#and uh the extra characters tag now..

[vamparcy]

Chuuchuu lovely munimuni muramura!

Purin purin boron nururu rerorero!

And a little surprise below...

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

for the asura ask game: 2, 3 & 5 for Ruju

Just an asura ask game

Thanks for the ask!! Cracks my fingers... You really went right for the messy ones there. Time to free more Rat Lore, but this time Familial Drama Edition! (You know the drill, under the cut it goes!)

2. Where were they born? Did they like the place? Did they grow up there or did they move away at some point? Do they wish things went differently?

Ruju's youngest years were spent out in a small settlement around Mount Maelstrom, not too far from the Crucible of Eternity. It was mostly populated by other Inquest personnel who, like his mother, were just living nearby to maintain an easier commute-- and some of them had progeny of their own, too. They didn't exactly get along.

(That was how he earned his distinctive gold false tooth.)

Ruju hated everything about the place; the surroundings were dangerous so he couldn't go anywhere, the other kids were jerks, the adults always acted so weird about him like they thought one wrong move might get them chucked into the volcano(because it very well might), and that wasn't even mentioning the facility itself. He might've been young but he certainly wasn't stupid; whatever was going on in that place raised every hair on the back of his neck. To him the only good thing about it was Sylffa, a progeny of one of the few resident asura who WEREN'T working at the Inquest facility.

And then the home lab accident happened, and Ruju's parents decided maybe mixing home life and work wasn't such a great idea.

After that his father brought him to Rata Sum and he saw them both a lot less from then on. They still came by each evening, but he mostly relied on the household golems if he needed anything; their ambition had always come first and that wasn't about to change anytime soon. That almost felt like a blessing, though.

Looking back, he wishes he'd just ran away from it all sooner.

3. What's their family like? Are they still around? Do they like them and get along? Are there any expectations coming from them?

WHEW BOY. Ruju's family life was... Not great! Here's some mockups of his parents to start; Klixx on the left, Kroma on the right.

Both of his parents were hardcore Inquest, and neither of them were particularly pleasant people. His mother Kroma was a researcher who largely specialized in the study and manipulation of magical energies, and was an elementalist like Ruju. While not much of a fighter, she was highly recognized for her cold ambition and intense work ethic; no obstacle could hold her back for long, moral quandaries included. Pretty much everyone who knew her was stunned when she settled down at all, even if she got right back to work shortly after.

His father, however, was an Inquest debt collector-- but not just any Inquest debt collector. He was the type that high-ranking overseers sent in to cut off any further questions. Klixx shows up on your doorstep? You better hope you have a will and that you hid it somewhere very, very secure. The guy was known for his brutality, and more notably, for making his targets disappear without a trace. The Arcane Eye had tried many, MANY times to recruit him to their own team to no avail; they only gave up after he sent one of their 'messengers' back in a box, charred to a nearly unidentifiable crisp with a simple unsigned note attached. 'This cremation is a complimentary free sample. Next time it's coming with a bill.'

As far they were concerned, their progeny was meant to continue and extend their legacy; the pair formed a long-term contractual relationship specifically to benefit both of their own ambitions. Having a kid was just one facet of that. They expected Ruju to exceed expectations just as much as they did, and in very much the same ways. Instead they got a kid who struggled with focus and memory issues, couldn't sit still, hated lectures, frequently zoned out, didn't take notes well, and lacked any kind of identifiable ambition. He was bad at basically everything that asura society expected for success.

All that insecurity, self-hatred, projection, and so on that Ruju struggles with throughout his entire life? Yeah. That didn't exactly come out of nowhere. They made no mystery of their displeasure.

It was shortly before his college years that Ruju started really resenting them for it all though, and when they were eager to send him off even to the point of using their own status to add a bit of extra pressure? Ruju took it and ran. It got him out of that dingy little apartment cube and meant he didn't have to hear every night about how disappointing he was. They saw it as one last chance to redeem himself, he saw it as his easiest way out of a home he hated.

During those years they occasionally bailed him out of a Peacemaker cell, but Ruju knew it wasn't out of kindness; they just wanted to cover their own reputations, simple as that. And truth-be-told, part of him relished draining their bank account and embarrassing them by then. Petty and self-destructive as it was, he didn't really care how much of a scene he made because they'd absolutely hate it.

(Mind you, they were also trying to keep anyone from noticing and studying his magical abnormalities, but he didn't know that!)

After college he never hears from them again. They expected him to go into the Inquest like them, but he wanted no part of that. It's not until the Crucible of Eternity that he finds out about the studies being discreetly conducted on him while he was in Rata Sum-- and that his mother didn't survive the facility's security breach.

Ruju never really decided how to feel about that. In a way, her final act was the only reason he ever learned the truth, and whether he liked it or not... She'd still cared enough to keep his identity secret.

His father, though? Ruju has no idea, but hopes he stays missing.

He doesn't know what he'll do if they cross paths again.

5. What's their approach to romance? Do/did they have any partner? Are they more interested in relationships with a predetermined end date or are they looking for a stable long-term relationship? Is the option of having/adopting progeny on the table?

Saying Ruju's relationship with the concept of romance is messy would be a massive understatement. Truth is? It'd be a stretch to say he even HAS an approach to romance at all. The guy's charisma stat is somewhere in the negatives and it just keeps dropping.

That's not to say he hasn't had crushes though-- he certainly has! Ruju just never bothered to pursue them, either due to lack of confidence or just being such an absolute disaster that he fumbled it on sight and slunk away in shame. Or, better yet, he fumbled some BEFORE he even realized he had a crush, only noticing he liked them AFTER he's already spent like 2 years being an insufferable jerk. There's definitely been at least a few of those.

So, the fact this guy has never dated is probably not a surprise.

And after becoming the Commander? That adds a whole extra layer of complexity to the situation. While there's a part of him that appreciates people looking up to him for once, Ruju knows full well that someone who is only into him because of his famous hero shtick is going to be SORELY disappointed once they get to know him. He wants someone to like him for who he is, not who they think he is.

Given his many insecurities and low self-confidence, what he really needs is stability; someone that makes him feel safe and secure, but can still firmly grab and ground him if he's being unreasonable. Taming his fiery nature takes a patient and thoughtful hand.

All that in mind, the guy might put on a tough act but he's basically a porcupine made of butter. Even the SLIGHTEST amount of warmth and affection melts him into a puddle. He's the type who'd be trying very, very hard to make sure a partner is happy, and puts extra effort into figuring out what a partner likes so he can make sure they're happy. (He's also surprisingly cuddly, though he'll NEVER admit this) At his core, Ruju's love language has always been through action. As for future plans... he's very much a loyal to the end type of guy. A contract with a set end date would just remind him of his parents-- and he wants NO part of that similarity. He'd much rather go with the flow than formally predetermine anything-- and he ESPECIALLY wouldn't be interested in combining it with work in any capacity. If they have to part ways, they'll cross that bridge when they get there. Even then though he wouldn't necessarily hold a grudge though, probably still willing to be friends if they're also open to it.

The question of progeny is... Complicated. Prior to Aurene, there's no way he'd have felt like he could be a good parent-- and even after helping raise her, he still doesn't really feel like that was his ideal role. With his own messed up childhood he's very, very worried about not just being a bad influence, but letting his own upbringing influence him. Ruju isn't really confident that he'd be able to give a child the healthy environment they deserve, even if he wanted to.

If Ruju had a partner that he knew could help him learn as they go, though, he might agree to it... Tentatively. It'd be a really hard decision for him to commit to. But when push comes to shove, Ruju wouldn't actually be such a bad father; the guy has a lot more love in his heart than he gives himself credit for. He doesn't have any particular preference in mind between adoption or raising a child of their own. No matter the circumstances he'd love them just the same.

... And he'd almost certainly develop a reputation for being TOO supportive if anything. If nothing else, he'd never let them believe for one moment that he doesn't love 'em to bits. (Even if he embarrasses them a LOT in the process by being a total goof all the time)

[ff2-soda-pop]

youtube for some inexplicable reason keeps suggesting videos to me about whether sonic 3 or mufasa will be the bigger hit at the box office and I'm not gonna watch the videos but also like. I really hope it's sonic-

[bambino1294]

i hope this hurts

Inspired by Mouthwashing

11.5k Words | Rated M

“Is it all the same?” Her words bounce around the vast space of the cargo hold, filled to the brim with thousands upon thousands of wooden crates— “Yeah.” —All filled with the same goddamn thing. (Mouthwash. A warehouse worth of fucking mouthwash.) Sophia exhales heavily, sinking down amongst her swath of open crates and gripping the edge of the one she’d just searched; the wood bites into the palm she can still feel, and the uneven chipboard snags on her coveralls as her knees press into the side. Daryl, somewhere to her left looking through another palette for something—anything��different, tosses one of the bottles haphazardly back into its pile, the plastic making a dull orchestra as it bounces in its crate. “Least our breath won’t stink anymore.” OR The Thanatos declares a state of emergency.

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[hawthorne-bias]

rosewater

You’re the loveliest person Steve's ever seen, making him forget everything—even his own damn feet!

tags: steve rogers x you; established relationship; tooth-rotting fluff; SIMP ALERT!! SIMP ALERT!!; mr. steven grant rogers is a total goner for you.

warnings: none! no gendered language used for the reader.

word count: 729.

a/n: pictures used in header are from pinterest. dividers used here are by @saradika-graphics. mcu and its characters aren't mine. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!! hope you'll enjoy reading this!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

The morning air is crisp, with winter's soft chill still lingering even as the promise of a warmer day peeks through. Steve walks beside you, his boots scuffing lightly against the pavement, each step unhurried. His vacation isn't over yet, and this week after New Year's feels like an extra gift. Borrowed time, he thinks, and he’s intent on savoring every moment of it—especially when it means moments like this: walking you to work.

You’re chatting away, your voice weaving a story about your family’s Christmas get-together, the one he missed while he was away. He listens intently at first, catching bits about your cousin’s infamous baking disaster and the hilarity of a chaotic gift exchange. Your laugh dances in the air as you recount your aunt accidentally unwrapping someone else’s present, and Steve finds himself smiling, warmed by the sound.

But then… he gets distracted.

It’s not anything else that pull his attention, but you.

The way the morning sun plays in your hair, turning it into a soft halo. The faint flush on your cheeks from the cold, a shade that deepens every time you laugh. The way your scarf sits a little crooked, like you’d rushed to put it on but didn’t care enough to fix it. Your breath puffs out in tiny clouds as you speak, your eyes bright and sparkling with joy, and suddenly, Steve feels his chest tighten.

God, you’re beautiful.

So much so that he doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking anymore. He doesn’t notice anything but you. And then, his foot catches—on nothing.

Steve stumbles, his balance tipping for just a second. He catches himself quickly, but the movement startles you, and your hand shoots out to steady him before he fully rights himself.

“Steve!” you exclaim, your voice filled with worry as your hand stays on his arm. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers quickly, his voice just a little higher than usual. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as heat rushes to his face. “I, uh… just got distracted.”

Your brows knit together in concern. “By what?”

Steve hesitates, looking down at you. You’re standing so close now, your hand still lightly resting on his arm, and that crease of worry between your brows tugs at something deep in his chest. He could brush it off, laugh it away—but no. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“You,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re just… really cute, you know that?”

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you’re completely still, your breath catching in your chest. Then your cheeks take on a soft, glowing warmth, a color that feels as though it could melt the winter chill, and you duck your head, letting out a flustered laugh.

“Steve,” you mumble, half-embarrassed, half-scolding. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching into a soft smile. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze, his earlier stumble forgotten entirely.

“Because…” You falter, your words trailing off as you press your lips together, clearly unsure of how to respond.

Steve watches you, utterly captivated by how adorably flustered you are. His heart feels like it’s swelling in his chest, overflowing with affection, and he knows without a doubt that this—you—is his favorite kind of moment.

But before he can tease you further, you reach out and grab his hand, your fingers lacing firmly through his. “Come on,” you mutter, your voice quieter now. “We’re going to be late.”

Steve lets you pull him along, his hand enveloping yours as though it belongs there. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, content to watch you as you walk ahead, your blush still lingering, your head tilted slightly away from him like you’re trying to hide it.

But he doesn’t miss the way your grip tightens, soft and warm.

Steve gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a soft grin tugging at his lips as warmth floods his chest. He doesn’t need to say it aloud again—not yet. He’s too busy soaking in the sweetness of this moment, of you—

Because you don’t just look cute.

You’re everything lovely wrapped into one, and Steve thinks to himself, not for the first time, that he must be the luckiest guy in the world.

if you've enjoyed this fic and would like to be tagged in my future fanfics, please drop an ask into my inbox! thank you so much for reading this!! <333

[minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in the nsfw fics, by the way! i'm sorry!!]

steve rogers masterlist || general masterlist

[adieutristana]

pins and needles; jinx x fem!reader

this one’s been on my mind for a while, i’m excited to finally be writing it… i’m still debating internally whether or not i want to write smut but if this gets a positive reception maybe i’ll make a part 2 with it. maybe

summary; jinx offers to be a makeshift dress form for her girlfriend.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; seamstress!reader, SUGGESTIVE, tension, fluff, reader is oblivious, idrk what else

men and minors dni.

you swear, sometimes these clients are trying to get under your skin purposefully.

houndstooth carpenter pants. it sounds simple enough on paper, but you know better. the fact that carpenter pants are a pain in their ass on their own, houndstooth is less than ideal to work with, and you have to line up a pattern on both sides. worst of all, this client has a deadline. good thing you charged your client extra.

you did your work, and you did it well. good turnaround time, quality products, flexible customer service skills, and reasonable prices made you one of the most sought-after seamstresses in zaun. you're often booked out for at least four months at a time, a lengthy list of garments to make.

you've designed nearly everything there is to design. from casual loungewear, to work clothing, to formalwear for clients coming to you from piltover, to even wedding dresses. it's an honest living.

jinx has always been supportive, despite the fact she doesn't understand the first thing about sewing. kind of like how you don't understand anything about her explosives, but you still sit in her hideout with her, watching as she works. goggles over those pretty eyes, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in intense concentration. it's adorable, really.

you're sat in your studio with your girlfriend behind you, sitting in a backwards-facing chair with her legs on either side. count on jinx to never sit properly... ugh.

you've finished drafting a pattern according to the client's measurements. now for the fun part, cutting fabric. you've got two variations of houndstooth before you, one a more thick material, the other a bit more thin and breathable.

"hey, jinx? could you stand up for a second?"

the girl looks up at you, quizzical, but slowly swings one of her legs over the chair, standing up straight. you grab both spools of fabric, and walk over to her. you drape them across either of her shoulders, looking side to side with furrowed brows.

"which one do you think is better?"

she looks down at her shoulders, reaching up to feel one of the materials between two of her fingers.

"i don't know... you're the seamstress, toots."

"if you had to choose?"

"uh... i don't know. i guess this one?"

she says, pointing to the fabric draped over her right shoulder. the thicker one. you sigh, quickly taking both materials off of her and placing them back on your table. you just have to hope your needle won't break in the middle of sewing.

you sit down on your stool, carefully pinning your pattern pieces to the fabric before beginning to cut them out. scissors steady on the thick material, the only sounds filling the space being your nervous breathing and the sound of cutting. you're so focused, it's honestly adorable to jinx.

once you're finished cutting fabric, you rotate in your stool to be facing your dress form. you've figured out by now just how to adjust it to fit the proportions of each client, making a perfect fit without them even being in the room. you grab one of your pin cushions from a drawer, setting it on the table to begin putting it on the dress form. you reach out to grab one of the knobs, twisting it to make the hip and thigh area move inwards slightly.

except it won't move.

the knob is turning, the form should be adjusting. you've done this countless times, and this particular dress form has never failed you. why is it doing this now, during one of your most dreaded sessions?

jinx watches in silence, hearing the way you grunt as you try to push it in various directions and continuously turn the knob. but nothing is working. she sees the frustration in your expression, the way your lips are pressed into a thin line as you try to get it back into shape. jinx slowly stands back up from her chair, approaching you with caution.

"do you want me to try...?"

you give a defeated sigh.

"sure. maybe you'll see something that i'm not."

the girl approaches your dress form, trying to turn the knobs, adjust it, reach under it, shake it, look for a pedal on the stand, anything. her brows knit together in growing frustration, before she begins smacking the form, trying to get it to just move.

"alright, jinx, that's enough."

you chuckle, gently grasping her shoulders. you slowly guide her away, moving backwards towards the chair she was sitting on as she grumbles.

"i was just trying to help."

"i know, baby. but i'll figure something out."

you assure her, trying to give her a soothing smile. it doesn't do much, evidently, her gaze flickering down. she doesn't like not being able to help you.

until she looks up at you, wide-eyed. oh, god... you've seen that look before. jinx has an idea.

"why don't you use me?"

she offers. you tilt your head slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. you look her up and down, then peer back at the measurements written down on a sheet behind you. they were pretty similar in size, from the looks of it... not that you had measured jinx. but you'd gotten to the point in your career where you could get a pretty good guess just by looking at someone.

"as a dress form?"

you check.

"yeah, what else?"

you think it over for a second, and sigh. it's not like you have a better option right now, and it was honestly sweet of jinx to offer herself like that. how could you say no to that pretty face?

"alright, love. stand up for me, and stay still."

you say, gathering the pieces for the left half of the garment. you turn back to jinx, and begin to pin them together, starting at her lower leg. at least you wouldn't have to sew a cuff. you gently tap one of her outer thighs.

"a little wider for me, jinx."

she quietly complies, widening her stance slightly. you guide one of her long braids behind her back for easier access. you pin on the inside of her lower leg, looking to see if the pattern was even along the open edge. it's a bit difficult to tell when the fabric is turned inside out, but it looks alright so far. you'd find out when you turned it right side out.

this is difficult to do standing up.

you drop to your knees in front of jinx, grabbing the pin cushion and working up to the fabric around her knee. not noticing the way she looks down at you wide-eyed, or the way that her breath catches in her throat.

you move over slightly to the leg you're working on, grasping the fabric's edge around her inner thigh, holding it closed. she's... a bit shaky, shifting.

you look up at her with pursed lips and furrowed brows, confused. why is she moving all of a sudden?

"stop moving... i don't want to accidentally stab you."

you mutter, going back to pinning the fabric. just a few more moments, a few more pins, and this side will be done. you grasp the sides of jinx's hips, gently coaxing her to turn around.

"turn around for me... yes, like that."

jinx's breath is getting faster, the air in the room suddenly feels more warm. it's getting more difficult by the second to stand still and let you do this, but she agreed to let you do this. she has to control herself.

you look at the material from the back, pinching in a few areas to make sure the fit is right before you make any permanent stitches- which makes jinx that much more restless.

"why are you moving so much?"

you ask, no malice in your tone. you're genuinely curious. is something wrong?

"i'm sorry..."

"what are you sorry for? i didn't accidentally poke you, did i?"

jinx swallows, and lets out a shaky breath.

"no, i'm fine..."

you nod slowly, deciding silently to not press the issue any further. you suspect jinx isn't telling you the full truth, but she can tell you if something is truly wrong. you turn her by her hips a few more times, looking at the pinned seam on the inside of her leg. making sure the houndstooth pattern matches at the seam, the pattern is going straight up her leg.

you shift around on your knees a few more times, craning your head and moving the fabric to make sure that everything is perfect before you move to the other side or begin sewing. you sigh, climbing up on one knee to stand up.

you look over it one more time, crossing your arms over your chest. you gently remove the pins from the fabric, leaving just enough to hold them together for your seams. slowly sliding the material off of her and immediately going to your sewing machine, you sit back on your stool.

as you run the material back and forth in the machine, foot pressing down on the pedal, all jinx can see is the way you're working it. nimble fingers slowly guiding fabric, brows knitted in concentration, your lower lip caught under your top teeth.

the loud whirring of your sewing machine is almost torture to jinx, and you somehow can't get the nagging feeling out of your head that something is wrong. something jinx isn't telling you. you look back over your shoulder, you have to check on her.

huh.

"you... sure you're okay, jinx?"

she nods slowly, trying to hold eye contact with you.

"you look a little... flushed..."

[antimony-medusa]

Okay so.

Look. At this point I am old and I am tired and I am pretty firmly coming down on write what you want just archive lock it or something and tag it please. If I am hitting tropes or trends or ships that don't do it for me, I can simply click away and my day is not ruined. Cancellation is not on my radar at all. Okay. So. With that out of the way.

Look. Sometimes, when you are pushing the boundary of platonic possessive and platonic kink-adjacent stuff, if you lead special emphasis on the fact that everybody involved is related, it doesn't necessarily make it magically more platonic. It just gives it extra vibes. Specifically you are like STRONGLY invoking incest as a kink right now, my guys. This is getting dire. Like I'm sorry but if someone is lying down half asleep listening to the "sounds of kissing" and one of the people doing the kissing keeps saying how good of a brother the other person is, like, you can smack a "platonic kissing" tag on that one all you like, and I can even follow you on a faith journey and believe that you intended that to be platonic, but uh, the first reading of that one is distinctly like— man, please. I'm dying here.

In the same way that if you have an interaction— say, you did a cuddle-potion fic, and you say to yourself "man these guys are getting handsy, if they're both dating age this would look kinda sketchy'' so your solve is to make one of them twelve and then suddenly you have made your slightly off-colour fic take on a whole new tone— in the same way that making one of the characters underage isn't a magic button you can press to make something fully platonic no matter what, making your characters related isn't going to make it magically platonic if they are say, all in the same bed and one of the characters is feeling the mattress move as his brother and father cuddle each other and say how much they love each other.

This isn't even an isolated incident. Please.

If you are looking at your interaction and going "man this kinda looks like ship" and you want to make sure people don't think it's ship, aging down the character isn't a magic solve, and making them related isn't a magic solve, not when the rest of the tropes you are pulling from are pulled directly from romance and porn. You just invoked a DIFFERENT kink on top of the first one you had. Like you might not know that that's where the tropes come from but guys. Please. The solve for this scene is either changing it substantially until it no longer looks like ship, accepting that it looks off but you don't mean it that way and go "if people misunderstand this it's not my problem" or maybe considering the option that what you want to write is ship. I keep hitting this stuff and going "are you SERIOUS" and then it gets worse.

Or maybe, idk, you're specifically into all the people being related like that. You do you, the contents of your Ao3 account is not hurting anyone. But in that case please for the love of GOD can you please consider tagging it?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[velvees-archive]

art cr: @cokiicookies on twitter

Tags: Love Confessions, Bratfeen, Art Student Feenie, Law Student Bratworth, Ace Attorney-typical cringefail, Canon Divergence

and many others!

HEAVILY inspired by @cokiicookies's bratfeen art on twitter! check out the full comic there!!!

"Hey...so...uh..." Phoenix coughs out, voice scratchy from his most recent line repetitions. It's a small mistake, not unsalvageable. All he has to do is stick to the script. Stick to the script. Stick... His eyes flick down to his note cards. He swears he’d printed them in his best penmanship, atop one of the library's extra premium desks, but everything is spinning and he feels faintly like he's going to throw up. "Did you uh," he starts, letters swirling in his eyes. "Did...you fall out of heaven...?" Genius prosecutor-in-training Miles Edgeworth regards him with a blank stare. Phoenix thinks now would be an opportune time for him to locate the nearest possible bridge and promptly jump off of it. - The joys and woes (mostly woes) of being in love, as told by BratFeen.

so i caved and wrote narumitsu. another huge thank you to @cokiicookies on twitter for allowing me to write an accompanying fic for their work. i attached some of the comic here in an attempt to entice you to look at their comic (well? are you enticed?!), but if you wanna see the full thing, please do give their art a like, a retweet, a comment, and all the love on twitter! fic screenshots below:

misc commentary/musings under the cut :)

the way i wrote feenie inner monologue and narration parallels my informal writing style, so writing his freak outs weren't challenging. consciously changing sentence structures/verbiage to be more or less extra, on the other hand, totally was.

the bulk of my pain came from writing fluff in the first place, stumbling through dialogue exchanges (as always), and attempting larry dialogue...all of which i honestly think i failed at pretty badly HAHA. who cares tho? it's my work!

bratfeen is one of my favorite narumitsu "eras" if you will. i've always wanted to write them. i didn't know the opportunity would come so soon (and at my expense considering i still have a zine fic to finalize for a diff fandom), but i took the shot. the full fic was written over the course of a day which i do not recommend anyone experience. i was on a writing hiatus for months and wrote 8k words as soon as i came back. do you see why i burnt out in the first place?

the easiest part about writing bratfeen is that none of the things i write are exaggerated for the purpose of carrying the plot forward. feenie believing that bratworth is better of a human being than everyone makes him out to be? sounds about right. feenie insisting to others that miles is the best thing since grilled cheese? his raging savior complex says that's likely to occur. feenie fumbling the bag because he thinks miles is the prettiest thing he's ever seen? yeah, 20 y/o feenie would! feenie shoving the asshole who talked shit abt miles? we saw the exact same thing with doug swallow (and we all know how that ended...). all of it is in line w his character. also miles being a try hard. that's a given.

i am hoping i can showcase more of my technical skill aka the angst writer in me with my next work, though i've been closely following fictober (haven't been publishing because, again, zine fic obligations) and have plenty of angsty fics stored in my drafts. i hope you enjoy my poor attempt at humor and fluff. may i muster the strength to finish the rest of my zine fic...please...

[sarqhsstuff]

RUIN ME - Ellie Williams

Mechanic AU Ellie Williams x AFAB (assigned female at birth) reader. There is no use of Y/N, or a chosen name for the reader. 2.5k words

Content Includes: oral sex/cunnilingus (reader receiving), kissing, cursing, pet names (pretty, baby, ex), sub!reader + dom!ellie, and overall vivid descriptions of sexual activity.

A/N: I apologize for how long it took me to put out another one-shot. I hope to start writing more again soon. :D Please comment with any suggestions about how I can improve my writing, or characters!

My fingers grip the wheel as I turn into the garage. For the third time this month, my car has an issue. First was my brakes, then my spark plugs needed replacing, and now my oil needed refilling. I push down on the brakes with aggravation as I park the car. I twist the key out of the ignition with one hand, and my other flies to the door handle. My fingers curl around the plastic, and yank on it. I kick the door open, and slide my body out of the vehicle. An exasperated breath leaves my lips as I now push the door back into place. 

My feet work quickly on the dirtied concrete floor. I could hear grunting from across the garage, and assume it was my familiar mechanic. My previously furrowed brows lift as I walk around a car to see a woman with auburn brown hair. The person in question pushes themself out from underneath a Honda, and stands up. They brush off any dust collected onto their coveralls before looking down. 

“Hello? What's got you all riled up?” Her lip jerks into a smirk as she peers at my frustrated state with amusement. As I notice this, my eyes wander around the rest of her face. Freckles litter her skin in a way which almost contours her nose. Her hair is half pulled back into a small ponytail, and is ruffled around her forehead. Strands stick out in random directions, only effectively catching my attention for a moment. What distracts me more is the woman's striking sage eyes, and pink cracked lips. Overall she looks scruffy, but in an oddly appealing way. 

“I’m sorry-” My voice slices through the air with an intensity which wasn’t intended, “Is Jesse here? My car needs an oil fill.” Unbeknownst to me, my eyes were morphing into slits as I glared at the mechanic. Additionally my lips are pouty with anger, and my hips tilt with a similar sass. 

The woman only chuckles, and rips off a glove. My sight follows her hand as she wipes her forehead. “Sorry, but Jesse isn’t here today. I’d be happy to tell him that-” She sticks her hand out to point at me, as if to ask for my name.

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” I am fast to respond. Both hands of mine dart to my head, and push against my temples. I rub them in hopes to soothe my increasingly growing anxiety. 

The mechanic observes my stressed state, and takes a step forward. She rests a hand on my upper arm, and pushes the limb down gently. “No need to get your panties into a twist, ey?” Her tone is still one of amusement as she speaks, but now includes a hint of false comfort. 

Her eyes sparkle as her thumb starts to rub rhythmically on my forearm. 

“Lucky for you, I’m always happy to do extra work for pretty girls.” I watch as her lips stretch into a prideful smile. 

All of my facial muscles quickly relax, and my mouth gapes open slightly. “Oh uh, thank you-” My eyes wander down her coveralls and rest upon an embroidered name tag, “Ellie.” In comparison to just moments ago, my voice is a lot softer. I suddenly feel awkward, and apologetic for my previously uncalled for attitude. 

“Always my pleasure.” Ellie’s tongue passes over her lip as she talks. Her eyes momentarily glint with something devilish. She begins to walk over to my car, determination laced in her steps. Her short hair sways with the wind and I watch it intently as we cross the cement. 

I lean against my headlights as Ellie reaches down to grab the car hood edge. As she lifts it, I watch her muscles contort under the pressure. I shield my eyes immediately from the sight. However, my efforts prove fruitless. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand dive deep into the car front. I suck my lip to be between my teeth, and grind down on the flesh. Thoughts run wild in my head, and I curse internally. 

After a few moments, Ellie stands up straight. She lets out a heavy sigh, and stares at the engine with a perplexed expression. “The problem is definitely not your oil.” She confirms my growing suspicions with a solemn tone.

This time I curse aloud, and my lip returns to its previous position. If I wasn’t so enthralled with my self pity, I would have noticed Ellie tracing my mouth with an enticing look. “I can’t deal with this shit.” I mumble under my breath. My eyes search the floor frantically as I try to think of a solution. When my mind turns up blank, I look to the mechanic with extreme plead. 

“It’s alright..” She responds in a soothing tone before taking a short pause. Her brows lift almost as if she had a realization. “Let me give you a distraction” Ellies’ tone switches to something more sultry and all promising. 

I inspect her demeanor for a minute while I try to find the underlying meaning of her proposal. Her pupils are swollen and her irises sparke. The hands which had been on the vehicle now shake at her sides with anticipation. “What.. What do you mean?” I can not help to hide the intrigue in my voice. 

Her smile grows with a newfound confidence from my words. She moves fast, fueled by a secret determination. Soon enough, the car hood is slammed shut and she begins to pat the red aluminum. “C’mere pretty.” The words pass through her curved lips naturally, and cause a chill to pass over my spine.

I take a hesitant step forward, and slowly turn my body around. I use my hands to push down on the hood, which lifts me up. Ellies’ hands fly to my waist, and she assists me. Once I am sat, the mechanic inches closer to me. My legs are forced to spread open to allow her to stand between them. Surprisingly, her limbs never leave my form despite my stable condition. My face muscles lift into a shocked expression, and I’m left speechless.

“I have been non stop thinking about this ever since you walked your pretty ass over to me.” Ellie admits with a smug face. Her hands start to rub up and down over my hips, and a digit catches on my clothing. I watch her eyes trail over my curves and up to my awaiting face. 

I am practically frozen in a state of shock. My face undoubtedly exposes my uncertainty, though whether Ellie saw and chose to ignore it or was too ravished with me is unknown. In a pathetic attempt to speak, my mouth gapes open slightly. My company notices this in an instant, but only chuckles at my struggling. “Do you want me to stop? Because if not, you should know I only intend to ruin you.” She talks in such a sensual and commanding way that I cannot stop the groan that escapes me. 

At this, Ellie suddenly snaps. Her body pushes against mine and her mouth greets my lips. I am momentarily unmoving, but as her tongue runs along my bottom lip my consciousness slides back into place. I reciprocate her desperation as our lips slide together. Saliva soon coats our skin, only allowing us to kiss more effectively. My lips part open to gasp as a hand snakes around my neck, stabilizing me. Ellie uses her current height advantage as she pulls backwards to crane my neck. Our heads are essentially parallel as we collide. Her forgotten hand abruptly lands on my chest. She now gropes the fatty skin through fabric, her fingers applying rhythmical pressure. This entices a groan to rumble in my held throat. 

Our mouths never leave each other as she lifts a leg. A knee ends up between the middle of my thighs, but doesn’t move any closer to my core. Thoughtless in the kiss, I happily accept the bony intrusion. Ellie leans her body daringly harsher on mine, which forces my legs to spread even further. My hips allow this stretch, though it stings and is unfamiliar. I whine against the car enthusiast's lips. Our skin pleasantly vibrates against each other, and this time coaxes a moan from Ellie. Her tongue returns to my entrances, and pokes at it impatiently. As soon as my foggy brain senses this, my mouth moves to provide an entryway. The damp muscle presses against the fleshy roof, before the tip licks at it. I struggle to verbalize my pleasure since a hand is still wrapped tightly around my neck. Only weak guttural shaking presents itself. When Ellie feels this, she tightens her digits to squeeze even harder. 

Without warning, a knee shoves against my pulsing core. The sheer contrast of temperature in the skin creates an odd nerve rattling sensation. Her knee digs deeper before starting the move up and down. The polyester of her coveralls rubs against my thin clothing article. My thoughts become clouded with dirty sin.

Lost in pleasure, I lose momentum in the kiss. Ellie struggles to keep up the arousing clash of our lips alone. With a frustrated grumble, she pulls her head away from mine. Eyes flooded with lust glare at mine. “Can’t even handle my knee, Baby?” My cunt throbbing intensifies at her taunting words. “Such a pussy drunk whore.” She spits. I am not only shocked at the harsarity of her words, but also the reaction of my body. The degradation only adds to my overflowing pleasure. 

The combination of friction against my core and Ellies’ voice lures a loud whimper. A beating force in my groin becomes intoxicatingly present. I grind my hips down against her knee in desperation, my ass sliding along the car hood. As if overwhelmed by my pathetic display, Ellies' head falls into the crook of my neck. She lets out low grunts as she continues to grind her knee into me. Her lips are so close to my ears that I swear I am able to feel my drums quaking. They shake against my inner flesh, and rattle my mind. I am so bombarded with pleasing sensations that my eyes squeeze and I cry out into the garage. 

Her hand groping my breast falls off, and lands on the hood. She flexes her fingers before using the arm to steady herself. Now her leg thrusts are much faster and reach deeper between my legs. Soft cracked lips press against the skin under my ear. I squirm beneath Ellie, and my jaw goes slack, no longer preventing myself from expressing my bliss. “I… I’m-” My brain cannot fathom to form words as my nerves are being inflicted with such delight. 

“Aw, are you close?” Ellie teases. She speaks through low laughter, and the expulsion of air blows onto my neck. 

My core tightens with ecstasy. Filthy nothings leave me as I grow even closer to bliss than before. I can feel my arousal soak through the fabric of my pants and onto Ellie’s. Just as I am about to snap, Ellie’s leg retreats from between my thighs. She presses a feather light kiss on my neck pulse, before pulling away.

She watches my face contort into a distraught expression. A boisterous chuckle echoes throughout the garage as the mechanic tosses her head back. “I couldn’t end this so soon, could I?” Her lips morph into a taunting smile, and her head tilts slightly to the side. I frown in dismay at her obvious attempt to play innocent. 

There is a soft thud as she sets her foot onto the tar. A hand then slowly moves toward my face, and cups it. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Ellie coos, her voice contradictingly soft in comparison to before. As she speaks, her knees start to bend. My eyes widen as I watch her slowly go down to crouch. Her face is now directly between my trembling thigh muscles, which slightly hang off the hood of the car. I can not bring myself to respond, as I am so shocked. Based on her previous statements, I anticipated Ellie to quickly get me off before fixing my car. However, that was everything but her intentions.

Rough hands travel to my waist, and experienced fingers work quickly to unbutton my pants. Her green eyes are narrowed into concentrated slits as she diligently unclothes me. Soon my pants are discarded somewhere on the cold flooring, my panties following. Her gaze twists into something more sinister as she stares at my dampened core. My folds glisten under the harsh overhead lights, and my clit is pink and throbbing. She observes my hole clenching around the air, and her lips turn into a frown. 

“El-” Just as I begin to say her name, Ellie’s face plants itself against my sex. Her tongue hungrily laps at my core, and her eyes flutter close as she admires the taste. On the contrary, my eyes grow wider. I pant out a curse, and my hands snake down into her hair. My fingers greedily pull at her auburn strands, pathetically attempting to pull her even closer. Abruptly, her muscle starts to drag up and down my folds. It gathers my juices before plunging inside of me. I moan at the impure sight of Ellie eating me out while I am sat atop my car. 

Her hands push down on my thighs, and pull them together. They cage her head in, though she seems to enjoy it. I highly doubt her ability to breathe, but she doesn’t seem to flinch. On the contrary, my entire body is shaking with delight. I cannot help but tighten my hold on her hair and yank her even closer. I don’t just need her against me, but enveloping my whole being. 

As my brain shivers with delight, it begins to dangerously wonder. If anyone were to stumble into the garage, they would be met with certainly a sight. One woman sat up on a car hood while another kneels before her and pleasures her. 

Ellie’s tongue works hard to bring me to my climax. My moans echo against the concrete walls. I suddenly feel her hum against me, which vibrates my wet folds. My core tightens and loosens uncomfortably, which causes my eyes to squeeze shut. 

“Come on, Baby. Cum on my face.” Ellie pulls her face just far enough from my sex to mumble. She speaks in such a soothing tone, that I feel I must comply. My orgasm washes over me, a slow calm wave. My nerves tingle underneath my skin as the sensation passes through. Heavy pants are the only sound being emitted from Ellie or I. Her eyes are wide and focused as she watches me.

 Once the climax has almost entirely run its course, Ellie finally draws her attention away from my lower body. Our eyes meet and we share a soft silent conversation. There is no doubt in my mind, and in hers, that I will be coming back to the garage again soon.

[realcube]

dilf december

day four ⭑ eijiro kirishima ⭑ kid's dad x party princess

tags : age gap, fluff, didn't want to imply the reader's looks so 'princess lavender' is just a made-up character that can look like whatever you want

an exceptional way of earning an income alongside being a broke college student is dressing up as a princess and being hired to attend rich children's birthday parties to entertain them.

you've been doing it for a while now, meaning you have accumulated lots of positive reviews and have worked at many events. however, this is the first one to truly blow you away at how massive it is.

there were around ten other character workers in attendance, as well as clowns, face-painters, live music, and caterers. not to mention the bouncy-house and pool that were also features at this party. it sounds like way too much entertainment to fit into one backyard, but no, this family was so wealthy that their own back garden was big enough to host all these amenties, plus the hundreds of guests.

however, you're only able to see all this by peering around the side of the house into the backyard, because you were specifically instructed to wait at the front of the house until invited inside. you weren't sure who was going to come get you — an event manager or otherwise — but you had been standing on the porch for around forty minutes now, and the neighbours were starting to cast you suspicious looks.

however, just as you were about to pull out your phone to check the time again, the front door swung open and a tall, beefy man frantically began looking around, but quickly calmed down when his gaze fell upon you. he smiled, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth, "the princess has arrived." he sung playfully.

you would laugh, but you are simply too stunned to do so. though you were aware you would be working for a "kirishima" residence, it still came as a shock to you that the father of the birthday girl is the sturdy hero: red riot! seeing his towering figure before you — standing at well over 6'5" — with his bulging muslces flexing as his arms are folded over his chest, along with his defined yet scarred facial features were enough to incite a strong sting of fear mixed with arousal inside you.

he must've noticed how mesmerised and dumbfounded you were, as he shortly prompts, "uh, feelin' okay, kid?"

you nod frantically, although that messed up your tiara, which you then fix as you awkwardly explain, "yes, of course! i'm great. super excited to see the birthday girl."

he smirks, endeared by how sweet you seem, "good. it isn't time for you to go out there just yet. we're keeping you as one last surprise for after she gets her cake. why don't you come inside for now though?"

you nod politely, and follow him excitedly as he leads you inside his home. as you may except, it's all exceptionally large; so naturally it takes a irregular amount of time to even walk through the foyer. to combat the awkward silence, you try to make friendly yet professional conversation, "this is such an impressive party that you've thrown for your daughter. are birthdays always this large in your family?"

he chuckles deeply, his laugh echoing throughout the spacious area. "no, never this big. but this is her first birthday since her mum and i got divorced, so i want it to be extra special for her." suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifts silently to something more solemn, only for a moment, until he continues, "plus, i need to outdo whatever my ex-wife has planned."

you both chuckle, and as you to do, you arrive in the living room and he motions for you to sit down on the plush cashmere sofa. "well, you've really gone all-out. it seems pretty much impossible to beat."

"hope so." he looks around slightly, as though he was trying to remember something or was about to move off, but then his demeanour softens and he relax back onto the matching sofa, opposite the one you were sat on. "sorry for leaving you waiting outside on the porch for so long, there was just so much stuff i had to take care of. who would've thought throwing a six year-old's birthday party would be harder than being a pro-hero?" he forces a laugh, though you can tell it's laced with stress and frustration.

"it's amazing that you're trying." you comment, gazing at him while he admires you right back. though, neither of you can really tell.

"yeah. and it's all worth it to make her happy, anyway." he muses, getting lost in his own thoughts, until he snaps out of them and jumps to his feet, "speaking of which, i need to see if my angel is doing alright." he swiftly starts walking off in a direction that you assume leads to the back garden. as he marches off, he calls out to you, "stay right there and make yourself at home. i'll be back for you soon, princess." he snickers, and shoots you a playful wink from over his shoulder.

it's enough to make your heart flutter and it seared into your brain, replaying in your mind for the whole time you were waiitng. it confirmed that not only was he the richest dad you've ever worked for, but the hottest too.

⭑⭑⭑

around an hour passed and the entire time, you were laying on the couch, watching youtube videos on your phone. not that you minded, since you already charged for the length of the whole party, meaning you were essentially being paid to sit around and look pretty, which is never a bad thing.

you heard quite a commotion outside as everyone began singing happy birthday, then cheer as the candles are blown out. shortly afterwards, kirishima comes darting back into the living room, and holds out his hand for you to take, "ready to go?"

you look up at him, and nod. getting into character and you delicately place your hand in his and stand up, straightening yourself out and adjusting your tiara.

he takes you through the kitchen to the dining room, where there is a set of open glass doors that lead directly to the backyard. he tells you to stop beside one the doors, and not got through just yet, so you are out of view of everyone outside too.

he, however, steps out and yells to get to everyone's attention. "alright, we have one last surprise! can you cover your eyes, angel?"

you can't see her from where you are standing, but you assume she covered her eyes. that is when kirishima pops his head back into the dining room and mouths for you to come through the door.

you do so, and immediately all the guests — parents and children alike — start a quiet chorus of 'ooh's and 'aah's. kirishima's red-headed daughter is practically bouncing with excitement at this point, wearing a wide grin.

"okay, you can open them!"

she drops her hands as her father says, and screams with glee at the mere sight of you. "princess lavender!" she shrieks, jumping on the spot then sprinitng over to you, with her arms wide open. you would've thought she had some sort of speed-related quirk considering the terminal velocity she came at you with.

likewise, the force she hugs with is enough to almost knock you off your feet but in a princess-like fashion, you are able to keep your balance and gracefully hug her back, humming, "hello, sweetheart. i heard it's your birthday today?"

she briefly pulls away from the hug to gaze up at you with stars in her eyes, nodding eagerly, "yes! i'm turning six. how'd you know?"

a curious one. not to worry though, by now you have curated an arsenal of appropriate responses to questions like these. "i know the birthdays of all the little princess' across the land." you say, booping her nose and in response she scrunches up her face with delight.

"did daddy bring you here?" she asks, holding onto your finger with one hand, and using her other to motion to her father, who was standing at the side, recording this whole interaction.

"uh." you stumble slightly over your words as look at kirishima, almost getting flustered by how manly he looks under the golden sunlight. but you quickly regain your composure, and swiftly try to redirect the topic of conversation, "yes, he did. he also told me that you haven't had any of your yummy cake yet, shall we go eat?"

all the children in unison burst into a cheer of agreement, and they all rush to the centre table, where there is a three-tiered castle cake waiting to be served.

⭑⭑⭑

you spent another hour or so with the birthday girl and all her friends: eating cake, telling stories, answering questions and doing whatever they pleased. it was a very sweet experience; red riot has clearly raised a very smart and kind young lady, and it felt nice that she was so thrilled to see you at her party.

soon though, you began to lose many of the other girl's attention and they were lured back into the various other entertainments such as the bouncy castle or pool.

the birthday girl, however, stayed loyal to you, still engaging you in a conversation about carriage rides even when all her other friends had gone elsewhere. "was a long journey here from your castle?"

"yes, quite long. but it was very worth to come see you, dear." you smile at her, and she beams right back.

as if of cue, kirishima appears and joins the discussion. "hi, my angel, are you enjoying your party?" he asks gently, flashing her an equally massive grin.

"yes!" she declares firmly, motioning to you. then, while seeing the two of you standing beside each other, you can see in her eyes the exact moment that the young girl has an idea. "did you two ride in the carriage together?"

"well.." you stutter, looking to kirishima with wide-eyes to insinuate that you think it would be best if he answered this one.

however, he's equally at a loss for words, "uh, yeah, we did. i drove the carriage and brought princess lavender here to your party!" he states proudly, clearly fishing for some praise or recognition from his daughter for his 'efforts', but she simply uses this new fact to further her agenda.

"does that mean you're friends?" she asks innocently.

as someone who is experienced in working with kids, your blood runs cold as you realise what she is hinting at. though you open your mouth to put a quick end to it, you are unfortunately interupted by a completely unsuspecting and ignorant kirishima, who stupidly responds, "of course we are!" as he slings a strong arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a performative half-hug.

meanwhile, as you expected, his daughter's red eyes light up with joy, and she exclaims, "princess lavender is gonna be my new mommy!"

"huh?—" kirishima stammers, but it's too late. his daughter is already racing around the back garden, screaming and yelling over the top of the music, letting everyone know how happy she is that princess lavender is going to marry her daddy and be her new mom. naturally, all the parents exchange confused looks, while the children only whoop and cheer alongside her, or gripe about how lucky she is to have a princess for a mom.

you sigh and share a defeated expression with kirishima, mouthing, "i'm sorry."

even though he seems downcast and mortified, he still musters up the strength and patience to reassuringly rub your arm, "hey, don't apologise, princess. that was my fault."

you press your lips into a line, and explain, "i just mean, i'm sorry that you're going to have to tell her the truth and disappoint her on her birthday."

now his expression contorts into a puzzled one, "what do you mean?"

you blink. clearing your throat then clarifying softly, with a sympathetic glint in your eyes, "i mean that she'll probably be sad when you tell her that we aren't really getting married."

you expected him to be anguished or worried by this reminder, which is why you become the confused one, when his lips spread out into his signature bright smile, and he utters, "who said we aren't getting married?"

what did he just say? surely you must've mishead him. over the loud music and screaming children, it was likely for his voice to be warped amongst the noise. that was the only logical explanation, you reasoned. despite the fact he had left you speechless, you eventually attempt to ask him to repeat himself.

however, by then, his attention had already diverted away from you and onto his celebrating daughter. "don't run so fast! you'll hurt yourself." she doesn't stop, which leads to him to chasing after her, which in turn causes a large game of tag amongst the children.

yourself, and the other party entertainers stand aside and watch for a while, until the game gradually dies down. once it does, all the kids are now tried, thus serving as a natural conclusion to the wild birthday party.

as guests and other entertainers start leaving, the birthday girl quickly takes notice and hastily rushes up to you, clinging to your ballgown and gazing up at you with misty eyes, "are you going now?"

you pout, cupping her cheek in your gloved hand and gently stroke her cheek with your thumb, "i am; my carriage awaits. but i can't wait to come back for your next birthday."

kids attention spans are quite short and their memories are even shorter, so you assumed amongst all the chaos of the game of tag, she thankfully must have forgotten about your pending 'marriage' to her father.

that is, until he saunters up to the two of you, serving as a reminder.

her eyes light up at the sight of her dad, and she giggles, before her dad can even get a word in, "when are you gunna have a wedding?"

kirishima's eyes widen as he looks between both of you, astounded, "erm, we are still deciding." he says, and fortunately she seems contented with that answer, "have you said goodbye to princess lavender?"

she hugs you tightly, and with her face buried into the poofy fabric of your dress, she yells, "goodbye, princess lavender! thank you for coming to my birthday." then, she pulls away and looks into your eyes to say with conviction, "i'll see you soon, okay?"

"okay." you nod, with a small smile. "thank you for inviting me. i'll see you soon." you princess-wave to her, as you are escorted to the front of the house by her father.

he tells her to get her face-painted while he has a quick chat with you out front. in his driveway, he pulls out his wallet and starts counting bills, "what a day, huh?" he muses.

"yeah.." you mutter, taking the stack of money he hands to you as payment. though you didn't count it all, you could tell just by looking at the bills that he gave you around double the amount you charged. "thank you, but i think this is a bit much. i'm only expecting forty-thousand yen."

"i know. the rest is your tip. you did a great job; i can tell she really loved you." he said, a sincere softeness in his eyes, "she was a bit crazy today, so that tip is to make sure you want to come back." he laughed at his joking statement, and so did you.

"thank you so much. i'm glad you think i did a good job, and i'll make sure to keep this date free for her birthday party next year."

"oh, i'd hope she had moved on from princess lavender by then. i don't know if i can go another year watching that damn show." he scoffs playfully. he looks to you expectantly, anticipating your laughter as well, however all he is met with is a completely baffled expression.

"so, what do you need me to come back for, if not her birthday party?" you ask innocently.

he rolls his eyes and smirks, "don't be coy."

"are you looking to hire me for your own birthday, red riot?" you tease.

"definitely." he jokes back with you, but then proceeds to say in complete seriousness, "but i think i'll have you come dressed as something besides a princess."

your eyes widen and a boiling heat comes creeping over your cheeks. able to tell that he's flustered you, kirishima continues to laugh, "seriously, i'd love to have you back here sometime. not a wedding though; maybe just dinner. how does that sound?"

you blink, becoming light-headed. you pray your mind wasn't betraying you and you didn't just imagine him saying that. after a couple moments of confirming that you were indeed concious and not in a dream, you nod your head rapidly, since your throat had completely dried up.

he smiles at your response, and hums, "great. i'll send you the details."

nodding so eagerly had messed up your crown, so kirishima takes it upon himself to straighten it, locking eyes with you as he does so. "there you go, princess." he says, hands dropping to take your gloved fingers in his, then bending over slightly so he can bring your knuckles up to his lips and plant a kiss upon them. lasting a few seconds before he parts, and stands entirely upright, "so long."

you can't help but grin cheesily at his princely actions. then, getting into character one last time, you curtsey to him and wave goodbye, "till we meet again."

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

🌸Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

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"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

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He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

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He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

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"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

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Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

[i23kazu]

MEOW MEOW BARK MEOW !

characters. xiao diluc childe alhaitham wriothesley neuvillette x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. oops! they're now all... catboys? and a puppyboy? /nsex | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

i- how- what even?! there's really nothing much to say – it's obvious enough with that crimson blush on his face that xiao just wants to bury himself in a hole and never be seen again. your boyfriend now has sprouted a tail, as well as kitty ears.. and halloween didn't come early, either. he's the cutest thing, though, and you just want to squish him against your cheek! xiao is still his regular size, and he still absolutely adores the warmth of your touch – as much as he pretends to not need it.

diluc

diluc is more embarrassed than anything. brownish red kitty ears, as well as a tail that just... couldn't be hidden in his trousers?! how was he supposed to show up to his business meeting that day? okay, maybe a sulk and a pout creeps onto his face... he definitely tries to hide it from you though. diluc definitely doesn't step out of the ragnvindr manor at all for a few days... and he definitely wears a hat wherever he goes, until he turns back to normal. please make sure to take lots of pictures.

childe

to be honest... he actually doesn't hate it. sure, it's definitely a surprise – but is it really so bad if it brings a smile to your face? you absolutely love stroking his tail and petting his ears. he purrs, grinning and burying his head in your neck, and still rubbing against you. you're lucky that he doesn't actually have cat fur .... it might take forever to remove it at the rate that childe was rubbing his head against you.

alhaitham

alhaitham is more so annoyed by it ... it's definitely an inconvenience – he gets more stares on the street. sure, he already got stares due to his position, but because of the newly grown cat ears? and tail? even the children are laughing. his reputation ruined. life goes on for alhaitham, and he buries his head in a book instead. yes, he's in denial. please make sure to take lots of pictures, because when he's back to normal? alhaitham will definitely take a sip of his tea and straight facedly tell you that whatever that was, it didn't happen.

wriothesley

make way, for wriothesley has puppy features! i think he'd grin through it all, even if that ... smile, seems a little forced. im sure he's not too happy about it, but he's too cute for you to tell him that it'll be over soon (honestly? you secretly hope it'll last longer.) once, wriothesley caught you staring, flashing a grin and telling you to take a picture – it'll last longer. he gets over the fact of having these extra add-ons pretty quickly, and instead flaunts it and teases you with them.

neuvillette

ohhhh. your dearest neuvillette is embarrassed to no end. for the first time in his humanhood, he contemplates putting off a court trial... but alas, he can't. furina has teased him mercilessly enough for the new cat ears and the.. uh, tail that he's grown overnight. needless to say, neuvillette was blushing pink when he woke up and found himself like this. please pet him all you can though – it's no surprise that neuvillette is just waiting for this to be over – even though it brings a smile to your face.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this and would like to support me, please consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[piinktearxs]

bunny food

prompts by @raccoonbabey

prompt: Character A is hungry, so Character C spoils them with candy and baked goods. (Bonus: Character B scolds Character C because “That’s not real food!”)

for anon (im sorry it wasn't exactly what you wanted! but you did motivate me to write lol)

pairings: cg!sam winchester, cg!dean winchester x little!OC (munchkin)

warnings: talks of ghosts and graves!

send me more fic asks! :) i love doing these!

tags, as promised: @bunnybeeblog @simpforstefan

It was a long drive back to Kansas, with a case located in Wyoming, 6 hours of route back to the bunker ensued.

Nobody in the crew really minded, by this point it was almost routine, plus this was an easy case, a run of the mill salt and burn - the only particularity being that munchkin had to distract the ghost while the boys digged the grave. So, she was pretty beat after the hunt, the boys knew from experience that, after most hunts, munchkin regressed - it was her way of processing all the emotions that she felt during the hunt, or anything really, plus, the boys loved caring for her whether she was small or big, they all really cared for each other a lot, but when she was small, she was just "so damn cute" as Dean put it.

They were 2 hours in, 4 left to go, they had had breakfast at the motel, only thing was, they had forgotten to get snacks before the drive.

Munchkin was in the back of the car, taking a little nap, when suddenly the car came to a stop, she then slowly woke up.

"Hey sweetheart, Daddy went to the bathroom, you wanna get somethin' to eat at the convenience store?" said Dean, turning to face munchkin from the driver's seat, she was starting to feel hungry, so, she nodded and rubbed her eyes, still sleepy from her nap. Dean went to open her door for her and unbuckle her, she could do this on her own, but he knew that it made her feel extra small when he did little things like that for her.

As she climbed out of the car, Dean offered his hand "What do we do when we cross the street?" He asked "Hold dada, daddy or dae's hand!" She responded chipperly, fully awake by now, as she took his hand "Attagirl" Dean said as they walked to the convenience store, they ran into Sam, who was just exiting the men's room.

"Hey there kiddo, had a good nap?" Sam asked as he bent down to munchkin's level - "Mhm!" She responded "Dada and I was jus gettin' some snackies 'cause we hungry!" She said, looking at the younger Winchester with a big smile on her face. Sam was happy to hear his little princess verbalizing her hunger cues "I think I'll join y'all then, I'm getting the munchies, too" he said as he took munchkin's free hand and started to chat with Dean when they entered the convenience store.

Sam, being the health nut that he is, immediately went for the veg aisle, whereas Dean took munchkin to his favorite aisle, the baked goods aisle- specifically where the pies were.

As Sam joined them, with a basket containing a big bag of baby carrots and ranch, Dean put in some pie and cookies, he then picked some worm gummies and red skittles, munchkin's favorite candy "I think we're all good to go, ain't we, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother, heading for the checkout counter "Uh, Dean I think we need to get some real food in there" Sam said, seeing that the basket was 70% sweets "Seems pretty real to me" Dean responded.

As the two brothers bickered on what was real food and what wasn't ("Rabbit don't equal real!" "OH, and processed does?" "You're such an almond guy" "There's a difference between almond and healthy!" "Yeah but you're an almond" "That's a meme! And I'm so not" "You so are") munchkin went around the store, picking what she was craving, she saw some carrots with hummus, and grabbed those, she then saw an individual bag of salt and vinegar chips and added that one, too, when she returned to the sweets aisle, she tugged on Sam's sleeve "Daddy in how much time are we gettin' lunch?" she asked, "In about two hours, why do you ask, bunny?" he asked, as munchkin put her picks in the basket "ta see if ima be veery hungry or not so much" she said as she took out her gummies and put them back "gotta leave some room for lunch" she said with a shrug "okie now we ready to go!" she said with a smile.

The boys looked at each other, perplexed, what did their little one just do? She never denied candy of any kind, Dean crouched to her height "Baby, is everything alright? You love gummies" he said, concerned "I know dada, but they's not goin' nowhere, plus, I'm craving skittles more today and we're havin' lunch soon, an' i don't wanna be full by lunch, an' i also wanted carrots an' chips" she said, very sure of herself, it did make sense, what she was saying, still, both boys were confused at her sudden vegetable frenzy, when she was small, she usually dreaded those "you can have bunny food AND sweet food, is all 'bout balance, plus I got some hummus because it tastes better than ranch"

The boys shared an "oh well" look, and the argument was settled, they paid for their items and got back on the road, where they shared what each had gotten, and sang along to their shared road trip playlist all the way back to the bunker.

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 5

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: R

Tags/Warnings: cunnilingus! face riding/nose riding! mild daddy kink, switchy dynamics, bratty behavior, general snarky banter, boss x assistant relations, mild size difference kink, Hoffman being characterized as a slutty bisexual New Jersey dilf

Summary: Picks up immediately after part 4 where Hoffman is at your home and you “get comfortable” with him.

Author’s Notes: This is a recent birthday gift to myself but you all may enjoy too lol

“You’re so demanding, you know?” you grumbled, though mostly in jest, as you watched Hoffman flop onto his back on your bed. The impact of his mass made the frame creak ever so slightly and the silky beddings flutter.

He looked too comfortable—you had to roll your eyes at how smugly content he made himself—suit jacket long since peeled off with care. He left the suspenders, belt, and tie mostly intact, knowing you had a weakness for such accoutrements (and plucking them off). You could even picture the little sock garters tucked up under his pants.

“Demanding? I need somewhere to lay back if you’re, uh… hoppin’ on.”

“I have a perfectly good couch.”

“Baby, you know I’m too big to lay back comfortably on the couch.” He knew what he was doing in saying that. He was getting under your skin, burrowing deep into you.

“You’re spoiled,” you tutted harshly with the tiniest of grins.

“You’re so mean, sweetheart. You gonna be mean to your boss?” That dumb amusement dimpled up the sides of Hoffman’s face.

“Yes, because you wouldn’t fire me. You would never. Besides, you love me being mean to you, you pervert.” You hiked up your fitted skirt (too familiar a motion with him) as you began to crawl atop him.

“Oh do I?” He plucked at the exposed garter straps hooked into your stockings.

“Yeah, you pig. Surprised you never thought to just hire a dominatrix.”

“Such a tongue on you. You’re a little extra this evening, huh? Be nice to Daddy. Anyways, you know how expensive dommes are? And they don’t even do paperwork!”

“Ah, so what I’m understanding is I deserve a raise.”

“I’ll make a case to the captain,” Hoffman huffed, sneering lips teasing with attitude. His wide palms spread, smoothing up from your thighs to your backside. “Now, why don’t you get comfortable?”

You inched your way up, trying to gently settle your thighs over his shoulders, on either side of his head (though it wouldn’t matter how gentle you were in a minute).

Hoffman fidgeted his thick fingers into the hem of your underwear, lowering them down for just enough access before you took your seat. “Go ahead, baby. All the way. Fuckin’ smother me.”

You rolled your eyes at his excitement, endearing as it actually was.

You were immediately met with that stupid, pointed nose pushing right into your clit, and those fat, whore lips sucking and kissing into your folds, prying at the entrance. You also realized you were somewhat vocalizing these observations, as you felt Hoffman groan into your pussy at “fat, whore lips”.

He detached momentarily to speak, twisting his face for just enough room to breathe. “You got a way with words, darlin’. Jesus. You make me sound like a slut.”

“You are. Keep eating.”

You felt the muffled “Yes, Ma’am” vibrate through as you pressed yourself harder against your boss’s face. His voice had enough of a soft but harsh rumble that you wished he was able to say more… But his tongue was becoming too engaged for that.

The position was just right—pristine, even. Hoffman curled his tongue deep into you, lips still sucking, as if he was ardently trying to swallow down a thick milkshake. You ground down so roughly on his nose in an up-and-down manner that gave you that sweet, intense build up. The friction, the heat… So delicious.

Part of what drove you further was the idea of him lapping you up like a begging dog, despite his upper hand with authority and size. No, you were taking the reins here.

His large hands fluttered all around, but often revisiting your ass for a secure squeeze and the extra bit of encouragement to press more weight upon his face.

Hungry, frantic, so eager to come, you rutted fervidly against his nose until you felt like you were going to see stars. The warmth and the wetness came as you let out a satisfied groan. You couldn’t help but twitch at the remaining waves of your orgasm, only spurred on by the sensation of Hoffman lapping up your release. You slid off his face, settling back down on his chest.

Saliva slicked and gleamed down his chin, across his smirking mouth. He licked his tongue around the mess left on his face as if it was frosting off a cupcake.

“Is this the part where you kick me out?” he joked, face still flushed in a haze.

“Hmm, maybe. I can’t let you getting too comfortable.”

Hoffman slid his hands up over his mostly exposed chest, tracing the scar over his left pec. “I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise?”

He did look good, all dark, solemn features wrapped in formal wear spread out on your pastel sheets… His scent of cigarettes, Drakkar Noir, and a hint of garage grease intermingling with your own… But you had to keep him on his toes.

And at any rate, whatever it was going on wasn’t serious enough to imply he should stay. But… it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Just not tonight.

“Next time we have dinner, I’ll consider it,” you informed him.

“Oh, we’re doing dinner again?”

“Don’t act like you hate the idea.”

“Whatever you say, babydoll.”