#before someone comes at me yes this is a very simple look at their characters

[spongek-squidge]

Picking a favourite between the older bachelors is basically just asking yourself whether you want the one with depression, the one with anxiety, or the English major

[noemilivv]

What the…

HAZBIN HOTEL CAST are like as …

PARTNERS !! (and before that!)

Includes: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Sir Pentious, Husker, Niffty, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Lute

Warnings: Swearing, S1 spoilers, sexual references, mentions of abuse, mentions of Valentino, messy, barely proofread

Also side note, if this is highly enjoyed, I will do a Part 2 with more characters!

Charlie Morningstar

Crush!Charlie is a bit obvious. Not TOO obvious, but maybe if you squint hard enough…

Crush!Charlie has a tendency to show extra attention to you, especially if you’re a resident at the Hotel who’s trying to go up to Heaven.

Example: You’re the first person she asks if they need help, invite for a group activity, etc

Despite the fact that Crush!Charlie is really eager to confess her feelings, she truly does find value in getting to know you as a friend first.

She believes that it has its perks, which it does.

Crush!Charlie enjoys getting to know your hobbies, interests, past, strengths, all of it.

But as you are going off on your usual yap sesh about your face topic …

Crush!Charlie can’t help but peck you on the cheek, you’re cheeks just look so squishy and cute!

You’re stunned… You would’ve never thought that.. Charlie? Likes you? Pffff… Ain’t no way!

Crush!Charlie scrambles to explain to you her genuine feelings, and how she’s wanted to be with you for a long time, and scrambles again to ask you if you feel the same.

Now it’s your turn to shut someone up with a kiss.

You give her a drawn out peck on the lips, not too short, but not too long. Just enough to satisfy.

And yes, you do feel the same.

Now GF!Charlie is totally stoked! But she’s also a bit scared of the shoes she has to fill.

GF!Charlie decides to give you a little candy bouquet (that she made!)! Honestly it’s the cutest frickin thing, it has little chocolates and lollipops like AAA get me a Charlie!

GF!Charlie decides to introduce you to her dad, sure you guys have crossed paths a few times, but like, formally this time.

At first Lucifer is intimidated by you (not that he’d admit that), similar to the rivalry he had with Alastor.

But after awhile, he warms up to you, at the end of the day he loves his daughter, and he sees that you do to. So long as you treat Charlie good and you like rubber ducks, he’s chill with you :)

GF!Charlie’s love language is gift giving and physical touch!

On one hand, she loves giving gifts, it’s very soothing for her to go out and find something to give you, or coming up with an idea to make something for you, it takes her mind off of things

But at the other end of the scale, she loves receiving physical touch, she kinda freezes when she does because it’s so much to her but at the same time she enjoys it dearly! Even something as simple as rubbing her hand with your thumb while handling hands, long hugs, or hand kisses send her into a spiral haha

At the end of the day, GF!Charlie loves you a ton and honestly is just happy to be there loving you lol

Vaggie

When Crush!Vaggie realizes she has a crush on you, it’s a bit of an ‘Oh Shit’ moment, y’know?

Due to her secret, and the fact that she has a bit of trust issues, they just don’t go hand-in-hand with love.

Crush!Vaggie is a bit dependent on you to make the first move, but that doesn’t mean she won’t, but she needs you to throw a few jabs first.

The more her crush on you stays and the more she doesn’t do about it, the more it starts to bug her

Crush!Vaggie decides one day she doesn’t know how much more of the subtle flirting and eye contact from across the room she can take, cause deep down, she has a gut feeling you like her too.

So, Crush!Vaggie decides she’s going to confess.

When it comes down to it, obviously you feel the same, and she really wants to make an impact right away!

Now GF!Vaggie decides to plan a little surprise for you, a date!

GF!Vaggie decides to just take you out to the back of the hotel and you two lay down and look at the night sky (as I’m not sure if there’s stars in Hell tbh.)

You two sit there and talk, it gets vulnerable for a bit, slowly but surely starting to break down eachothers walls… But not for too long before one of you is like “NOPE, too much emotions for one day!” haha

At the end of the day, GF!Vaggie, isn’t perfect at this whole girlfriend thing, but for you? She’ll sure as hell try.

Angel Dust

Like Vaggie, Crush!Angel is tempted to “NOPE” out, after falling into Val’s trap, he’s hesitant to try again.

But soon enough Charlie shows him that opening up got her an amazing girlfriend, so he decides, hey, might as well right?

Crush!Angel goes out of his way to obnoxiously flirt with you, but you thought this was normal behavior, as he does it with basically everyone at the hotel.

Crush!Angel thinks it’ll take time, but you’ll catch on, and well… not exactly…

One day, Crush!Angel comes back from a long shoot, and he pulls a good, classic flirt on you, and poof! Right over your head!

And he doesn’t know what got in him, maybe the alcohol, maybe Valentino, maybe the buildup stress, who’s knows, but he snaps…

Crush!Angel proceeds to go off about how he’s always flirting with you and how he just doesn’t get how you’re so blind that you just can’t see it!?

And you start to laugh, which at first makes him more mad.

“Well how was I supposed to know if you flirt with everyone here? I thought it was normal!”

And with that, you walk away, leaving him bamboozled.

The night goes on as normal, you head up to your hotel room, and just as you’re about to turn lights out you hear a knock on your door and a voice from the outside.

“So do you wanna fuck me too, or no?”

The next day, you and Crush!Angel have a talk over a drink or two, and decide, not only do you two wanna fuck, you also want to date!

Now BF!Angel is a bit nervous, but don’t fret! He has that feeling in his stomach that makes him want to grin like he’s never grinned before.

BF!Angel’s love languages are quality time and words of affirmations, considering all that Val can do to him in a day, he doesn’t love being touched without consent, but that doesn’t mean touch is off limits by any means! Just ask and he’ll give it to you!

And for quality time, you and BF!Angel don’t really go out for dates, considering how fans (and Val) are, also considering the fact that he just wants a break from life.

Instead, you two usually just spend time in eachothers hotel rooms, binge shows, give eachother makeovers, play dress up, just being the kids you never got the opportunity to be.

And once he sees that Fat Nuggets likes you, he knows you’re the one.

Alastor

When Crush!Alastor first realizes he has feelings for you, he makes a mental note and goes on with his day.

He doesn’t really understand the point in fussing about it like most do, but then again, he’s not most people.

Crush!Alastor does thoroughly enjoy spending time with you though, he likes to just sorta keep you around.

He sticks up for you, if somebody gives you a problem, it will be handled, even if it’s a bit sadistic, he will do it everytime.

Crush!Alastor doesn’t feel the need to confess directly, but if you ask him how he feels about it, he won’t deny his feelings towards you!

So whenever Crush!Alastor becomes BF!Alastor, he does lay down some ground rules, as a relationship with him, will not be the same as a relationship with others.

BF!Alastor is a gentleman, no doubt. He opens any door that you may come across (car, building, whatever), he asks for consent before doing anything — however intimate it may be, and he does buy you flowers.

But, that does not mean BF!Alastor is perfect, he’s not the most physically affectionate, unless he initiates it himself, and he’s not great with feelings.

If you’re upset, he tries to stay away, not because he doesn’t care, but because most of the time he’ll keep his upbeat energy and act like nothings wrong in attempts to cheer you up — but sometimes that’s just not what you need.

But, BF!Alastor kicks in eventually, and turns on some calming music, turns his radio affect down in volume so the sound doesn’t overwhelm you, and give you a nice, long hug as you two sway around the room.

By far, BF!Alastor’s love language is acts of service and quality time.

BF!Alastor honestly adores spending time with you, you’ve made him feel more alive than he has in years, and he follows you around like a puppy, but he makes it look like you following him around rather than the other way.

And he’ll always do things for you, even if he doesn’t understand them. If they make you happy, he might as well get started on doing them, because he can’t go awhile without seeing your darling face and your beautiful smile.

Sir Pentious

Crush!Pentious is… very… obvious.

But you don’t say anything, cause he’s adorkable.

You watch day after day out of pure adoration as Crush!Pentious tumbled over his words and changes his mind as he tried to make a move, and you loved every second of it.

This went on for awhile, and you started to notice his little quirks, which only made you fall for him more.

Eventually, one day after Crush!Pentious had tried to subtly say that he liked you, you decided to do him a favor.

“Pen.”

“I like you too.”

“I- UHM- WELL- YOU’RE- I- UHM-”

Yeah maybe that didn’t go how you thought it would…

Well in more ways than one, cause Crush!Pentious became BF!Pentious that day!

BF!Pentious was really nervous, he finally had you! But he didn’t wanna lose you cause he did something stupid either… He had to make the perfect move!

So he ended up asking Charlie to ask you a bunch of relationship related questions, and ending up deciding on your dream date with your favorite flowers. Basic, but gets the job done right?

BF!Pentious’ love languages are gift giving and physical touch. Like please cuddle him. He’ll get pouty if you don’t notice. So just notice already!!

BF!Pentious, like Charlie, loves making you gifts! He uses his knowledge from war machines to make something homemade and honestly it’s just the sweetest thing!

Is he perfect? Yes. But for this let’s say no. Does he try? Also yes!

Husker

Crush!Husk can’t even remember the last time he had a crush, but he’s chill with it.

Crush!Husk never planned on officially confessing to you, he just was going with the flow, ya know?

You start talking to him and realize maybe you like him too, but it wasn’t thought about much more than that.

It’s not until Angel asks you, “So are ya fucking or no..?”

And it makes you think, no, but you wouldn’t mind if that were arranged.

So one night, while you’re drunk and talking to Crush!Husk, you say… “Y-Ya knOW! We- We should HAHAH get together! HEHEHEH!” “Talk to me when you’re sober, you’re not making a stupid decision, I won’t let ya.”

And somehow, someway, you remembered that in the morning. So with a headache from your hangover, you go up to Husk’s bar and sit down, “What are we?” “Whatever you want us to be.”

From then on, Crush!Husk became BF!Husk!!

BF!Husk always made sure to look out for you. He’s the ‘defend you in public, correct you in private’ kinda guy.

BF!Husk is big on words of affirmation and acts of service.

He won’t hesitate to tell you how much he loves and cares for you whenever you need it, he’s a very honest guy, but he also loves doing little things to show that he cares.

‘Oh, I did the dishes for you.’ or ‘I cleaned your room.’ or ‘I folded your laundry.’ are things you hear daily.

Niffty

Crush!Niffty is another one that’s very obvious, and quite frankly, she doesn’t care.

Crush!Niffty has been open to you about her feelings since day one, and you make sure she knows you feel the same way.

So basically instantly, she becomes GF!Niffty.

GF!Niffty loves physical touch and acts of service.

She loves cleaning for you, and showing you all her accomplishments. But she also loves hugging you, kissing you, just being next to you is enough.

Life isn’t much different versus life with Crush!Niffty but you love it regardless, and you wouldn’t trade either life for anything.

Lucifer Morningstar

Crush!Lucifer doesn’t really have that shock of realizing he likes you, cause he always has and has always known.

You were the one person who was there after Lilith, even if it was only platonic back then, you were still there.

Crush!Lucifer REALLY likes you and considering how long he’s liked you (literal years) he decides to just man up and say it.

Unsurprisingly, you feel the same way and you two start dating.

BF!Lucifer doesn’t want to lose you like how he lost Charlie and Lilith, so he’s very certain that he gives you everything he thinks you derserve.

BF!Lucifer is a big jumble of all the love languages at once because of this. But I think he leans towards physical touch and words of affirmation.

BF!Lucifer is constantly in need of reassurance as he feels like he’s not enough due to his depression, and also hugs, because y’know, hugs help.

If you have a good relationship with Charlie, which you should, like cmon, he’s ecstatic! And sometimes he needs your help with parenting cause he really wants to try his best for you, and her.

Adam

Adam and you started off just fucking for fun, and fucking for fun turned into, friends, friends turned into- woah… it turned into a crush…

Crush!Adam is fucking clueless, he’s not good with this stuff, just guitar solos (FUCK YEAAHH).

During Charlie’s meeting with Heaven, he slips you a note…

Hey hot babe,

wanna do more than just fuck? (date)

And my God, you better accept because THAT is ART.

BF!Adam is far from perfect, but damn close. He really cares. But his main love languages are quality time and physical touch.

I mean cmon, he’s not great with his words, he can’t do much other than fight, he’s ass at giving gifts (he tried to give you a dildo once). So it’s really the only thing he’s good at, he can sit there, and touch you. That’s about all he knows how to do!

At the end of the day, BF!Adam really tries his best, he loves you, after all :)

Lute

Considering the fact you’re Lute’s boss, she spends a lot of time with you.

And because of that, she starts to develop feelings.

Crush!Lute realizes she has a crush on you almost immediately, although she hesitates to tell you, due to how much you guys are together and her job.

But after awhile, she has a bit of a ‘screw it’ moment.

And boom! She turns into GF!Lute.

GF!Lute is a whole new version of the person you had gotten to know. Her wild side comes out, unlike her normal stoic side. (Example: “RIP VAGGIES CUNT MOUTH OUT ‘ER ASS!!!”)

Also side note, GF!Lute is committed as fuckkk. Once she’s there, she’s there for good, cause she loves you!

— END.

Hello! This is my first Hazbin post! I haven’t written for these characters in a solid year so I hope it’s alright! As I said up top, if this gets a lot of love, then I’ll do a part two (Which will include Cherri and the Vees to name a few~) ! Also don’t mind my Lute bias lmao, she’s my fav, she’s so hatable but idgaf and I love her vibe lmao! I’m hyperfixating on Hazbin since the first season just came out lmao! So please send requests! Love ya :)

[no1deepspacehater]

⸻⋅☾SYLUS - NSFW ABC's☽⋅⸻

TW: Spoilers, General TW (It's Sylus, c'mon now) and mentions of CNC (he doesn't like it, it's just mentioned)

AN: Since he's come out i've been spending so much time exploring his character and unlocking his myths!! This man has me in a chokehold. I'm so sorry Xavier.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s gonna have you in his hold for a bit, he’s not a big cuddler, but he wants you to come down nicely. So it’s a bit of him watching you relax and whipering how good you were etc for a bit.

Then, mostly for him, he’s gonna have a bit of wine (he’s such an alcoholic).

He’ll offer you a bath and shower, which he does take even if you don’t want to (remember, aftercare goes both ways, this is his way to relax.)

But don’t worry, if you want some cuddles he’s willingly, after much teasing of how much of a needy kitten you are.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything is his favourite part.

But if he has to choose, his arms and hands.

He’s put a lot of hours into training, without his evol he can still strangle the light from someone’s life on his own and punch the daylight out of them too.

For you, he is an ass and tits man. Why does he have to choose? He can and will have both.

Loves to see a curvy dress on you that shows off your physique. His hand is so quick to slide around your waist, proud to have a good looking person like you by his side to show off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Thick, clear ropes of the stuff. He almost gets annoyed with how messy it can be.

Not that he’s opposed to covering you with the stuff, no he just prefers to fill you with it.

Loves tasting you, and having you coat his entire hand with your essence.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

During his surveillance of you (stalking), has watched you bathed and shower at least once or twice.

Didn’t make it a habit, even he has lines, but he’s found himself enraptured with just watching you do these simple things.

It weird because he doesn’t watch you masturbate, nor masturbate himself really during the times he watched you shower.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Knows about sex. Fucks.

He’s experienced, you can’t tell me otherwise. He’s had a few workers here and there.

He also knows that just because he has experience with other women, doesn’t mean he knows all about your likings.

But trust, he’ll spend all night learning you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Reverse and regular cowgirl, surprisingly.

Bet let’s dissect, even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s of course in control.

He has no trouble holding you down on top of him, or moving you up and down on him.

And of course, the sight is beautiful to him, he’s in close reach of everything, and of course, most of the time you have no other option to be face to face with him.

Where he can really see wha’t going on in your mind.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s overly serious, but if you call his constant teasing humorous then he’s fucking hilarious.

But yes, he’s more focused on whispering the most outright naaesstttiest filth close into your ear while you come undone before him.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Shaved down to a minimum and neat. He has his own (very high quality) clippers for down there. Takes pride in his look.

Wouldn’t mind if you like to keep things natural, but does like to have things low for you as well.

Hell, he’ll go crazy if you have some type of design on it!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s more of a dirty romantic.

But he can be sweet, in his own way.

Telling you how much he adores you, your sounds, your body.

Soft touches, handling you delicately at times.

And he keeps you pretty close during the act, lots of skin to skin touching.

His kisses range from feather light to deep kisses, and leaving marks is definitely one of his acts of affection.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This might be crazy, but hear me out.

I do not see this man masturbating often.

Maybe like ONCE in a literal blue moon, like if he’s deadly bored. (And let’s face it, he’s too much of a busy man to be bored.)

Also, he’s the most powerful man in the N109 zone, and basically has most of Linkon in his hands, I’m sure he will find someone (You) that will satisfy his needs.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Need I say, BLOOD KINK!?!

Yeah, he get’s down like that, and I will die on this hill.

He’d love to see your pathetic attempts at trying to make him flinch as you draw a blade against his skin, it winds him up.

Won’t go too crazy on you, but let’s just say you’re going to need a bandage for that bike mark.

Ropes, whips, cuffs, he’s into that entire scene, anything to make you submit to him.

Vibrators are common place, one of his favourite things to do is to watch you fall apart without even laying a finger on you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

One of his many secluded castles or cabins. He can get you as loud as he wants there.

Not that he really cares if anyone hears the both of you.

Prefers to be in a comfortable place really, but doesn’t mind if you want to get dirty in a semi-public place (Like a private room, clubs, office).

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you stand your ground.

Once, you pistol whipped a high ranking gangster during an undercover mission, after he ‘joked’ about a female being in a room. Then you proceeded to berate him and his whole crew coldly and put him in his place.

He was rock hard after that. Wanted to take you then and there.

Also has a thing for you being bratty, replying smartly to his teasing. Makes him want to fuck it out of you.

Seeing you dressed up. He knows you’re not materialistic, and neither is he, but seeing you in a fitting outfit that you bought with his card (that probably cost thousands), drives him crazy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Consensual-non-consensual, or noncon stuff. Yes, he likes when you’re bratty and put up a fight a little, but not in that way. (He sees the effect of trafficking in the N109 zone, and doesn’t feel comfortable seeing anyone portray that.)

Anything that involves other types of bodily fluids, yes, that type of stuff. He finds it weird.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

LOVES a blowjob with all his cold heart. Would never say no. He can be kind of a head pusher, because he knows it ticks you off, but if you’re not comfortable he can resists, he just likes to hear you choking on him.

Does also like to eat you out, only if you’re cool with him doing it to the point of much overstimulation (he’s going to do that anyway).

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely prefers Slow, sensual, but DEEP!!

You swear, you don’t know how he does it, but he’s gotten to places you can’t even reach with a dildo.

He’ll go wild sometimes and fuck you with sharp, sudden movements, because he’s close but he wants you to come before him (But he won’t tell you that).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Prefers to have his way with you.

He can get busy at times, so he’s not always available for that. He tends to disappear randomly in the night and show up randomly.

If you beg him enough, rile him up enough secretly, he will not hesitate to push you up against a wall in an alleyway and give you what you’re asking for, just know that he always ties up loose ends, and we will be continuing later.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s very open, apart from the hard no’s.

Likes the heart pounding excitement from taking new, kind of dangerous risks.

Won’t do anything that will put you in serious danger or grievous harms way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

If it’s night, he’s going to town.

But that’s mostly because he’s taking his time with you.

Short refractory period after the first 2-3 times, then after the 5th time he’s just focused on making you cum.

If it’s the day, let’s say about 2, maybe three rounds max. He’s definitely less energized because he’s normally asleep.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not really toys, since the handcuffs, muzzles and whips have actually been used for other affairs... But they’re multipurpose, anyway, or so he says.

Does invest in vibrators and the like when he sees how much he can do to you with them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Do you really have to ask this, for SYLUS?

The man was practically born to tease. You think it’s his new way of trying to kill you, or drive you insane, at least.

If he’s really feeling like a prick, he’s denying your orgasm a couple times, and punishing you hard if you do, by overstimulating you until you’re shaking.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not a moaner, honestly, if he wasn’t talking you through it most of the time it’d be deadly quiet.

He’ll let out a grunt here and there, a breathy sigh that still gets you weak occasionally.

But of course, he’s talking you through it, and his vocabulary is quite expressive.

With his baritone voice, he could be talking about pineapples and it’d still get you going.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He knows the twins have been trying to eavesdrop sometimes.

Once, you asked if they could watch, and he allowed it.

He can always tell when they're there, and tells you that you spoil them too much.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Big, I don’t care, argue with the wall.

Okay okay, more length than girth if we’re being real, but he’s not skinny either.

At least 9 inches. He’s GIGANTIC, look at him! Def a shower.

VEINY!! Decorated from tip to balls.

His entire shaft turns red from stimulation, the tip being the brightest. It rivals his eyes.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Surprisingly not that high, honestly.

Sure, he likes to tease and rile you up, but it’s not like he’s expecting or wanting sex just because.

Can go pretty long without it honestly, there are other ways of having his fun with you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless it’s in the morning/day, he’s staying awake.

Sex is one of the few energy-inducing activities for him that will keep him awake for hours.

Will probably play with your hair, or just lay by you for a while until taking a short nap himself, maybe sipping a few wines to relax him.

[netherfeildren]

How to Endure Ardor:

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it

A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

This is a lesson:

“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.

A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him. 

Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging. 

The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it. 

But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.

This is obvious too, even if only to them.

He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there. 

It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie. 

Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—

—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.

The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before. 

Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into? 

These are the things he asks himself. 

Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them? 

The answer is usually yes.

At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is. 

Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability. 

Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy. 

You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much. 

“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.

“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal. 

He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again. 

You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate. 

He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love. 

All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?

Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love 

So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained. 

Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this? 

He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt. 

But then again, you know him.

Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.

And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud. 

You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[egcdeath]

the old college try

summary: you reconnect with an unexpected guest at the creator of your scholarship’s dinner party.

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: stanford era, sassy reader, situationship, a touch of family drama, mentions of putting an etsy love spell on someone, arguing, emotional immaturity, maybe not the best decisions from our lovely characters, kindaaaa open ending

word count: 4.6k

author’s note: i am absolutely addicted to all things ex!patrick. i hope you enjoy reading this!

“This is my son, Patrick.”

Your stomach dropped the second the woman’s son turned around, familiar light eyes and scruffy appearance immediately taking you back to your tumultuous third semester of college. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—the extended periods without contact followed by a surprise appearance at your dorm room, or the drawn out arguments on the phone that left every passerby giving you—the angry woman on the phone in her pajamas on the sidewalk—a strange look, and even the few good times you had with him. 

You blinked once to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then felt an onslaught of realization hit you at once. Despite your several month on-and-off situationship with Patrick, you never learned much identifying information about him, including his last name. In fact, that had been something you’d argued about multiple times. The two of you barely knew each other, save for each others’ bodies, which you unfortunately both knew very well.

Had you known that Patrick was the son of Mrs. Zweig, donor to your scholarship, you wouldn’t have accepted the invite to this family event. 

Mrs. Zweig seemed to recognize the shock and confusion on both of your faces. While you didn’t think your mouth was agape, there was certainly a high chance that it was. “You two already know each other?” she asked, looking amused. 

“No,” you quickly replied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his words coming out at the same time as yours. 

“Yes,” you tried again, trying to get your story straight. 

“No,” he said this time, your voices overlapping once more. 

She glanced between the two of you skeptically before humming aloud. “Hmm. Well, I’ll let you two chat and connect, or reconnect, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She was off without much more fanfare, leaving you very flustered in her wake. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Patrick asked you, getting right in your face like he always did when the two of you argued. It was almost slightly nostalgia-inducing. 

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, given that he had been introduced as the son of your beneficiary. Of course he would be at a family function. This was his family, after all. But you were flustered, as anyone else in your shoes would be, and words were currently failing you. 

“Zweig doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. When you responded with a wordless shake of your head, he chuckled in annoyance and disbelief. It all felt very familiar. “What was it that you always used to say to me? ‘You don’t even know what my middle name is?’”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, not knowing where the discussion was going, but not liking it regardless. 

In response to your non-verbal response, he leaned in close to your ear, clearly not trying to let on to the rest of the attendees the level of drama that was currently occurring in their midst. 

“You hypocrite.”

The words he spat were simple, but effective—leaving you simultaneously filled with rage and oddly, a little aroused.

He walked off after that, using self restraint that you weren’t actually sure that he had. Knowing Patrick, he would be back and spewing vitriol in your face or in your ear whenever he next had the opportunity. 

You were taking a very different approach to the situation. Now that you knew Patrick was at the event, you were determined to do everything humanly possible to avoid bumping into him. 

You talked to any and everyone you could find, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Patrick’s eyes searing into you, no matter what part of the room you were in. He was clearly waiting for the moment he could pounce on you once again, evidenced by the way he seemed to start going on the move whenever you stopped talking to someone. 

Somehow, you were still one step quicker than him, quickly maneuvering yourself into new conversations or inserting yourself into the conversations of others. 

You weren’t sure what Patrick so badly wanted to tell you anyway. Maybe taunt you about some new conquest he was with, or to beg you to come home with him after dinner. Unfortunately, the latter proposition didn’t sound all that bad. 

Other than your issue of avoiding conversation with Patrick, you were also facing another challenge: People trying to introduce the two of you to each other. You weren’t sure what it was that made people think that the two of you needed to meet so badly—from Patrick’s mom, who had been insisting for weeks that you meet her son, to a random cousin who happened to think that you’d like each other. You wished you could tell them that you’d already met each other, and that you’d magnificently crashed and burned. 

Briefly wanting to get away from the repetitive small talk and questions about if you’ve met the person you were in a messy situationship with, you found your way to a bathroom—but not without being followed in. 

“What the fuck?” you said immediately as the door behind you shut. 

“We need to talk,” Patrick said plainly, locking the door behind him. 

“Unlock that,” you demanded, not because you were all that afraid of your safety, but because you wanted a quick exit plan if he started to really piss you off. 

“Fine,” he conceded, unlocking the door. “But don’t act weird if someone walks in on us.”

“Walks in on us?” you laughed, parroting his words. “There won’t be anything to walk in on. I mean, you can’t seriously think I’m going to fuck you at a family dinner.”

You were about 95% sure of your words, but that other 5% was thinking about the logistics of getting your tight dress off in that small bathroom.

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you,” he explained.

“Then what are you here for?” you asked, confused about what else he could possibly want from you. 

“We need to get our story straight. I can’t have a repeat of that conversation with my mom.”

“Why does it matter? I’ll just stay away from you for the rest of the night. I’ll expect you to do the same, then there won’t be any issues.”

“That won’t work. Have you seen the seating chart for tonight?”

“Seating chart?” you scoffed. It seemed ridiculous, but it made sense. For people rich enough to create and fund scholarships, it made sense that a large dinner for friends and family members would come equipped with a seating chart. Besides, you were sure there were people with dietary restrictions in your midst. “How would I have known there was a seating chart, let alone look at it ahead of time?”

“Well, a little spoiler: you and I are sitting next to each other.”

“What the hell? Who did that?” 

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like this is my fault.” Now that he mentioned it, you were currently glaring at Patrick. “It must’ve been my mom. I swear she’s been telling everyone that you and I need to get together. Everyone’s been telling me all night that we need to meet.”

“God, I thought it was just me. Is this a family of matchmakers or something? Or are they trying to help you out with your fear of commitment?”

“I don’t have- can you just focus instead of trying to be funny? We’re gonna be next to each other all night and people are going to be asking us questions. So what are we going to tell them?”

“You don’t want to tell them about you leading me on for months?” you asked innocently, not trying very hard to hide the contempt behind your words. 

“No, you’re right,” Patrick agreed with you, fake thoughtfulness in his tone. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should tell them about the love spell you paid some Etsy witch to put on me.”

You instantly felt your cheeks warm at the mention of such an embarrassing action.

“That was a joke and you know it.” It wasn’t a joke. It was a dark period of time for you. “So what do you suggest we tell them?”

“That we’re just friends,” he said simply. 

“They aren’t gonna be suspicious that you’ve never brought me up before?” you probed, part of you wondering the logic behind his decision, and the other part of you wondering if he’d ever brought you, his situationship, up to his friends or family. 

“Doubt it,” he dismissed with ease.

You were only a little disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So what’s the story?”

“That we met when I was visiting Stanford.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Just leave it at that. We met once or twice through mutual friends,” he directed. 

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you look really hot tonight,” he said, biting his lip and unabashedly checking you out. 

“Okay. Goodbye,” you didn’t bother humoring him, though his words did satisfy you. You left the bathroom and didn’t spare a glance back, even as you heard him leave a few minutes later. 

After the torture that was socializing with people whose sole purpose seemed to be setting you up with your ex fling, you’d all been summoned to sit down for dinner. Just as Patrick warned you, you sat down at a seat that was directly next to him. You wished you could switch seats with someone else, putting their nameplate next to him and hoping that no one would be any wiser, but you couldn’t see a world where that would work out for you.

Eventually, Patrick sat down next to you, clearly trying his best not to look at you too closely, lest someone catch on to the fact that you two knew each other. 

You did your best to be a fly on the wall in the conversation that the people around you were having. You poked around at your salad and wondered if you focused hard enough on the leaves, if you’d be able to disappear. 

“So, have you two had the chance to meet?” someone asked from across the table, directing the question to you and Patrick. Clearly, your plan of disappearing hadn’t worked out after all.

“Yeah! We actually know each other already,” you explained, directing a friendly smile towards whatever cousin or family friend you were speaking to. Clearly, Patrick didn’t trust your answering abilities, as he butt into the conversation before you could finish speaking.

“We have some mutual friends, so we’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Patrick clarified, attempting to give more context to your relationship. Technically, it was true. While you weren’t necessarily friends with the man who inadvertently set you up, you’d been invited to a party being hosted by some tennis player in your accounting class who played with Patrick at some point, and met at that very event. 

Despite the many partygoers, Patrick seemed instantly drawn to you, or at least, was instantly attracted to you, based on the way that he openly checked you out as he approached you. Normally, that kind of thing would make you roll your eyes and walk away, but you’d been intrigued by his looks and his shameless demeanor. If only you could go back in time to tell yourself to roll your eyes and walk away. 

“But we don’t know each other very well,” you added. That, you firmly believed was true. Patrick may have known what position made you cum quickest, but he didn’t know a thing that actually mattered about you. He probably couldn’t even tell you what your major was. 

“What a coincidence you ended up here, then,” the other man, whose name you couldn’t remember, commented. “Did Patrick help you get the scholarship?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too offended, though you very much were. You tried to remind yourself that saying the wrong thing could cost you your entire higher education, and ended up laughing off the very rude allegation. “It’s really just a funny coincidence.”

To your surprise, Patrick jumped to your defense. “Unlike you and your seat on the board, there’s no nepotism here. We met long after she already got the scholarship, which she earned. She’s one of the most dedicated students I know.”

His words surprised you. The argumentative ones calling out his relative, not so much, but you were a little impressed by the way that he stood firm on the fact that you were a good student. Sure, he witnessed you studying for midterms in your dorm room every now and then—even if at the time he’d been trying to distract you from your work to get some attention—and now that you were thinking about it, he did bring you flowers after he found out you’d made it onto the Dean’s List. 

Maybe Patrick hadn’t been all that bad of a… you didn’t even know what, after all. But that was certainly a thought you were only entertaining due to his sweet behavior he was currently exhibiting. The fact that you were a whole year out from your entanglement and still couldn’t define what the hell happened between the two of you was a testament to how much of a mess your relationship was. 

“Not that you know too many students,” his relative laughed in that stuck-up rich person's laugh they all seemed to have. You tried to ignore how you were already getting caught in family politics, getting your academic ability called into question in the crossfire of an easy insult Patrick dealt to his family member. “Pat’s too busy going around the world hitting balls. How’s that going, by the way?”

From what you’d observed in your own efforts to see what he was up to, they weren’t going great. Notably, after you’d cut things off with him, his performance decreased significantly. 

“It’s going well,” Patrick said with false confidence that you saw right through. If you could see right through it, you were sure that his family members were able to do the same. A brief glance at the woman in front of you who was clearly attempting to suppress a laugh confirmed this for you immediately. 

It was almost a little pathetic to see, watching Patrick lie so obviously to an audience that couldn’t even pretend to believe him. Seeing how he stepped in to help you out, it was only fair that you did the same for him. Even if he hadn’t done so, you were starting to become embarrassed for him.

“Have you been to any of his matches recently?” you asked, interrupting their mockery of Patrick. “He did a really great job at the French Open. I mean, even making it to the French Open is really impressive.”

Not that you’d been at any of the matches, but you occasionally Googled his name to see what he was up to. Even more occasionally, you turned on ESPN to see if you could catch any footage of him playing. But it wasn’t like you even really cared. 

Okay. You cared a little bit. 

Most of the time, you were rooting for him to fail, as is the right of all bitter exes. But now was not the time for you to share that information. Not when Patrick was looking at you like you were crazy, and his family members were eyeing you suspiciously. 

That was when you remembered that the two of you weren’t supposed to know each other very well. You instantly tried your best to cover up your tracks. “But I don’t know a lot about tennis, that’s just what our friend told me.” Considering that you hadn’t spoken to Art since Accounting 223 ended, he did not actually share this information with you.

“Huh. Do you guys talk about Patrick a lot?” you were trying your best not to fold under the skeptical look she was giving you. 

“Only when he’s doing something cool. Which isn’t very often,” it was a good save, which left the rest of the table laughing at your little dig at Patrick. You were starting to understand his family dynamic a little more, and it didn’t exactly seem like a pleasant one. 

You could practically feel his betrayed gaze searing into you, but you did your best to ignore it. You were already feeling guilt gnaw into you about hanging him back out to dry with a family who already liked to pick on him. 

“You know, that actually reminds me. You said you don’t know much about tennis, but I remember seeing you play a little bit. How’s that going?” Patrick asked you, his question obviously trying to reveal something embarrassing about you. You instantly felt the blood drain from your face at the mention of your attempt to play the sport.

Your brief stint with tennis was mainly born out of your desire to see Patrick more often. After your run-in at his friend’s party, you were determined to put yourself in the type of situations that would allow you to ‘accidentally’ run into Patrick. 

You started off simple, going to the tennis matches for Stanford’s men’s team, hoping that Patrick would eventually show up in the stands to support his friend. Despite your incessant searching of the stands, you were never able to find Patrick amongst the crowd of students, fans, and supportive family members. 

Never one to give up easily, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Maybe if you were a little sportier, Patrick would take an interest in you, reaching out to you so you wouldn’t ever have to make the first move. You spent the evening perusing sporting goods stores with your roommate, putting cute tennis outfits and equipment that you couldn’t really afford on a credit card. 

The next morning, the two of you got up bright and early to hit the tennis courts before anyone else arrived. The game seemed simple enough, but proved to be far more difficult than either of you anticipated. After half an hour of attempting to play with frankly awful technique, you decided to call it quits and do a photoshoot instead. 

Feeling satisfied with pictures that featured your best angles and the slightest hint of breeze blowing up your skirt, you decided to post your photos on social media with a caption about how much you loved tennis. That was sure to get Patrick’s attention.

Just as you’d suspected, not long after you posted, you received a message from Patrick, casually asking about how things were going with you. Your faux interest in tennis had been promptly abandoned. 

Surprised at the fact that Patrick was bringing up your very blatant bait of him, you were caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I was never really super into it,” you attempted to dismiss.

“That’s news to me,” he chuckled. “I swear, you told me about how you were super into tennis. Was that just a phase, or…?”

He eyed you mischievously, clearly challenging you to a match of whatever mind game it was that he wanted to play with you. Unluckily for him, you were in the mood to play–and win.

“Something like that. I guess I just figured out that tennis really wasn’t for me. But you know, college is a time to try out new things. See what you like, what you don’t like. And man, I really didn’t like tennis.”

Obviously, you weren’t talking just about tennis. You hoped that Patrick was able to catch onto the not-so-subtle subtext. 

“I don’t know, I thought you liked tennis a lot. Thought it was good for you,” Patrick commented casually, going back to his food before looking back at you.

“It was surprisingly pretty toxic,” you replied easily.

“Are you sure you didn’t share a part in that toxicity? With a sport like tennis, you really get out what you put in.”

“Sure, but I didn’t put in nearly as much toxicity as I was getting from it.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Patrick murmured. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means that you think you’re so guiltless, but you played a bigger role in… tennis not working out than you’re acting like you did.”

“Please, enlighten me on how I could’ve made tennis work out better for me.”

“I just think maybe you’re being a little too hard on tennis in comparison to what really happened.”

“Just because you have a nice racket and a little more experience than me doesn’t mean you’re an expert on how bad things were for me. Seriously, Patrick. You actually don’t have a clue about what I was going through.”

“Are you guys still talking about tennis?” someone asked with a forced laugh, breaking the thick tension at the table. There was a stiff, awkward chuckle from your fellow dinner companions. It was almost as if you’d forgotten that you were at his family’s dinner, bitterly arguing with Patrick in loosely coded language. You should have the shame to feel embarrassed, but you mostly felt agitated with Patrick. 

“Obviously,” Patrick replied. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously,” they said stiffly. “So like, are you sure you two don’t know each other that well?”

“We really don’t,” you quickly replied.

“Why would we lie about that?” Patrick said, your voices overlapping.

As if arguing about something that was very obviously a metaphor for your relationship wasn’t suspicious enough, this reaction certainly didn’t help your case. It was ridiculous to attempt to keep up this façade when it was becoming more and more clear to anyone at the table with eyes to see and ears to hear that you two were more than casual, mutual friends.

“Actually, we did lie. We were friends for a little while,” you confessed.

“Friends?” Patrick parroted with a scoff. He looked at you with disbelief before shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he announced before standing up and walking off from the table.

The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, which you took as your cue to follow Patrick to wherever he was sulking off to. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

The two of you said nothing as you followed Patrick out to his back patio. The fresh, cold air felt nice after a suffocating, stressful evening. As Patrick sat down on a piece of comfortable furniture, you wordlessly sat across from him.

“Just go. Back inside, back home, I don’t give a shit. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Clearly you do,” you replied, watching him dig in his pocket for a cigarette to no avail. He finally found a loose cigarette and brought it to his lips, ignoring you as he lit it up. 

“Don’t blow it in my face,” you warned him, though you wouldn’t mind taking a drag or two from it. 

“I won’t,” he replied, words muffled around the cigarette at his lips. 

The two of you sat in silence before he spoke once more. “Do you seriously feel like we were just friends?”

“Jesus,” you laughed at the question, unbelieving that Patrick would think all of your desperate acts to try to get him to commit to you could be interpreted as anything but romantic. “Of course we weren’t just friends. But you try describing what we had to someone who wasn’t a witness to the train wreck that was our relationship.”

“We were…” he trailed off as he thought about how to describe your relationship. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sure,” you replied, though you obviously disagreed with him. “You know, this is exactly why things didn’t work out. I wanted to be with you so badly and you refused to acknowledge that we had a connection any deeper than physical until it was convenient for you.”

“Did you expect me to spell out how I felt about you when I was showing you how I felt?” he asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

“Actually, yes. Clearly we were not on the same page about how we felt if you thought that you were being so obvious while I was over-analyzing every single word you’d ever said to me to try to figure out how you felt about me.”

“Are you serious? You were the one who was impossible to understand. One day you wanted me to take you out on a date and hold you in your little twin sized bed afterward, and the next you didn’t want to speak to me. How was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Patrick, you were doing the same thing to me! I was just so mad at you. Like, constantly. Even though I had feelings for you. My friends were always telling me I’m an idiot for letting you treat me that way, so obviously I tried to start pushing you away. But even with everything, I still really liked you, so I couldn’t fully stay away from you,” you explained, hoping that your disjointed words would make sense to him. 

It truly was a very complicated situation. Part of you wondered if you had communicated this earlier, if things might have ended differently for you. 

Patrick seemed to be thinking deeply about your words before he spoke again. “Do you ever still think about me?”

You had two options for approaching his question. You could lie, like you hadn’t made it abundantly clear earlier that you still, at the very least, pay attention to his tennis career, or you could tell the truth and risk having your feelings hurt again. 

“Sometimes,” you confessed, going with the latter. “I’m mostly still really annoyed with the way you treated me, and the fact that I let you treat me that way. But sometimes I miss you, anyway.”

“Then let’s do things differently this time,” he proposed as if it was the best and brightest idea he’d ever had. “I miss you, too. It shouldn’t have taken us breaking up for me to realize how much I need you in my life, but it did.”

“What are you saying, Patrick?” you asked, trying to make sure that you fully understood his proposition. Was he trying to get you back?

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he spelled out for you. “I want to treat you better than I ever did before. I’ve thought about everything that went down between us, and I think that we can make it work this time if we just try to be honest with each other. What do you think?”

You were shocked at the offer. If someone had told you going into this dinner that you would end it with your former situationship asking you to be with him, you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, his proposition, and the fact that you wanted to say yes, didn’t exactly feel like a laughing matter.

You paused as you stopped to consider your options. Your gut instinct was to say yes—you’d wanted him for so long, and he clearly wasn’t over you. You obviously had some things you needed to work through before you really made this relationship work, but the feelings were there. The more logical part of your brain was telling you to say no—Patrick had hurt you so many times before, that there was no telling if he would hurt you again. 

“Sure. Let’s try it,” you said, ignoring all of the logic in your head and fully following where the passion in your heart wanted to take you. 

You couldn’t be sure if this would end in another heartbreak for you, but you weren’t so sure that you cared either.

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[bedoballoons]

I’m back

I’m not sure if you write wlw or nblw/gnlw or anything like that but hear me out

anyway I was thinking, imagine the (fem! Or gn!) mechanic reader (yes my genshin self insert is a mechanic and I’m delulu) with lyney or Furina, or any other characters you wanna add if you want (idk how this works). Where the characters keep breaking things on purpose just so that the reader can come over and fix it and so they get to see reader. The reader catches on and teases the character. (You can make it lead to nfsw or not if you want ;) )

also I’ll give myself an emoji so here’s mine

-💫

I do any forms of relationships as long as they aren't incest or pedophilia! I absolutely love this idea!! I think it's super cute so I hope you don't mind but I decided to make it fluffy!! Enjoy and thank you for requesting <3

P.s Can I call you the starstruck anon?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Just one more thing before you go~༺}

CW: Super sweet fluff! Reader works as a mechanic and the characters keep calling them up to fix things so they can spend time with them!

(Includes: Lyney, Navia, and Furina!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney kneeled down beside you, trying his best not to get in your way as you worked on the latest broken thing in his home...he just couldn't help it. Whenever he was near you it was like his heart decided to do its own performance, beating faster and skipping whenever your eyes landed on him...because of this sometimes the simple machinery he used in his home...would mysteriously end up not working, "So how goes the fixing hmm? My apologies for having to call you out here again, usually I'd just have Freminet take a look but he's currently busy"

"Seems to me like someone's intentionally sabotaging your heater...they even left the screwdriver inside of it." You turned to him with a sly smirk playing on your features, holding the screwdriver up to him so he could read Freminets name from it. The blush that followed was so adorable you couldn't help but tease him a little, "If you wanted me to spend time with you Lyney, you could have just asked~"

𑁍༄Navia:

"I truly cannot thank you enough for coming to my rescue again. It seems every time you leave the Spina di Rosula has yet another problem to fix...of course it's not particularly a bad thing because I enjoy your company immensely." The beautiful blonde chuckled nervously, trying to get ahold of herself before she ended up confessing her feelings to you, she was honestly shocked she hadn't yet..

"I'm always here whenever you need me Navia, it's definitely not a bad thing for me. I get to hang out with a goregous woman and get VIP treatment from the Spina."

"You're always welcome to anything here at-...I'm sorry did you just call me goregous?"

"Well...I figured since you're always bringing me here to fix things you've clearly sabotaged, it's only fair a make a little advancement myself.~"

The poor girl's face heated up, you'd figured it out? How long had you known?! "I- oh my..."

𑁍༄Furina:

"I truthfully have no idea how anyone expects a archon to live under such conditions, every time I go to use something it's no longer working. If I didn't have you'd I'd surely have left this place for something better by now." Furina talked away while you worked, trying to act as normally abnormal as ever...even though inside her emotions were on a rampage. If only you knew she wanted so desperately to play the part of your lover more than any other role, she'd even sabotaged her own residence so she could see you more often.

"I actually believe I've found a solution to keep things from breaking...if the archon so wished to hear it."

She went dead silent, unable to fathom how you could possibly stop anything in her house from breaking, "The archon wishes to, even someone with my divinity can't even think how a simple human could make something no longer able to break, I'd love to see what maniac idea you've come up with."

"Its actually very easy, all I have to do is ask if you'd like to go out sometime. Then we could spend time together without you needing to break things~"

"I-i what on earth are you talking about? I wouldn't break something just to spend time with someone, I am a archon with a busy life. I don't have the time for such nons-"

"Lady Furina..."

"Yes?"

"You left your glove in the pipe."

"..."

"May I take you out on a date?"

"...yes you may..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[popponn]

sick day safe distance.

summary: you caught a cold and really doesn’t want him to also get sick. it’s that simple, actually.

notes: was tempted to add more, but yeah one day, maybe. this is me trying to pump myself up and trying to grasp sae more for an upcoming fic. also warm up for a bit. still i hope it will be an enjoyable read, as simple and unserious it is haha. warning: none, just mentions of colds symptoms here and there. fluff, clingy slash affectionate bfs, reader's gender unspecified.

character: nagi, sae, isagi.

nagi seishiro

this guy somehow turns even more similar to his favorite chat sticker. just a bit more fluffy, and bigger, and with grubby hands. put simply, nagi is pretty troublesome because he insists on still being close to you. he really doesn’t see a point in keeping his distance since he still lives under the same roof as you—which doesn’t mean you could go somewhere else though. he is not above actually hanging on your hip. don’t test him.

in a way, you will be lucky if he must go out for practice. but if he is not, then good luck. if before you sleep, he was sitting a few meters away from you, the moment you took a nap nagi would be laying his head somewhere near or on you while playing his game. pray for your debate skill, because you really need to convince him that ‘getting sick is even more troublesome than not cuddling with you for a while. yes even when that’s what he really wants.’ also a little tip, be strong and don’t look at his baby face too much. that’s a losing fight with a natural puppy face. and if you want to take a bet, use his hoodie as your sick attire. it will either satiate whatever it is in him or worsen it.

he is a bit childish and adamant when he is clingy. even when he is not in the clingiest mood, that wouldn’t necessarily mean his concern for you would be gone immediately. every hour or so, you will definitely see a nagi peeking at you, asking if you want anything because ‘if you got worse it would be even more troublesome’. and honestly just let him do anything he wants to take care of you—this guy will be okay in the kitchen and in anything even if it’s his first time. that’s the resident giant sloth doing something for you out of his own willingness. plus if worst comes to worst, hey, maybe adrenaline could be an instant cure.

itoshi sae

sae makes a face that indicates he is a little upset, hums, and then actually says he will stay somewhere else for a while. he reacts so gracefully and normally it’s kind of cold. but then again, this is sae and his personality. just because he seems unaffected and puts you somewhere pretty low on his priority list, it doesn’t mean that is how it truly is. and if you are trained to translate sae-speak through experiences and are already used to him, it’s kind of obvious, from his actions especially.

it’s obvious in the way he leaves you messages and voice notes. and in the way he insults you when you try to do something dumb or eat something that you shouldn’t. in the way he sends you food and reminds you to drink every hour he can—and if he has to practice, he will find someone to do that task through sheer deadpan alone. also in the way he keeps the call on until you sleep every night—saying that this is to make sure you won’t infect his part of bed, which is a lie. if you show him that you miss him by cuddling his side of bed this guy will short-circuit, in a very positive way.

also, since this is sae with his terrible case of ‘showing he actually cares’, most of the proof of him being genuinely upset from being away from you will come from others. in the form of complaints. all telling you to get better soon because he got extra grumpy and blunt in his wording as if he is on a vengeance quest. and even if his play got better somehow, help his teammates because they really are not here to deal with a boyfriend who has love deficiency or some bullshit. of course, you hardly believe them because in every video call, sae acts like it's nothing. still, go do loving gestures in your temporary long-distance relationship. some people will actually owe you for that. also don’t forget to at least give him an update if he somehow couldn’t contact you. just in case.

isagi yoichi

isagi takes it with a grimace and an understanding sigh that truthfully still sounds very exasperated, but accepting nonetheless. he will still whine a little though, in a very joking and light manner. this guy’s schedule is packed and he rarely has any time with you, so of course if any chance he should have gotten sabotaged by some random flu, it’s entirely within his right to get at least a little upset. so understandably, his priority as an egoist who really wants some loving would be to get you healthy again as soon as possible. also, maybe, that part of him that takes care of people so naturally kind of screeches when you cough roughly.

the sweetest part is probably how he will still find a way to take care of you no matter what his schedule is. what isagi wants, isagi will get somehow after all. it’s his break day? you are not leaving his sight and he will watch the old matches from your side—also he is wearing a face mask so don’t bother to shoo him away. if he has training? maybe you have to walk around a little bit by yourself still, but somehow everything from food to medicines is ready. his friends ask him to hang out? this one is a straight-out pass, his baby is sick.

this is the guy who will try to cook porridge for you while calling his mom in the process and sends a longing gaze when you keep a distance between the two of you. he won’t protest and will actually do his best. remember to walk around the neighborhood with him the moment you get better. also give him as many handholds, hugs, kisses, and praises as possible. actually, go do a headstart on the praise if possible. even if he scolds you to rest instead of giving him sugary words, the soft dotting look on his face can’t lie. just make sure to not suggest sleeping in the hotel or have him stay at someone’s though—trust this guy and his self-centeredness. when he really wants to stay with you and stay healthy for his career, he will. don’t doubt him or make enemies of the protagonist.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

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

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

[sundayswife]

A gamble.

Aventurine x afab! Reader (No specific pronouns.)

Tags: Mdni!! Smut, Slight praise, unprotected sex(please use a darn condom), doggy style, fingering, squirting, soft sex?, character might be OOC, porn w/ plot, I guess?

A/n: Heyy, finally finished this fanfic. I hope I did okay at writing Aventurine's character, anyways enjoy!

°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°

One scarlet night, you and Aventurine had chose to have a small game of cards. Nothing too special, if one loses, they would have to do anything the winner says. Very simple.

Even though, gambling and playing a cards with Aventurine was an risk. He was a good gambler after all, major luck on his side while he does so. Which makes your stomach twist and turn nervously.

One would think other wise if you'd say that your not nervous. Cmon, what's the chances of winning against someone as good as him? Though, there's always a way, but this is all about chance.

You huff as you looked at your cards, having a terrible hand. Again, you wondered if Aventurine was cheating. But he couldn't have been, you watched him shuffle the deck of cards a few good times already.

You tossed your cards down, only a sense of hope that he would somehow was a lower hand. But no, he hand a much higher hand and smirked. Before pushing the pile of chips towards himself, leaning his cheek and his hand as his elbow rests on the table. A cheeky smile plastered on his lips.

"Losing again are we now? I might say, your pretty bad at this." He teased, his violet irises meeting yours as his eyes narrow slightly. As if he was challenging you to continue, and finally lose the bet against him either way.

A frown spreads across yours lips as your slowly realized that you had no more chip to bet off. A sigh comes out quietly from you, before you close your eyes in defeat. "I have no more to bet on more of, the winner of this bet goes to you... Aventurine."

You grumbled slightly in annoyance, knowing anyways that you were going to lose one way or the other. You crossed your arms over your chest, opening your eyes once more as you meet gaze with his eyes.

That slyful smirk on his face was frustrating you, always so cocky with his smiles, you hated by how much it made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

"So... you chose defeat you say? Hm, I was hoping to have a.. longer game with you. But oh well, I'm fine with this either way." Aventurine shrugged, before flashing you with a wider grin. If that was even possible...

"Hm, anything I want... And you would do as I say?" He asked, his eyes wondering over your body. Obviously checking you out, having some ideas in mind. But not voicing them out justtt— yet.

You nodded your head in such defeat, you didn't wanted to bail down so fast. But at the same time, you didn't want to go into a dept that you very much didn't need at this very moment.

All aventurine did was kept that smirk on his face before opening his mouth. "Where's that pretty little voice now? Cmon... let me here you say yes, if not then we'll simply just continue the game without the little bet." Aventurine he said with a smug smile, though, his tone was as soft as a feather.

"Yes, that was the bet... the loser would have to do anything the winner says. And, I'm okay with that." You mumbled out, though still remaining eye contact with him either way.

Aventurine nods, hearing your verbal consent. That was all he needed before you asked you, for such favors... but he was silently happy that you trusted him.

"All right then, can you please come over here? Hm?" He questioned, with a tone filled with lust to the brim. But also with a touch of passion. He pats his thigh, singling for your to come and sit on his lap.

You felt heat raise to your cheeks, but you brushed it off and walked over towards him. Nervously. You gulp down the saliva that was building up in your mouth, before taking a seat in Aventurine's lap.

Shivers going up your spine as he wraps an arm around your waist. Holding you in place on his lap comfortably. "No need to be nervous sweetheart, I won't bite... I promise." He whispered into your ear, before placing his face into your neck. Taking a nice wiff of your scent, making himself melt just from the smell and weight from you.

"Hm, you smell delightful gem..." Aventurine mumbled out before wrapping his other arm around your waist. Enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

You then melt into his gentle touch, it calmed down your nerves as you hugged back. Enjoying his embrace as well, that was until you felt something poking your butt.

You knew what it was, it was obviously Aventurine's hardening cock. You let out a small chuckle before grinding your hips. Softly creating friction between your ass and his clothed dick

He groans out as his hands wandered down, gripping your hips firmly. As he tries to suppress desperate moans, already egar to feel you.

"Not feeling so shy are we now? Hmph... fuck, need you so badly." Aventurine mumbled out desperately, his hands helping your hips to grind back and forth. Both of you liking the small friction being created, but then, you liked how he wasn't just flat out controlling on what you want to do. Letting you have the freedom to pleasure yourself too.

You grip onto his shoulders for support as you hump against his hard on. All you could let out was soft whines and pants, from the nice feeling of grinding your clothed cunt against his clothed cock.

Aventurine let's out soft groans, and he's a type a guy to not hold back his sounds of pleasure. His lips press soft kisses against your neck, before sucking on the skin. Creating a hickie.

His left hand wanders up and cups your tit gently, foundling with it as his thumb brushes against your hardened nipple. Making you let out a sigh of pleasure, yes, it was like a slow burn. But it felt amazing by his hands.

"Hmm, can I take this shirt off of you? Please?" He asked, his right hand on the hem of your shirt as he waits for reply.

"Yes, Aventurine.." You replied with a small whine, which causes Aventurine to have a shiver go up his spine. They way you spoke his name in that honey tone, Aeons he needed you so badly.

Aventurine leans back a bit, before he takes the bottom of your shirt and pulls it up. Not too long before it's on the floor and he's kissing all over your neck. Mumbling how your doing so good for him, 'such a good gem.' He would say as he kisses down your collarbone.

His hands would wander around your body softly, but firm. He would then start nibbling at your neck, becoming a lil rough, but not too rough to make you uncomfortable.

Your hips would twitch as he slide his hands to your pants, waiting for you to say no or to stop him just in case. Only for you to whine for him to continue, which causes him to smirk.

Pulling your pants along with your underwear, you then kick the extra clothes off of your ankle. Letting out a small gasp as Aventurine's right hand came down further down. Cupping your cunny softly before his middle and ring finger found your bundle of nerves.

Aventurine started to rub small and slow circles on your clit, teasing you as your hips buckled up from the sweet but so, so far away pleasure. Just wanting more, he was treating you so nicely. And now he's teasing? And still clothed? Unfair.

He let out a chuckle before speaking out. "My, my... you are so wet my dear. All of this because of me?" He teased, before picking the pace, rubbing circles on your clit faster. Which causes you to wail out a moan.

You've always hated for when he teased, but you also loved it. Your thighs become shaky as you felt the knot in your stomach blooming more.

"How about you be a good little gem and cum for me, hm? You can do that right?" He would tease, while rubbing faster circles on your poor clit.

You felt like your were about to burst. That knot in your stomach becoming looser and looser, before it hit you.

"Ah—! Aventurine— I'm gonna...!"

You wailed out as you came on his fingers, gushing all over his trousers and your thighs. It felt so good that you were seeing stars.

"Holy fuck..." Aventurine whispered out as he continued to rub at your clit, but gently so you could ride out your oragsm.

"Looks like I got myself a squirter... heh," he teased as his fingers slowly came to a stop. A wide smirk across his lips as he looked down at your panting form.

°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°

"Fuck... you feel so good." Aventurine groaned out, while he pushed himself slowly into your cunt.

You were no longer in his lap, and now was bent over the table. The cards you two were playing with were now all scrabled everywhere.

Neither of you cared though, only wanting the sweet pleasure of sex. Feeling him slip into your pussy perfectly, you squirting earlier helped out with him sinking his cock into you.

Both of you sigh out in pleasure as Aventurine finally bottoms out inside of you. His head resting against your shoulder as he waits for you to fully adjust to him.

He wasn't grithy, but he was long. Probably about 6 inches or 6 in a half inches long. At least.

"You can move now..."

You mumbled out softly, your hips twitching with need.

Aventurine nods before placing his hands firmly on your hips and lifting his upper body up from your back.

Pulling out a little before slamming his hips back, causing both of you to moan out in the pleasure forming between you two.

"Fuuck, you are so tight my gem stone..." He murmurs out along with a grunt, his cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls.

All you could do was moan and drool by how much pleasure he was giving you. Aventurine's cock was literally felt like it was perfect for you.

You wail out as you felt his tip brush gracefully against your g-spot, hitting it sooo sweetly it made your toes curl.

"R–right there! Fuck! Mmm,"

You moaned out as your back arches from the pure bliss you were feeling, tears swelling in your eyes from the way he hit your cervix so perfectly.

The room was filled with plaps as skin hit one against another, as well as the sounds of your cunt gushing around his cock. And finally both yours and his moans would fill up the room as well.

"So good f'me, ah– ugh fuck! You feel so good." Aventurine praised as his hips picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours.

His cock now rubbing against your sweet spot everytimes he re-enters into your body. At this point, you were fucked dumb. It's felt all too good that you couldn't think straight anymore.

His grunts were growing louder as his pace became more punishing, hips and pelvis slamming right up against your ass.

Everything was a wild blur, you couldn't think straight as Aventurine's cock rubbed against your soft walls. Over, and over again.

You were taking him so well, that his mind was driving up the wall. Thrusts becoming sloppy as he felt you clench around his grith.

"Cum for me,"

Aventurine grunted, wanting you to cum before he did. Wanting to satisfy you first before he came.

Your eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as you creamed around him. Cumming around him as he hisses at the squeeze.

Sloppy thrusts continue, desperately going faster as you whine out at the overstimulation.

"Ugh, gonna cum— fuck!"

He groaned out before you felt hot, gooey substance fill your insides up. Nice and full of it.

His hips still against yours as he pants out, making sure you take it all. All of his seed before he pulls out from your warn pussy.

"Did so good f'me, good gem..."

He whispered into your ear before your eyes closed, going into a blissful sleep after the turn of events...

°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°

A/n: Hey!! I just wanted to say that this might be out of character for Aventurine but I tried. Hope you guys enjoyed!! Stay safe and reblogs are appreciated.

[dawndelion-winery]

For Worse or For Better

Arranged Marriages

Ft. Diluc, Itto, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli

Diluc:

Your parents were wonderfully close to Crepus, so you knew Diluc from young

He'd always been well-mannered and lovely

That much didn't change even after his trauma

It did hurt when he started shutting you out though

And yes, you did try to call off the engagement that had been set up before Crepus died because you felt he wanted to distance himself from you

You'd only kept it to honour the man's wishes and because Diluc seemed adamant about you

Like, he actually said he would not have anyone else

Not that he pressured you into it though

More of letting you know you didn't have to end it because he most definitely did want you

"Make no mistake, you will be the only person I recite my vows to at the altar. If you long for another, then so be it, but if you want me, then it shall be so."

Itto:

How did this happen?

No, like, fr, how??? Itto doesn't seem like the type to have any thoughts for social climbing and you...well what do you gain from marrying Itto?

Apparently your mother had heard Kujou Sara speak highly of Kuki Shinobu, and since Shinobu worked for Itto, surely he must be a man of even greater talent and character

Now you were having dinner with an extremely boisterous man who ate for three

By the shogun you hoped the bill wouldn't amount to too much

When he suggested a dine and dash? Boy, you were about to just walk right into a cell yourself

It was truly some grace of God that Shinobu came by with Sara and covered your tab (only for you, they made sure to tell Itto off for putting you in such a situation)

"Real sorry about that, honey," the oni said sheepishly. You wanted to hmgive him a piece of your mind, really, when you were certain you'd never hear the end of it at home of you'd gotten a criminal record, but when he slipped his hand in yours, a sheepish grin as he looked at you hopefully, as though pleasing for forgiveness, you found it rather difficult to stay mad.

Childe:

People would kill to be you

The dashing young harbinger?? Who's great with kids??? And very much a family man????

There was only one issue: he hadn't met you yet

His family had written to him about you, eagerly telling him how they were sure they'd found him the perfect match

And he wasn't about to shoot them down when they were so hopeful he'd finally have someone when he was travelling and doing the Fatui's dirty work all the time

So when they'd warmly welcomed you into their home for a simple dinner, you hadn't expected to walk in and see a feast prepared with an empty seat beside yours

You waited for a bit with everyone, wondering who the extra seat was for

And when Childe walked in with a sack full of gifts for all his family members, you sat there awkwardly

Was it an endearing sight? Definitely. But you felt out of place as he pulled out one item after another for everyone

You were certain you wouldn't receive anything, hence the surprise when he sat beside you and handed you a small box

"A little engagement gift for you," he winked. Your mouth hung open, thoughts racing through your mind full of things you wanted to say but weren't sure how - especially not in front of such a crowd, all of whom aww'ed at his gesture. It was after dinner when you'd gotten him alone in the kitchen washing the dishes that you addressed it.

"Engaged? We've only just met Tartaglia."

He tsked at you, playfully leaning in as though he was going to kiss your cheek. When you froze, he grinned by your ear.

"My whole family likes you well enough, and from everything they've told me, I like you well enough too. But if you insist, ice a week before I have to head off. I'm sure I could sweep you off your feet by then, unless you'd like to come with."

Kaeya:

Oh you thought you got lucky when your childhood betrothed grew up to be the charming cavalry captain

Until you realised that charm would never be extended to you because he was just a goofball with you

It was cute though, him picking flower petals with you to determine how your relationship will go

He had a habit of leaving the plucked flower and its final petal with the result on your pillow

(it was always "forever in love" because if it wasn't, he'd just pluck another flower)

You sighed with a laugh at the familiar sight of the plucked flower when you felt arms around your waist as Kaeya embraced you from behind.

You wondered bitterly if there was something wrong between the two of you; you never had that flutter of butterflies in your gut when he was around. Not once did he make your heart leap out of your chest, or cause your lungs to constrict in a way you were sure would suffocate you. Was it a mistake? Yet it didn't feel wrong. There was a frost to his touch that cooled you, calmed you, and almost (most ironically) warmed you.

Zhongli:

Under no circumstances would you ever meet someone who quite commanded the respect and attention of those around him like Rex Lapis did

So when the hooded figure stood before the citizens who so worshiped him, some overly devoted follower enthusiastically proposed a raffle to offer the god a spouse to serve and dote upon him on behalf of the nation

Before he'd even had the chance to decline the offer, the crowd erupted in cheers of agreement, and the flustered god was ushered into a seat as eligible spouses presented themselves before him

You truly had not anticipated the glint that flashed across his eyes as he ever so slightly raised his hood to make eye contact with you

It had been less than a second, and yet all too long as your lungs failed you, the startling amber glow leaving you winded

"I quite like you," he drawled in a low, rumbling hum as he rose from his seat. You looked around, ascertaining that no one else had seen his face, but he didn't seem to like that, as he tilted your chin to have you look at him. Once again, you were faced with the startling gleam of his eyes, so reptilian and sharp. You screwed your eyes shut as he leaned in, the sunlight reflected off his canines. His lips were warm, surprisingly, as they pressed against your forehead.

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

[ifonlyitwasmidnight]

It had started as a joke.

I have a few characters in mind, but I'm curious about who you think fits.

MDNI 18+

Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated as always 🖤

CW/TW: SOMNOPHILIA! Dear god, please pay attention to that first one. There is explicit consent prior. Oral (m. & f. receiving).

It had started as a joke.  

A simple conversation had sitting amongst friends, laughing too loudly after dinner and drink that lingered, hanging in the shadows of his memory. 

You were leaning up against your boyfriend, your mind more than a little fuzzy from the number of drinks you had. Your boyfriend’s arm rested on the back of the booth you sat on, but his fingers teased up and down the side of your neck onto your shoulder. You could feel his smirk as he pressed a kiss to your temple before sipping heavily from his own drink. 

“But, no — guys, no. I’ve gotta,” one of your friends was cut off by the amount of laughter filling the room, “So, she asked me if I would fuck her while she was asleep. And I panicked! Is that a thing girls like?” Your friend's eyes widened as he looked around the group, settling on you and your boyfriend. You both shrugged.

“If she asked you, and it was consent, I would assume she likes it.” You laughed. 

Your best friend nodded, “It’s hot.” 

You hummed an agreement. 

That was all it took. A simple hum of acknowledgment that you thought someone taking advantage of you in your sleep was a turn-on. After that night, how many hours had he spent hard as a rock thinking about pushing himself between your thighs while you slept? He thought about what it would feel like to sink the leaking tip of his cock between your lips while you were on your back, spread out for him without even knowing. He’d fucked his own fist too many times to count at the image, coming hard enough each time that his knees would give out. 

He wanted it. 

He wanted to experience knowing you were so at ease being around him that the thought of him fucking you while you were asleep was okay. That you’d be willing to let him use your body like that. He leaned his head back and groaned loudly. He was painfully hard again, and you wouldn’t be home for another few hours. 

You could tell your boyfriend wanted to talk to you about something. Since you got home, you kept catching him staring at you, looking away before you could ask what he needed. When you finally got him to sit on the couch with you to watch a movie you both wanted to see, the whole couch shook from how hard he was bouncing his leg.

The TV clicking off snapped his attention to you. “I was watching that.”

“No, you weren’t,” you answered, facing him. “What’s going on, baby? You’ve been distracted since I got home.”

A blush quickly bloomed across his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. You sucked in a deep breath when he finally looked at you, pupils blown wide with lust. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was low as he crawled over you, forcing your back onto the couch. He dipped his head, snaking his tongue up the side of your neck. Your head was spinning. One second, you were watching a movie. The next, you were pinned under your very hard boyfriend with no heads up.

“Uh,” you tilted your head to the side, allowing him more access. “Yeah, yes. What do you need?” 

“‘Member the other night at dinner?” His voice was muffled against the skin of your neck. 

“We have a lot of dinners, handsome.” Your hands slowly explored his body, hooking into the loops of his jeans, pulling his hips forward to rut against yours, creating a delicious friction against your rapidly wetting cunt over your thin pajama shorts. 

He pulled one of your legs up and wrapped it around his waist. “When we were out, and we got to talking about fucking your girl while she’s asleep.”

You paused for a second, the fuzzy conversation and memories slowly coming back to you. The way you had been woken up a few times since that night with your boyfriend just looking at you, not in a weird way, but just more than normal. How you kept feeling his fingers against your thighs when you were on the precipice of awake and sleep. 

He watched your eyes widen when you put two and two together, realizing his direction in this conversation.  Your body was jostled as he sat back on the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

“We don’t—” he started, but you quickly stopped him with a hand over his mouth. A hint of confusion and embarrassment filtered into his honeyed eyes.

“Do you want to try that?” You always told your boyfriend you’d be willing to try most things once, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of waking up full of his cock wasn’t something you’d considered. 

He nodded slowly, kissing your fingers. 

“I need you to explain to me then, baby.” You felt his cock twitch under you at your words. “Want you to tell me while I suck your cock.” 

“Oh, fuck.” His eyes trailed you while you climbed off his lap and sank to the ground between his legs. You raised an eyebrow, popping open the button on his jeans, rubbing a hand over his inner thigh.

“Well?” He lifted his hips, allowing you to pull his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. He sucked in a hissing breath between his teeth at the first touch of the cool air. His tip was red, a bead of precum glistening, waiting to be licked. Your hand slid up to gently cup his balls, rolling them between your fingers. His cock bobbed as his lower abdomen flexed.

“Fuck, gorgeous. You’re gonna make me cum already,” he groaned. 

Your movements halted, and he whined, biting down hard on his fist. 

“You’re so needy,” you teased. 

His hips bucked into the air, seeking any kind of friction. The vein on the underside of his cock was pulsing, the rhythm of his heart fast and unrelenting. 

“Yeah, 'cause I’ve been sittin’ here for days thinkin’ ‘bout sticking my fat cock down your throat while you're asleep. Spreading my pre all over your lips. You try dealin’ with that shit.” He moaned your name loudly as your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, your tongue teasing at his slit.

Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, letting your spit fall through your lips and down his cock before squeezing him tightly with your hand, stroking him from tip to base. You hummed, encouraging him to keep going. 

“I lay down next to you at night just staring at your perfect ass,” his fingers tangled in your hair and gripped at the roots, forcing you down onto his cock. “I just wanna spread your thighs apart and work my cock into you, watching your face to see if you’re gonna wake up.”

You took him further into your mouth with each stroke. Your tongue swirled a circle around his tip each time you retreated. His hips slowly began to buck into your mouth, matching your pace and moving you further down on his cock until your nose was tickled by the trimmed hair at his pelvis.

“I wanna see you wake up screaming my name on my cock as you cum. Fu-fuck,” he stuttered. His hands tightened in your hair, and you looked up at him through your lashes, moaning as he held your head still and bucked into your hot mouth, taking control of your movements. You gagged around him slightly, and his eyes flared. 

It was already too much for him. The image of your sleeping figure taking his cock so well. You on your knees in front of him, indulging his little fantasy. His mouth was open, gasping for breath as he fucked your mouth. Your hands traveled down, one cupping his balls again, rolling them between your fingers perfectly as the other disappeared, and you dragged a finger across his perineurium, causing his body to hips to stutter again.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, “gon’ cum in your mouth. Want you to swallow and show me, ya?”

You moaned in agreement, and he swore loudly as he pushed your head down once more and held you there while spurt after spurt of hot cum shot down your throat. His ears rang as he held you there, head thrown back and eyes closed, trying to bring himself back to earth. 

A small tap at his thigh had him releasing your hair quickly, and you gasped down a breath, a smirk gracing your perfect fucking mouth. 

“Lemme see, baby,” he said weakly, “Fucking Christ.” He threw an arm over his eyes when you stuck your tongue out, and all his cum was gone. You were fucking perfect. 

“You have my consent to fuck me while I’m asleep, handsome.”

He could have come again just at your words.

Which is how he wound up here, weeks later, cock buried to the hilt in your soaked pussy, doing everything he could do to keep from waking you up. Your pussy was sucking him in, refusing to let him go as if even in your sleep, you knew that he was going to pump you full. You had been so spread out for him when he came home late from work, a blanket barely flung over your body, wearing one of his shirts and no panties. 

His mind thought of nothing but your sweet cunt at that moment. He could only think of how you tasted as he dipped his tongue in and out of your glistening hole, prepping you to take his thick cock.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room as his balls slapped against your ass with every thrust. His pelvis added the perfect amount of pressure that even your sleeping form sought him out, sucking him back in every time he pulled out. 

He muffled his moans with your tit in his mouth, sucking your nipple into a taught peak as his hips stuttered and lost their rhythm more than once. He kept having to shove his cock back into your hole, too caught up in the way your body felt under him, so pliant and welcoming, to keep himself straight. He didn't understand how you were still asleep.

The soft mewls and moans that escaped your lips urged him on, and he watched your face as it scrunched up and your walls began to flutter around him. Your hand grabbed his forearm as you slowly woke up, realizing that the pleasure being wrung from your body wasn’t just in a dream.  

“G’mornin baby,” your boyfriend whispered before slamming his hips into yours, unable to keep himself at his leisure pace any longer. 

You moaned as he rubbed at your clit, snapping the cord in your belly that had been growing while you slept, and you came on his cock, your pleasure leaking from your body as you did. All it took was a few sloppy thrusts for him to empty himself deep inside you. He pushed his lips against yours, and you hummed into the kiss.  

“Good morning to you too."

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

x HAWKS, Aizawa, Shinso, Bakugou, Grimmjow, Hanma, Kazutora, Chifuyu, Mikey, Kakashi.

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday, but the ending kept fist-fighting me. Oh well, here ya go!

[amethystarachnid]

CAFFEINE CHEMISTRY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: You were just ordering coffee in your favorite coffee shop, you couldn't imagine that the Tony Stark would bump into you and almost spilling his coffee on you. You couldn't imagine that he'd offer to buy you a coffee, or that he'd take you on a date, but he does. Love can be really strange sometimes.

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff, fluff and did I say fluff?

ᯓ★ AU: Coffee Shop

ᯓ★ Request: Coffee Shop AU with Tony? 😁😁😁 Tony and Reader bumping into each other at the Coffee Shop, they'll fall in love instantly, have coffee together, and share their first kiss in this very same Coffee Shop 😻 (@ts-rdj-reader)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the coffee shop, the scent of freshly brewed espresso instantly enveloping you in warmth. The early morning rush is still in full swing, the sound of soft chatter blending with the hum of the espresso machines. It’s your usual routine—order a cappuccino, find a quiet corner, and ease into the day with a good book or some light people-watching. Today, though, something feels different. There’s a buzz in the air, one you can’t quite place.

You step up to the counter, eyes scanning the familiar chalkboard menu. Just as you’re about to place your order, you feel someone brush past you—smooth, quick, and unintentional. A soft "Sorry," is muttered beside you, and you glance to your right to see the man responsible.

Your breath hitches.

There, standing beside you, is Tony Stark.

Yes, the Tony Stark. The billionaire, genius, and former Avenger, dressed in an effortlessly casual suit jacket and jeans, looking far too polished for a quaint little coffee shop like this. His tousled hair, just the right amount of disheveled, suggests he's in no rush despite the hurried world around him. His sharp brown eyes meet yours, and something crackles in the air—like electricity, only warmer.

For a second, you think he’s just going to move on, but then he doesn’t. His eyes linger on you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as intrigued as you are.

“Didn’t mean to steal your spot,” he says, voice smooth and rich, with just the faintest hint of amusement. “But since we’re here, what’s your go-to order? I could use some inspiration.”

Your brain fumbles to catch up. Is he seriously making small talk with me?

“Uh… cappuccino,” you manage to say, grateful you didn’t sound like a total idiot. “Simple, but classic.”

He tilts his head, considering your answer like it’s a revelation. “I like it. Straight to the point.”

He steps forward, leaning against the counter, but not before turning back to you with a wink. “Why don’t I buy that cappuccino for you? Call it an apology for nearly knocking you over.”

Your heart flutters. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I insist,” Tony grins, that signature charm radiating off him. “It’s not every day I almost spill coffee on a beautiful woman.”

The compliment lands softly, but it lingers. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, the combination of his smooth confidence and that irresistible smirk doing something to your senses. Is it the caffeine in the air, or is this moment actually happening?

“Okay,” you say, the word coming out breathless.

Minutes later, the two of you are sitting in a booth by the window, cups of coffee between you. The conversation is surprisingly easy—there’s no awkward small talk, no weirdness about the fact that he’s Tony Stark and you’re, well, you. His sharp wit is on full display, throwing quick jokes and playful jabs that make you laugh more than you expect.

“You come here often?” he asks, lifting his cup to his lips, his gaze intense yet casual, like he’s genuinely curious.

“I do,” you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s kind of my safe space. A little escape from… everything.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Everything, huh? Sounds like someone’s running from a supervillain.”

“More like running from emails and work deadlines,” you chuckle.

“Ah, the real enemies.” He gives a mock shudder. “I know the feeling. I’ll take fighting alien invasions over paperwork any day.”

You shake your head, unable to keep from smiling. “Must be tough, being Tony Stark and all.”

“You’d be surprised,” he quips, his tone softening. “It gets a little easier when you’ve got good company.”

For a moment, the air stills between you. It’s a simple exchange, but the way his eyes soften as he says it makes something in your chest tighten. You can feel the connection growing, a pull between you that you can’t quite explain but can’t deny.

It’s only been minutes, but with Tony, time seems to slow. Everything else fades—the noise, the people, the coffee shop—and it’s just you and him.

The conversation flows effortlessly, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not constantly checking your watch or thinking about the endless to-do list waiting for you. Instead, you’re entirely focused on Tony—his stories, his charm, the way he makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

You’ve only just finished your cappuccino when Tony glances at his watch. “Looks like I’ve got to run,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly thrilled about it. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek phone that practically screams Stark Technology, tapping the screen for a moment.

“Duty calls?” you ask, hiding the small pang of disappointment you feel at the thought of him leaving.

“Something like that,” he says with a small smirk, but then his gaze flickers back to yours, and his expression softens just a bit. “But I’m not disappearing completely.”

He pulls a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and grabs one of the napkins sitting on the table between you. His movements are quick and precise, scribbling something down with a casual ease, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

When he’s done, he slides the napkin across the table toward you.

“There,” he says, leaning back in his seat, looking at you with that same self-assured glint in his eye. “My number.”

You blink, looking down at the napkin where a string of digits sits, accompanied by his name in a scrawl that’s almost too perfect to be spontaneous. Tony Stark. You can't help but smile.

“Is this a habit of yours?” you tease, picking up the napkin between your fingers. “Giving your number to strangers in coffee shops?”

His grin widens, eyes crinkling at the edges in that effortlessly charming way that makes your pulse race. “Only the pretty ones,” he quips, without missing a beat. “Besides, I’m not in the habit of letting someone as intriguing as you walk away without leaving a way to keep in touch.”

The blush creeps up your cheeks again, and you’re not sure whether it’s the compliment or the easy confidence with which he says it. Either way, you’re not used to this kind of attention—at least not from someone like him.

“You sure about this?” you ask, half-joking, but the uncertainty lingers. “I mean, you’re Tony Stark. Don’t you have a million other things to do than hand out your number to random people?”

He stands up, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug, “but I always make time for the things that matter.” His tone softens, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of something more than the brash, confident persona he usually projects.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t quite come out fast enough. Before you know it, Tony’s slipping on his sunglasses, looking every bit the billionaire playboy you’ve seen splashed across countless magazine covers. He gives you one last, lingering look, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says, flashing that trademark smirk before turning to head for the door.

The bell above the entrance rings again as he leaves, and you sit there, staring at the napkin in your hand, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

Tony Stark just gave you his number.

A quiet laugh escapes you as you fold the napkin carefully, slipping it into your bag, the moment sinking in. The world around you slowly comes back into focus—the chatter of the coffee shop, the clinking of cups—but the entire space feels different now, as if it’s been infused with the lingering presence of something exciting and new.

Your fingers tap lightly on the table, a smile playing on your lips as you wonder: should you call him?

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you out of your thoughts. It’s a notification for another email, another reminder of the world you momentarily escaped. But today? Today, you feel like the rules have changed.

Glancing back toward the door where Tony disappeared, you can’t help but feel a tinge of excitement. It’s not every day that life throws you into the path of someone like Tony Stark, and it’s definitely not every day he leaves his number behind.

The sun has long since set by the time you find yourself back at your apartment, the warm glow of your bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. You’re freshly showered and cozily wrapped in your favorite pajamas, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as you settle into bed with your phone in hand.

All day, you’ve been replaying the coffee shop encounter in your head, Tony’s charming smile and sharp wit still lingering in your thoughts. And now, as you sit here in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t help but wonder about the napkin tucked safely into your bag.

Should I text him? It feels surreal—like something out of a daydream—but the longer you stare at the screen, the more you realize how much you want to hear from him again.

With a deep breath, you grab the napkin from your bag, the numbers now more familiar to you than they should be after only a few hours. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you finally type:

You: Hey Tony, it’s Y/N, from the coffee shop this morning. Hope this is the right number!

You hit send before you can overthink it, your heart beating just a little too fast as you watch the message fly off into the digital void. A nervous excitement simmers in your chest as you wait for a reply, wondering if maybe this was all too good to be true.

Barely a minute later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help but feel a small thrill as his name lights up your screen.

Tony: Y/N, glad you texted. Would’ve been a shame if I gave my number to the wrong beautiful woman.

You laugh quietly to yourself, the tension easing from your shoulders. Even through text, he’s as smooth as ever.

You: Good thing I double-checked it! I almost didn’t text… wasn’t sure if I’d end up bothering you.

The reply comes back almost instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.

Tony: Bothering me? Trust me, I get a hundred texts a day that are a bother—this isn’t one of them. I was actually hoping you’d reach out.

You bite your lip, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. For a moment, you sit there, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but deep down you’re excited. There’s something about him that’s hard to resist, even in this casual back-and-forth.

You: Well, here I am! So, did you mean what you said earlier? About making time for things that matter?

Tony: I did. And it just so happens, I’ve got some time this weekend. What do you think—wanna grab dinner?

You blink at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. Tony Stark wants to take me out to dinner? It’s almost too much to believe, but the flirty tone of his texts and the fact that he’s so forward about it only makes you smile wider.

You: Dinner sounds great. Where were you thinking?

There’s a pause this time—longer than before—like he’s weighing his options before replying. When the message finally comes through, you can practically hear the playful grin in his words.

Tony: How do you feel about Italian? There’s this little place I know, candlelit, great wine, and the best tiramisu in town. I can pick you up—let’s say 7:30 on Saturday?

Italian food and candlelight? You can already picture it: an intimate restaurant, soft lighting, the sound of wine glasses clinking as you talk over plates of delicious food. And with Tony Stark across the table from you? It’s hard to say no.

You: Italian sounds perfect. 7:30 works for me!

Tony: It’s a date. I’ll be the guy in the sharp suit with flowers, just to set the mood. ;) Looking forward to it, Y/N.

You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your face as you read his text. The thought of Tony showing up at your door with flowers, dressed to the nines, makes your stomach flip in the best way.

You: I’ll be the one trying not to get too distracted by the sharp suit, then. ;) See you Saturday, Tony.

Tony: Can’t wait.

You toss your phone onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling with a rush of giddy excitement. Saturday feels like it can’t come soon enough.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath as your mind drifts, imagining the upcoming evening. There’s something about Tony that makes it impossible to be anything but excited, and if the way he handled himself in the coffee shop is any indication, this date is going to be one you won’t forget.

Saturday night comes faster than you expect, the hours leading up to your date a blur of anticipation and nervous excitement. You’ve spent far more time than usual trying on different outfits, finally settling on something that strikes the perfect balance between casual and classy. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you smooth your dress one last time in front of the mirror.

It’s a little past 7:20 when you hear a knock at your door.

Right on time, you think, your heart skipping a beat as you make your way to the door.

When you open it, your breath catches in your throat.

There he is—Tony Stark—standing in the hallway looking impossibly handsome. He’s dressed in a tailored dark suit, the kind that’s perfectly fitted and effortlessly stylish, but not too formal for a casual evening out. In his hand, a small bouquet of flowers, vivid and colorful against the muted tones of his outfit.

“Told you I’d bring flowers,” he says with a grin, holding them out to you.

You blink, feeling your cheeks flush as you take the bouquet, the soft scent of roses filling the air. “These are beautiful. Thank you, Tony.”

He gives a small, playful shrug. “I had to start the night off right.” His eyes sweep over you, and his smile softens as he takes in your outfit. “You look stunning, by the way.”

Tony steps back to offer you his arm after you've placed the bouquet on the table. “Come on, let’s see if I can keep you distracted with dinner instead.”

You lock the door behind you, slipping your arm through his as the two of you make your way down to his sleek, black sports car waiting at the curb. The engine purrs to life as Tony opens the passenger door for you, and before you know it, you’re driving through the city, the lights blurring into a soft, romantic glow.

The restaurant Tony chose is everything he promised it would be—an intimate little Italian place tucked away from the bustle of the main streets. The warm, golden lighting, paired with the quiet hum of conversations and clinking glasses, creates an atmosphere that feels both cozy and elegant. You can already smell the rich aroma of garlic, fresh herbs, and baked bread wafting through the air as you’re led to a candlelit table near the back.

Tony pulls out your chair for you, the simple gesture sending a soft warmth through you. You glance around the room, taking in the ambiance, before your eyes land on him again.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely at ease in the romantic setting.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice sincere. “I feel like I’m in one of those hidden gem restaurants only locals know about.”

Tony grins. “Exactly. Not too flashy, but still a good spot. I don’t like all the attention, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t like attention?”

He laughs, the sound low and easy, and you can’t help but join him. “Okay, maybe I don’t mind it sometimes. But tonight, it’s just about good food and good company.”

The waiter arrives, and after Tony orders a bottle of red wine, the two of you dive into conversation. Just like in the coffee shop, the exchange is effortless—witty banter, shared stories, and small moments that feel surprisingly comfortable.

“So,” Tony says, after a few sips of wine, “what made you come back to that coffee shop so often? I’m guessing it’s not just for the cappuccinos.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of the wine settling into your system. “It’s kind of my escape,” you admit, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s a place where I can just… be. No expectations, no stress. Just me and my thoughts for a little while.”

Tony nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get that. I’ve got a few places like that myself. Though, to be honest, I think my usual escapes are a little less peaceful than yours.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Less peaceful? Like, more Iron Man and less cappuccino?”

He laughs, a sound that draws the attention of the nearby table for just a moment. “Something like that. But I’m trying to find a better balance these days. Maybe I’ll start hanging out in coffee shops more often.”

“Oh yeah? You planning on bumping into more strangers?” you tease, unable to keep the smile from your face.

“Only if they’re as interesting as you,” Tony says, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, the waiter returns with your food—plates of pasta that look mouth-wateringly delicious. The conversation slows as you both dig into the meal, but even in the quiet moments, there’s a comfortable energy between you. Tony’s gaze meets yours occasionally, his eyes softening with something warmer than the playful charm he usually carries.

By the time dessert arrives—the best tiramisu in town, as promised—the two of you are fully immersed in conversation again. Between bites of the rich, creamy dessert, Tony shares a story about an invention that went hilariously wrong, and you can’t help but laugh until your sides ache.

“Well,” he says, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely pleased with himself, “I think I’ve officially distracted you from the sharp suit.”

You smile, wiping a tear from your eye as you recover from laughing. “I think you have.”

As the evening winds down, Tony insists on driving you back to your apartment, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stroll side by side. The city feels quieter now, the streets less crowded, the world somehow more intimate.

When you finally reach your door, you turn to face him, feeling the weight of the evening settling in. There’s a pause, a quiet moment where neither of you speaks, but the air between you is charged with something new, something unspoken.

“I had a great time tonight,” you say softly, meeting his gaze.

Tony smiles, his eyes warm and a little softer than they’ve been all evening. “So did I. We should do this again.”

You nod, your heart racing as he steps just a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours. For a brief second, you think he might lean in—but instead, he reaches up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to leave you breathless.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He steps back, giving you one last smile before turning to walk away. You watch him go, feeling the warmth of his presence linger even after he disappears around the corner.

As you unlock your door and step inside, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Tonight wasn’t just a date—it was the start of something more. And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

It’s been a few weeks since your first date with Tony, and in that time, you’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm with him—texts exchanged throughout the day, phone calls that stretch late into the night, and a few more spontaneous meet-ups that have kept the spark between you alive and growing.

Tonight is no different, though Tony’s kept the details of your date a secret. You’re sitting in his car once again, watching the city lights flash by as you try to pry information out of him.

“So,” you begin with a playful grin, “you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

Tony glances over, smirking. “And ruin the surprise? Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth, you’re enjoying the mystery. There’s something thrilling about not knowing what he has planned, something exciting about the idea that he’s gone out of his way to surprise you.

The car slows, and you realize you’ve entered a quieter part of the city, the streets familiar in a way that feels comforting. Your heart skips a beat as the car pulls up in front of a small building, the soft glow of string lights twinkling in the windows.

It’s the coffee shop. The coffee shop where you first met.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say, turning to Tony with wide eyes.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Thought it’d be poetic, bringing you back here. Full circle, right?”

You blink, a warmth spreading through your chest as you take in the sight of the little coffee shop that, on that fateful morning, changed everything. There’s something undeniably sweet about the gesture, about Tony remembering the exact place where your paths first crossed.

He steps out of the car, walking around to open your door like he always does. “Come on,” he says, offering you his hand. “I figured we could relive our ‘first date.’ Except this time, you don’t have to worry about me almost spilling coffee on you.”

You laugh, taking his hand as you step out of the car. “I don’t know, that was part of the charm.”

He chuckles as you walk hand in hand toward the entrance. The soft bell chimes as you step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries filling the air. It’s quieter than it was that morning, more intimate. There are fewer people, and the dim lighting makes the place feel even cozier.

Tony leads you to the same table where you sat that day, by the window. It’s almost eerie how perfectly everything aligns—the same seats, the same warm ambiance. Except this time, it feels different. Deeper.

“This place must have some kind of magic,” Tony says, sliding into the seat across from you. “I mean, look at us now.”

You smile softly, leaning forward slightly. “I think it has more to do with the guy who bought me coffee.”

He gives you that trademark grin, the one that makes your stomach flip, and you find yourself wondering how someone like Tony—brilliant, successful, larger-than-life—could feel so comfortable, so right, sitting here with you in this small coffee shop.

The conversation flows as easily as ever, and you’re reminded of why this connection with Tony feels so different. It’s not just the playful banter or the shared laughter, but the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room, the only one that matters.

After what feels like no time at all, you realize the shop is starting to close for the night. You both rise from the table, and just as you’re about to head toward the door, Tony pauses, his hand catching yours.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, more serious. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You turn to face him, your heart suddenly beating faster as you take in the slight shift in his demeanor. The playful smirk is still there, but there’s something else in his eyes—something warmer, more intense.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Tony takes a small step closer, his hand still holding yours as his thumb brushes lightly over your skin. “This… what we’ve been doing, I mean. Us. It’s been… well, it’s been great. But I was thinking maybe we should make it official.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the words settling between you like a soft confession. Official?

“You mean, like… a couple?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

Tony nods, his gaze never wavering. “Yeah. I want this to be real. I want you to be mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. But then, you feel the weight of it—the vulnerability in his words, the sincerity behind them—and your heart swells.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile tugs at his lips, and before you know it, he’s stepping even closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch is warm, tender, and your breath hitches as you realize what’s about to happen.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, yet filled with a kind of quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer as you melt into the kiss, your arms instinctively wrapping around him. It feels like the culmination of everything that’s been building between you—the stolen glances, the late-night conversations, the subtle touches.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, and you’re both smiling, breathless.

“Well,” Tony says, his voice low, “that’s one way to seal the deal.”

You laugh softly, your hands still resting on his chest as you shake your head. “Only you would make our first kiss part of a contract negotiation.”

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your heart is racing, or the way your entire body feels light and warm. This is real—he’s real—and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re exactly where you want to be.

As you step outside the coffee shop together, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking into a new chapter. And with Tony Stark by your side, you know this is just the beginning.

Soft!Tony is probably one of my favorite Tony variant lol. If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog or even a comment or follow!

[winchesterwild78]

Rekindled pt 2

Master List

Characters: Russell Shaw x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, light smut….nothing too bad….yet 😉

A/N: I haven’t written a Russell fic yet and with him coming back to Tracker I wanted to test it out. Just a quick story about him. Written fast and edited fast. Maybe a few chapters.

All work is my own, used characters from the show Tracker, but this does not follow the story 

Minors DNI 18+

You and Russell said your goodbyes, and you promised to text him later with the time and place to meet you and your son. Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you were terrified he was going to hurt you and your son. 

You called your mom to get her advice. “Hey mom, do you have a few minutes to chat?” “Yes, honey. Russell is sleeping, so I’m free. Are you okay, you sound upset?” “Um, I’m not sure honestly. I ran into Russell and told him about Jr. He wants to meet him, told me it was up to me and I agreed. I don’t know what to do. I want Jr to know his dad, but on the other hand I’m terrified Russell is going to break our hearts again. I can’t do that to Jr.” “I understand honey, but you have to do what’s best for Jr. If Russell wants to be in his life, you should give him the chance. Even if you set boundaries with the two of you, it would be good for Jr to get to know his father if that’s what Russell really wants.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, “Yeah, Russell really wants to be in his life. I just don’t know where it would leave us. I’m still in love with him, mama.” “Oh sweetheart, I know you are. I would say just take it slow. Let him be in Jr’s life, and see where things go. You two are older and it sounds like Russell really wants to be in your lives. I appreciate he’s leaving the decision up to you. That shows maturity.” You sighed because you knew she was right. “Yeah, I just don’t know what to feel. As soon as I saw him all the love and hurt came rushing back. I want what we had, the life we promised each other.” 

Your mother took a deep breath, “Honey, you can’t get back what the two of you had. It’s gone, both of you have grown and matured. The two of you have to focus on your son, and building something new. I don’t know what that’s going to look like, only you two can figure that out. However, if you want my opinion it sounds like there is still love there, on both of your parts, the two of you have a lot to work out, but if you both genuinely love each other then you’ll have no problem building something new, stronger than before.” “Thanks, mama. I love you. I’ll be home soon.” “I love you too, baby girl. I’ll see you soon.”

You: Hey, can you meet Jr and I at the park in about an hour?

Russell: Of course I can. Thank you.

You: You’re welcome. He’s napping right now, so he shouldn’t be cranky. 😂

Russell: Well he’s definitely related to me. I tend to get a little cranky. 😁

You: Oh I remember. 😉

Russell: I clearly remember someone being cranky when she hasn’t had her coffee or food. 😜

You: You know what, that’s not very nice. Everyone gets cranky without coffee or food. 🤣

Russell: True, but not like you. Speaking of which, wanna grab dinner tonight? Just the three of us?

You looked at your phone and your heart fluttered. The weight of his question pressing down on you. It was a simple question, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that bubbled in your chest. This wasn’t just dinner. It was the first dinner the three of you would share together as a family. 

You: Sure, that sounds great. I know after Jr plays he’s going to be hungry.

Russell: Great! I can’t wait to see you two. 

You: I’m looking forward to it.

Russell: I want you to know I really appreciate you letting me meet him. If you’re more comfortable telling him I’m a friend right now, I’m okay with that. I want you to be comfortable with this and I don’t want to overwhelm him. 

You stared at your phone. How can he be so sweet?! Most men would be fighting tooth and nail to tell the child he was the father, but not Russell. His only concern is our son’s comfort and mine. Damn Russell, making me fall in love with you all over again. 

You: I appreciate that, Russell. You have no idea what that means to me. We will figure it out, I promise. I want him to know who you are. You both deserve that.

Russell: 💚

As you drove home your mind and heart raced. He’d hurt you before, but everything he did was to protect you. How could you be sure he wouldn’t do it again? It wasn’t just you anymore, Jr. was a big part of this now. He was your priority. 

Pulling into the driveway you saw your mom and toddler running around playing. When you got out of the car Jr ran to you. “Mommy. I missed you!” His little arms stretched wide. “Oh I missed you too, baby. Were you good for Nana?” He shook his head yes and smiled.

Your mom walked over and pulled you into a hug. “I know everything is going to work out, Y/N.” You nodded. “Hey baby, how about you and I go to the park and then out to dinner. I have someone I want you to meet.” “Yay, park. Nana go too?” He looked at your mother with his big green eyes. Your mom spoke up, “No, Nana is tired so she’s going to stay here. I’ll see you later and you can tell me all about the park and dinner.” Jr shook his head with understanding. 

About thirty minutes later you were changed and loading Jr into his carseat. Your mom hugged you, “It’s going to be fine, baby. I truly believe that. Russell seems to be putting both of you first. That’s a great place to start. Whatever you decide, I'll support you.” “Thank you, mama. I’m scared. I’m still in love with him and I know he’s going to be amazing with Jr.” Your mom touched your face, “I know you are, and I know he will be. Just take it slow.” You nodded and climbed in the car.

Driving towards the park Jr was in the back singing and giggling. “Mama, I love you.” You smiled, “I love you too, baby. So much.” He giggled and was swinging his legs. Looking in the mirror at your son, your heart fluttered. Every time you looked at him you saw Russell. 

Pulling into the parking lot of the park, you saw Russell standing leaning against his car. You playfully rolled your eyes and smirked. Your toddler was in the backseat squealing with delight, “Park! Park!” You laughed, “Yes baby, we’re here.”

Putting the car in park, you grabbed your bag and opened the backseat. Russell walked towards the car as you got Jr out. “Hey sweetheart.” You heard from behind you. As you pulled your son out you turned and saw Russell standing behind you holding two coffees. You smiled. Jr looked up at Russell and his eyes went wide. “Hey Russell. I see you have coffee.” He smirked, “Yeah, I didn't want you cranky.” He winked at you. 

Jr watched the two of you in silence. His big green eyes took in Russell and glanced at you. “Mama, he has my name.” Your breath caught in your throat. Looking at your son and over at Russell you were at a loss of words. 

Russell stepped closer, “Well, sounds like you’ve got a pretty good name then. I’m your mama’s friend. I knew her when she was younger. It’s nice to meet you, Russell.” Russell extended his hand to your toddler and your eyes thanked him. He nodded and smiled at you. Jr took his hand and shook it while his other arm clung to your neck.

The three of you walked towards the playground. It was pretty empty with the exception of a family of four. You put your son down and he took off towards the swings. You laughed, “Not too fast baby. I don’t want you to fall.” You looked over at Russell and saw a smile on his face.

When the two of you arrived at the swings, you placed your son in one and started to push him. His giggles filled the air between you three. You took in a breath and let it out, touching Russell’s arm, “Thank you for that. I wasn’t expecting him to pick up on your names that quickly.” Russell smiled, “He’s a smart kid. Must take after his mama, and you’re welcome. I know this is all new. It will work out, we’ll figure it out together.” 

After a few minutes on the swing Jr wanted to run around so you pulled him out of the swing and put him down. He started running up and down the equipment while you and Russell watched him. 

Russell was laughing and following him around. Your heart filled with love when you saw Jr take Russell’s hand and lead him through the maze of equipment. Pulling out your phone you snapped some pictures of the two of them together. 

The sound of Jr and Russell laughing filled the air. Seeing Russell interact with your son made your heart flutter. As the afternoon wore on Jr was getting tired and hungry. 

“Alright boys, it’s time to go eat dinner.” You said as Russell scooped Jr up in his arms. Jr threw his arms around Russell’s neck and Russell looked over at you and smiled. 

He carried Jr to the car and put him in his car seat. Once he shut the door he turned, looked at you and smiled. “He’s incredible, Y/N. You’ve done an amazing job with him. I never expected to fall in love with him so quickly. Thank you for letting me meet him.” He cupped your face and your heart beat wildly. You looked into his eyes, bit your lip and inched closer to his lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked softly. Russell didn’t say a word, he just pulled you close and softly kissed your lips. All of the anger, hurt and pain from the past few years melted away. 

The two of you pulled away and stood in silence. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since I saw you earlier.” Russell whispered against your lips. 

Giggles from the car pulled your attention away. “Guess we should go feed our son.” You smiled as you looked at Russell. “Yeah, we don’t want him cranky like his mama.” Russell winked at you. You playful slapped his chest. 

A few minutes later you were pulling in the parking lot of the local diner. Russell came over to your car and helped get Jr out. He grabbed your hand as he carried Jr into the restaurant. This felt right. It felt like home. 

Once the three of you were sitting at the table Jr kept looking over at Russell. He would color on his mat, then look over at Russell. You and Russell shared quick glances, then you asked Jr if he was okay. “Sweetie, are you okay?” Your son looked at you and nodded. “Mama, he looks like me.” He pointed at Russell when he said it. Your breath hitched and a lump formed in your throat. 

You took your toddler’s hand and took in a shaky breath. Your eyes flicked up and met Russell’s. “Well, honey, the reason he looks like you and you two have the same name is because he’s your daddy.” Your heart beat faster in your chest while you waited for your son’s response. 

Jr looked at you and then over at Russell. 

“You’re my daddy?” His sweet soft voice replied. Russell looked at him with so much love in his eyes and nodded yes. A hush fell over the table. Then your son squealed with delight, clapping his hands and swinging his legs. He reached for Russell, who stood and pulled him out of the high chair into his arms. Your heart leaped in your chest as Russell held your son in his arms. 

When the food arrived the three of you ate and talked. As the night wore on, Jr was getting sleepier. You pulled him out of the high chair and laid him beside you in the booth. You and Russell continued talking about the past few years. He asked about the pregnancy, and how the birth went. You told him your mom was with you every step of the way and was at the hospital when he was born. 

His hands fell softly on yours and held them on top of the table. You noticed the diner was starting to clear out. “Well we better get this little guy home, and let them close up.” You said, glancing at the sleeping toddler beside you. 

Russell paid the bill and carried Jr to the car. Your son woke up briefly to see Russell carrying him and he snuggled into his chest more. Russell smiled softly at the toddler in his arms. He never knew love could feel like this. So pure, real and complete. 

Russell put your son in the car and carefully closed the door. “I’ll follow you home, to help you get him inside if you don’t mind.” You touched his chest, “I don’t mind at all.” 

The two of you drove towards your house. The soft glow of the house cast shadows on the driveway. Putting the car in park you got out and grabbed your bag. Russell walked over and took his son in his arms. You could get used to seeing him carrying your son. You walked up to the door and it swung open. Your mom was standing there with a grin on her face when she saw Russell carrying his son. 

“His room is the second room on the right, at the top of the stairs.” Russell nodded and started to walk up the stairs. You followed behind him, glancing at your mom who was still grinning. Once in his room, you took off his shoes and pulled his blanket up to his chin. He turned and looked at the two of you sleepily, “Night mama.” “Night baby.” You placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Night daddy.” You gasped softly. Russell smiled and leaned down, placing a kiss to the top of Jr’s head, “Night buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The two of you walked out of his room and you closed his door. Russell let out the breath he was holding and you noticed his eyes were filled with love and tears. You touched his biceps, “Russell, are you okay?” He ran his fingers through his hair, “No I’m not. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let you walk away. I’ve missed 3 years of his life, of a life with you, I missed your pregnancy and you bringing our son into this world. I don’t expect you to forgive me, hell I know I don’t deserve it.” 

You cupped his face, “Russell, I do forgive you. You’re here now. That’s all that matters. That little boy in there loves you so much already. There is still so much you haven’t missed.” 

His eyes softened and he cupped your face. His lips crashed against yours in a needy, emotional kiss. As he pulled back he rubbed his thumb over your lips, “God I missed you. I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Russell. We have a lot to talk about, but for now all that matters is our son.” 

He nodded and the two of you walked downstairs together. Your mom saw you two and walked over to Russell. “It’s good to see you Russell. I guess it came as quite a shock to find out you had a son.” “It’s good to see you too, Ms Y/L/N, and yes ma’am it was, but it’s something I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of.” 

She hugged him and he leaned down and hugged her. She whispered in his ear “She’s missed you more than she’ll admit and she’s still deeply in love with you. Don’t screw it up or you’ll have to answer to me.” He smiled at her, “I’m deeply in love with her too, and I wouldn’t dream of it. Her and Jr are it for me.” 

Your mother told both of you good night and hugged you, then went upstairs. 

As a quietness fell over the room you and Russell sat on the couch. The two of you snuggled together on the couch as a movie played on the tv. Russell shared stories about his life and you showed him pictures of your son. You even showed him some of you pregnant. His fingers traced the photo and he sighed. 

You touched his hand softly. “It’s okay. I had mama. I wasn’t alone, we weren’t alone.” “I know, but it’s still hard. I’m a fool to have let you walk away. I pushed you away and left you alone.” 

You’re not sure what came over you but you got up, put the photo album down and straddled his lap. Cupping his face in your hands, “Russell Shaw, you stop that right now! You’re an incredible man and I know you’re going to be an incredible father to our son. I don’t care what happened before. It’s done and we can’t change it. All we can do is make a better future. If you’re truly sorry then don’t leave us, don’t leave him. Even if you don’t want to be with me, be there for him. Help me raise him to be an incredible man like his father. I love you, Russell Shaw. Now and forever.” You pulled him into a kiss and his hands ran up your spine and to your hair. Your body was on fire. 

You felt his arousal through his jeans. He deepened the kiss and you were melting into his arms. As things started to heat up you felt the need to be in his arms again. “Russell, I need you.” You moaned and his hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts. Your hips moved down, pulling a groan from his mouth. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were ready for him to take you right there on the couch. Russell pulled away, “Baby as much as I want this, I think we should take it slow. I don’t want to screw this up again. You mean too much to me. Jr means too much to me.” Your heart ached for him, your body ached for him, but you knew he was right. 

You nodded and started to climb off of him. He grabbed your hand before you got up, “Y/N wait,” You looked at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s okay Russell, you’re right. We really should take this slow. This isn’t just about us anymore, our son is the priority.” “He is, but so are we. I want to rebuild our relationship, one that’s stronger than before. One that is built on love and strength, not just physical attraction, but believe me I am still very attracted to you.” 

You chuckled softly, “I know you are.” 

Russell stood up and wrapped you in his strong arms. “Thank you for today, and thank you for letting me meet him. I still can’t believe he’s mine, ours.” “Don’t make me regret it, Russell, please.” He cupped your face, “Sweetheart, I promise I won’t.” 

The two of you walked to the door and he stopped, pulled you into his arms and kissed you again. “Good night, sweetheart. I’ll call you in the morning if that’s okay.” “That’s more than okay. I know a little boy who would love it actually.” “Well then I guess I better come by for breakfast. I’ll bring the doughnuts.” Russell laughed. 

You chuckled, “Russell, please don’t load our son up with sugar.” “Aww come on, let me bring him a doughnut, I’ll bring you coffee.” He fluttered his eyes at you and you smirked. “Fine, but you get to deal with the sugar high and crash.” Russell laughed, “Deal. Sounds like a win win. I get to bring him doughnuts and spend the day with both of you.” He kissed you one last time and winked as he stepped off the porch.

“Good night, Russell. Be careful and I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned as he got to the bottom step, “Good night, Y/N. See you in the morning, sweet dreams darlin’.”

You stood on the porch watching him walk to his car and get in. Watching him drive away your heart was full of so much love. You bit your lip with a smile on your face. For the first time in 3 years you felt like things were starting to fall into place. You were equal parts scared and excited, and the only thing you were sure of was how much love was still between you and Russell. 

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

[kyupidos]

AHHH ¡que bien es encontrar a un fan de twst hispano! :D

Me gustaria pedir un escenario donde la overblot gang ve como yuu noquea a un estudiante que estaba apunto de entrar en overblot.

Seria chistoso ver como yuu se harta de todo y empieze a golpear con una pala a cualquier estudiante de nrc que este teniendo un colapso mental /j

Lector de genero neutro o masculino, cualquiera con el que te sientas mas comodo (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

08/31/24 — twisted wonderland <3

how to stop an ob under ten seconds ( gone wrong ) — summary. ‘the overblotters become first hand witnesses to a beat down ( courtesy of you )’

characters ;; riddle, leona, azul , tags ;; reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, funny shtuff ensues, romantic or platonic ( up to the reader! )

a/n ( ¡¡YO!! la mas twst fans hispano, la mejor!! hablo espanol pero no soy la mejor quando escribo entonces disculpame,, i LOVE this ask it’s so funny,, i need to see more of a yuu who just beats down whoever almost obs real talk ( also i wasn’t exactly sure how to pull this off, so i chose specific events they were in respectively and had some random character be the “almost ob’d” one, before proceeding to realize i’m actually not familiar with that many events, so until i am, this is a mere part one, hope that works ^-^ )

r. rosehearts — a magicam monster

— basically just about everyone was tired of how overbearing the magicam monsters were, riddle and yourself included. but one in particular was rather difficult to deal with, on their wits end with the way things weren’t going their way when they were getting told off for their disregard for safety when attempting to take their picture for social media. not like you cared—they had no good reason to be upset.

— one thing you were suspicious about; they seemed to be a mage themselves, likely from another school. and as they argued with riddle, you could tell things were going to get out of control..if they hadn’t already. what you were trying to figure out was if it was going to be because of riddle using his ultimate magic, or because the other mage was clearly overcumulating their blot.

— for the most part, you were just watching the scenario with your eyebrow raised—you’re a magicless student after all, the most you could really do without being violent is politely ask them to back down, and you already knew they wouldn’t care for that. at the very least though, you held on to a shovel; ‘just in case you really needed them off your case’, you explained yourself. so when you noticed the mage about to reach for their magic pen, clearly overflowing with blot, you pushed yourself from your idle stance, approaching from behind before slamming the mage’s side with your shovel like you were playing baseball.

— as the mage then proceeded to fall on his side and curl up in a silly way as he was practically KO’d, riddle merely stood in front of you after being a first hand witness ( he had quickly looked around just to be sure he wasn’t the only one who saw that ( but he was ) ) to your so apparent solution. you had to say, he truly was making a silly face that you could only describe as a mix of flabbergasted and nervous. “you doing good, riddle? to every problem there is a simple solution, ya know.” “ah-! yes, of course, [y/n].”

— it was only when you walked away to help deal with other magicam monsters that riddle put a hand to his chest to sigh in relief, but also a nervous smile on his face and wobbly legs. ‘were they planning to do the same to me when i overblotted..?’

l. kingscholar — a bead brawl opponent

— the idea of being invited to the sunset savanna with your friends and watching them participate in bead brawl was exciting; you definitely didn’t regret coming. the only issue, though, was when you’d heard the whispering of someone who you’d soon recognize as another bead brawl competitor while you were walking through the stalls in the city casually shopping with the others, and you could tell they were upset ( irritated even, as the stand seller nervously asked them if they were ready to pay and they merely slammed their money on the table before walking away ).

— wasn’t your problem though, despite your sympathy for whatever their issue was, so you continued on your way when leona questioned your slow pace. “what’s the problem herbivore,” he teased, “the heat getting to you?” “hmph, no way,” you rebutted. and that was the end of that, or so you thought, since you came to end up seeing them again once you went with the others to the hotel once you were all ready to retire from the sight seeing. the next day relatively early in the morning ( especially since it was just a little before kalim and lilia’s makeshift concert ), you were already awake from your random food cravings haven waken you up.

— you just figured you’d get up and go to the hall to see if you could get any snacks from a vending machine, so you hauled yourself up to do just that. you definitely didn’t expect to see the competitor from before sitting down beside said vending machine, eyebags evident as if they spent the whole night awake. you walked past them to get your snack of choice, thinking back to before, until you quit your hesitance to get a water bottle as well. once they slid themselves up from the side of the vending machine, you extended the water bottle to them. “sorry that i didn’t ask, but are you doing okay, dude?”

— it was only when they turned to stare at you with their irritated expression, that you realized that they were beginning to accumulate blot; and quickly, might you add. “what the hell do you think you’re doing coming up to me-“ they began, before they stopped midway as they noticed you disappeared. until they felt a pull at their lower leg, looking down to see you were the one grabbing it. “hey, what-?!” “dragon corkscrew time ( you may refer to nichijou’s “mio loses it” on youtube for visuals )!!”

— and with the loud thud that followed, a certain lion beastman was awoken as he begrudgingly made his way out to the hall. “hey herbivore, what’s your dea-“ he stopped midway, noticing the scene laid out before him, and the thumbs up you gave him which absolutely didn’t help. “..nope, not dealing with this. no migraines for me.” and with that, he was on his way back to his room with a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he sweat. ‘they were definitely planning to do the same to me, huh..’

a. ashengrotto — a club member at vargas camp

— though you weren’t an actual participant, you sympathized with the club members that were—it seemed extremely exhausting, after all. especially when it came to azul, in which you gave him a pat on the back when it came to it. though clearly, some members were struggling more than others; and you weren’t talking about him or idia. as you did your check in with azul’s team, you noticed presumably another member of his club off to the side, evidently tired out of his mind.

— he had his own help though ( him sliding against a tree until he reached to sit on the ground ), so you let it be for at least right then. and then you were on your way, ready to talk to another team to check in with them as grim, who was sat on your shoulder, annoyed you while asking for food.

— it was only on the next day of vargas camp when you had your suspicions, as the club member that you recalled from the day prior seemed a little more off his rocker as he begrudgingly helped out his club mates. at least, until he scurried off to a nearby place to sit on the grass to lay down again—honestly, if he did it even maybe once more you knew for a fact he was going to get scolded by vargas if it didn’t happen already. so of course you decided to be mindful as you approached, making sure grim was doing something else.

— “are you doing okay—?” you were in the middle of questioning him out of your goodwill, before you noticed the rapid accumulation of blot going on. and before he could even look up to scowl at you and get a word in, you instinctively acted upon your first reflex; a sideswipe sonar ( you can refer to ‘mio loses it’ quite a bit for these actually ) to his stomach—for the greater good, of course. and once you confirmed he was knocked out, patting the invisible dust off your legs, you turned away..only to be greeted with azul who was staring at the whole thing go down, trying to make his jaw drop subtle.

— you just stared back nonchalantly, “oh, hey azul, what’s up?” “u..uhm,” he tried, “it’s fine prefect, but what pray tell if you don’t mind me asking was that for?” thus he was met with a shrug, “blot accumulation..it was necessary! i’m sure he’ll thank me—uh, probably.” and just a little after you waved him goodbye, calling for grim to check on the other teams, he let himself breath a shaky sigh of both relief and stress. ‘should i be thankful that was something i managed to avoid..? i suppose so..’

[rentenwins]

silly little excuses (newneighbour!leehan x reader)

ch 1 • ch 2 • ch 3 • ch 4

synopsis: to make leehan feel more welcomed into his new neighbourhood, you give a little something to leehan. you realize a little something when he tells you of his hobby...

content: leehan’s love for fish, mild cursing(?), the bnd members <3, little eating scene, jaehyun is THAT friend, everyone is very nice

a/n: thank you for the wonderful reception for the first chapter!! i hope everyone enjoys this one, this will def solidify the characters a bit more but even more in the next chapter teehee. if you would like to be added to a taglist for this fic, please drop your @ in my ask box!

wc: 1572

taglist: @haechology @jenuinne @saintriots @badaspookie @yveol @yunextdoor @lailols @rawrbamgyu @amarecerasus @pandorahearts19

chapter 2: a housewarming as warm as it gets

Safe to say your mother raised you right, and new neighbours meant proper hospitality measures to make them feel welcome. Thankfully, living alone has allowed you to experiment in the kitchen, including a love for baked treats.

It was tricky to navigate exactly what new neighbours may like, so you kept it easy. Simple butter cookies, some dipped in melted dark chocolate. You made them so often and, allegedly, ‘not too sweet’, family and friend gatherings were in desperate need of your baking skills every time.

A day or two after Leehan had finally settled (as word from Taesan), you finished a batch of butter cookies and you packed them in a reusable tupperware container. Checking the time, 5pm, you figured it was a good time to pop over quickly, seeing a sliver of light come out of Leehan’s front door.

You’re uncharacteristically nonchalant as you rang the doorbell to Leehan’s door. “In a second!” His voice calls out. There was a scuffle behind the door for a few beats before your neighbour opens his door, and he freezes (rather cutely) as he scans your face and you politely greet him.

“Oh! Y/n right?”

“Yes! Hope I’m not disturbing you or anything?” You sheepishly say.

“No! No, not at all. Please come inside. Oh and don’t worry about your shoes, I haven’t had the time to clean.” He makes way in the doorway into the entryway, before he promptly takes the, albeit very cute, Pororo. tupperware in your hands. 

“Those are for you by the way, just a little welcoming gift. I hope you like butter cookies.” You say, suddenly feeling shy as he sets the container on his dining table. As you expected the layout of his home was the same as yours: An entryway that leads to a small living/seating room on the left and a small kitchen on the right, and beyond the living room a dining table that comfortably seats two. Beyond the kitchen on the right of the dining table was a separate area for laundry and bathroom. In between the space of the dining table and the living room was a small hallway that leads to two bedrooms. Leehan gestures to you to sit on his couch as he starts a kettle.

“Do you have a roommate or is it just you?” You ask as you look around his apartment. You didn’t know why it didn’t catch your attention at first but there was a decent sized aquarium beyond the dining table which was (humouringly) larger than the dining table itself. You remember the buckets Taesan and Sungho were holding when Leehan had just freshly dropped everything off at his doorstep.

“Ah, it’s just me living here for now. The landlord gave me a discount for a few months before I try to find someone else,” He promptly places tea bags in two mugs as the water steams beside him, “plus, it takes a while to get used to everything new since I’ve just moved here too.”

You hum in acknowledgment as you can’t seem to take your eyes off the pretty aquarium. “By the way, your aquarium looks really cool. I’m guessing you’re really into that kinda thing, huh?”

Leehan was midway through filling half of his mug when the sound stops, and you look at him from behind the couch. He smiles before he continues, “Yeah! I’ve always lived by the seaside and my grandparents owned an aquarium shop back in Busan. I would spend my school vacation in that shop before my parents deemed I was responsible enough to own my own. And before I knew it, the things in the aquarium I once outsourced were being sold in my grandparents’ shop! So it got easier once I was in middle school, really.” He walks over to the dining table with both mugs, where the containers of cookies sat waiting. 

You walk to the dining table and sit on the chair across from Leehan before blowing on your cup of tea to take a careful sip. 

“So you brought all of this from Busan to Seoul?” you vaguely gesture to the aquarium set-up. Leehan nods proudly.

“Yeah, pretty much. It was hard to figure out but Sungho was really helpful in making sure everything fitted into the moving truck.” He glances at you as he averts his attention away from his aquarium. Your cookies sat in the container as you told him to help himself. With a sheepish grin, he happily takes a piece and takes a small bite. You see his eyes go wide as he momentarily stops chewing before he takes the rest of it in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile as he puts a thumbs up, a small “Are they okay?” leaves your mouth. He finishes chewing and he says,

“Okay? These might be the best cookies I’ve had in a while! Honestly, they’re not far off from the ones I ate back home, so I assure you they’re extra good.” He takes another one as you softly chuckle, embarrassed but flattered. You attempt to divert the conversation away from yourself as you ask Leehan,

“So how long have you had this aquarium for?”

And that was probably the last proper sentence you formed (minus the hums and ‘ahh’s of agreement) for the next 15 minutes as Leehan spiels about his pet fish, their plants, his first ever fish which died because he didn’t take care of them properly and how it prompted him to be a better owner.

It was oddly amusing to see how a stranger was so comfortably spilling his hobbies’ intricacies like it was their full-time job. Occasionally catching his eye as he spoke, it was a glimmer of passion and affection for his hobby, it almost made you jealous that someone could be this genuine, hospitable and passionate at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I tend to get ahead of myself when it comes to my aquarium…” he sheepishly says, taking his mug to his lips that had considerably cooled down in his (adorable) ramble. 

You laugh a little, “No, no it’s okay. It’s quite interesting really! It’s a unique hobby and you sound hella proud of it, so that makes it even better.”

“Well that’s enough about me. How about you? How’s your studies going?” Leehan leans forward tucking his elbows underneath himself as you relax back into your chairs, arms crossed.

You take it as an invitation to ramble about your interior design and what it’s all about. But it turns out Leehan already knows quite a bit.

“Oh, so that’s how you know the two?” Leehan finds out, referring to Taesan and Sungho.

“Yeah, we just ended up sticking together in our one common class and ended up doing most of the group work together too. I didn’t even know we lived in the same complex until our third class together, so that was a bit of a surprise.” You said as you fiddled with the tea bag’s string, your tea was a bit too bitter to drink now.

Moments later and a bit more chatter about your studies, when you felt like you overstayed your ‘welcome’, you stood and was about to bring your cup to the kitchen but Leehan decided to grab yours at the same time. His hand brushed yours slightly as you let him take it. He awkwardly smiles and clears his throat,

“Let me take it, it’s okay. And thank you for the cookies! I’ll bring the container back for you.” Leehan swiftly brings the mugs to the kitchen and walks you to his door.

“Thank you, Leehan. It’s nice meeting you! If you ever need anything, my door’s always open. I’m always happy to help. You know, as good neighbours are.”

“Can I extend that to include your baking then?” He says a bit too innocently for your liking.

“Hmm…” You pretend to think, “for you, an exception.” the boy fails to suppress a shy smile

He giggles and waves as he opens his own door for you to walk out. You say another ‘goodbye’ as you walk to your door across the hall, the sound of a door shutting behind you.

“Oh?” a familiar voice echoes as you are about to step into your house. You turn your head and see a familiar face.

“Jaehyun?” you say confusingly, “did I get the date wrong? I thought we were meeting tomorrow?” Jaehyun looks at you equally confused as the gears turn in his brain.

“What? No! No, no, it is tomorrow. I’m just dropping off something for Mr Newbie here from Sungho.” He points to Leehan’s door.

Odd, you think. “Oh, well. Okay then, see you tomorrow I guess?” 

“On it! Right back at ya!” says an over enthusiastic Jaehyun, as always, as he whistles and knocks at Leehan’s door a little too loud for a weekday night.

You enter your door, and an oddly happy and calm wave washes over you as you thought about how nice Leehan was. It was nice to have someone who matched your energy. As much as you equally enjoyed Taesan and Sungho’s company, maybe a little calmness was what you needed. You spent your evening thinking about his fish rants and fell down a rabbit hole yourself on Wikipedia as you ate dinner, an occasional laugh from Jaehyun could be heard from outside.