more elegant, similar to the Dancer of the Boreal Valley from DS3 or Rellana, Twin Moon Knight from Elden Ring. Janus deals less damage but, again similar to Pontiff Sulyvhan, will actually betray what move Harvey is about to perform, giving the player a chance to learn movesets.

Third Phase Once Harvey is defeated, another cutscene will play. He will fall on one knee, crestfallen and weak. He gazes over at the Lazarus Pit and from it will emerge Jason. He will pull down his hood, revealing a distinct, crimson helm that contrasts with his green eyes beneath it (think of Pursuer from DS2). He looks over to Harvey and approaches him before helping him to his feet. Harvey flips his coin, and it comes scarred side up. Jason and Harvey will then face the player, unyielding. Then the health bars pop up, wooooo!

Jason will be similar to his first phase, and Harvey will be similar to his second phase, minus Janus. They are both aggressive, but one will tend to give the player breathing room now and then. Sometimes they will have choregraphed attacks where they work together, sometimes one will try to grab the player so the other can unleash a flurry of attacks. They have separate health bars obviously, so the player will have to choose which of the two they want to try and tackle first, or they can even out both. Git gud.

Ko-Fi Bluesky

[chiangyorange]

i love making new dolls to play with <3 PLAY DOLLS WITH ME!!!!

Overall

THE LOST WOODS ARE FINE THEY DONT ACTUALLY BURN IT DOWN (theyre burning the corruption out but it still feels like a loss because after this it burns for DAYS and both pen and quill agonize over their actions because of it)

running with the idea that these two are from the timeline convergence, but before the ancient hero in botw. im personally leaning towards before (so before rauru's reign from totk)

there is no ONE GUY as the big bad-- i wanted to use that idea of how the calamity was less of a Guy and more of an Event, a natural force. so what happened to pen and quill here is the prelude to that

the idea that the moat around the lost woods was man made REALLY COMPELS ME. iirc the water around the forest was never there before?? at least thats what googling many screenshots of the lost woods is telling me

one BIG REASON that i made them both in their mid 20s compared to literally any zelink duo iteration in canon who are a LOT younger is because while those kids are saddled to save a big world and succeed, the adults here are saddled with a similar responsibility, but with a "smaller world" and "fail"

(more notes under here)

Link (Pen)

calico hair!!!! wanted to get sillay with the hair in general so that means THREE colors on the dome

the hair ribbons are a gift from zelda. she told her that the ribbons matched the color of her eyes and that changed her brain chemistry. lmao. gayass.

he has a younger brother (that is still unnamed for now but im tempted to name him colin bc. lol) he love love LOVES him soso much

not really formally trained with using a sword, but his younger brother absolutely drags his ass into learning with him so he knows by proxy

Zelda (Quill)

BIG OL BRAIDS!!! those tassel thingies that frame her face are supposed to replace the crown you normally see in other zeldas. she wears it by literally sewing it into place and her braid plaids are woven into each other. its uber complicated

bugs link a lot to braid her hair even tho hes busy and shes not. he has a bad habit of overworking and annoying him is the only way to get him to stop

this is sort of a timeline placement question too but i REALLY liked botw/totk zeldas blue dress in the memories, the sleeves and silhouette really stuck out to me so i borrowed a lot of elements from that to this one. the belts are definitely a reference older zelda designs though with the tassels

she dresses a lot more casual overall, DEFINITELY only dresses the bare minimum of fanciness of whats expected of her.

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ late nights ; ax72

➪ summary: arber comes home to find his girl still awake and basks in her comfort after a crappy game

➪ warnings: today's boston game if you're a habs fan

➪ word count: 1.3k

➪ file type: fic

➪ cupid's notes: my first arber fic 🤭 purley dedicated to @winterbarnesblog and @wintfleur

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It was late at night when Arber stepped through the doorway of his and y/n’s apartment. He was tired, eye bags underneath his eyes, letting his bag fall to the floor with a soft thud. He kicked his shoes off and shuffled through the living room and down the hallway, basking in the quiet atmosphere it provided. 

He stopped just shy of the bedroom, eyes locking in on the light that shone from underneath the door. He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes blinking, mind reeling. She shouldn’t have been up this late, she had work tomorrow, she had to be up early.

He turned the doorknob and walked into their bedroom, eyes settling on his girlfriend who sat at her desk, her chin on her knee and her other leg tucked under her, headphones playing what he could only assume was Christmas music as she worked on something. He smiled when he noticed what she was wearing, one of his sweatshirts that he didn’t really wear anymore, most likely because she had stolen it. 

Arber’s steps were quiet as he walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in order not to startle her. He could see her jump when his hand met her shoulder, hand moving to take off her headphones and head turning to look up at him. Y/n grinned, reaching up and lacing her fingers with his, “Hi.”

“Hi baby.” He kissed her head, wrapping his arms around her from behind as best as he could while she still sat in the chair. 

She moved her hand to rest on his forearm, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his arm hair. She turned her head to kiss his bicep, snuggling into his arms, “Nice fight today.”

Y/n heard his light scoff, frowning as he removed his arms around her. She watched as he walked over to the other side of the room, peeling off his shirt to replace it with a new one. He didn’t say anything, just moving to change into a pair of shorts before standing over her. 

She gave him a curious look but followed his silent motion to stand up. He took her seat, spreading his legs slightly as he sat down. Her curiousness settled into annoyance, “So first you interrupt my work, then you don’t reply to me and now you’re sitting in my seat? That’s a little rude if you-” 

Arber’s arm reached out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into his lap so she was straddling him. Her squeal got a small chuckle out of him, burying his head into her neck and placing soft kisses there. He didn’t say anything, not in response to her statement and not to explain what he was doing, just sat there kissing her neck. 

“Stop it,” she murmured quietly, “I still have work to do.”

“You shouldn’t be up this late, you have work tomorrow.”

“But I have work to do-”

“You can do it tomorrow at work, baby. That’s why it’s called work.”

“I don’t think so, but if you want to believe that you can. Now you gonna tell me what’s going on with you or am I dealing with this whole pouty thing you got going on here?”

He rolled his eyes, placing one last kiss on her neck before pulling away. She took in his features, the bags under his eyes, his drooping eyes, and the roughness of his growing stubble. Her eyes moved to where his hands were resting on her hips, they weren’t that bruised or cut up, but she could see the light cracks in them from the dryness.

She had seen the fight earlier, watching the game from the comfort of their living room with a mug of hot chocolate. She loved it when Arber fought, but tonight was different. The game was going horribly, they were down three courtesy of Cole’s goal a few minutes prior, they were playing Boston, and she could tell her boyfriend had been on edge all game.

She cupped his face, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. She could see the tension release from his body, easing into the chair more and basking in her touch. 

He leaned up and kissed her, bringing one hand to the ends of her hair and tugging softly but enough to elicit a groan from her. He smiled, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers, “I’m okay.”

“Why don’t you go to bed? I’m almost done, I’ll be there in a minute, ‘kay?”

He shook his head in protest, helping her turn around in his lap so her back was flush with his chest. He scooted them closer to the desk, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, hand slipping underneath her shirt and rubbing small circles with his thumb on her stomach. He pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, murmuring as he did so, “Staying right here. You can work.”

She nodded, going to pull her headphones back on when his hand stopped her again, “Wanna listen to your music. Please.”

She took her headphones off fully, placing them down on her desk after turning them off. She reached over to her phone, pressing play, smiling at Arber’s laugh when the two heard Last Christmas playing through the speaker.

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not, would never.” He kissed her shoulder again, resting his head in between her shoulder blades. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

It was thirty minutes later when she finished her work, closing her laptop with a sigh. Arber’s thumb had long stopped his movements against her stomach, his breathing evening out and his body going slack against her back.

She twisted as best as she could so she could face him, running a hand through his hair, and untangling the small knots she encountered on the way. He stirred slightly, eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted to the darkness of their bedroom. 

He removed his head from her back, using his hand to brush the hair out of his face that she hadn’t. He looked from her to her closed laptop and gave her a sleepy smile, “Done?”

“Mhm, time for bed.”

He helped her stand up, hands back on her waist as he stood up as well. His hands snaked up under her sweatshirt, “Arms up.”

She did as she was told, lifting her arms slightly so Arber could remove the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing. He knew how uncomfortable she got when she slept with heavy layers on, always opting to snuggle under multiple blankets rather than to wear more clothing. 

He threw the sweatshirt to the side, dragging her with him to the bed. He laid down first, opening his arms so she could crawl into them. She did as so, curling into him and sighing when he brought the comforter around her, hugging her close to his chest.

Y/n leaned up a bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling back into the cocoon she found herself in, “I still stand by my statement earlier, it was a good fight.”

She laughed as he grumbled something incoherent, looking up to see a frown on his face. She raised an eyebrow, “I thought you liked it when I complimented your fighting.”

“I do. Just not that fight. Could’ve done better for you.”

“You’re right, I have seen better fights from you but it was a fight nonetheless. As long as you aren’t severely hurt, I’m happy.”

“Should say that in my next interview when they ask me why I like fighting.”

“I don’t know how happy people would be if you said you did it so when you got home you could fuck your girlfriend.”

He scoffed playfully, “Hey! I do not always do it to have sex with you. Sometimes it just happens.”

“Mhm keep telling yourself that, pretty boy.”

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@winterbarnesblog

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TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

© CUPIDBEDSY

[caitified]

Do a fic about Kate proposing and how she told her family and friends about the marrige

yes?

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

kate lay on her side, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across your face. you were already asleep, your hand resting on her arm, your breathing slow and steady. kate couldn’t take her eyes off you.

her chest tightened at the thought of leaving soon—moving across the country for her basketball career. you’d been so supportive, telling her how proud you were, how excited you were to see her chase her dreams. but kate knew it wasn’t going to be easy. leaving the home you’d built together, the life you’d made, and heading into the unknown felt like a leap.

and kate had never been afraid of leaps.

but this one had to be right.

she ran her fingers gently along your arm, careful not to wake you. the thought hit her then—clear as a fast break. she couldn’t leave without knowing you were hers forever. she couldn’t start this next chapter without you being at the very center of it.

she needed to propose.

the idea rooted itself in her mind, and the next morning, as the two of you sipped coffee together in the kitchen, kate texted her sister kennedy.

“can we talk? need advice.”

kennedy called within minutes. kate slipped outside to the back porch, pacing nervously as she explained everything—how she wanted to propose, how she wasn’t sure what kind of ring to get, and how she wanted it to be perfect.

“kate, relax,” kennedy said, her voice light but firm. “this is you we’re talking about. she already loves you. she’s going to say yes.”

kate let out a breath, leaning against the porch railing. “i just… i want it to be special. something she’ll remember forever.”

“it will be,” kennedy promised. “you’re already making it special because it’s coming from you. let’s go find the ring together, okay? we’ll make it perfect.”

kate grinned, relief washing over her. “thanks, ken. i owe you one.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍

a few days later, kate found the ring—a simple, elegant design that reminded her of you: timeless, radiant, and just right. every time she glanced at the small box tucked away in her bag, her nerves built, but so did her excitement.

the night before the proposal, kate barely slept. she kept replaying what she wanted to say in her mind, running through every scenario. when the morning came, she was ready—or so she thought.

the moment itself unfolded naturally. kate was unusually quiet all day, fidgeting as the two of you relaxed on the couch. you noticed, of course—you always noticed when something was off with her.

“kate, what’s going on? you’ve been weird all day,” you asked, turning to face her.

she laughed nervously, trying to play it off. “weird? harsh.”

“seriously.” you grabbed her hand, halting her nervous tapping. “what’s up? is it about the move?”

kate’s eyes softened. the mention of vegas brought everything into focus again.

“it’s… partly that,” she admitted. she hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring box.

your eyes widened as she opened it, her hands trembling slightly.

“i didn’t want to leave without doing this first,” she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. “i love you, and i want you with me—wherever i go. i want to build a life with you, not just in vegas, but everywhere. will you marry me?”

the world stopped for a moment. your eyes filled with tears as you whispered, “yes.”

kate’s grin lit up the entire room as she slipped the ring onto your finger and pulled you into her arms. she kissed you, over and over, her laughter bubbling between every kiss.

🤍🤍🤍🤍

the next morning, you packed up and set out to see your families, wanting to share the news with the people you both loved most.

kate’s mom cried the second she saw the ring, pulling you into a tight hug. “welcome to the family,” she said, tears streaming down her face. her dad clapped kate on the back, pride shining in his eyes.

when you arrived at your parents’ house, the reaction was just as joyful. your mom gasped, practically screaming as she pulled you both into a hug.

“i knew it! i knew she was going to propose!”

kate laughed, shaking her head. “guess i’m not as subtle as i thought.”

[misswynters]

Babydoll

short drabble

featuring. Sylus x pregnant!reader

synopsis. In which you have no limit in what you can spend on your upcoming bundle of joy while sylus is with you. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Your hormones getting the best of you. As usual.

Ah yes, the bustling mall on the edge of Linkon City. It glowed with vibrant holograms and warm neon signs, a mix of advanced technology and a touch of unique charm. Stores, boutiques and stands stretched as far as the eye could see, overflowing with goods from every corner. In the midst of it all, Sylus walked beside you, his casual tall stride alongside the protective glances he constantly threw your way. Your hand rested on your growing belly, the weight of everything making you smile.

A vendor called out, advertising handwoven blankets from a distant place, and your attention immediately locked on the soft, pastel-colored fabrics. There was pink, blue, purple, red. So many colours to choose from!

Sylus noticed your gaze and stepped forward, his commanding voice polite but firm as he negotiated the price. The vendor, who was flustered but eager, handed over the bundle of blankets. Sylus passed them to the assistant he had brought along. The pile of bags they carried had grown considerably since you arrived, each one filled with items you had excitedly picked out for the baby. Sylus’s patience never wavered, though his dry humor shone through when he teased, “Planning to furnish the whole city, love?”

Amid the joy of shopping, a flicker of self-consciousness crept into your thoughts. As you admired a delicate mobile adorned with tiny stars, you hesitated, the weight of your spending habits pressing down. Sylus noticed immediately, stepping closer and wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders. “You’ve gone quiet,” he said softly, his brow furrowing. You turned to him, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’m spending so much,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the marketplace’s din. “I don’t want to waste your money.”

Sylus’s laugh was warm and genuine, a sound that melted your worries. “Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked, stepping in front of you and tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re not wasting anything. Every single credit is worth it to see you this happy.” His tone softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’re giving me the greatest gift anyone could ask for, our baby. If all it takes is a little shopping spree to make you smile, I’d do it a thousand times over.”

Tears pricked your eyes at his words, and you leaned into him, your forehead resting against his chest. “So nice…,” you whispered, your arms wrapping around his waist. He held you tightly, his hand resting gently on your belly. “Not possible,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby have everything you need.”

Back at your home, the nursery quickly came to life as you unpacked your treasures. The walls, once bare, now held shelves lined with soft toys and colorful decorations. Sylus stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you arrange the room. “I think you missed your calling as an interior designer,” he joked, stepping inside to help hang the starry mobile you’d picked out earlier. You laughed, shaking your head. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

Sylus wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It already is,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. You turned in his arms, your hands resting on his chest. “Thank you, Sylus,” you said sincerely, your eyes searching his. “For everything.” He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips. “You never have to thank me,” he replied, his hand moving to rest protectively over your belly. “This is my family we are talking about. I’d do anything for you both.”

For a split second, as you were surrounded by the warmth and love. Only leaving the promise of a bright and beautiful future.

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 2

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why.

A/N: This chapter is mainly for @brandylyn because it means so much to me that she wants to read a simple story about a little yearning fox.

PART 1

For the past many mornings Fink had woken to an empty hut, the little heap of leaves near the door where Farrah preferred to sleep flattened and empty. As much as he knew he could just track her by scent, it wasn’t necessary anymore. He knew where she was.

And his heart sank a little. 

He’d been hoping for the day when he’d wake to find her still sleeping, at peace, or the night where she’d fall asleep before him, comfortable in her new home. But her ears always remained alert, feigning sleep into the night, and she was gone by first light.

Not that she wouldn’t come back to join him for meals or to play fast-as-the-wind with the possum kids. But he supposed she went to the cove in the morning for the same reason she slept near the door.

Hoping to catch a whiff of home.

There’d been two full moons since Farrah came to the island and she adjusted fast to their strange way of life. She wasn’t as hard driven by hunger as some of the other animals and gained from their talks that was because food had been more scarce where she was from and she was patient when it came to waiting for meals. Fish and shellfish had already been a big part of her diet. 

So she must have come from another island…but Fink couldn’t be sure. Anytime he’d ask more about it, she’d change the subject or go quiet. And she was very very good at being quiet. Probably had to learn that with fur like hers. It’s a wonder she made it to maturity without proper camouflage. Silence and speed would be her only options.

Except when she laughed. She laughed loud and high, almost a cry when she was really going. Farrah was easy to amuse and he made sure to do so whenever he had the chance. He wanted to see her happy and settled here. With him.

And he just liked to hear her laugh. Nobody laughed at his jokes like she did.

“That is the look of a lovelorn fox,” Paddler dryly declared one day, turning away to scrape away at a massive trunk with his crooked incisors. Fink had just cracked a joke at a squirrel’s expense–and not a clever one either, something about the size of nuts–and Farrah had laughed before bounding off after a butterfly. The beaver’s remark made Fink realize that he was wearing a dopey grin and he shook it off, but not before Paddler added, “Be direct. Build her a dam to show how you feel.”

“I’m not going to give her a dam.”

“But I’m telling you, fine fellow. We may be swimming among the trees as a pike in the waters of the river, yet the ladies still love a good bit of worked wood. You have that home–a good design, said because, as you will remember it is mine–but a little riverside palace of her own? Eh? What a treat.”

Fink rolled his eyes, playing cavalier. “It’s not like that. We’re–” over in the near clearing, Farrah’s fur sparkled white in the sinking sun, her head tilting side to side as she watched two butterflies dancing, trying to pick up on their whispers, quiet and still….and beautiful. “--friends.”

“Ha!” Paddler choked on a laugh. “You fool no one, sir. Just give her a treasure and be done with it. I’m telling you a dam always does the job, but I suppose you must do as your ilk do.” 

“Is that why there's no Mrs. Paddler?”

“Oh ho! I have had my salacious share of affairs, I assure you. My dams are well-given and wide spread. I am focusing on other projects at the moment,” he boasted with a grand gesture towards his gnarled tree, and turned back to his gnawing.

But Fink hadn’t let the beaver’s advice sift completely to the background and after a particularly good day of digging holes for grubs and laying in the sun-warmed grass, it was Farrah herself that completed the thought.

“Okay. You get to take one feature from any other animal and add it to your own. What are you stealing?” Fink rolled on his back, belly to the sun, black paws bent and hanging lazily.

“Uhhhhh,” she sighed. “Mayyyyybe racoon paws?”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ugh. Really? You’d lose your ability to run fast.”

“Yeah, but where am I gonna run here?” she smiled, teasing, and his tail twitched hopefully. “And I bet they’re useful for arranging bedding and…holding fish…and…oh! I bet urchins would be so much easier to crack open, no more getting spines in my jowls…”

“Wait!” He flipped to his stomach then, his claws digging in the dirt, eager to run, eager to share the idea that had just come to him, ready to bound and yip but controlling himself–she was skittish if he was too bouncy–”You like urchins??”

“Of course. Do they live here? I’ve never found any.”

“Come on. I gotta show you something,” and he took off running with the breeze at his back, which carried the information that she was following and keeping up with him as he made his way through the trees and down the sloping landscape to the shore. 

Running straight for the goose flats, he turned abruptly at the shoreline and went crashing though some bushes until they came to a bluff wall. But instead of coming to a halt, Fink took a leap, knowing which ledges were wide enough to hold him, and which led out to the sea. From there, he was able to round the corner to a small cove. With the tide out, it was a completely isolated beach, not even a sand bird or seagull.

“Welcome to the northern most point of the island,” he explained with a sweep of the paw. “When I don’t wanna dig clams to a soundtrack of honks, I come out here. The tide leaves little treats too. Cockles, a dead fish, sometimes an eel. Sometimes though–” he scanned the stretch of beach, his heart skipping at the sight of a dark little blob, “--there! Urchin!”

Dashing over, he sniffed at it and, finding it still fresh, held it down with one paw and expertly cracked its underside open with his teeth. Then he sat back high and proper, very proud of himself, and offered the feast to her with a flourish. “Madame.” Surely this would be it. This cove was his little secret, his treasure to give her. And serving up delicacies with humor? He just wanted to make her smile…

But Farrah had stopped nearby, distracted, her strange eyes–one light, one dark–searching the sea, her nose activated, taking in the air.

“Uh…Farrah?” Snapping to, she closed the distance, and Fink cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, of course. I just caught a whiff of–” she fought off a glance to the sea. “It doesn’t matter. Oh wow! The urchins are huge here!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “It’s a specialty here. You’re gonna love the recipe. This one’s for you. Dig in.” As she did, Fink turned fully toward the water and scanned the horizon, trying to see what had caught her attention but found no scents or sights out of the ordinary. “This place is a little secret of mine, but you’re welcome to it anytime.”

“It’s nice here. Quiet.” She licked her jowls, taking in the last morsels of the delicacy. He still hadn’t turned from the sea and just as he meant to ask what had pulled her attention, she surprised him by coming to sit beside him, not just near him, but right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank. “Thank you.”

Success. He sat still, paralyzed, trying to keep his heartbeat from racing, his tail from twitching. She liked his gift, she liked his shared treasure, he could feel his paws wanting to happy tap in the sand and the springs of his hips wanting to leap in triumph.

But still he sat. Because she had finally come closer and he knew even a twitch would send her just out of reach again, no matter how badly he wanted to curl his tail around her–not only to warm her but to protect–his foxy instincts running high.

But still he kept sitting, as long as he could, watching her from the corner of his eye as she sniffed the wind and seemed to be relaxing around him.

Not long after that, she was gone in the mornings and he’d track her here to this cove and peek around the bluff wall to find her sitting in almost the same spot, looking out toward the sea. The first day he’d found her, he’d startled her and she ran off in a flash, not coming home until after dark.

After that he left her be and went back to the goose flats for breakfast. She’d join him soon enough and say nothing about it, smiling as if all was fine. But she never sat so close to him again and she still slept every night with perked ears near an escape route.

After a while though, he tried a different tactic. He came out into the cove and sat at the shore as she did–quiet and still–only still very far away. He’d let her pick up his scent before moving closer and sitting nearby, matching her gaze to the sea, and they would sit in silence for a short moment before she would perk up as if all was well and backtrack to the wall and therefore getting on with the day, nothing more about her alone time to be said.

Until today. Poking his head around the bluff he found Farrah on her feet, trotting up and down a short length of the shore, eyes on the far, far horizon…and then he noticed the smell.

Snow.

There was an iceberg far out to sea, not unusual for late spring on some years, but not altogether common either. They never came close and were often in and out of sight within a morning. This one was drifting further away and Fink watched as Farrah tracked it going, looked after it even when it was too far to be seen or smelled, finally sitting with a little sigh and sink of the head.

And then he understood.

One recent night they’d been looking up at the stars and Fink had pointed out The Great Crack in the Sky, his friend Roz had told him its name was Cassiopeia, whatever that means. That’s when she told him that in her home, they called that group of stars The Iceberg Edge. The elders of her pack used it to teach kits not to go out onto the ice when they saw the pattern of this constellation on the ground, because it meant the ice was breaking up and going out to sea. 

This is how she came here, she told him, caught on a piece of spring ice that broke away during a clutch of warm days. It drifted too far out to sea for anyone to hear her howling. When it was almost melted out from under her, she was lucky enough to swim to a piece of debris and huddle on it for a few days until there was an upset and she was in the water again and the next thing she knew she was waking up in the hut with a bear blocking the exit.

It seemed like yesterday and ages ago all together.

Once she noticed him sitting down the beach, this time he moved closer and sat quietly for a little bit before speaking slow and low.

“You…miss your home, huh.” As he expected, she only blinked down at the sand, and his ears fell to a droop. But she wasn’t running off or changing the subject. Maybe if she wasn’t ready to talk, she might be okay with listening. Fink swallowed, realizing he was about to say some things out loud for the first time. “I felt the same way when I came to this part of the island. My mom kicked me out pretty early and I was run off before I could really learn the ropes. It took me a long time to forgive her. I know now that it wasn’t her first choice, that there were too many males and not enough females so I guess she was afraid I’d get targeted. But I was pretty darn lonely for a long time.”

“What changed?”

His breath caught as she spoke up, but he managed to recover and answer. “I found friends. Really amazing friends. I hope that for you too. It seems like you’re off to a good start. Especially if you keep giving Pinktail a break from her spawn.”

At least she cracked half a smile before letting it fade again. “Friends don’t replace family.”

“No, not replace. But they can become another kind of family. I have proof.” He’d told her enough about Roz and Brightbill, and Thorn spent enough time in the hut that he knew she understood. “But I’d like to hear about your family…” and here he couldn’t help himself, his self-interests creeping in as he tested his chances, “...I assume you mean your mate and kits…”

Here Farrah gave him a look so sudden, so bewildered and distressed that he was about to ask her if he’d overstepped, but instead, that laugh of hers broke out, although not as loudly as usual. 

“I was talking about my mother and siblings. They were my whole world. They had to be. The food was scarce so the families were spread out and…well. Mate? That’s… I’m obviously nobody’s first choice, I mean, just look..” She stuck out her tongue and made a silly face, tilting her head from side to side. 

Fink could only blink, perplexed.

The breeze picked up, but the scent of snow was only a memory now, the water a flat line. Farrah’s nose pointed down to the sand again, her half smile diminishing by half again for a moment. Fink leaned forward, words starting to bubble up, words he thought he’d never get to say to another fox. But before he could say what he’d been holding down, she shook off the mood and feebly tried to make it a non-issue, abolishing the silence between them.

“Have I ever told you how my sister once head-butted an elephant seal?”

“Ah…no. Really?”

“Really!”

“Huh. What’s…an elephant seal?”

“It’s–oh! Sometimes I forget…of course you wouldn’t know...!” Then that laugh again, launching into the story, starting with an impression of the seal–although if it was a good impression or not, he couldn’t tell having never seen one. But he knew somehow by her laughter that it was. She was suddenly back to normal, comfortable to be herself when it was only the two of them in this little hidden cove.

No mate. She had no mate. This was good news. For him. But sad for her. That is, if she wanted one. What if she didn’t–? Wait. What did she mean by that? That nobody would choose her? Because of her fur? Because she was a runt? Maybe that made sense in a place where she would have to hide from predators, but she wouldn’t have to do that here. And even if it was necessary, he could protect her…probably. If she wanted that... Even so, she’d be okay. If he learned anything from Brightbill it was that sometimes the will to survive past nature’s plan for you makes you even more likely to outlive everyone else.

He could certainly feel nature’s plan working on him and thought with a little grin that he would gladly give up a longer life for that plan to work out….

But Farrah was speaking, talking about her family, their annual rounds from point to point in their territory, how she and her sisters used to share everything and hide and pop out to scare their mother and she would do her very best to act frightened. And the nights dancing under the green light curtains! Had he ever seen the shifting lights in the night sky? He had to admit he hadn’t. So he put his wonderings aside and laid down in the sand, crossing his paws and listened, learned, and bathed in the light of her widening trust. They had all day until the tide came back in. And Fink had no need to be anywhere but here.

He hoped in time, she would feel the same.

___

PART 3

MAIN MASTERLIST

[sturn777]

need a au where matt is like a sexy, dilf looking bartender and young minx reader meet at the bar. like she's flirty and visibly into him whiles he's cold, but also flirty. tell me I'm not insane. an age gap trope type of thing like hello?

bartender!matt x confident!reader . | ( female!reader ) wc : 1.1k ( masterlist ) + ( request )

lana's note : hoolyy . you're actually a genius anon i can't describe how much i love this au idea .

the bar is dark, the kind of dim lighting that feels like it’s designed for secrets and whispered confessions. the hum of low conversation is drowned out by the clinking of glass and the shuffle of feet on the sticky floor. it’s late—past midnight—just the kind of hour where the night feels like it’s full of possibility and trouble.

you slide into a seat at the bar, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room for something to catch your attention. that’s when you see him.

matt.

he’s leaning against the counter, polishing a glass, his sleeves rolled up to show off forearms that have seen their fair share of work. the kind of forearms you want to touch, just to see if they feel as good as they look. his hair is messy in the way that’s intentional, a bit of stubble on his jaw, and those eyes—those eyes that don’t miss a thing, even though he’s barely looking at anyone. you know the type.

you can already feel the heat between you two, even from across the room. it’s not the first time you’ve noticed him, but tonight? tonight feels different.

you raise an eyebrow, letting your eyes linger on him for a second longer than necessary. his gaze flickers to you for a split second—cold, assessing—but it’s enough to know he’s noticed.

you can feel the tension simmering in the air, thick and palpable, as you move towards the bar. the noise of the room seems to fade away. all you hear now is your heartbeat.

you sit down, your legs crossing smoothly. his eyes flick to you again, just long enough for you to catch a glimpse of that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“what can i get you?” he asks, voice low, with an edge to it, like he’s seen this kind of thing a hundred times before.

you lean forward just enough to make sure he notices the way your shirt dips low, a flirtatious smile on your lips. “i think i’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, your voice teasing, soft but direct.

his eyes narrow, just a fraction, like he’s trying to decide if you’re worth playing with. “is that so?”

“mm-hmm.” you let your gaze drift over him again, taking in the way his muscles flex as he moves, the way the dim light catches the sharp lines of his face. he’s older, probably by a decade or so, but it’s the kind of age gap you can get into. you can feel the heat between you both now, thick like smoke, and it’s only a matter of time before one of you takes the first step.

he smirks, then leans in just a little closer, voice dropping lower. “you sure you can handle it?”

you meet his gaze, not backing down. “oh, i can handle anything you’ve got.”

the challenge is there, unspoken but clear, and you can feel his walls slipping just a little, even if he won’t admit it. he places a glass in front of you with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers brushing yours just barely.

“one whiskey, neat,” he says, his voice rougher now, like the calm before the storm.

you take the glass, fingers grazing against his once more, holding his gaze for a second longer. “thanks,” you murmur, the words practically dripping with something between a compliment and a dare.

he leans back, crossing his arms, watching you closely, the flicker of curiosity hidden behind that cool exterior. you take a sip of the whiskey, your lips curling at the burn, but you never break eye contact.

he chuckles, low and dangerous. “you’re bold.”

“yeah,” you say, leaning in a little, letting the words linger in the air between you. “i like to keep things interesting.”

there’s a shift in the air now. you can feel it. like the whole bar just disappeared, and it’s just the two of you, caught in this web of tension. the crowd’s still laughing, talking, dancing, but it’s all background noise now.

“interesting, huh?” he says, his voice like velvet, his smirk never leaving. “you’re not scared of me?”

“scared?” you let out a laugh, a little playful, a little challenging. “why would i be scared of you? you don’t look so intimidating.”

he raises an eyebrow, leaning closer to you again, his presence towering, demanding attention. “you might want to rethink that.”

you’re not backing down. not now. you tilt your head, big eyes never leaving his. “i’ve got a thing for bad boys,” you mutter teasingly, so close now you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

he exhales a slow breath, lips curling into a grin. “lucky you, then.”

you feel the sudden urge to close the space between you two, but he’s already leaning in, his lips brushing lightly against your ear.

“come with me,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding.

you’re halfway to the bathroom before you’ve even realized what’s happening. the world seems to fade away, the only thing in focus being his presence. his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you with a subtle pressure, and your pulse races in time with your steps.

as soon as you step inside the cramped bathroom stall, the door locks behind you with a soft click. the second it’s just the two of you, he pushes you against the wall, his lips capturing yours with an urgency that makes your head spin.

he’s all heat and muscle, his hands roaming your body, free hand pulling your top over your head, as he palmed the growing ache between your thighs, and you can feel the tension between you snap as he pulls you closer, pressing his body to yours. every kiss is a claim, every touch a promise. you can’t get enough of him, and the feeling’s mutual, no doubt.

his breath is ragged against your skin as he pulls away for a second, eyes dark with desire. “you sure about this?”

you smirk, your lips brushing his as you nod. “do it.”

without hesitation, he’s on you again, a heat building between you both that leaves no space for anything but the moment. it’s messy and desperate, the kind of thing you know you won’t forget the second you walk out of that stall . . .

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu )

divider : @issysh3ll

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[miyuuka1709]

"We're so much more than I thought we were..." (The Apotheosis, with Paranoid)

"You are nothing. A black hole of self-loathing fed by the matter of your restless thoughts." (The Tower, Shifting Mound)

This is probably going to be my last post for a while since I have final exams tomorrow, but yeah! I've been wanting to draw Broken for a while cause I had some ideas..

There might be spoilers under the cut.

- I was torn between making him really large but doesn't/rarely ever stands his full height, or making him kinda tiny but doesn't/rarely ever stands his full height.

- I literally played the Chapter I 8+ times to make sure I don't miss any dialogue text from Narrator about the wounds we suffer.

- Found out that we either get to bruise her too and get suffocated, or we don't get to bruise her and get stomped on with lady heels and get suffocated.

- I settled for a fractured looking pattern that almost resembles ribs here, and of course the neck too.

- I have another reason for why I did this. He stabbed us in the lungs repeatedly if we don't listen to The Tower, or he kills us by the throat. Also gave him some fractured motifs on his arms and legs

- Gave him sad (😔) eyes and his ear tufts are tucked back

- Nails/talons are kinda longer and sharper than the ones I made before (I want to give Hunted, Opportunist, and Cheated longer ones if possible maybe.

- I don't have much to say about his wings, I guess he never uses his full wing span, just like he never stands to his actual height.

- Bonus pic of a doodle I did at school, this was before I redesigned Skeptic to have glasses and Broken to have the fracture motif

Psst, my designs are very much inspired by artbirdii, fukurozchan, and beartitled. Check em out, because their designs are so beautiful, fluffy, cute, respectively.

Slay The Princess belongs to blacktabbygames

[dystopianmoon]

LDS ML SONG ANALYSIS | IN DEPTH MINI PLAYLIST

I’ll be frank that I haven’t quite yet played LDS. However my friend is absolutely in love with the game. Curiously I invested in learning what’s so enthralling about it. And I can admit I get the appeal now. If there’s one thing I love more than character design and story depth it’s music. After a month of investigating I compiled some really interesting songs from my personal collection I feel suit the male leads. I analyzed all of their lore, the important details, interactions with MC, and yes even the spicy cards to determine which songs lyrically and spiritually worked! Please enjoy if you will. It’ll be lengthy.

Note; I listen to a lot of indie, shoegaze, alt indie, and post punk. this is based on my own taste!

.·:*¨༺ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎 ༻¨*:·.

➺ RAFAYEL

• Oceans ꨄ︎ Seafret

A deep song about distance between two lovers. I felt this ties into the part of them being separated through MC being human and him Lemurian. Bonded for their lives though so different, and even trying to get a magic potion in one life to be with her as a human himself. Very romantic honestly. I love his devotion to be beside her no matter the risk. The line “you know I’d rather drown than to go on without you” is so heavy. this song conveys having to hide their emotions, being separated, and that overwhelming feeling of wanting. Because being apart is so painful.

• Bathed In Grey ꨄ︎ Them & I

This song leaves a pulsing feeling within of appreciation and praises of the women’s existence in his life. I love the specific line “and her beacon, cements my place” considering he teaches her how to use a Lemurian Beacon. and then the lines “you taught me how to wade, this monochrome sea, that swallows me” I think it really gives you a vision of him alone without her in his space yet thankful of her existence in his life. I think MC really balances Rafayel and his vengeance against humans (obviously for destroying his people) later on in their connection.

• Words ꨄ︎ Gregory Alan Isakov

A very slow and steady song. It evokes a sort of jealousy within me of how in love he is with his partner. Writing her a lovely letter and asking her “did you ever notice the way light means more than it ever did all day long?” it’s just such a beautifully simple question really. Something I could see him asking. Another line I personally favor is “and I wish I could leave my bones and skin, and float over the tired tired sea so that I could see you again”

• Need It ꨄ︎ Half Moon Run

!! With Raf I imagine he’s a very intimate partner but still so artistic. I can’t imagine him having some exotic and nasty playlist, but something quite slow. He would dance with his partner humming against their forehead. Kissing them tenderly while drawing invisible sigils of his affections over every inch of skin. Whispering like a poet how grateful he is to be beside you, to be one with you. Even in your intimate endeavors he would cradle you gently but with obvious haste in his actions. I think his eyes would be most intense in these times. This song is simply so lovely down to the guitar and steady pacing of drums. The whole thing is quotable.

• Darkness ꨄ︎ Sweet Spine

So this song is more for the angst. I imagine a version of him where if he was suffering without MC and in a state of maybe anger, frustration, longing, and anxiety while painting he’d listen to this song. I love the lyrics “you tame the darkness, you beg the goddess” and “I can hardly breathe, I can hardly sleep without you, talking in my dreams” I think Rafayel would suffer so harshly. Every artist needs his muse, without it they become lost.

➺ XAVIER

• Moondust ꨄ︎ James Young

Where do I even start with this cause the lyrics just EMBODY this man. The lyrics “I’m building this house on the moon, like a lost astronaut, looking at you like a star, from the place the world forgot, and there’s nothing I can do” as an opener just tore me right open. Considering how he is the crowned prince of Philos, but it as a planet needing to sacrifice MC to keep it alive. Truly there is nothing he could do. Even though she reincarnates it’s just so sad. I love the recent reveal of him willing to sacrifice himself as well. A beautiful touch for his character.

• Monsoon ꨄ︎ Hippo Campus

This song is said by the writers to be about the death of a family member (for this instance it’s romantic), and the surprising lack of grief that was replaced by joy of the life that had been lived. Monsoons are seasonal change in the direction of the prevailing, or strongest, winds of a region. Monsoons can be of heavy rains too. Which I think is a lovely way of describing that “grief” I imagine Xavier definitely parted from MC with prevailing hope of reuniting again and knowing he would wait endlessly for her. The lyric “it should have been me” I interpret it also coming from his prospective of wanting to be the sacrifice instead.

• Yellow Love ꨄ︎ Citizen

This song is lovely down to every word. It conveys a powerful and passionate love, expressed through the symbolism of the color yellow. It explores themes of longing, transformative nature of love, and commitment. I love the lyric, “all I feel is celestial desire, a distant joy is dancing all around me” Xavier seems the type to heavily miss MC to his core, aching without her. Like a lost puppy he would wait for her return. That’s his partner through it all. Half of his whole.

• Too Good ꨄ︎ Troye Sivan

!! NASTY. FREAKY. SOUL SNATCHING. I am unfortunately unable to see this man as anything other than a straight up divine worshiper and freak for MC sexually. yeah…yeah I saw his cards. The way my jaw dropped from the audacity. This song needs no explanation it’s all in the lyrics. I mean if your skin wasn’t blazing alone from the song just pair it with his cards and you’ve got a levitating combination.

• Is It Really You ꨄ︎ Loathe

I can’t describe how much I just LOVE this song. When I heard it recently I thought this is perfect for him! For Xavier’s angst I imagine him laying somewhere in a field or rooftop allowing himself to drift. And as the song says, “let’s search the sky for a while, you and I, collide like two stars for a while” I think maybe he’d sing it with a bitterly sweet smile towards the sky imagining MC listening to him. maybe even when she’s near he’s humming it like a lullaby.

➺ SYLUS

• NFWMB ꨄ︎ Hozier

So given the lore of Sylus being a dragon being revealed I feel this song suited him so well. It opens with “when I first saw you the end was soon” to which I can recall the scene of them in his cave. Entangled together as she is tasked to end him but he questions her quite intimately I’d say with their proximity. Later on the two reunite as he is the leader of the N109 zone and her apart of the association. I like to imagine him saying the lines “give your heart and soul to charity (the association), cause the rest of you, the best of you, honey belongs to me” as well as “nothing fucks with my baby, nothing can get a look in on my baby” when her life is put into question. Though she could be a threat Sylus seems to allow her curiosity, protection, and connection. I find his subtle enthrallment of her adorable. live for him calling her SWEETIE right off the bat. Essentially MC really is his.

• Truly ꨄ︎ Cigarettes After Sex

This song is slowly paced though it has more promiscuous undertones I would reimagine it more so as Sylus reminding MC he is okay with anything with her, and not even afraid to go there. I see them with this untouchable bubble of possession, curiosity, desire, and attachment to each other. The chemistry always heavy and heart knocking. Something about their air truly is unmistakable and this song throws that out from the prospective of the male. I love the line “said you wear a new perfume for each city that you visit, so that you can remember how it felt to be there, and your lips are red and all the pictures that you send wearing white and black” it makes me think of when MC attends the gathering for the protocore business. How she was slightly nervous at first. But also how Sylus would likely pay attention to the little details. Like her lipstick that night or the outfit for the association (black and white) he’d see in her photos.

• The Yawning Grave ꨄ︎ Lord Huron

This is Sylus perfectly placed into a song. From his prospective he would be gloating himself up. The power from within but also around him. It perfectly describes how he would go about warning others that he is not to be trifled with. It’s truly worth every second. My favorite line being “Oh you fool there are rules, I am coming for you, you can run but you cannot escape, darkness brings evil things oh the reckoning begins, you will open the yawning grave” I see this as him warning if provoked he will bring them death without hesitation or remorse. No wonder they are so fearful of him!

• So Damn Into You ꨄ︎ Vlad Holiday

!! Oh my, another one! Listen I had the most fun with his spicy cards. I was frankly blushing and this song rushed to my head. “I was fading into dust, then you grabbed me with your madness, and you woke me up” likely taken in context of the past and present. For me I envision him sensual in all his ways even if not meaning it. However it’s never a bad thing to him when MC is nervous, blushing, and avoiding his eye contact. I think he’d find that intimidation so pleasing. Even better when she’s willing to challenge that energy without fever. I think Sylus would embody that very dominant and commanding lover, but never shy to worship her through every step. Coaxing MC into letting herself slip into him fully. The closing lines of, “it started with a bang, don’t know how you got me so messed up, but baby I won’t ever get enough, cause I’m so damn into you” would be something that really describe their dynamic.

• Entombed ꨄ︎ Deftones

So many angst songs could be used. However- this song is perfect start to finish. This song is quite literally about being undeniably BOUND to someone/something and in love. Several jumps in the lyrics embody their tale of being tied to one another. To start, “from the day you arrived, I’ve remained by your side, in chains” I’d say this is perfect of describing their encounter as a dragon when we circles her with his tail like a chain. And when she entered the N109 the first time how the Evol triggers to their wrists leaving her helplessly his. Next, “on the day you arrived, I became your device, to name and soothe” this id say sums up how MC can call upon him any time, literally hers whenever she is in need of him. But also naming him as the leader of the N109 was a major discovery for her. Lastly for the closing “from the day you arrived, I have stayed by your side, placed inside, safe and sound” I love the way Chino sings this with his chest. I imagine Sylus and his emotions for MC being heavy while watching over her endlessly for her safety and peace. Being apart from you would be a constant nagging reminder for him that he’s unable to itch without you there.

➺ ZAYNE

• Alone With Me ꨄ︎ Vance Joy

So obviously I read up on how these two had been childhood friends. As well as anecdote 2 Zayne who is different, dreaming of them. And I absolutely love the emotions Zayne has for MC, though he seems to hold himself reserved. I imagine he thinks endlessly on his praise for MC. Holding her so tenderly as the thing that pushes him, that he needs, that he can pour himself into. Specifically the lyrics “oh you’re the shape of my days, you’re my holy place, and I know everything’s good, everything’s just as it should be when you’re alone with me” when Zayne really speaks upon his feelings I feel like he’d be a bit shy even though assertive. However admitting to both himself and MC “here we are, I’m doing these things with you I never thought we’d do” and that’s just so beautiful to me.

• Snow ꨄ︎ Jome

I hold this song dear, and it just clicks for Zayne. this song really pulls at your strings as the male sings of his longing of what could have been if he had stayed in the same city. Wishing he never left her and imagining her goodbye. Admitting she has a piece of him and always sees her. I love the lyric “I didn’t mean to let you go, i still see you in the snow” obviously I noticed Zayne being called forseer and having that power regarding snow/ice. I’d like to think he would construct images of MC in his palm as he did for her with the snow seal! This song pictures that worry of separation between two lovers. It’s good.

• You & I ꨄ︎ Rhodes

This one is powerful and truthfully I cry to this one here and there. This song is about yearning for a past love. And like the other boys I feel like Zayne probably steps into this the heaviest. Consider the connection I read for them I truly felt my heart tug in sadness for them. This song is perfect, with the lines, “is it still you and I forever? Whether you like it or you don’t, sometimes we live alone, if we can find a little hope, we can make it on our own” and that just stabs you good in the feels. I’ll let you listen to the rest yourself.

• Paradise ꨄ︎ Henry Morris

!! I don’t have much I could say, but damn. Zayne is that perfect balance of patient yet so intense. Yes I would want a paradise with him. His spice cards leaves you craving more each time. That feeling of wanting to be pulled in became overwhelming: this song captures that. I love his gentle touches and praises of recognition. How he’s concerned if she’s slept, if she’s eaten, has she been hurt? The urgency always in his eyes and voice. It really makes your brain wonder. I love love the lyric, “help me cure your sickness,I’m the last one left if you need a witness, on your bedside stand, I’m a big commitment, are you sure you’re alright?” cause it makes me remind myself he’s a doctor and really can hold you down in the heat of it all and then be there till the end if you let him. Gently of course.

• Avalon ꨄ︎ Zeruel

So for Zayne it’s hard for me to place his angst. Cause I do see him as if he’d push through but in those moments of intensive disassociation maybe he’d let himself wonder to your memories. And replay it while questioning him and you. Could he change it all? Why did it have to be that way? Would you always be there? Sighing into his hands frustratedly. I think the lyrics, “is this love I don’t know, could you entrust me your soul, as we fight fire with sound I ask, could you stay for a while” perfect. His character is hard to decipher feelings wise and I assume he has that inner battle but in the end- he does love MC.

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ⋙

I actually might considering playing this game after discovering so much about them. Personally Rafayel and Zayne really got me hooked. I’m Sapphic so this discovery of interest was EXTREMELY eye opening to my flavor. Let me know who you personally enjoy in the game!

[emjayewrites]

spin bout u • aurélien tchouaméni request

REQUEST: from @whoevenisthiz — I was wondering if could write me an Aurèlien fic with a bit of a toxic vibe? Like, not an established couple, but more of an intense, messy push-and-pull dynamic—kind of raunchy too, coz you know how I am 😏. I’m not too picky about how it ends; I just think it’d be really cool to see your take on something like this! Thank you in advance Emjay xxx

WARNINGS: toxic!aurelien, cursing, smut. 18+/minors dni

TAGLIST: @trenterprise, @sucredreamer, @pepfectionary, @irishmanwhore, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @perfecttrashface, @deonn-jaelle, @f1-football-fiend, @julescpu, @peyiswriting, @2serenity0, @greedyjudge2, @queenshikongo3

A/N: Send requests!

The winter air bit at Remy's cheeks as she turned the corner to her apartment building, her boots crunching on the salt-covered sidewalk. Atlanta's usual humidity had given way to an unusual cold snap, the kind that made her miss the warmth of summer. She spotted the sleek black car first, its glossy paint reflecting the glow of the streetlights. Then her eyes fell on him—leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, wearing a thick gray Nike sweatsuit with a hood pulled up over his head.

Aurélien.

He looked every bit like trouble, his sweatsuit hung off his frame just right, his sneakers impossibly clean against the slush. He was doing that thing he always did—biting his bottom lip as his gaze flicked up and down her body with deliberate slowness, like he was daring her to react.

Remy stopped dead in her tracks, her grip tightening on her bag, believing him to be some mirage, but unfortunately he was really there. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Aurélien smirked, pushing off the car with lazy confidence. "Miss me?"

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting an old friend," he said simply, his French accent curling around each word like a velvet ribbon, thicker than she remembered. She scoffed at his response. "Ah, but we were never really friends, were we?"

"We weren't really anything," she shot back, even as her heart betrayed her with an irritating flutter.

"That's not how I remember it." His eyes glinted with something unreadable in the streetlight.

"Your memory's selective then." She started walking toward her building's entrance. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a match or something?"

"Postponed." He fell into step beside her, matching her pace easily. "Figured I'd check in on you."

"Check in?" She barked a laugh. "You mean spin the block?"

His smirk widened as he sucked his teeth. "Call it what you want. You gonna let me in, or are we doing this out here?"

"I haven't decided yet," she shot back, even as her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer. "You could have texted first."

"I did. You didn't answer."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe that was a hint."

Aurélien straightened up, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a small step closer. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp winter air made her head spin slightly.

"Or maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower, "you were waiting for me to prove I still give a damn."

"You're so full of yourself," she muttered, but there was less bite in her tone than she intended.

"And yet, here we are." His eyes softened just enough to make her defenses waver. "Can we go inside? It's cold as fuck out here."

She stared at him for a long moment, debating whether to leave him standing there or give in to whatever this was. Her pride told her to walk away, but curiosity—and something else she wasn't ready to name—won out.

The tension in her apartment was thick as she dropped her designer bag on the counter and kicked off her boots. Aurélien stood by the door, his hands still in his pockets, trying to play it cool but his eyes following her every move.

"You didn't have to come all this way," she said, keeping her tone casual as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Didn't I?"

"It's been months, Aurélien." She took a long sip of water, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. "Why now?"

"Maybe I missed you."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Be honest?"

Remy set her water down harder than necessary. "You can't just show up here and say things like that."

"You watch my matches," he said suddenly.

That made her head cock in confusion. "Excuse me?"

His smile was knowing. "Your likes on Twitter show up, you know. Three in the morning your time, watching Madrid games."

"Insomnia," she said flatly. "Your boring-ass matches put me right to sleep." Remy let out an irritated huff. "You should leave."

He moved into her space, not touching but close enough that she could smell his cologne. "If you really wanted me gone, you wouldn't have let me up."

"Maybe I just want to tell you off properly." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "Private event, you know?"

"Maybe," he stepped closer, his eyes darkening, "you missed this too."

"This?" She gestured between them. "What's 'this'? The part where you show up whenever you feel like it and expect me to just fall in line? Or the part where you disappear for months when things get too real?"

Something flickered in his expression – a crack in the smooth façade. "That's not fair."

"Neither is showing up at my apartment in fucking Atlanta when you should be in fucking Madrid." She crossed her arms. "What happened? Your usual rotation got boring?"

"You want to talk about running?" His voice dropped lower, an edge creeping in. "How about those unanswered messages? Those declined calls? The way you acted like what happened between us was nothing?"

"Because it was nothing," she lied through her teeth. "A few weeks of fun. Ancient history."

He laughed, but it wasn't amused. "You're still a terrible liar, Remy."

"And you're still way too convinced of your own importance."

The air between them grew heavier with each passing second. She hated how well he could still read her, how easily he could slip past her carefully constructed walls.

"What do you want from me?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to talk, bébé."

"Talk?" she repeated, incredulous. "You flew across the Atlantic to ‘talk’? Nigga, kindly go to hell."

Instead of backing away like a normal person, Aurélien had the audacity to smile, as per usual. He loved the toxicity between them just as much as she loved when he—

Don’t do that, Remy. Not right now, girl.

"You know that you miss this, mon bébé. Or do I have to remind you? I mean I just came here to talk but if you want…"

"I thought we were done with this," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Do you really believe that?" His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I don’t."

She searched his face for any sign of the old Aurélien—the one who kept everything surface-level, who never let anyone too close. Instead, she found something new: hope, mixed with a touch of fear that matched her own.

Her breath hitched, and before she could overthink it, she grabbed the front of his sweatshirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

The rest of their conversation dissolved into heat and frustration and the kind of chemistry that always seemed to burn too hot.

Aurélien’s hands roamed her body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every dip. He backed her up against the counter, his lips moving to her neck as her fingers tugged at his sweatshirt.

"Remy," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with want.

"Don’t think this means anything," she said, her nails dragging down his chest as she arched into him. "It just been awhile."

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, his eyes dark and teasing. "Keep telling yourself that."

She shoved him, but he only laughed, his hands gripping her waist as he lifted her onto the counter.

"Aurélien—"

"Say my name again," he interrupted, his lips brushing hers before trailing lower.

"Don’t push your luck," she shot back, though her voice wavered.

He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing he needed in that moment, was almost too much. And Remy knew that by the night’s end, he will have her screaming his name multiple times.

When he finally slid his hands under her thighs, pulling her closer with a possessive grip, all she could do was hold on tight and hope she didn’t regret this later.

Remy’s hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking it over his head with an impatient huff. "Why do you always wear so many damn layers?" she muttered, her fingers already working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Maybe I like making you work for it," he quipped, biting his bottom lip as she shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his abs and the curve of his erection straining against his boxers.

She didn’t dignify him with a response, instead pulling her own top over her head and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately dropped to her chest, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"You got a new tattoo?" he asked, his voice dropping a notch as his fingers brushed the delicate ink just below her collarbone—a minimalist design of a crescent moon intertwined with flowers.

"Noticed that, huh?" she said, her voice light, but her breath hitched as his lips replaced his fingers, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss over the tattoo.

"You always did like pretty things," he murmured, his tongue tracing the curve of the ink. "Guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

His hands slid down to her waist, gripping the waistband of her leggings. With one swift motion, he tugged them down, leaving her bare except for a pair of black lace panties. He let out a low hum of approval as his hands trailed along her thighs, his thumbs brushing the soft skin.

When he dropped to his knees, Remy’s breath caught. Aurélien’s eyes locked onto hers, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "I missed this," he said, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Missed the way you taste."

"Then stop talking and do something about it," she shot back, her voice more breathless than she’d like.

He chuckled, low and rough, before pulling her panties down with deliberate slowness. The cool air hit her skin just as his warm breath followed, and then his tongue was on her, licking a long, slow stripe up her center.

Remy’s hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling in the curls as he worked her with maddening precision. His tongue teased and explored, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her arching her back and moaning his name.

"Aurélien—oh, my god."

"Say it again," he murmured against her, his voice vibrating against her most sensitive spot.

She did, over and over, her voice trembling as he pushed her closer to the edge. But just as the tension coiled tight enough to snap, he pulled back, leaving her gasping in frustration.

"What the hell—"

"Where do you want me to fuck you?" he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding.

Her mind scrambled to keep up, her body still throbbing from the near-release. "The couch," she managed, her voice breathless.

He grinned, standing and pulling her with him. "Good choice."

Aurélien led her to the couch, his hands firm on her hips as he bent her over the armrest. His lips found her spine, trailing kisses down her back until he reached her ass. He spread her open with his hands, groaning softly.

"Fuck, Remy," he muttered, his voice tinged with reverence and hunger. He spat on her, the slick sound followed by the warmth of his tongue as he devoured her from behind.

Remy moaned, her fingers digging into the couch cushions as he worked her over, his grip on her hips bruising. "You’re such an asshole," she gasped, her words dissolving into a whimper as he sucked on her clit.

"And you’re still letting me eat your pussy," he shot back, his voice muffled.

She didn’t have a response, not when his tongue was doing sinful things that made her toes curl. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he pulled back again, his hands sliding down her thighs.

"You miss me, don’t you?" he asked, his tone mocking but with an edge of sincerity.

"No," she said, though the breathiness of her voice made it sound more like a lie.

"You do," he said, pressing the tip of his dick against her folds. He teased her entrance, tapping the head against her clit before sliding it through her slickness. "You missed this. Missed me. Admit it."

She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Fuck you."

"That’s the plan." He pushed into her slowly, filling her inch by inch until her head dropped forward, a soft curse spilling from her lips.

"Aurélien—"

"Yeah," he said, gripping her hips as he started to move. "Say my name, Remy. Let me hear how much you missed me."

Her response was a series of moans, her body meeting his thrusts as he set a punishing rhythm. His fingers dug into her skin, anchoring her in place as he drove into her, his dirty talk pouring out like a confession.

"Feel so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick. "So tight. So wet. Fuck, I’m not letting you go again. You hear me?"

She whimpered, her body arching into him. "You’re so—"

"Say it," he interrupted, slamming into her harder. "Say my name, Remy."

She cried out, her voice trembling as she obeyed, the sound of his name like a prayer on her lips.

His movements grew erratic, his breath hot against her shoulder as he leaned over her, his chest brushing her back. "Where do you want it?" he asked, his voice rough and urgent.

"Inside me," she answered without hesitation.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep, spilling into her with a final, shuddering moan.

Aurélien’s weight settled over her as they caught their breath, their bodies tangled together on her couch. The quiet hum of the city outside seeped through the windows, but neither of them moved, too lost in the afterglow to care about anything else.

Remy trailed her fingers lazily across his shoulder, tracing the faint scars and ridges she’d come to memorize. Her mind was a jumble of satisfaction and irritation—the two emotions he always managed to pull out of her in equal measure.

Aurélien shifted, his lips brushing against her temple as he murmured, "You’re quiet."

"That’s called peace," she said, her tone dry. "Something I had before you decided to drop in uninvited."

He chuckled softly, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip, possessive even now. "You didn’t seem too upset a few minutes ago."

She rolled her eyes, though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Momentary lapse in judgment."

"Is that what we’re calling it?" He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her, his smirk firmly in place.

Remy swatted at his chest, trying not to smile. "Don’t you have a plane to catch or something? A very long one back to Madrid, preferably."

"I’ll be in Atlanta for three more days," he said, his voice taking on that infuriatingly confident tone again.

"Lucky me."

" Very," he said, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. "Saint Bene. Eight tomorrow."

She sighed, tilting her head to glare at him. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

His grin widened, and he leaned down to kiss her once more, slow and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his dark eyes held hers, amusement and sincerity mingling there.

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

Remy groaned as he rolled off the couch and started gathering his clothes. She stayed sprawled where she was, her body still humming from his touch, even as her mind screamed at her to push him away.

When the door clicked shut behind him, she sat up and reached for her phone.

A text came through almost immediately: "Goodnight, ma belle. Sleep well."

Her fingers hesitated over the screen before typing back: "The audacity you have is astronomical. "

His response came just as quickly: "You love it though. Don’t forget to wear something nice."

Remy stared at the phone, letting her head fall back against the couch with a groan. She already knew she was going to dinner tomorrow. Already knew exactly what dress she’d wear.

"Fuck," she muttered into the empty apartment, finally admitting defeat.

That’s how it always was with them—a constant push and pull, a dance on the edge of something they both refused to name.