#fifty fucking years to figure it out.

[songbirdstew]

Curtis just told me that his friend's mom is newly registered to vote. "In all her 68 years, this is the first time she's voting, just so she can vote against the Orange Shit Gibbon."

And I guess I could just be glad she's finally on board, better late than never, but s e r i o u s l y ? Where the fuck was she in 2016? It's not like he's changed. He was like this then.

Imagine being a teenager during the Vietnam War and NOT voting. Imagine being alive when Martin Luther King Jr was murdered and NOT VOTING. Ever. Just being like, Nah, I'm good. This isn't my problem. Imagine being a woman watching the Equal Rights Amendment die and NOT VOTING.

Ooooookay. So this is your fault, then, I see, I see. If you would have voted against Trump in 2016, but didn't vote at all, this is YOUR FAULT.

[libidinous-weeb]

“he loves to cum inside your walls” what the fuck is he doing in my walls? the insulation in this apartment is already piss poor. if he wants to cum in my walls he better start paying the motherfuckin rent

[axe8472]

So I found out that I was entitled to 5k more in maintenance loans plus a non-repayable scholarship for low income students of 5-6k last year. The scholarship is only available to first year students. I am going to absolutely go on a fucking rampage

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Cuddles

Alastor x Reader (QP)

You were always respectful of the fact that Alastor didn't like physical touch that he didn't initiate. You never asked why, never tried to force him otherwise, never even considered trying to touch him without his consent. This remained true for all the years you'd known him.

But sometimes it got really fucking difficult.

After a long day of work, then chores, then helping with the hotel, you were absolutely exhausted. And you still had dinner to look forward to. As much as you loved Al, his need for dinner formality really got on your nerves sometimes. At least the food was good.

Luckily, there was a little time where you could escape to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kicked off your shoes and dramatically collapsed onto the bed. As soon as your body hit the mattress, you wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity.

But that wasn't an option.

Groaning, you decided it wouldn't hurt to close your eyes for a moment. Besides, Alastor would want you to be lucid for dinner. Closing your eyes for a second would help.

"Ah, there you are." Distantly, you heard Alastor poke his head in the room. "I would like your input on supper, if you don't mind."

Unable to muster words, you made some unintelligible noises into the bed, curling up more with the blankets. Alastor's footsteps were muffled by the carpet, so you didn't know he was standing right next to you until he spoke.

"Seriously, darling, it is much too early to be sleeping. Don't be so dramatic."

A hand fell on your shoulder, probably to try and take the blankets off you. However, in your half-awake stupor, you shifted to grab the hand, pulling it towards you in an effort to pull some comfort out of it.

Your brain didn't compute what you'd just done for a full 30 seconds, until, suddenly, it hit you. Despite your exhaustion, you immediately let go of Alastor's hand and jerked to a sitting position.

"Al, I'm so, so sorry," you said, your voice sounding more tired than anything else. You ignored the way your eyes kept trying to close, Alastor's figure being nothing more than a red blur in front of you. "I didn't mean to. Give me a minute, I'll be down to help."

Alastor hummed, the contemplative hum you've learned to differentiate over time. Vaguely, you were aware that Alastor's smile softened a bit.

"I can spare ten minutes," Alastor finally said. "Move over, if you please."

You stared at him, blinking tiredly, struggling to understand what was happening.

Expectantly, Alastor motioned to the bed. "Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds."

Then it kicked in. Hastily, you moved over to the other side of them bed, giving enough room for Alastor to sit down with his back against the headboard.

Blankets curled around your shoulders, you sat there, hesitating.

"You may." Alastor answered the unspoken question. "For eight minutes and fifty-two seconds."

It was impossible to deny the smile that grew on your face as you crawled into Alastor's lap, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. Gently, Alastor wrapped his arms around you, holding you.

Wrapped in blankets, leaning into Alastor's solid body, the darkness behind your eyelids enveloped you. It felt like you were floating, just your and Alastor, and nothing could ever harm you ever again. As long as you kept your breathing steady, everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

You were right; just closing your eyes for a few minutes helped immensely. It was even better that it was spent with one of your favorite people in all of Hell. And if Alastor "accidentally" forgot to keep track of the time, extending your cuddle for an extra two minutes, you weren't going to say anything.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 1 - Home Sick

Okay, let’s start this from the top. Once upon a time and all that shit.

You had somehow, some way, ended up stranded in another universe when you were going toe-to-toe with the Spot that (unfortunately) Mile’s apparently created (unintentionally). Got it? Good.

Now the question is how you got stranded in another universe while fighting the Spot is another shebang that you do not know, and frankly, not your top priority as of right now.

Your mission is finding a way to power your web-watch (no offense but the gizmo name sucks), and either use it to find Miguel, the spider-society, or your very own earth. You honestly weren’t choosy on which option you land, as long as you safely made it out alive and unscathed. 

Speaking of unscathed, which in fact you are not, you quietly swung across many buildings, in the shadows, making sure you were hard to spot. Your dark spider suit being perfect for night patrol is a blessing for the camouflage it provides you in this god forsaken gloomy city.

Now, to get back on track, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to process that you have basically been thrown into a world where in your universe is all but fiction. 

Have you kept up with the comics?

No, of course not. After Aunt May’s passing, you honestly gave up everything and just solely dedicated yourself into fighting crime. Well, you know some things, since Peter was also a mega comic nerd.

He would go on for hours and hours and hours about Batman and his kids (adopted and biological) and whatnot. You didn’t mind, since spending time with a talkative Peter was better than being in your own headspace. If you recall the latest one to come under Batman’s wing was someone named Duke? Well, that’s as far as you remember. 

Regardless, now you're looting someone’s clothing wire. Picking out a thick gray turtleneck and black leggings (thank god) you don them over your suit, making sure nothing was visible. Now the issue is your footwear. Maybe you can get away with it? 

Taking off the mask you were able to stuff it inside your bra (extra pocket, am I right?) while your gloves were hidden among your sleeves. Making sure nothing was out of place you pulled out the wallets of the two petty criminals, counting the money.

“Four-fifty, not bad.” Though you don’t condone your actions, you are in a precarious situation at the moment. Oh well. Tossing one of the wallets away (making sure not to touch it with your fingers), you also placed it inside your bra for safe keeping.

Maybe this would be enough for a motel? How expensive- or cheap are those in Gotham? With how often crimes occur, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right? Regardless, first things first, find a place to eat, find out the date and then a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard.

Quietly climbing down the side of a complex building, you made sure the coast was clear before heading out. The lack of a jacket made you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Head down and hands to your sides, the cool breeze of the city causes shivers down your spine. “This fucking sucks.” you mumbled, making sure to avoid gothamites as much as possible. 

No time to gawk at your environment when you’re so out of place. You honestly just kept walking around, hearing police sirens and the occasional cop car driving by while you try to not lose your goddamn mind.

Walking around, using back streets and alleys you shiver as the cold nips at your face. It’s not that you’re sensitive to cold, it’s just that you can’t afford to get sick here. In a world where you don’t exist.

“Wait a minute…” thinking back on something, it’s true that you don’t exist here. But that doesn’t mean that a you- doesn’t exist. Maybe somehow there is a version of you or spider-woman here. A far reach but hey, just hours ago, this was all fictional to you. But something worth looking into. 

With a heavy sigh you walk inside an alley, looking up to gauge the time to see- oh, what’s that? Another clothing line! And guess what? It has more clothes to loot! Score! Don’t mind if I do! Finders keepers baby!

And you thought your spider luck was ass.

Discreetly looking around to see for any cameras that can potentially identify you only to come out flat. Perfect. Using the fire escape you parkour to snag a black oversized zip up sweater. 

This would be perfect in covering you even further (and now you have pockets for your mask) and making your figure harder to identify. Now you can start acting like a true gothamite.

With a pep in your step, you exit the alleyway.

Spotting a diner up ahead, settling yourself inside you order your drink of choice and a bagel just to have something to entertain yourself while you calm your nerves.

Sitting down next to a window, taking slow sips and bites from your meal you subtly look around (making a point of subtly ignoring the gaze of the cashier). It seems to be late afternoon, heading to night. Not good, not good at all. 

Besides finding a place to stay, you glance at your wrist, the web watch looking pretty obvious and suspicious out there in the open on your wrist. But, without it, you could perish in this foreign world. Should you pull a Hobie Brown and create a new watch from scratch? No, you don’t have the time, tools, or luxury. Thank god for the hoodie covering it up.

Right now, staying on task is essential. A job, maybe? With what credentials? Hell, you don’t even have an ID. Maybe a fake one? Who would do such a thing for a reasonable price and isn’t a criminal? Another note, you need supplies, enough to build web shooters and the cartridge. Unlike other spiders, you had the ability to shoot webs from your wrist, gross. But (with Peter’s intellect) you ended up also creating webs on your own in case yours fails. And it has- a lot both in comical and crucial times. Peter wouldn’t let you live anything down (god you miss him).

And being in a new world and everything going on, the last thing you need is a web block because of the high anxiety and stress this place is already giving you. You’d rather be safe than sorry. Now, how to get supplies? Stealing them seems easier than working for it. You just don’t have the time. How were you going to steal them, and from where? Who the fuck knows. Probably from a college science room or something.

In order to do even that, you need to find out the layout and what not of this place. So maybe the best place to start is the library? Doesn’t someone from Batman’s little possie work at the library? Can you risk that? Probably.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than it looks. No phone, basically no money (not counting the one you stole from criminals), no ID (or insurance), no place to stay, no allies, ya got nothing. Zip, zero, nada. 

You feel so lost and alone, so vulnerable. And the thoughts in your head are slowly getting louder and louder. Eating away at your insecurities and feelings. God, you’re starting to get homesick. Will you make it back? Will you find a way back home? Is anyone even looking for you?

Last thing you recall was fighting the Spot with Miles, Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr. You remember hopping onto Spot’s back while he was absorbing but then he poof and you along with him. Everything went black for you and then you landed here in this city (ungracefully might I add).

You just want to go home…even if it’s lonely without Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker.

You really have nothing, rock bottom, baby. But then again, the only place to go is up, right? 

Sighing you finished your drink and bagel before leaving the diner, making sure to look at the clock above the exit, and aimlessly walking around. Would they let you in one of those shelters? Are those even a thing? Probably, maybe. 

Couldn’t hurt to try. Buuuuut, then again, you need the privacy, so maybe the shelter was a no go. Okay, perfect, back to square fucking zero. A cheap and possibly dangerous motel it is!

Hopefully your spider luck doesn’t fuck you over. You’re honestly thankful for not coming across any batsonas and whatnot. And you were able to get clothes so you say you’re two for two.

After looking around for some time, emphasis on some, you managed to find a motel and get yourself settled. No ID required, just cash, and you internally sobbed at the remaining funds you had left. You really will need a job or a sustainable income.

“Are underground rings still a thing? Is it a thing here?” You mumbled, discarding your stolen clothes before fiddling with your watch until its screen flashes before abruptly turning dark again. “Well now, how fucked am I?” A deep sigh resonated in the empty room. Hopefully while it turned on, Miguel would somehow by some god given miracle (or your spider luck but don’t bank on it) that he received at least a signal, no matter how microscopic it is.

You had to get home. At all costs. This place isn’t your home. It’s not like you should play by the rules. But, Ben, May, and Peter would be so disappointed in you if you break laws just to return to your home universe. And if you’re being truthful, it wouldn’t sit right with you either…

But Miles needs you. 

If this world doesn’t have a- you in it, then you aren’t needed here. So you shouldn’t waste time twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you really do need to break into a computer lab to see what’s up with your watch or scavenge for parts. Hobie built it with parts from Miguel’s earth. Meaning, you can too, with whatever scraps you can find.

You’ll prioritize your watch first, then this city. It’s unfortunate, but you really have to get back home, and you can’t let your feelings get in the way and distract you.

Maybe you should call it a night? Figure things out in the morning? A yawn takes over your thoughts. “Yea, sleep sounds really good right now.” 

These problems are for tomorrow’s you. For now, you’ll catch some Zzz’s and flesh out a detailed plan on how to get back home. 

You’re banking on hacking a computer at the library despite the risks. Shooting a web at the door to prevent any possible and/or unwanted inconveniences because let’s be honest, trust no one but yourself, especially in this bat(ha)shit crazy world, better to be safe than sorry. You need your sanity to fix or at least charge your watch in order to get back home.

“Ben, May, Peter- give me strength.” and into dreamland you go.

-

“Hey B, come look at this.” A female voice spoke out, catching the attention of the adult in the cave. “I got something to show you. I got a trace of a disruption- but it happened quickly and only once.”

“Where.” A gruff and stern voice asked.

“Around the East End.”

“I’ll let Selina know.”

“Should I get someone to look into it?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

With that, silence once again enveloped the Bat cave as Batman stepped out.

Prev; Next;

I'll be honest, I have no outline of where I want this story to go, this is just brainrot hour for me. Less go. A very high chance this will soon turn into somewhat of "yandere" but it's mostly just them being "possessive" honestly. Slooow burn. This was the last thing i had typed up, and I have no clue where I will drive this story, oops.

[multifandomfanatic02]

"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

          It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

           In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

            She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

             [Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

            Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

            It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

          [Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

            It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents.  [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

            Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

               Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

             Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

           [Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

             There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

              It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

               Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

            Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

         Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

           It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

            The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

        The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

          "Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

           "Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

           "I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

             "I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

              "Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

               "I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

               "Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

              "I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

             "Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."   

              "Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

               "It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

             "Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

               Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

           The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

              She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

           "So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

            "Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

         "Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

           "[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

            He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

         "You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

            It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

           "There's something I need to tell you."

           "Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

             "No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I..  I am your daughter."

                The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

           He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

              Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

            "Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

             "Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

            "After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

[pastorpresent]

insp by this right here, by @septicsoldier13. thank you for the prompt lovely! :))

-

They were short on bills this month.

Logan's shitty job at some scummy bar didn't exactly leave him rolling in cash (not to mention the seventy dollars he was docked for drinking the supply), Wade hadn't made all that much in commission, and Al's disability cheque didn't stretch far.

Rent was covered, so was water and electric, but that left heat unpaid.

Logan figured it wouldn't be a big deal. It was July- and there was a pretty intense heatwave hitting the city currently. They likely wouldn't need the heat for the next month anyway.

The apartment was chilled, but it wasn't cold by any means, which was why he was confused when he got home one evening and Wade was walking around making dinner with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and what looked to be two sweaters on, alongside thick sweatpants.

Logan was sweating just looking at him.

"I know you're pissed I got docked the alcohol money, but aren't you overplaying it a little, bub?"

Wade jumped at his voice, clearly not hearing him enter. The blanket dropped to the kitchen floor, and the merc looked mildly embarrassed.

"I was... cold," he said quietly, and it was... odd. There was no jokes, none of the usual outrageous comebacks, and Wade was just staring at the blanket now crumpled on the floor, almost with a fucking longing expression, and Logan would admit that often the idiots jokes flew right over his head (he wasn't exactly caught up with the last fifty years of media), but he really didn't get this one.

"You were cold? It's not hot in here but it's not cold," Logan pointed out, pretty much over Wade's dramatics.

He'd had a long shift at work, split up about four fights, kicked three people out and chased two couples trying to fuck in the filthy bathroom all between making stupid drinks as his own fingers itched for alcohol.

All to say, he really didn't have the energy for whatever dumb joke this was a part of.

"You're gonna give yourself heatstroke, and you look fucking ridiculous," he deadpanned, and Wade shrugs, doesn't say anything, which makes something heavy settle in Logan's gut.

Whatever, not his problem, right?

He left to go shower.

//

Wade had stripped down into sweats and a single sweater by the time they retire to the couch.

Logan is in his vest and flannel pyjama pants, and he's warm, but he doesn't mention Wade's layers this time.

The TV is on, some shitty episode of some shitty reality show Wade insists he has to watch, and Logan's focusing on it, until he's not.

His attention wanders over to the merc sat on the other end of the couch. It's not uncommon, Logan tends to spend more time watching Wade react to whatever dumb shit is on rather than watch it himself, for reasons he doesn't have the energy to analyse.

Somethings wrong.

Because Wade isn't watching the TV either. His eyes are distant, staring at the floor, and he's shivering violently, teeth practically chattering as he curls in on himself, knees hugged to his chest, and it's like he's...

"You're cold," Logan concludes aloud, but this time the words hold no frustration, because he'd seen Wade be committed to jokes before - but never on this scale. It's not a joke, or some sort of prank at Logan's expense.

Wade nods, and Logan is up and crouching in front of him immediately, sticking a hand against his forehead. Wade practically leans into his body's warmth, shuddering, and jesus christ - the mercs skin is like ice.

"The hell? Are you sick? Can you even get sick?" Logan touched the exposed skin of Wade's wrist, and sure enough - it was freezing.

Wade laughed softly, "I'm always sick, it's just... another side effect," he explained, and it took Logan a minute to recall what the cause of Wade's scars was. The cancer.

"But... your mutation, that stupid programme, I thought it cured you," Logan frowned.

"Not... cured. Just sort of put it on the back burner. It can't kill me, because my body is constantly regenerating the cells it kills, but it's there, and sometimes the symptoms hit a bit harder than usual," Wade explained, looking self conscious, as if this was something Logan would mock him for.

"Why the fuck didn't you say something when we sacrificed the heating this month?"

"We needed it the least-"

"I would've found a fuckin' way if I knew you'd suffer! I'm going straight down there tomorrow, I'll use my tip money to pay it," Logan stated, and Wade's eyes widened.

"No, peanut, you're saving that up for your motorcycle-"

"Fuck that, I'm not having you be uncomfortable in your own home," Logan huffed, "now wait here," he tossed a blanket from the chair over to Wade, then headed to their bedroom.

He headed to Wade's set of drawers first, but pivoted to his own. His hoodies were bigger - more fabric, more warmth, right? Definitely. He didn't just want to see Wade wrapped up in his clothes. That would be fucking dumb, because he wasn't a thirteen year old girl with a school crush.

He grabbed the obnoxiously pink Hello Kitty blanket from their bed too, and then stuck into Al's drawers and grabbed the hot water bottle she used when her back was giving her a hard time. He grabbed one of her heating pads from the medication cupboard too, making a note to buy her some more the next time he did their grocery run.

A few minutes later, items in hand and hot water bottle sufficiently warmed, he reentered the living room.

Wade had the blanket over his lap, but Logan could still see the slight tremble of his shoulders, as much as he was now trying to hide it.

His stomach twisted with guilt for his earlier words.

Logan sat beside him, "lift you're shirt up, just for a minute," he ordered as he opened the heat pad.

"At least buy me dinner first, or I'll kiss and tell. Who am I kidding? If we kiss I'm definitely telling, I'll go on the local news-" Wade's usual tirade of rambling was somewhat comforting, not that Logan would ever tell him that, but even so it's usual flow was lost behind the chattering of teeth.

"Wade," Logan interrupted, trying for exasperated but knowing he probably fell a bit short, "Shirt up, bub," he repeated.

Wade still looked hesitant, staring at him like he'd lost his mind, and Logan sighed, grabbing the hem of the sweater and doing it himself, using his other hand to stick the heat pad on.

"What are you- oh," Wade shivered again, arching his back a little into the heat source.

It only took a second for Logan to reboot his brain, and he quickly dropped Wade's shirt.

"Here," he shoved the hoodie, blanket, and hot water bottle into his lap, and Wade stared at the collection, and the tiny tug of a smile made Logan's heart jump a little in his chest.

"Awh peanut, you're the sweetest," he gushed, and it was supposed to be a tease, he knew that, but there was also something genuine there.

"Just warm yourself up," Logan muttered in response, avoiding his gaze.

He returned back to his seat, occasionally glancing over to Wade. The merc settle back down, both blankets wrapped around him, drowning in Logan's hoodie, the hot water bottle hugged to his chest.

He looked... cute, his nose and eyes visible beneathe the layered cocoon.

Logan did go back to focusing on the show, but he didn't stop his sideways glances, and it didn't take long to notice Wade was still shivering a little.

"Are you still cold?"

"No-"

"Wade," Logan warned, practically growled in his direction, and the younger man sighed.

"It's not... I know I shouldn't be, it's just... weird. It's like it's embedded into my fucking bones, I can't..." Wade trailed off, and he sounded miserable.

"Just come here, you dumbass," Logan said, rushing the words out before he could change his mind.

And if Wade looked at him like he was crazy earlier, now he was regarding him as if he'd grown a second head.

"You've done more than enough, Lo. I just need to get my shit together-"

It wasn't up for debate, and Logan wasn't fucking debating it. He grabbed Wade and yanked him closer, earning a yelp of surprise.

He made quick work of pulling him in close, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragging him into his body heat.

"Logan, you really don't need to-"

"Shut up and watch the TV," Logan grumbled, staring pointedly at the screen as to not meet the eyes burning holes into him currently.

Wade did give in eventually. He snuggled down into Logans side, head resting on his shoulder and a sweater-pawed hand coming up to lay on his chest. Logan wrapped an arm around his waist in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

Wade did stop shivering, eventually, and there was a mumbled 'thank you' against his neck.

Logan just squeezed his waist in acknowledgement, and neither made a move to separate.

//

The next time, Logan didn't need Wade to say a damn thing.

It wasn't the bills going unpaid this time, either, because Logan prioritised heat as much as he did the base rent when working out their money these days, and had even spent some of his spare cash on an overly loud but functional portable heater as the weather grew colder.

(Of course Wade's favourite method of warming up remained... him, but Logan really had no qualms with that. He found himself almost a bit jealous when Wade opted for the heater before himself, usually when he was busy, and Logan found himself purposefully dropping whatever he was doing to sit on the couch and drag Wade up against him. He absolutely did not glare at a portable heater, because that would be insane.)

No, this time they'd been invited to a Christmas night out alongside the X-men.

Logan had been reluctant to go, still not all that comfortable seeing the team after previously seeing them all... but Wade had begged, and pleaded, because apparently this was a yearly thing and he'd never been invited before.

That alone had only served to piss Logan off more, but Wade had been so excited - and so he sacrificed their quiet night in for a pub crawl around the city.

He'd already caught Wade shivering a few times in the warmth of their apartment that day, but the merc was quick to deny it, likely thinking (and accurately so) that Logan wasn't going to let him go if he thought he was having a bad day in terms of maintaining his body heat.

He'd watched Wade dress with a frown, "at least stick a shirt on under your sweater. You not got any clean sweats you can wear? Those jeans are too thin," Logan had lectured, and Wade had pouted in that way that typically spelt trouble for the older mutant.

"I don't wanna look stupid! Have you seen what I'm working with here? The least I can do is dress nice," Wade gestured to his face, to his scars, and Logan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from immediately jumping on the defence, because he'd probably call Wade gorgeous or something equally as eyebrow raising in the process.

"Fine, but you bring a jacket," he said, and Wade rolled his eyes but agreed.

They'd been out for a couple of hours. The drinks were flowing (Logan had cut himself off at three beers, which was a personal best), and everything was going... oddly well. Logan felt more at ease around the team than he had since he arrived in this universe, and it was nice.

He was talking to Hank, when Scott came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Wade's asking for you, Logan," Logan frowned.

Wade had dissapeared a little while ago in order to go dance with Storm, Morph and Jean.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, already on his feet.

"Bathroom. He doesn't look great, dunno if he's had too much to drink," Scott replies, and Logan nods, heavily doubting the explanation.

"Thanks, Scott," he says, before making his way through the crowd and into the bathrooms at the back of the club.

When he enters, Wade is perched against the sinks, shivering violently, his whole body trembling and teeth going so fast he could hear them clinking together. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"W-won't stop, m' cold," Wade whimpered, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks standing out harshly against his pale palour.

Logan's immediate reaction is one of frustration, "I told you that you needed more layers!"

The scolding only earned a small nod, and a sniffle as Wade looked away.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'm just... gonna go home," he said, pushing up from the sinks to leave, but even his legs were shaking, and when he tried to walk the violent trembles knocked him off balance.

Logan was quick to catch him, wrapping his arms around the merc. Wade leaned into his warmth almost instinctively.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Logan said, but his voice held more concern than anger now, as he steadied Wade on his feet.

He didn't expect the mutant to burst into tears.

Logan didn't do great with tears, especially not when it was somebody he genuinely cared about. He very almost ran out of there, went to grab Jean or Storm or even Hank - anyone who was better at this shit than he was, but he had a feeling Wade wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing him in this state.

Shit, did he even want Logan here right now? He might have asked for him earlier, but he clearly wasn't being much help. He'd made him cry, for fucks sake.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I know I should've listened I just- I wanted to just feel slightly normal for once," Wade cried harder, and Logan found himself pulling the shaking merc into his arms again, tucking him against his chest.

"I'm not mad, bub. I get it, I do. I'm just worried about you," Logan sighed, and God, Wade really was like a block of ice on his hold.

"'M sorry," Wade hiccuped, and Logan shushed him softly.

"It's fine, honest. Let's get you home and warmed up, hm?" Logan suggested, running his hands over Wade's arms in an effort to ease the chill.

"Yeah," Wade agreed tiredly, and Logan guided him out the bar, giving Jean an excuse of Wade not handling his alcohol too great (which was at least somewhat true, because the merc was definitely teetering into the emotional drunk category if his display in the bathroom was anything to go off) and hailed them a cab home.

He helped Wade to the couch, burying him in blankets and setting up the heater directly in front of him. When he turned to leave, a hand escaped from the mountain of fleece to curl around his wrist.

"Cuddles? Please?"

Logan was surprised he didn't turn into a puddle on the spot. It was fucking ridiculous. If anyone else dared to grab him like that, make such a request with big devastated puppy dog eyes, he would've sliced them into three even pieces.

Wade was making him soft. He didn't feel as repulsed by that thought as he probably should've.

"In a minute, bub. Let me go get you some stuff first, alright?"

Wade nodded, letting go reluctantly.

Logan made quick work of gathering the usual. It had become almost a routine at this point.

He made Wade a hot chocolate too, knowing how much the merc adored the sugary drink. He was only making it to warm him up though, obviously.

When he returned, Wade had burrowed completely beneath the blanket pile, and Logan had to immediately shut down the adorable that his unhelpful, traitorous brain supplied.

He put the hot chocolate on the table, and the smell had Wade popping his head out, staring at the drink.

"You made me hot chocolate?"

"Don't get used to it," Logan replied, and shoved a pair of his own sweatpants and his own hoodie against Wade's chest.

"Get these on."

"These are yours y'know," Wade said, running a hand over the sweatpants.

"Yours are dirty," Logan shrugged.

They were. Apart from a black pair at the bottom of his closet, but Logan was prepared to swear under oath that he'd never seen them before in his life.

Wade made quick work of getting changed. Logan turned to face the wall, and while Wade didn't say anything, Logan could feel the assholes smirk.

Once he was done, Logan joined him on the couch, climbing beneathe the layers of blankets despite the fact that he tended to run pretty hot. He could get closer to Wade this way.

He stuck the heat pad on his neck, the hot water bottle against his stomach (Wade's very own one now, with hello kitty sewn onto the cover - early Christmas gift from Logan) and wrapped him up in his arms, until Wade's entire body weight was resting against him, sprawled against his chest.

"Logan?" Wade asked after a while of silence, the only sound being the TV and humming of the heater.

"Hm?"

"You're the best wolverine," Wade said softly, and Logan glanced down at the merc, snuggled against his chest, eyes half lidded. He'd stopped shivering.

"Only for you, bub," he hummed in response, very almost kissing the top of his head, but settling on running a hand through it instead.

Wade made a happy sound, and Logan was just glad no one was around to see the stupid smile it put on his face.

[dixons-sunshine]

A Risk | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to hide from a herd, Daryl sought cover in an abandoned cabin. However, he stumbled across a woman that threatened him, and he soon figured out that there was more to her than meets the eye.

Era: Prison, pre season four.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to near death, walkers.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Requested by @nikkicloudie. I hope you like this!

“I said: Lower. Your. Fucking. Weapon.”

Against his better judgement, Daryl slowly and hesitantly lowered his crossbow, allowing it to drop to the floor with a dull clink. Once his beloved crossbow was out of his grasp, he raised his hands above his head in surrender.

“I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble, lady,” Daryl spoke up, his ocean-coloured eyes flickering between the gun in your grasp and your face. He was searching for any change in your demeanour, for any sign that you would attack. “Jus’ passin’ through. M’hidin’ from that herd that’s ‘bout two miles from here. M’waitin’ ‘em out.”

Daryl could see the contemplation on your face. With a mere glance at your face, and the way your grip slightly loosened around the gun, the archer knew he was not in any immediate danger. However, he still did not let his guard down. Perhaps you were a master of deception, and you were simply playing him. He did not want to risk it.

“Go.” you finally voiced after a good while of silence. “There’s another cabin about a mile up from here. If you leave now, you’ll make it before the herd gets here.”

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Nah. I ain’t riskin’ it. M’not leavin’.”

“Well that’s too damn bad, buckaroo,” you retorted, your gun being raised and aimed at him once more. “I’m not about to risk my s—my life for some stranger. Leave, or I’ll shoot you, I swear to god.”

“Listen, lady. I ain’t—”

Before Daryl could finish his sentence, a loud crash came from another room, followed by a cry. Was he going insane, or did that sound like a little kid? However, before Daryl could do anything, you turned around and bolted towards the source of the sound.

With a frown, Daryl picked up his crossbow and slowly walked towards the room you had disappeared into. He raised his weapon, fully prepared for an attack, but the sight that beheld him had him stopping in his tracks.

A walker laid dead by the window. You were down on your knees, your gun discarded a few feet away from you, and in your embrace was a little boy; the little boy looked no older than three years old. Suddenly, it all made sense to him. The new world gave everyone all the reasons to be extremely defensive, but you had another reason. You had someone you wanted, needed to keep safe.

Your eyes flickered up to meet Daryl’s, and the archer could clearly see how glassy they had become. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out that the little boy had almost been that walker’s next meal. If you had not appeared when you had… Daryl did not even want to finish that thought.

“You’re okay, Chris. I got you, Baby. Mama’s got you,” you murmured to the little boy in your arms. You gently picked him up as you raised from the floor and allowed him to bury his face into your neck, his quiet whimpers and sniffles being muffled. You looked back at Daryl, your expression less guarded, but more broken.

At that moment, Daryl had already made up his mind. You were clearly just a mom trying to defend her son from the harsh reality that was the world outside, and you had viewed Daryl as a potential threat, and you had every right to be wary of him. He supposed he did not look like the most warm, inviting person ever, and he definitely did not blame you for wanting him as far away from your son as humanly possible.

“M’from a place not too far from here,” Daryl spoke up after a few moments of contemplating his options. He continued when he noticed he had your full attention. “S’a prison that we converted into a community. It’s safe and secure, with ‘bout fifty people walkin’ around and makin’ due.”

“Is that an offer?” you inquired, your hand rubbing soothing circles over your son’s back. “I mean, I just threatened to kill you.”

Daryl shrugged and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. “I would’ve been more terrified of ya if ya didn’t point yer gun at me, considerin’ the world we live in now.” Daryl’s lips involuntarily twitched into a small smile when he heard your light chuckle. “I only have three questions for ya, though.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Sure. Shoot.”

“How many walkers have ya killed?” he began, studying your expression closely.

It was your turn to shrug. “I don’t know. A lot.”

“How many people have ya killed?”

A small beat of silence passed. “One.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t about to allow him to kill my son.”

Your answers were more than sufficient, considering the questions you were being asked. He was about to say something, until he heard groaning coming from outside. He ushered you down, and quickly sprung into action. He closed the window and lowered himself down against the wall, right next to you. He turned his head to look at you, and saw how you quietly tried to shush your son, who had started fussing once he picked up on the shift in the mood.

“Mama,” he whimpered, instantly being shushed by you.

“It’s okay, Baby. Shh. It’ll be over soon, okay?” You turned your head and looked at Daryl, your expression desperate. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true or not, but I can’t live like this anymore.” For added emphasis, you motioned towards the window, where dozens of walkers were walking past. “My son isn’t safe like this. Your offer is just a risk I have to take.”

Daryl nodded. “I know ya dun’ trust me, but I’d never endanger yer lil’ one like that. Ya have my word on that.”

A few beats of silence passed. “I’m Y/N, by the way. This is Chris.”

“Daryl,” Daryl told you. “M’Daryl. And I promise m’gon’ make sure ya get yer lil’ boy to safety. Ain’t gon’ let nothin’ happen to him.”

[cakelitter]

Pawsitively Yours

Leon x Puppy - Hybrid Fem! Reader

Warnings: age gap, daddy kink, fingering, breeding kink, slight mention of virginity, spanking, degradation

Summary: Leon's new puppy treats him to a relaxing bath after a stressful mission.

Words: 5.1k

a/n: this one took me so long to do omg. rewrote some paragraphs like three times. but anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

December has started, and with it came the heavy rain fall and bone chilling winds. Leon makes his way to the nearby convenience store, trying to be as quick as possible before the sky starts getting upset again. Bundled up in his coat and boots, he can see the white smoke like fog that forms after each breath.

His nose froze long ago, and he’s only been out of the house for five minutes. His once functional nose now turning a rosy shade of pink along with his cheeks. And so, he opts to breathe through his mouth a bit till he reaches the warmth of the store.

Milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs-

His mind keeps repeating, in order to not forget anything. Writing a list would have saved him so much back and forth, but he’d rather do that than give in and actually write one down. It’s actually impressive how stubborn a man can be.

The glowing lights from the festive decoration on the streets are single handedly illuminating his way to his destination. Christmas is right around the corner, and people are filled with excitement and glee. For Leon on the other hand, Christmas is another cold winter day with the advantage of things being half off the next day.

Maybe it’s the traumatic events that he went through, or maybe it’s the fact that he barely has anyone around to celebrate this once in a year holiday with. But Christmas is not as special as it once was.

Opening the glass door, he steps into the warm space. Breathing in comfortably for once without the feeling of pins and needles tormenting him from the icy air.

It doesn’t take him long to grab the items he initially came in here for, while picking up a bottle of whiskey along the way to keep him company. It was calling his name from the wooden shelf it once stood on, and it was fifty percent off. So, he’s technically doing something good. He places his belongings on the register, while making small talk with the old cashier. The man in front of him says something about the weather, old man talk, and as time passes by he is actually starting to like these types of small conversations more and more.

He's definitely getting old.

The yell of an employee interrupts their conversation, alerting everyone around and addressing a customer that sprints out the store with unpaid items in hand. He thought the officer inside of him died a long time ago, but apparently not. He starts chasing the individual, down the street into an abandoned alley way. When suddenly the clanking sound of cans ricochet through the eerie alleyway, as some of the cans their holding slip from their grasp and onto the concrete floor.

He tries his best to not step on any of them. Which shouldn’t be too hard if this damn alley way wasn’t so fucking dark. He can’t see shit in front of him. It’s practically almost pitch black and the person he’s chasing is wearing a black jacket with the hood up. He’s chasing shadows at this point. Hopefully he is even chasing someone in the first place and isn’t having another one of his hallucinations. Running out the store like a crazy person.

All he does know however is that whoever he’s running after is fast, real fast. He’s almost out of breath kind of fast. The I hope they slip so this can be over kind of fast.

His prayers must’ve been answered cause instead of them slipping, they found themselves reaching a dead end. They’re movement ceases and they freeze in place looking at the stone wall blocking their way out.

He stands behind the hooded figure, their back turned to him.

“Turn around.” He orders, voice stern and intimidating. The thief turns around slowly, eyes facing the ground and full of guilt.

“Take that hood off.” Shaky hands comply, revealing their identity. They look up at him, and… are those dog ears?

Your eyes make contact with his, tears brimming in your eyes, reflecting the yellow light coming from the nearby and only street light, horrified of the thought of what is going to happen to you next. Your ears are droopy and wet from he can only assume the previous rain. Eye brows furrowed and your tail from what he can tell is now hiding between your legs, covered by your oversized jacket. The jacket is two to three sizes too big for you, can’t tell if that’s a fashion choice. He’s not up to date with today’s fashion trends. You’re a hybrid. A homeless one, judging by the state of your clothes and hair.

Regardless of the disheveled appearance, you’re a real cutie. Practically begging him silently to pretend like he didn’t catch you, and let you go on your merry way. His eyes drop down to see what you’re holding in your arms and finds three cans of tuna there. You poor thing, hungry and shaking from either the cold or from the possibility of going to jail… or the pound. He’s not sure where they deal with your kind.

He steps closer, and immediately senses the he picked the wrong choice of action as you start growling. Taking the hint, he backs off and nods slowly raising his hands up, making you stop.

The sound of running footsteps enter into the alleyway the two of you are standing in.

“You caught them?” the employee from earlier asks. Your eyes move over to them then back to him. Leon is a firm believer that stealing for hunger isn’t a crime. You were stealing tuna cans for fucks sake, the cheapest kind too. Not a lavish necklace worth millions.

“Yeah…” he can hear your brain cogs working, thinking about how you will get yourself out of this situation. And he could swear that he heard a whine leave your mouth. Hybrids are looked at as a minority, either locket away in cages or poked in labs. And that’s if they weren’t causing trouble. He doesn’t know what the law would do to you in your case… but it’s most definitely not humane. After a moment, he speaks again, not taking his eyes off of you.

“How much did those cans cost?”

That incident was four months ago, and ever since that day he decided to take you in. Leon was very adamant on the idea of not adopting any pets, not having the time to take care of them. But he figured that since your half human, it wouldn’t be too bad.

The first couple of weeks were hard. You’d lock yourself in your room and hide under the covers when he’s home. You’d growl if he tried touching you, and in general was having a hard time adapting to your new space. Leon however, remained as patient as possible. Giving you your time to feel comfortable, and always made it clear that he’s not a threat to you. Although he can’t really blame you for thinking he is, after all, having a man chase you down and corner you in an alleyway isn’t the best first impression to make.

He doesn’t know much about your background. Whether you were experimented on in a lab and somehow managed to escape, or simply tossed into the streets. But it’s clear that your days before meeting him weren’t the brightest. Matter a fact, he didn’t even know what your voice sounded like for the first 3 weeks, and just assumed that your breed didn’t have the capabilities to speak.

Nevertheless, you decided to break this cycle of keeping him away, when he once came home and sat on the couch. You were laying down on the floor on the further end of it. And to his surprise, decided to walk towards him, laying down and placing your head on his boot, instead of scurrying away into your room.

Leon has fought some of the most gut-wrenching bioweapons, designed to end a man’s life in a matter of seconds and managed to end them without breaking much of a sweat. Yet, this is his biggest achievement yet. You wanted to be next to him, instead of telling him to fuck off like usual. With your eyes of course, he still hasn’t unlocked the dialogue option with you at that time.

Ever since then, you’ve made small steps of opening up to him. And now, he’s the center of your universe, the main attraction, your favorite toy. Pawing at him for belly rubs, standing at the door, ready to greet him, as soon as you hear the jingle of the keys, and needing his attention 24/7 whenever he’s home.

You are now a completely different pup compared to the one he found wet and cold in a sketchy alleyway a few months back. You’re playful and energetic. A pain in the ass to take to the doctor for checkups, but nonetheless, a perfect companion for him. Leon likes to believe that you’re a gift sent to him, an early Christmas gift to light up his gloomy days. A thing he never knew he needed.

Ever since you stepped into his life, leaving paw prints behind, he started getting better without even knowing it. Instead of spending nights self-loathing and mourning the person he could’ve been, downing beer after beer. He spends that time now playing with you and watching movies together. Colorful ones though, your attention span isn’t the best…

He anticipated that you would have dog-like characteristics, and you do. Going crazy over squeaky toys, sniffing him for a good fifteen minutes after he comes back home, being obsessed with his shoes and hiding them under your bed, and tilting your head to the side when you’re confused.

Pure innocence, pure puppy innocence is what you are. Which is the reason that made him feel like a creep for his dick standing up whenever you’d sneak into his bed at night, cause you had a bad dream. Wearing skimpy shorts that did nothing to hide your ass, and a tight floral tank top without a bra. Your pouty lips, and soft-spoken voice. Your pretty eyes, and delicate skin.

“Leon…I had a bad dream; can I sleep with you?” Is all he would hear coming from the direction of his bedroom door. You don’t even bother waiting for him to answer, and instead climb into his bed, tangling your self around him. Head nuzzled into his chest, one of your arms and legs draped over his body. It doesn’t even take you longer that a minute to be fast asleep, leaving him an achy mess without even knowing it.

In addition to how you’d sit on his lap while watching a movie. He hasn’t taught you boundaries yet, knowing you, you’d get upset and give him those kicked puppy dog eyes for shooing you off his lap. Cause it makes his dick fucking hard.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if you stayed still for once. He swears that you can’t stay in one position unless your asleep. As long as that cute little brain of yours is conscious, you’ll keep squirming on him lap, again with those frilly white skirts and revealing shorts, like he isn’t on the verge of losing it.

Worst part of it all, how your cunt always seems to be so wet all the time. Feeling it seep through your panties and onto his pants, making him want to die on the spot. The way your underwear will always have massive wet patches on them whenever he does the laundry. Is that even normal?

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today he came back home after being away for three weeks. Opening the door, he doesn’t find your figure standing in front of him, with a flashy smile on your face, showing off your sharp canines. Twinkling so perfectly like you didn’t suck his bank account dry with those toys off yours. He raised his eyebrow at your absence and whistled hoping your pick it up in case you haven’t heard the sound of the front door opening. Which is pretty unlikely.

Dropping down his bag in the hallway, he walks over to the living room. The older man inspects the area, calling out for you, yet there is no sign of you. Kitchen, same thing. It’s not till he reaches the dining room till he spots out of the corner of his eyes the sight of your fluffy tail sticking out from under the table.

A grin creeps up on his face as he walks towards your hiding spot. He stops a few inches away from where you are and pretends like he’s still looking for you.

“Oh my god, I can’t find her!” He exaggerates, and watches over at how your tail starts wagging.

Cute.

“Where could she possibly be!!” it starts swishing left and right even harder, hitting the chair legs that are on either side of it.

Thump

Thump

Thump

“Is she under the dining table?”

…

“Or is she in my room?”

Thump

Thump

Thump

You’re adorable.

“Oh well I give up. Guess I’ll never find her.” He says throwing his arms defeatedly and turns around to exit the room.

“Boo!” Jumping out from under the table, you reveal yourself. Your arms extending and grabbing his leg. He chuckles and you look up at him with a beaming smile.

“Did I scare ya?”

“Real good, sweet thing.” He replies and crouches down to your level, rubbing behind your ear. Your favorite spot. He helps you get up and you waste no time beginning to sniff him near his shoulder. Face scrunching up at the smell and your eyes meet his again.

“Did you swim in the sewers again?” you ask rubbing your nose.

“I-… yeah”

It’s a long story okay…He needed to get to a certain point but the normal way was blocked so he had to-

Whatever.

Your head nods up and down slowly, knowing your nose is never wrong.

“I’ll go shower.”  He replies, and your eyes light up.

“Want me to help?” You ask excitedly, your tail wagging intensely. “I’ll help you take a bath, and I’ll let you use my rubber duckies too!”

“No honey I-”

You give him those eyes. The ‘you wouldn’t be mean and break my frail puppy heart would you?’ eyes. The eyes that make the strongest agent in the United States, weak. And to no one’s surprise, he gives in.

“Fine, but you only prep the bath and then leave, okay?”

“Don’t you want me to wash your hair like you wash mine?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“…I’ll only prep the bath and leave.” That took you longer to answer than he would like. “Promise? “He asks.

“…”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nods, making sure that you understood what he was saying. And as soon as you get his approval, you sprint to the bathroom and the sound of the tub being filled follows pursuit.

He sighs, shaking his head with a smile. Walking to his bedroom, he grabs a freshly cleaned towel before making his way to the bathroom. Your figure is kneeling on the floor, hands grabbing the edge of the tub, watching as it fills with water and bubbles.

Turning around, you smile with a tail wag and turn off the faucet once the water has reached the amount, he usually puts for you.

“It’s ready!” He nods and you start to make your way to the door. As you do, he grabs the edge of his shirt and begins lifting it revealing the bare skin beneath. You stop in your tracks and he notices, your eyes looking at his defined muscles without even blinking.

“Out!”

“Okayyy” You whine, brows furrowing as you slowly close the door. Not before taking a final look of course.

He continues undressing and walks over to the tub, it has some bubbles and a couple of rubber ducks floating on top of it. Placing one foot in, the water is a little too hot, but not bad considering it being your first time doing something like that.

The water level rises as he soaks his entire body, feeling his muscles relax. Soothing his aching muscles and bones. A moment later, he pulls himself fully under the water, and then comes back out, pulling his hair off his face, giving him a slicked back hairstyle you always make fun of him for.

The smell of soap and the feeling of finally being safe after three hellish weeks grounds him as he closes his eyes. Once he reopens them, one of your rubber duckies is looking at him.

God, this is a bit weird.

He grabs it and inspects it, it’s mostly in good condition except for a few bite marks here and there. Wonder who those belong to. He examines the duck for a few more minutes, taking in its yellow body and orange beak. You go crazy over these things, he practically needs to drag you out of the tub each time because of them.

The silence around him is broken when he hears the sound of the door slightly opening which is followed by a cold gust of wind. He looks over and sees one of your eyes looking into the room.

“What did I tell you?” He says, but you don’t respond. Thinking you can trick him into thinking that you’re not there, just like how you still think he couldn’t see you back when you were hiding. And to think your breed is supposed to be one of the smartest.  He calls out your name, making you speak and pull the bathroom door open exposing yourself, kneeling next to it.

“I wanted to see if you were having fun…”

“I am now leave.” He says, tone trying to show seriousness. You don’t listen and in lieu, start crawling towards the tub.

“Are you listening to me?” He speaks again, but it falls to deaf ears. How can he blame you for not listening when he has never disciplined you. Spoiled brat. Ever since he picked you off the streets and claimed you as his own, he has not even once, raised his voice or gotten angry at you.

You crawl over and place your head on the edge of the tub. He’s honestly shocked at how shameless you’re being.

“That one’s name is Jerold.” Your voice says, pointing at the duck he forgot he was holding. A pathetic attempt of trying to change the topic. He looks at the duc- Jerold then back at you. Smiling so sweetly with a halo above your head like you just didn’t break his word.

He sighs, realizing there is no use in wasting his breath and places Jerold back in the water. Looking over back at you, he notices that you’re no longer watching his face, but at something else intensely. Curious, he follows your eyes and realizes at what caught your attention. The bubbles in the bath decided to migrate to either side of the tub, making his crotch completely exposed to your prying eyes.

You’re are not even blinking, a thing you do when you’re thinking too hard about something. The snap of his finger cuts your thread of thoughts, making you jump as you look back at his face, the place you should only be looking at from the get go.

“Privacy?”

Your ears go back in shame, it’s like you didn’t even realize that you were staring.

“Sorry… The water just looks nice.” He raises a brow at you. You are a pervert and a horrible liar.

“The water.” He repeats, showing you how ridiculous your lie was. You remain silent for a while, but start getting a bit fidgety. Looking around and getting up and sitting down again, the same way you act when he’s about to give you a treat.

“Can I get in the bath?” You say impatiently. You’ve always loved bath times, and pools, and lakes, and every single body of water that has ever existed. So, this is not unusual for you to ask, but he can’t help but feel like your intentions aren’t pure.

“No.”

“Why?”

…

Good question. Why not? He does think you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. He has fantasized about you before, something he doesn’t like admitting. He has checked you out a few times too… you were once again, wearing flimsy clothing, prancing around him, licking his neck and begging him to touch you and give you rubs. At the end of the day Leon is a man, who is guilty of thinking with his dick a time or two.

But he always resisted his urges. Locked them away in one of the rooms in his mind next to other gruesome core memories and throwing away the key. You were his baby, he’s supposed to protect, care, and provide for you, not fuck you.

By the time the voices in his head are fighting each other, you were quick to take off your clothes. And next thing he knows you’re in the tub with him. He goes to protest against what you’re doing, but you straddle him and place your head on his shoulder.

If that was your plan to shut him up… it worked. You feel warm and soft. The plush of your breast pressing up against his chest as he watches your chest rise and fall. Maybe this is wholesome, not like the two of you are naked and he could practically feel your cunt on his dick. No no no, that would be absurd.

He places his hand on your back, and moves it up and down soothingly. Why is he even rubbing your back? You disobeyed him, shouldn’t he be pissed? The two of you sit in silence for a while, before you remove your head off his shoulder. Arms still on either side of his neck, your eyes meet his. Dropping from his sky-blue eyes, over to his wet lips. Fuck.

You lean in. Fuck fuck fuck.

And you kiss him. Possibly the most delicate kiss he’s ever experienced. Full of pure affection. He doesn’t push you, he doesn’t pull back, he doesn’t lecture you about boundaries. But instead, he takes it. All of his attention on your mellow lips and light breath.

You pull away, locking eyes together. And he sees the blood rushing to your cheeks. Did he ever mention that you were cute? You anticipate him lecturing you, yelling at you, or even kicking you out, for what you did. But he doesn’t.

Remember that voice that was telling him that this is weird? Yeah, it can go fuck itself. He leans in and kisses you lips again. You let out a soft breath at his action, and he can hear the sound of your tail wagging once again even when it’s submerged in water.

Splash

Splash

Splash

Once more, your lips disconnect and you start shifting your hips above him. His dick has already started rising ever since your lips made contact with his.

“Can I wash your hair now?” he laughs.

“Sure, why not.”

And so, you do. Grabbing his shampoo bottle and squeezing some product on your hand before lathering in on his head. Your fingers work the product into his hair, before grabbing the nearby shower head and rinsing it off. The masculine aroma of his shampoo fills the small space as he decides he might as well give you a bath while he’s at it. He goes to grab your shampoo before your hand stops him.

“I want to use yours… wanna smell like you.” His heart could burst out of his chest at this moment. This shouldn’t have turned him on this much, but alas it did. Without complaints, he does what you want. Repeating the same process, you did on his hair earlier.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you walk out the tub. He pats you dry with his towel then himself. This went over rather smoothly, see wholesome just like he said. Everything is under contro- you’re rubbing your thighs together.

“Leon…” Your soft voice calls out to him, grabbing his attention. He hums in response and looks over at your eyes. Stepping closer, you place a soft lick over his collar bone before beginning to kiss the area. Your hand creeps up the side of his neck over to his jaw, coaxing him to accept your touch. And you almost managed to do that, till those voices in his head barged in once again.

He grabs your hand gingerly and whispers. “Baby, I don’t know if we should do this.”

You whine, mouth stopping its assault on his neck to speak. “Please, wanted you to breed me for so long.”

Once again, those voices get thrown out the window, as the words you just said make his brain short circuit. Cursing under his breath, he smashes his lips against yours harshly driving you up the bathroom wall.

You kiss him back fervently. Hands cupping his face as his chest closes the proximity between the two of you. Grabbing your jaw, his hands slither down and cup your mound, receiving yet another whine from your lips. Music to his ears.

His finger then starts making firm circles around your clit making your hips buck forward towards his touch craving more. Your hands scramble around his chest, a puppy like you has probably never experienced something like this before, huh.

His tongue enters your mouth and you accept it gladly. Two of his fingers rub between your folds back and forth. Collecting the slick that is practically dripping down your thigh, your hole is practically weeping. And he groans at the slippery feeling, before plunging two of his fingers into you with ease. Your back arches and you moan into his mouth, as his fingers start moving in and out of your wet heat.

“Who knew my sweet pup was such a slut.” He says pulling your ears closer to his mouth with the iron grip he as on your jaw.

You’re so sensitive, thighs begin to tremble at the way his fingers curl into you, and the real fun hasn’t even started. You can barely stand at this point. Realizing that, he grabs your thighs and pulls you over his shoulder and makes his way to his room. He plops you down on the bed, and you immediately roll over to your stomach, back arched, and ass up in the air like its instinct. He could get used to the sight of this, your face pressed down on his sheets and begging him to fuck you senseless.

“You know sweetheart, I don’t even think I should breed you after you’ve disobeyed me so much today.” He says, hands rubbing over your ass. And upon hearing his words your expression shifts, it feels like he just told you the most heartbreaking news you could ever receive in your whole life.

“Noo please. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? I don’t believe that.”

“I promise, I won’t do it again Daddy.”

Shit.

You’re into that too.

...Oh, your nastier than he thought. Without even replying, he grabs his cock, slapping it a few times on your ass, precum forming strings connecting the two surfaces. Then bullies his cock into you making your feet kick out with a squeal. His balls are plush against your clit as he completely bottoms out inside of you.

You start drooling over the mattress, hands clutching the sheets beneath you for dear life. And without giving you much time to adjust, he starts moving. You feel so tight around him, its driving him crazy. The squelching sounds of your tight dripping pussy can be heard from a mile away. The fluid dripping from the hole that is connecting the two of you and down onto Leon’s gray sheets. Leaving wet dark gray spots on the surface. Picking up his pace, his hips slam into you harshly, pornographic moans can be heard from the two of you along with the clapping sound of your skin slamming against his.

He grabs your hips and leans in, having your back against his abdomen as he speaks into your ear.

“Here I was thinking you were innocent, not knowing what you were doing. Having your entire pussy on display for me, all wet and needy, waiting for me to fuck you full like the slut you are.”

“Wanted you.” is all you can manage to retort back, voice breaking from the impact each thrust has on you. He chuckles lowly and spanking your ass making you yelp and squirm beneath him before grabbing it. The skin now, hot and red beneath his touch.

“Should’ve spoken earlier sweetheart. I wouldn’t be this rough if I wasn’t so pent up.”

Your pussy is now sucking him in even further as he rabbits his dick into you. His hand moves over and under you, making its way to your clit. Pleasure is slowly but surely fogging up your brain, no thoughts other than Leon floating around in your head.

“Be a good girl and cum for me. And maybe then I’ll breed you.” And just like that, your thighs shudder beneath you as your pleasure blurs out your vision. The idea of being full of Leon’s pups making you see stars.

The tightness that you are gripping Leon in, in addition to your walls spasming around him, makes him tighten his grip on your hips leaving bruises there. His release ensuing yours. You bite your lip at the hot liquid being spurted out inside of you. Making you feel warm on the inside. Leon groans at the intensity of his release, one he forbid himself from for such a long time.

He thrusts a few more times, distributing his cum evenly inside you, and pushing it further up your cunt. He lets out a breath at the sight, one he can’t believe is seeing.

Plopping a delicate kiss on the middle of your back. He pulls out with a squelching sound from both your fluids combined, forcing a whimper out of the two of you at the discomfort. He walks over to the tissue box he keeps on his bedside table, and helps you clean up the mess. Throwing away the dirty napkin and laying down on the bed next to you, his arms open and inviting you.

You cuddle up against his chest, and he places a soft peck on top of your head.

“Thanks for the bath sweetheart.”

divider by: @/picopipi

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot To Go

Summary: You're horny and Natasha's teasing you. That's pretty much it!

Also, I've been telling you all to listen to Chappell Roan since last year so if you haven't, DO IT NOW.

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Hopeless.

That’s how you feel as you walk back to the Compound, hot and bothered. The plan is to go straight to your room, but Wanda’s in the living room reading her book.

“Did you have fu…?” she says as soon as you walk in.

“Nope” you don’t let her finish, plopping next to her on the couch.

“What…”

“Garden gnomes”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific”

“We were having dinner, she invited me over for coffee. And when I went inside her apartment, I was met with at least fifty figures of garden gnomes”

“Like… decoration?”

“Like pets, according to her” you rub your eyes, trying to erase the image from your mind. “I was willing to maybe ignore it… until I went to her room and there were a dozen more”

“So? Just turn off the light” Wanda says, with a neutral expression. As if she’s not hearing the weirdest fucking thing on the planet right now.

“No, she said we should leave it on because they’re scared of the dark”

That finally breaks her and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Not funny” you throw a cushion towards her and she catches it.

It’s been four months since you’ve gotten laid. Not like you can’t handle a dry spell, but for some reason -perhaps the stress of work and missions- you’ve been particularly… needy. But everytime you go on a date, it ends in disaster.

“I should join a convent” you groan, your head resting on the back of the couch as you look at the ceiling.

“Nice, surrounded by other women. Maybe then you’ll get lucky”

“Not funny” you repeat, defeated.

“What about…?”

“Don’t” you stop her before she can even begin. You don’t need to look at Wanda to know what she’s about to say.

“I’m just saying…”

“Not another…”

“Natasha”

“…word. Damn it, Wanda. That has never been an option”

“You’re being stupid” she says and you roll your eyes, getting up from the couch.

“Gotta go and take matters into my own hands”

“Gross”

Wanda makes a face and you laugh, the both of you too distracted to notice someone else on the doorway, listening intently to the conversation.

—

Movie night is the perfect distraction, or so you think.

Since you’re all fidgety and restless, you opt for the couch in the back of the room, holding a bucket of popcorn against your chest.

The boys have settled on Atomic Blonde, with Bucky commenting the inaccuracies of the film portraying the Cold War.

His banter with Sam is enough to distract you for a little while, but then you turn back to the screen and sink in your seat.

There are two women making out, a hand going down the other one’s panties…

“Enjoying the movie?” a sultry voice whispers against your ear.

“N-Nat” you hold the bucket closer against your chest, trying to even your breathing. Where did she come from? You were sure she was skipping movie night today.

“That’s my name” she says, somehow even closer to you. Your eyes are fixed on the screen, but every other sense is registering the redhead’s presence. Her smell, the way her lips are almost touching your ear…

There’s moaning, and panting and the women on screen are kissing.

You’re about to combust, there’s no doubt in your mind.

“Use your words, pretty girl” Natasha whispers and you whimper.

“It’s a good… great movie” you manage to say, gulping.

Natasha’s hand moves forward and you’re hipnotized by those slender fingers, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and placing it slowly in her mouth.

“Catch you later?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, feeling the heat rising to your ears.

As soon as she walks out the living room, you stand up, sprinting to your bedroom.

“Pizza just got here” Tony calls after you.

“I’m not hungry” you lie, shutting the door behind you.

Not for food, at least.

—

It’s been two days since movie night and Natasha’s the same. So you figure your horny mind blew the interaction out of proportion.

Which is fine, because right now you can’t be distracted.

“On your knees” Natasha commands and you almost faint.

“I… what?”

As part of your quarterly evaluation, you have to take physical and psychological tests to stay on the team.

The sparring part was usually done by Steve, so you were shocked to find Natasha as soon as you walked in.

“Say you’re wounded and can’t stand up. How are you going to fight back?” Natasha walks in circles around you, and you kneel as she requested. “Ready?”

You don’t have time to answer and in a matter of seconds she’s disarmed you, her hand squeezing your troath and her body on top of yours.

It takes everything in your power not to moan.

Natasha releases you and goes at it again, and again, and again. The fighting stances change, but ultimately, you always end up against the mat, her body close to yours, feeling her hot breath against your skin.

“Tired?” she says, straddling your hips. You don’t trust in your voice, so all you do is nod.  “Fine, we’re done”

Natasha lifts herself from you, but you miss the contact immediately.

“Want some help getting up?” she offers when you stay on the ground.

“I just need a minute”

Your muscles are sore, your heart is beating out of your chest and the redness that invades your cheeks and ears won’t disappear.

You’re fucked. And not in the way you’d like to be.

—

Nothing un-sexier than chores.

As you walk down the hallway, you knock on the doors of some of your teammates, asking if they have dirty clothes to add to your load.

The last door is Natasha’s and you pray she’s not in her room.

“Hi, detka” she smiles as soon as she sees you.

“Dirty…” you stutter like a moron.

“What’s that?”

“Dirty clothes. I’m doing laundry but it’s not a lot. I could put some of your clothes if you need it”

“Thank you. Give me a second” Natasha takes your basket inside and comes back a second later. “Oh, I almost forgot this one” she says when you turn to leave.

“Sure, go ahead…”

The last thing you’re expecting is to see her undressing in the doorway, throwing her SHIELD t-shirt and yoga pants your way.

Natasha is standing in black underwear, staring back at you with a smirk.

“I’ll… I better go” you turn around, colliding against the door. You curse under your breath, aware that Natasha hasn’t closed the door, most likely to see if you turn around one last time.

Using other chores to distract you does the trick for a little while, but then you go back and pull the clothes out of the dryer.

Without thinking, you begin to fold them. That is, until your hands lift a lace thong that is most definitely not yours.

“Oh, great heavens” you drop it, feeling like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. People wear lingerie, it’s a normal, beautiful, hot thing to do…

But if you find more like that one, you’re gonna combust. instead, you separate your clothes from hers without paying much attention to what’s in your hands. Once it’s done, you go back and knock on her door.

Thankfully, this time she’s wearing a hoodie and leggings.

“Here” you present the basket with clothes, avoiding her eyes. Natasha thanks you and you sigh with relief, walking back to your room.

“Oh, did you happen to see a red lacy bra?”

Damn it.

“Uh… I didn’t like check each thing you put in there, Nat”

“Red, unclasps on the front, has lace that only covers the nipples”

You actually have to lean against the wall, sure that your knees will buckle any minute now.

“Nope. I would remember”

“Alright then” and as if she hadn’t just melted your brain, she smiles and speaks in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. “Thank you”

Thank you. That image is forever imprinted in my brain.

—

How did you end up here?

Milk was all you wanted. When you mentioned you were going to the store, Natasha was quick to offer a ride.

If you had know it was on her motorcycle, you’d have politely declined.

Because, now you have your hands around her midsection, and everytime Natasha lowers her hands at a stop sign, she brushes your thighs delicately.

On the way back, there’s a particularly nasty bump on the road which makes you jump on your seat. As a result, your face sinks in Natasha’s kneck. Not for the first time, you notice the lavender smell and softness of her beautiful red hair. Comforted by her closeness, you practically melt against her. To your horror, a soft moan escapes your lips.

How you wish she hadn’t heard it, but by the way her movements falter, it’s clear she did.

Mortified, you jump the minute she parks, thanking her and disappearing in the elevator.

“Shitshitshit” you mutter, running across the living room, still carrying the bottle of milk. Wanda leans forward, intrigued by the force with which you lock your door. It all makes sense when Natasha comes in, looking for you.

“Again?” the Sokovian says, throwing a pillow towards Natasha.

“What?”

“You’ve been teasing her for weeks. It’s not funny” Wanda glares, making Natasha uncomfortable. If anyone can throw her across the room, it’s Wanda.

“Well, maybe now I will be considered an option” Natasha tries to defend herself, though it comes off as a lame excuse.

Wanda takes a second, trying to understand the meaning behind those words.

Your conversation about that date and the gnomes and Natasha… she was listening.

“That’s what this is about?!” Wanda grabs another cushion and throws it at the redhead, making sure that it hits extra hard with a whisp of red magic. “She didn’t mean you’re not an option. You are her first choice. Because. She. Has. A. Crush. On. You”

Each word is accentuated with a new wave of magic that is harmless, but enough to make Natasha jump.

“Oh” is all she says when Wanda stops.

“Fix it. Every time you tease her those thoughts get very loud, and it’s hard to ignore them”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what she’s thinking” Natasha tries to hide her smirk.

“Who say her thoughts were the loud ones, Romanoff?”

—

As luck would have it, you couldn’t hide from Natasha much longer.

Duty called and you were placed on a mission together. You had to infiltrate the VIP room of a bar/strip club the Russian mafia owned.

The setup was fairly simple. Natasha would go inside the VIP room while you stayed outside to alert her of anything unusual. So, at least you wouldn’t have to be around each other for long. It was hard to keep sinful thought at bay when she was dressed to the nines, hoping to dash the bouncer and get access to the reserved area.

You look around the street where the main entrance is, hoping Ivanov wouldn’t get here  before Natasha was granted access.

“I couldn’t get past the bouncer” her voice interrupted your thoughts.

“What do we do now?”

“Maybe there’s a way to break into the room…”

“Apparently the only women allowed in the VIP area are dancers. Pigs” she mutters bitterly.

“I might have an idea” you say, following a girl in high heels that enters through a staff door. You sneak up right behind her and walk down a hallway. At the end of it, you find a room full of makeup, mirrors and girls in skimpy outfits.

Oh, God.

“Y/N?” Natasha presses through the comms.

“Looks like I’m a dancer now” 

“Absolutely not. Where are you? I’m calling this mission off now” 

“Come on, Nat. I’ll just pick an outfit, and hope they’ll let me in” 

As you go around some clothes that you hope are clean, Natasha remains quiet. The least revealing outfit is a black leather mini skirt and a heart shaped top.

You are busy inspecting your reflection on the mirror when she breaks the silence.

“I don’t like this”

You don’t like it either, truth be told.

“I’m walking towards the bar. What’s your location?” there is no answer and for a moment you worry Natasha was caught. “Nat?” you insist, speaking louder as the music makes it hard to listen.

“I see you” is all she says. You look around, until your eyes meet hers. Natasha’s intense glare makes you falter, feeling as if you are naked in the middle of a room full of strangers.

“You look…”

“He’s here” you interrupt, looking behind her. “Ivanov”

The mobster leans on the railway that’s above Natasha and you, inspecting with a satisfied smirk the crowd dancing and drinking.

“Nat, you’re gonna have to trust me” you plead, walking towards her as your eyes meet Ivanov’s.

You approach the woman, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. A group of men move aside, enjoying the show that is most definitely not for them. 

Sitting on Natasha’s lap, you pull her closer by the collar of her shirt, hands going down her stomach all the way to the belt loop of her pants.

Ignoring the heat that creeps up your cheeks, you take a shot of tequila from the waiter walking by you, placing the slice of lime on Natasha’s mouth. You down the shot in one swift motion and then connect your lips with hers, taking the slice from her mouth.

“Come to the VIP area” a man appears behind you, pulling you away from Natasha. The woman is quick to stop him, a hand on his arm.

“Don’t” you warn her, because causing a scene won’t do you any good. You walk behind the man, looking around as you’re finally granted access to the VIP area.

To your surprise, there’s a second, more private room where Ivanov and all of his criminals gather around. He laughs when he sees you walk inside, patting the space next to him.

“Nice show out there” he says with a thick Russian accent. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough for me” you say, hoping his attention will go back to the conversation happening with the rest of the men.

Sure enough, they begin to argue and you take the opportunity to lean forward and plant the bug on the table. 

“For you” a bartender appears out of nowhere, making you flinch. “You’re gonna need it for later” 

“That’s definitely spiked” Natasha comments. Her voice brings you back to reality.

“Cheers” is all you say.

You wait around for a while longer, until one of the bodyguards asks you to follow him to another room. To your horror, he locks you inside.

“Natasha, extraction” you plead, looking around the room for a way out. No answer. “Nat, please come in”

You hear a commotion outside, and look around for a weapon or anything that will help you defend yourself.

“I told you I didn’t like this” Natasha says when she opens the door and you sigh with relief. “To be clear, I’m talking about the situation. Not the outfit”

“Nat…” you breathe, happy that she came back for you. The woman approaches you, inspecting your face. 

“Are you ok? Did you take the drink?” 

“Obviously not”

“Fine. Let’s go” she grabs your hand and as you walk past the VIP room, you find all of Ivanov’s men knocked unconscious.

“Aww, all of this for me?” you joke, your hand going to your chest.

Natasha doesn’t answer, keeping a tight grip on your hand as you escape the strip club. You think she might be upset because you put the both of you at risk.

Until you’re out on the street and she pushes you against the wall, her body trapping you in place.

“I really wanted to do this nicely” her eyes drift to your cleavage and the look of pure lust drives you forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. “Go out with me” she says when you break apart.

“Dressed like this or…?” you joke, biting your lip.

“No, I’d like to be the only one enjoying this view”

“Ok” you laugh. She’s about to lean forward again when you hear a couple of men running around, probably looking for you. “We should go” Natasha complains and you kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely gonna need help to take this clothes off”

“Let’s go” she says, looking around the street before pulling you to the car that you parked hours ago. 

“Your room or mine?”

“Which one is farthest away from Wanda?” Natasha says, buckling her seatbelt and turning on the car.

“What?” 

“Trust me, it’s for everyone’s own good. Your thoughts aren’t the only thing that will get very loud”

You laugh as she speeds back to the Compound. 

At last, you were about to get lucky, with the girl of your dreams no less.

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel like Sev is a total dad in that any time she gets into an argument with one of The Kids (tm), she will absolutely never verbally apologize. She will, however, appear with ten crates of a fruit that they mentioned they liked approximately one time in passing or just randomly decide to take them somewhere fun. Just randomly…Totally not because she feels bad or anything…

AD:FAS:DF:ASJDF this is so sweet okay

men and minors dni

it's easier for her to apologize to isha.

the kid's so tiny, and her big gold eyes are so cute, and she doesn't have much ...history... with isha-- so when she accidentally steps on isha's fingers, or eats the leftovers isha was saving for herself in the fridge, or farts when isha's standing right behind her-- a quick "oh, my bad, isha" or "sorry, kiddo" slip off her tongue easily.

of course, this doesn't change the fact that she'll feel guilty as hell for the rest of the day and spoil isha endlessly. but still, it's a little easier for her to actually say sorry when it's baby isha.

it's different with jinx.

for one thing... jinx talks. and jinx talks back. sevika's good at a lot of things, but quick comebacks are not her strong suit. usually, she gets flustered and gruffs out a 'shut the fuck up' which leads to an even bigger argument.

for another thing, jinx and sevika have been squabbling for years. and sometimes those squabbles were... intense, to say the least. the recent familial feelings sevika and jinx have formed for each other have not always existed.

so... it's a little harder for sevika to apologize to her.

she always knows when she's gone too far. she's incredibly intuitive, she's able to read jinx's micro-expressions like an open book. so it's not like she needs help in realizing her mistakes.

it's just the apologizing for it that's hard for her.

about three months into the girls moving in with you, jinx and sevika get into their first real fight as family.

you and isha watch with cringes as they both fling insults and soft objects at each other-- fighting in the way people fight only when they've known each other forever.

it ends with jinx fleeing to her room and sevika reaching for her emergency cigarette stash. she only allows herself a pack a year, so you know she feels horrible when she grabs two.

isha rushes to comfort jinx. you rush to comfort your wife.

"you alright?" you ask as you step onto the back porch. sevika just shrugs.

"i'll get over it. she'll get over it." she mumbles. you wrap an arm around her shoulders, and sevika groans. "shit, i feel so bad. i shouldn't lose my shit with her like that anymore."

"...probably not." you hesitantly agree. sevika huffs and elbows you, and you just kiss her cheek. "but mistakes are alright, babe. we're still learning. both of us. yesterday i caught isha playing with one of our vibrators. she was using it as a mini bazooka in her game of doll wars--" sevika cuts you off with a burst of surprised laughter, and you smile. "point is we're figuring it out as we're going. and nobody's bleeding, so i'd count that as a win."

sevika sighs and agrees with you, stubbing out her cigarette and kissing you soundly.

you think that's the end of it until you're at the store with jinx the next day.

"did sevika say anything to you about... like... robbing a convience store or something?" jinx asks. you blink.

"what?"

jinx shrugs. "this morning she woke me up by shoving, like, an industrial sized box of flamers onto my bed. like fifty pounds of flamers!" jinx giggles. you smile. that explains her and isha's red stained mouths this morning-- and why sevika was out so late last night. "so i dunno. i'm just trying to figure out where she got 'em from."

"she bought them, jinx. she's saying sorry to you."

"...sorry for what?" she asks.

"for the fight you got in last night!" you giggle.

jinx blinks again, like she's never been apologized to before. it's likely that she hasn't. you sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulder. "...sevika's never apologized to me before." she says. you nod. "at least, not without silco threatening her job, or something."

"you weren't her kid back then." you say.

a smile ticks up at the corner of her mouth, and jinx giggles.

"why didn't she just say 'sorry?' she musta spent at least a hundred on that box--"

"she's not the best with her words, jinx, you know this." you say with a laugh. jinx cackles and nods.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama” pt2

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: slight angst, raised voices

A/N: thank you sooo much for the support on part one!! doing a lil happy dance because of u xx

~~~~

Max had tried calling you over fifty times the past three days but you refused to answer. You didn’t know if it was because you were still upset with him or because you were just that ashamed, but you couldn’t find it in you to talk to him. You had hope that there was a reasonable explanation for the photos but no matter how hard you tried to come up with one they all ended with you heartbroken. You were terrified Max would confirm any of them.

You read his texts and listened to his voice messages, responding that you’d talk to him when he’d get back. When he threatened to take an early flight, missing the race, you told him he was being dramatic and then you wished him good luck. Max stopped trying to reach you after that.

You had called in sick to work Friday and Saturday, staying home to simultaneously write and watch the qualifying and the race. You weren’t surprised to see Max bring home another win, but you felt bad when you noticed his seemingly bad mood in the post-race interviews. You could just assume you were the reason for the constant frown on his face and the dark circles under his eyes.

Sunday afternoon rolled in and you were restless. The fact that Max would be arriving back home tomorrow was starting to freak you out and you forced yourself to keep busy at all times not to overthink everything more than you already were. Currently you were standing on your tiptoes on one of the bar chairs, dusting the top of the bookshelves that were lining one wall in the living room. It obviously hadn’t been done in years and didn’t necessarily need to be done now either, but it was something to do. You were so caught up in your work that you hadn’t noticed the sound of the front door being unlocked, the bags being dropped on the floor or someone entering the room. Max stopped on the other side of the room, brows furrowed as he took you in. You were wearing one of his shirts, by the look of it one of his oldest ones and he knew you would’ve had to dug deep in the drawers for that one. As you reached the top shelf it rode up enough for him to see that you were wearing a pair of his boxers too and for some reason he melted slightly at the fact that you were dressed all in his clothes.

“Be careful.” You flinched, a gasp leaving your lips as your head spun around to follow the sudden sound. Max eyes widened as you wobbled for a second before regaining your balance and he thanked god he didn’t cause you to fall.

“Max, you’re home already?” You were confused, trying to figure out if your calculations had been wrong. He nodded, having to stop himself from walking over to help you as you climbed down from the chair.

“I took an early flight, left right after the podium.” He paused for a second, feeling the anger he’d felt for the past few days bubbling up again. “Felt a bit stressed to get back here since my girlfriend has been refusing to talk to me.” You bit down on the inside of your cheeks, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Congrats on the win, you were-“ you began, but Max cut you off. He had told himself to keep calm, talk this through, but he felt the plan collapse almost immediately. He couldn’t deny the frustration.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t want a congratulation from you y/n, I want an explanation! I want to know what the fuck happened on Thursday?” His voice was sharp, arms crossed over his chest. You looked away.

“What happened was that I wanted to come see you, but you said no.” You shrugged, the frown on your face deepening.

“I didn’t say no, I said it was unnecessary- that’s not even the issue here. The thing I’m most upset- confused over is you said I had some girl?”

“I saw the pictures Max.” You glared at him, all the hurt and confusion and anger from the past few days coming back. “I saw you with her.“

Max looked even more bewildered than a second ago, flailing his arms out in exasperation. “Who?! What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your fucking date to the banquet!” You exclaimed, raising your voice to match his. “The girl you snuck away with when you didn’t think anyone would see!” Max just stared at you with wide eyes, lips opening and parting in confusion. You, however, took his silence as a sign of guilt. “I get that you’d want a girl who’s willing to follow you everywhere, who’s willing to give up her own life to be your trophy but fuck, Max, I thought you’d at least give me a heads up.”

”I didn’t bring a fucking date to the banquet, where are you getting this from? What fucking photos?”

Without another word you reached for your phone, searching up the tweet that started this whole mess. Zooming in on the photo where he was cupping her cheeks you handed him the phone, crossing your arms over your chest the second he grabbed it from you. Max stared down at the screen, eyebrows going up before they were pushed together. Slowly he looked up at you again.

“Baby-“ he began with a sigh, the apologetic tone of his voice had you assuming he was about to confess to cheating on you. The anger was quickly replaced with hurt and a shockwave of sadness. Suddenly your vision was watery and you took a step back, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Max seemed to understand, quickly shaking his head.

“It’s not what you think, not what it looks like.”

“Oh come on-“ you sniffed, but Max wouldn’t have it.

“No, I get how that sounds but just let me explain. That’s Rebecca, you’ve met her. Tommy’s daughter.” You had to rummaged through your brain for a second before you could place the name. Rebecca was the daughter of one of Redbulls mechanics. You’d met her a few times during races, she was a sweet girl. Your eyes widened slightly.

“Isn’t she like seventeen?”

“Yeah!”

You stared at him, even more chocked than a moment before. Max saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. A shiver ran up his spine at the realization of what you were thinking.

“God no! Not like that. She was at the banquet with Tommy but something happened, I think someone tried to pressure her into drinking and stuff- I met her when I came from the restroom and she was crying so I brought her out, away from everyone.” Max looked down at the photo again, frowning. “Away from the cameras, I thought. She was hyperventilating and I all could think about is when you’re having a panic attack so I did what I do then, I held her and I forced her to breathe with me.” When he looked back up you were already staring at him, lips slightly parted in chock. Max tossed your phone into the couch, taking a careful step closer to you. “That’s it. That’s all that happened. I did what you taught me.”

“God.” You let out a shaky breath, hiding your face behind your hands. Out of all the scenarios you’d constructed over the past few days, none even came close to this. Max hadn’t cheated, he hadn’t even been close to. He’d helped an innocent girl, doing for her what he always did for you when you suffered from anxiety. The guilt was slowly settling in your stomach. Max watched you softly shake your head before you carefully glanced at him between fingers. “Max I’m so sorry.” You saw him visibly relax when he realized you accepted his explanation and a second later he sunk down in the couch, seemingly exhausted. With a deep breath he leaned back, closing his eyes.

“Fuck.” He sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did and why you were so mad and not once did it occur to me that it might’ve been this.” Things were quiet after that. You crawled up on the barstool, pulling your knee to your chest, as Max stayed half laying down in the couch. Leaning your cheek against your knee you watch his chest rise and fall slower and slower. You almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke again. “Did you think I cheated on you?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, making Max open his eyes to look at you. You felt your heart clench at the sad look on his face. “I love you Max, and I know you love me but-“

“But?” He asked softly, moving to sit up properly. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched your through thick lashes. You took a deep breath.

“But sometimes I worry I’m not what you want. I know a lot of the others wife’s and girlfriends come to every race and you know, follow you guys around the world. I would understand if you’d want that too. You’re always talking about how I should quit my job and- well I saw the pictures and I guess all my insecurities came to life and I freaked out. I’m sorry.” You reached up to swiftly wipe away a stray tear and Max frowned. He reached a hand out, waving it as to call you over. You got the hint and slid down from the chair, carefully padding across the floor to him. The second you were within reach he pulled you down in his lap and you could practically feel yourself melt into him. God you’d missed having him close.

“You are everything I want.” Max mumbled against the top of your head and you felt shivers run up your spine. You opened your mouth to answer but quickly shut it again when you felt the lump in your throat, a few tears spilling over as you blinked. Max let his arms snake even tighter around you as he heard you sniff quietly against his chest. “I love how much you value your job and I’m so proud of you for actually being able to handle both studying and working at the same time.” You felt his fingers press softly into your side as he spoke, voice hushed and gentle. “I tell the guys all the time how smart you are, how much I admire you.”

“But I’m never there for you.” You whispered and Max carefully shifted the two of you enough so that he could look down at you. His eyes flickered between yours, hand moving up to wipe your tears.

“You’re always there for me. Maybe not in person, but I always know I have you. Like you always know you have me, right?” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “I can race on my own, just like you work on your own. Whats important to me is that I get to come home to you.” He carefully picked an eyelash from your cheek as you processed his words. When he met your eyes again he offered a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “That being said, if I could I’d spend every second literally glued to your side but apparently that’s not healthy.” You laughed at that and the smile on Maxs face widened. With something between a sigh and a chuckle you dropped your forehead back against his chest.

“I’m sorry again Maxie.” You mumbled against his shirt, feeling it vibrate as he hummed.

“Don’t worry about it schatje.” He pulled you with him to lay down in the couch and it barely took a second before the two of you were comfortably entangled in each other. “Honestly, it was kind of nice seeing you that jealous. It’s an achievement from my part, without even knowing.” He joked, earning another laugh from you as you lifted your head to look at him.

“First place the first two races of the season wasn’t enough achievements for you?”

The grin almost took up Maxs whole face and you giggled at the proud twinkle in his eyes. Before he had time to say something that would have you slap him, you leaned in to press your lips against his instead.

Max was home and everything was alright.

~~~~

Tagging ppl who asked for pt2 <333

@lpab @aexitizen-ln4 @buttfug213 @sxcretricciardo @hadthemapplebottomjeans @sunny44 @phantomxoxo @sunnyfunnydemon

[sonotpattismith]

I'll Never Cross The Line. (ryomen sukuna x reader)

don't touch, I'll never cross the line, so I pushed you down a million times / if I don't try, then it's my loss- an inch away from more than just friends. word count: 11.2k (SORRY) warnings: bartender!sukuna au, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: This wasn't a request, just an idea I had inspired by Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan. I HIGHLY recommend listening to it to set the vibes. 😮‍💨

You know, maybe retail wouldn’t be the worst option. Sure, you would definitely make significantly less without the steady stream of tips, but surely it would be better than dealing with drunken groups of men every weekend, right? You’ll grow a backbone-- you’ll tell them to quit being assholes. Of course, that was about fifty tables ago, and you knew you would never have the nerve to stand up for yourself, much less piss off a table bad enough to leave you a shitty tip. So, you forced a smile and said ‘of course, I’ll have the bar remake this for you’, and, no, you wouldn’t say anything about the disgusting little nickname that continued to roll off their tongues at you. 

Gulping back the bile that rose in your throat at the feeling of their eyes on your ass as you walked away, you begrudgingly made your way to the bar. It had been almost a year since you had quit your cashier job in favor of something that could make you a little more money. It’s not that you hated your job, but you did wish you had a little more courage to stand up for yourself in instances like these that seemed to happen more and more as your hostess experience grew. In addition to having to suck up their complaints with your non-confrontational, fake smile, it didn’t help that the new bartender that was hired a few weeks back was even more terrifying than the belligerent men you were exchanging drinks for. 

Sukuna, you recalled another hostess saying his name was, never really did anything to warrant such fear from you, or any of the other staff for that matter, but his aura was definitely no sunshines and roses. He stood at a staggering height as he maneuvered nonchalantly behind the bar, intimidatingly bulking muscles flexing under his typical black t-shirt as he shook a drink over his shoulder. His face was littered in mysteriously intricate black tattoos that were complimented by the black studs in his ears. The man was fairly quiet, save for the rare occassions you’d hear his booming laughter echo throughout the dimly lit restaurant when chatting up a customer. Other than the rare small talk with some random customers that happened to catch his interest, Sukuna kept to himself. 

So, realistically, you shouldn’t be so scared to ask him to kindly remake these old fashions so that your table would stop bitching to you about how ‘watered down’ they were. Still, as his brooding figure grew closer and closer, you couldn’t stop the pounding in your chest. Shaky hands placed the three glasses onto the bar before him. His seemingly bored eyes looked down at the full glasses before darting back up to you with a raised brow. As if the dude couldn’t get more intimidating, you now noted with how close he was that his eyes were almost a deep ruby color. Who the fuck has red eyes? 

It was a moment of silent staring at one another before he noted you were too scared to open your mouth and spit out whatever the problem was. Sukuna was used to the timid looks by now. As far as he was concerned, it came with the tatted up, quiet, and large territory. Most of the hosts and hostesses seemed to want to keep their distance from him, but he never took it personally. 

“Problem with the drinks?” 

“Um.. well, I’m sure you made them fine, but…” You chewed on your bottom lip apprehensively, trying to figure out how to not make it sound like you didn’t think he knew how to do his job. His marked up face remained neutral, towel drying a glass in the meantime as he awaited your explanation. You glanced over your shoulder to the offending table, cursing under your breath when you noted they were looking back at you and whispering to each other as if asking ‘what the fuck the hold up was for’. Quickly turning to face Sukuna again, you were unsure which party you were more intimidated by. He had followed your gaze already though, regarding the group of men with an unimpressed expression. Opening your mouth to explain before you pissed either off even more, the bartender cut you off. 

“Those assholes giving you a hard time?”

Your mouth hung open like a fish for a moment, and a glimmer of hope sparked in you. Closing your mouth, you grasped the edge of the bar and desperately leaned closer to him. 

“Yes, they’re total creeps, and they keep saying that you watered down their drinks, and I know you probably didn’t, but they’ve been bitching at me for like ten minutes. So if you could please just remake them, I would forever be in your debt.”

Sukuna stared down at you throughout your desperate, breathless explanation, and you could swear you saw just a glimmer of amusement behind those intense eyes. Without a word, he brought one of the abandoned glasses up to his lips to try it. Licking his lips boredly, he shook his head. 

“Doesn’t taste watered down to me. Does it taste watered down to you?” In an instant, he was holding the drink up to your lips. Already flustered at the predicament you were in, you hesitantly took a small sip, cringing as the bitter liquid hit your tongue. The man before you hummed in question, setting the glass back down between you. 

“Uh… I don’t really drink anything that doesn’t come with a little umbrella in it. So, maybe I’m not the best person to judge?”

A small, amused smile graced his lips, and, in just that second, the new bartender appeared far less intimidating than you previously believed him to be. Shaking his head, he grabbed the glasses and emptied them into the drains, moving to begin remaking the drinks. Usually, he would have sent the drinks right back to the table with a scoff, but it wasn’t too busy at the moment, what with everyone’s eyes glued to the game playing on the screen above him, and he had a feeling you would combust on the spot if you had to return the same, unaltered drinked to the group of degenerates that had been oogling you since you walked up to his bar. 

“I’ll remake ‘em, but do something for me, will ya?” 

You leaned forward, watching the muscles beneath his tight shirt flex with each calculated movement he made. In your head, you were practically floating through air knowing you were dodging the bitch-out you had been positive he was going to give you about bothering him with such a thing. You glanced up at him in question as he began pouring the mixed drink into the three, clean glasses he had set in front of you. 

“Tell ‘em if they don’t stop acting like a bunch of lowlives, you’ll spit in the damn drinks next time.” 

Your eyes widened at his proposal. His brow quirked up in challenge as he pushed the drinks forward. Nodding his chin toward the table, he urged you on. 

“Go on, I wanna see their faces.” 

“I-I can’t say that, Sukuna…” You refused, shaking your head with a nervous chuckle.

“Why not? You the type that lets assholes walk all over you?”

“Well,” You blushed furiously in embarrassment, wishing you could defend yourself against his accusations. He was right though; you should grow more of a backbone. The other hostesses, while they knew how to pick their battles, seemed to have no problem putting their foot down to disrespectful customers like these. You had been like that for as long as you could remember, not speaking up unless spoken to, and certainly not speaking up when you were being spoken against. “No, but I’m the type that at least wants a good tip if I’ve had to put up with borderline harassment for two hours.”

As if on cue, your table hollered at you with a low whistle to question what was taking you so long. Grasping the glasses between your fingers, his large hand quickly stopped you, taking the drinks from you. Your eyes widened in horror as he moved to step out from behind the bar, nodding to a customer that he’d be with them in a minute. From outside his usual post, the large man appeared that much taller as you came face to face with his broad chest. 

“I’ll do it then.” 

If there was one thing Sukuna couldn’t stand-- it was weak people. Even more so, the people that were so weak they prayed on the smaller people, the kind that were too nice to do anything about it. Sure, it pissed him off that you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but that was a problem for another time. At the present, there was a table of three drunk men calling the nice, sparkly eyed young waitress over like a dog. Not only that, they had already pissed him off by making him redo the perfectly fine drinks he’d finished not even five minutes ago. 

He felt a pair of small hands grasp desperately at his bicep as he moved to deliver the fresh set of drinks. For a moment, you felt intimidated once again as he glared down at you. Without a word, you quickly released him, deciding the dock in your tip was a better fate than whatever was lurking behind that terrifying glare. Chewing anxiously at your fingernails, you watched with bated breath as Sukuna approached the table, slamming the drinks down in front of them. You almost wished you could hear what he was saying to them-- what with the way their faces morphed before the six-foot something beast standing threateningly in front of them. If you weren’t so fucking anxious, you would have laughed. 

Before you knew it, he was making his way back behind the bar with that nonchalant expression back on his face. You stared incredulously up at him in question. 

“Well?”

“Don’t worry, doll. They’re gonna be real nice to you the rest of the night.”

And they were. You weren’t sure what the bartender said to them, or threatened them with, but they were saying please, thank you, and calling you ma’am the rest of the night. Hell, they’d even still left you a decent tip. For the weeks that followed, you regarded the bartender a bit more comfortably-- greeting him with an appreciative smile each time he came in, making sure to wave goodbye to him on the nights you clocked out before him. He was still quiet and reserved, but would engage in the occasional small talk with you when you’d bounce over to him with a bar order. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks after that incident that you found yourself actually requesting his… services again. There had been a few instances when you considered getting the big, scary bartender to come set your table straight for you, but the last thing you wanted to do was annoy him when he was busy enough as it was. This night though, the family before you damn near had you in tears by the time they were done with you. It started with an incorrect substitution, which, okay yeah, that fuck up was on you, but you apologized profusely and even offered to comp the entree for them. It all only went downhill after that though, and you had already been called incompetent, useless, and bimbo all in the span of an hour. 

So, as you tentatively approached the bar that didn’t seem all too busy at the moment, you just felt like that much more of an idiot. Sukuna was speaking casually with a customer as he screwed off the top of a fresh beer bottle and handed it to him. He leaned against the counter, too engrossed in his conversation to notice the timid waitress anxiously awaiting him to finish talking. His ruby eyes drifted absentmindedly to where you were standing, doing a double take when he saw your flushed cheeks and wringing hands. 

As he excused himself from the conversation and walked toward you, you silently set an already half-drank piña colada on the counter. He regarded it with a scoff, nodded up at you in question. 

“What’s with the face? You look like someone killed your puppy.”

“Table three says that you made this a virgin.” 

“And they only noticed after drinking damn near the entire thing? I can smell the rum from here. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

You glanced up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, praying he’d get the hint and go straighten them out for you so you didn’t have to deal with it the rest of the night. Catching on to your puppy-dog eyes, he quickly shook his head, pushing the drink toward you. 

“Uh-uh,” He refused, and your shoulders dropped in disappointment. “I ain’t always gonna be here. You gotta grow a pair, doll.” 

For a moment, you thought he was completely brushing you off when he walked back over to the wall of liquor behind him. After snatching a low level, glass bottle off the shelf along with a shot glass, he made his way back over to you and filled the tiny cup. He shoved it forward and jutted his chin at you. You stared incredulously at him. 

“Go on, take it.” Sukuna urged, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning closer to you. His ruby eyes stared at you with an intensity that was almost making you forget how shitty that table was making your night. “Drink that, then I want you to waltz your pretty ass back over to those degenerates and tell them if they wanted a double then they should have asked you for one before you rung it up.” 

“B-But… they--” You stumbled over your words, not anticipating this turn of events. Hell, you figured he would just have to glare over at them and that would scare them enough to stop fucking with you for the night. His brows rose challengingly at you. 

“I ain’t makin’ anymore of your drinks till you do it.” 

When you continued gaping at him apprehensively, he picked up the shot glass with one hand and grasped your chin with the other. A furious blush spread across your cheeks as you tipped your head back in tandem with his fingers’ urging push. The bitter liquid ran down your throat, burning all the way down to your stomach. You sputtered pathetically as he released his grip on your chin and placed the forgotten piña colada back in your hand with a devilish, yet encouraging smile. Nodding dumbly as you wiped the remaining alcohol from your chin, you turned back around to head toward the table, your fingers trembling with each step. 

Sukuna felt his chest swell with pride as he watched the family’s face contort in shock at the timid waitress finally standing her ground. Cackling shortly in amusement, he shook his head and moved to clean your leftover shotglass.

You were absolutely buzzing as you walked cooly away from the stunned table, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the shot Sukuna had practically forced down your throat, or the thrill of having actually stuck up for yourself for once. With an excited beam, you bounced back over to the bar as soon as you had finished checking up on your other tables. Your smile slowly faded upon seeing that the man you were looking for wasn’t there. 

“Hey, where’s Sukuna?” You asked your coworker who had seemingly taken over as bartender for the time being. He appeared slightly flustered trying to figure out the mixes of certain drinks. Glancing up at you absentmindedly, he nodded toward the back, muttering something about a smoke break. Without thought, you made your way through the kitchen and out the back door. 

The man in question was leaning against the brick wall, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he typed out a message on his phone. You suddenly wondered if you were bothering him by coming out here during his break. It was too late though, and he was already looking up from his phone at the sound of the door opening. Timidly, you slid out from the crack of the door, attempting to find that excitement that had led you out here in the first place. 

“Well?” He questioned, removing the cigarette from his lips and puffing a cloud of smoke out the side of his mouth. You watched as he slid his phone into his back pocket and easily pushed himself off the wall to approach you. Something about his sudden, undivided attention made you forget your shy nature all together, that eager smile lighting up your face once again. 

“You should’ve seen their faces!” You giggled energetically up at the man who somehow looked even scarier under the dim lighting of the back alley. 

“I did see ‘em. I told you, assholes like that only shit on you so much cause you let ‘em.” Sukuna smiled amusedly at the excitement clearly ripping through you, ruffling a hand through your hair. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mused, fixing your now frazzled hair before sighing and leaning back against the wall. “I’m definitely not getting a tip though.”

The man beside you scoffed before flicking his cigarette to the ground, smushing it carelessly under his heavy, black boot. 

“What are you so damn worked up over your tips for anyway?” He questioned with an annoyed expression, recalling that being the excuse the last time you refused to confront your less-than respectful table.

You looked down at the ash left behind under his boot, shrugging nonchalantly before glancing back up at him with a shy smile. 

“Oh, I’m saving up the tuition for a program I really wanna get into.” You explained, light pink dusting your cheeks. He hummed gravely beside you, regarding you silently. “Almost there, too. The sooner the better, y’know?”

It had been silent for a beat too long, and you were suddenly very aware of his intense, unwavering gaze on you. His head leaned against the brick wall as he stared down at you thoughtfully. Your head span a bit under the pressure, seemingly trapped within his shadow. 

“What about you?” You squeaked out, desperate to break the unexplainable tension that had risen between you. He quirked a brow at you. “Y’know, why are you working here?”

You sighed in relief when his eyes drifted to the side pensively. It was almost impossible to think clearly with those intoxicating ruby eyes bearing into your soul as if he meant to rip it out and eat it. 

“Told my brat nephew I’d stay outta trouble if he got into college.” Sukuna explained, casting a sidelong glance your way as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest. As you watched him now, you noted that the designs that defined his face and arms were also poking out the neckline of his shirt, and you wondered if he was completely covered in them. A small smirk tugged at his lips upon noticing your stare, but he didn’t mention it. “He’s a smart kid. Helluva’ lot smarter than I ever was, anyway.”

Warmth spread in your chest at the way he spoke so fondly of his nephew, even if it was in his own, guarded way. It made you want to learn more about him. The longer you spoke to him, the more you realized all those assumptions you’d held about him were quite possibly completely false. Maybe it was guilt that had you digging for more-- at least that’s what you would tell yourself. 

“What kind of trouble were you getting yourself into, Sukuna?” You pressed teasingly, but the dark, guarded smile that fell upon his lips told you that you probably shouldn’t have asked. Leaning down till his face was a mere centimeters away from yours, he tutted. 

“You don’t really wanna know the answer to that, doll.” He whispered challengingly at you, revelling in the way your cheeks lit up under his gaze. It wasn’t very nice of him, he knew that; you were that shy, bubbly type that never had a chip on your shoulder-- the kind that you couldn’t really joke around with cause you were too gullible to tell the difference. Sukuna just couldn’t help himself though, he found himself wanting to test you, to break you out of that shell. His eyes dropped to your lips, the ones that were currently being abused between your anxious teeth. Reaching up to cup your chin, his thumb gently pulled the irritated, plump skin to safety. 

“I have a boyfriend.” You quickly stammered out, heart pounding against your chest. In the back of your mind, you knew you probably should have said something earlier, but there was just something so alluring about the mysterious aura that shrouded him. 

He paused, an amused smile lighting up his face once again as he allowed his hand to drop from your chin as he backed up a respectable amount. 

“‘Course ya’ do.” He laughed lightheartedly, running a hand through his pink hair that had become tousled with the wind. “Shoulda’ started with that. I wouldn’t have been so damn nice to ya’.”

A surprised expression struck your face, words getting stuck in your throat. 

“C’mon, I’m just fucking with ya’.” He laughed again, shoving gently at your shoulder as he began walking back toward the door of the kitchen. Slowly, you began laughing too. He was sending you on a rollercoaster of emotions you could barely keep up with, but he did it so effortlessly it was as if it was second nature to him. “Geez, you were gonna let me get away with that one too, huh? Hope you don’t let your little boyfriend walk all over you like that.” 

Despite the teasing undertones in his voice, he was seriously thinking about what you’d allow from a partner if you let him and all the lowlife customers throw you around like a ragdoll without complaint. Looking down at your shoes, you let that comment slide with a shake of your head. Quickly trying to collect your thoughts, you followed him as he opened the door for you. 

“So, you’re trying to stay out of trouble.” You recounted, desperately trying to change the subject. He hummed in acknowledgement as he made his way back behind the bar, nodding to your coworker who appeared eternally grateful to put down the drink he was making and allowing Sukuna to take over. “Why bartending then?”

“Why? Think I could’ve made it in insurance?” He quipped with a knowing smirk, watching you shrink down, not wanting to answer his question for fear of offending him. The man shook his head, placing the now finished drink down on a napkin for the customer beside you. “No mornings, decent pay. Probably easier than whatever the hell they got you doing.”

You hummed in thought, watching him expertly pour a round of shots to place on one of the host’s awaiting trays. Sighing tiredly, you looked around at your tables, noting you’ve probably already been away for too long. Brushing the hair from your face, you grabbed your notepad from your apron to get back to work. 

“You should let me train you back here.” Sukuna suddenly suggested, not looking away from his concentrated mixing to see your shocked expression. “Don’t gotta be running around all day, rack up helluva’ lot more tips too, ‘specially with a face like yours. Have the money for your school crap in no time.”

You blinked up at him when he finally turned to face you. 

“The boss probably wants more help on the floor.” You explained dejectedly, despite the hope still hidden in your tone at the prospect. 

Sukuna tutted dismissively with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll talk to ‘em. Asshole’s scared of me anyway.”

He wasn’t sure why he was doing so much for you. After all, when he had fulfilled his end of his promise to Yuji and gotten himself a real job, he said he’d keep to himself. People pissed him off too much, and they usually had a bad impression of him anyway upon first meeting. It was easier, and less obnoxious, for him to allow their imaginations to run wild about what could be lurking under that quiet, brooding persona of his. Maybe it was that beam of sunshine personality that reminded him so much of his damn nephew, or maybe it was that ambition to keep on getting bitched at everyday just so you could make it through school. It was admirable, that type of determination. 

Either way, the excited expression that washed over your face softened his hard-ass heart just a little. So, when you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck from across the counter, he let you, hoping damn well he knew what he was getting himself into. 

For the coming weeks, you came in an extra shift each week to train with Sukuna behind the bar. He taught you the basic drinks all bartenders should know, the various terms that would likely be tossed your way that you’d be expected to recognize, the sanitary procedures. Surprisingly, the monstrous looking man was actually quite patient with you when you made seemingly stupid mistakes. Sure, he’d tease you endlessly over the time you asked him what kind of alcohol went into a shirley temple, but he certainly didn’t get pissed off as easily as you thought he would. 

Even on your regular floor shifts, you found yourself gravitating toward the bar during your downtime under the guise of watching what he was doing. Truthfully though, you had become a bit attached to the way the brooding giant was clearly warming up to you. Despite his previous insistence on you learning to hold your own against bitchy customers, he was always the first to swoop in when a drunken customer’s voice got a little too loud for his liking. Sukuna made you drinks without your having to ask (non-alcoholic on shift, of course, though you wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck a shot or two into a couple of them after a particularly grueling shift). 

You attempted to press further about whatever the hell it was that he was doing before becoming a bartender, but he was always quick to dismiss the question with a guarded joke or roll of his ruby eyes. While you were kind enough to change the subject each time, there were certain times when he seriously made you wonder about his past life. Today, for example, when you were working the floor and came to drop off an order with him with your usual, peppy smile. 

“What’s with the pigtails? You in fucking grade school or something?” Sukuna questioned with a scoff, flicking one of the strands between his fingers. You grinned shyly, twirling your hair with sudden apprehension. 

“No, they’re…” That typical red hue flooded your cheeks again, and he was beginning to find the color synonymous with you in his mind. He raised a questioned brow at you, and you looked down at the counter. “They’re supposed to get you more tips, y’know?”

Something about that prospect unsettled something deep within the pits of his stomach. Not hiding the way his top lip twitched up in disgust, he glanced down at the ticket you handed him before getting to work. 

“And is it working?” 

“So far, so good, captain!” You beamed with a mock salute, bending over the counter to whisper your night’s total thus far into his ear. He whistled lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. His lips parted to make a snide remark about the kinds of creeps that frequented this restaurant, but he was cut off when one of the aforementioned creeps hollered out to you something alluding to your captain comment from earlier. Sukuna couldn’t hear it though-- not over the sound of the distinct smack of the man’s hand on your ass. You quickly straightened your posture, cursing yourself for remaining bent over in such a way to invite such unwanted behavior. 

Before you could turn your head to face the offender though, Sukuna’s intimidatingly large form was hopping over the bar with an ease you would have assumed impossible for someone so bulky. You yelped out in surprise when you were pushed back, watching in horror as the bartender grasped onto the back of the man’s shirt with vigor and dragged him out the front door. 

“Sukuna--”

“Stay here.” 

You had no choice but to comply with his barked order, because in an instant, a crowd had formed around the door to watch the incident with bated breath. Part of you wanted to push through the crowd to either see what the hell he was doing to the man, or to attempt to stop him before he got himself into trouble. A larger part of you, like most of the time when it came to this infuriatingly guarded man, wondered if you really even wanted to know. There wasn’t much time for you to ponder on this decision though, because just a short two minutes later, he was bursting through the front doors once again, shooing everyone back to their tables in aggravation. 

Without so much as a word, he walked back behind the bar and took a shocked customer’s order. You awaited as he finished the interaction, staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. As if sensing he could no longer ignore you, he looked back up at you nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just leaped over the very counter he was standing behind like a bat out of hell. 

“Asshole said he’s sorry, by the way.” Sukuna huffed out, clearing a few empty glasses from the bar. Looking down at his hands as he quietly gathered up cups, you noticed his red, split knuckles. 

“Sukuna…” You began, but you weren’t sure where it was going. One part of you was touched that he would stand up for you in such a way without hesitation. While you would have preferred he hadn’t gone to such… extreme measures though, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found the whole thing, after the fact, extremely attractive. You shook your head quickly, dismissing those thoughts from your wandering mind. You were in a relationship, after all. In the midst of all the excitement though, you were beginning to draw your own, new, more informed conclusions about the bartender. “What was it that you said you did before this?”

He made you wait until he was on another smoke break to explain himself to you. You both sat, squatted on the ground of that back alley as he blew his smoke away from you, looking up at the flickering, fluorescent light above you two. 

“You… you were a hitman?” 

“C’mon, now you’re giving me too much credit, doll.” 

Your mind whirled with this new information, but, to be fair, you had already come to a similar conclusion just an hour prior when you watched him drag a full grown man out of the restaurant with ease. Chuckling half-heartedly at your wide eyed expression, he continued with a sigh. 

“I got paid to scare some dudes off. Didn’t kill nobody. Just… roughed ‘em up a little, y’know? Debt collectors, landlords, weirdo boyfriends. Paid good. Got Yuji through school.”

“Yuji?” You questioned, peering up at him curiously. Suddenly recalling your previous conversation about his reasons for being here, you continued. “Your nephew, right?”

He nodded firmly, a fond smile on his face. 

“His folks didn’t have the money to send him to college. I didn’t want him to end up like me. So… whatever paid the bills, know what I’m saying, doll?” His eyes shifted to peer at you with a sidelong glance. Even without direct contact, his eyes sent shivers down your spine. 

You nodded softly, a small smile gracing your own lips. 

“You're kind of a badass uncle, Sukuna.” You teased, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. His boisterous laughter bounced off the walls of the dark alley before he shook his head dismissively. “Pretty cool if you ask me.”

“What? Your man boring or something?”

For a moment, your mind short-curcuited again in the way Sukuna was so good at doing. You pondered his question for a moment, shyly looking down at your feet. 

“I mean, he’s no ass-beating vigilante if that’s what you’re wondering.” This made the man beside you chuckle at your perception of his past occupation. 

“How long ‘ya been together?”

“Seven years.” 

A low whistle echoed in your ears, and Sukuna snatched your left hand from its place on your knee to inspect your fingers. 

“No ring?” He scoffed, setting your hand back down with a smirk. “You seem like the type.” The joking nature in his tone helped to disguise the fact that he felt someone had just taken a knife to his testicles. When you told him you had a boyfriend, he figured it was a short thing, something that would pass eventually, and maybe he’d get a chance to swoop in soon. Seven years though? He was starting to feel as though he may have been holding out hope for nothing. 

“He’s finishing school first.” You defended deftly.

“Yeah? What’s he gettin’ his degree in? How to fumble 101?” 

You couldn’t even try to suppress the amused smile that fought its way onto your lips. The truth was, your relationship hadn’t been the same for a while now, and, by a while, you meant a few years. The two of you had been highschool sweethearts. So, when you graduated, it almost just seemed right to continue the still budding relationship. It was fairly textbook, graduating together, moving into your first, modest apartment with one another, but things quickly became very routine. 

It’s not that he was a bad guy per say, but sometimes you felt as though you were the only one trying to keep that spark alive. Granted, he was a busy man, what with his graduate program and internship taking up most of his time, but even on his free days, he was often either holed up in front of his computer or with his friends. The stress of all his responsibilities had definitely been catching up to him. When you tried to confront him about the way you barely even felt like friends anymore, let alone lovers, he was far too irritable to hold a conversation with about it. 

Sukuna watched you get lost in thought, and he wondered if he’d crossed a line. Throwing on a casual smile, he bumped your shoulder as you had just done to him. 

“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is if you get tired of waitin’, I’m next in line, ya’ hear?” Deep down though, he wasn’t joking, and you knew it too. Despite this, you chuckled along with him and shook your head. You stopped him with a hand around his large wrist as he moved to stand. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You said sincerely, being selfish in the way you allowed yourself to drink in the manner in which the dim lighting hit his dark features. He looked like he was crafted with a magical pick to cater specifically to each of your hidden desires. “For… roughing that guy up for me.”

For the first time, the smile that graced his lips wasn’t teasing, or sarcastic, it was genuine. It made him look far softer than his harsh appearance let on, and you wanted nothing more than for him to look at you with such care forever. Reaching up to grasp the back of your neck, you tensed a bit as he pulled you forward. His warm lips only pressed against your temple though, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not. As he pulled away from you, he ruffled your hair. 

“Anything for my favorite girl. Now take your hair out those damn pigtails.”

Safe to say, you never tried that little tip-grabbing trick again. Well, except, you attempted it just once more. It was a week when your shifts had been slower than normal, so you were a little desperate. All it took was one pointed glare from your favorite bartender, and you were making a beeline to the bathroom to take them out. After the last week though, you didn’t have to worry about it so much since you finally began taking over some shifts as a bartender with your newfound training. 

Sukuna was right, the influx of tips you recieved as a bartender was incomparable to what you were pulling in on the floor. The only downside to this arrangement was that they never scheduled two bartenders at the same time, so you didn’t see your mentor as much as you once did. Maybe it was for the best though, because your sudden, schoolgirl crush on the man that you swore was just a workplace fantasy, was beginning to bleed into your own relationship. 

You found yourself comparing your boyfriend to him each chance you got. It wasn’t fair- you knew that- comparing him to a man he didn’t even know existed. So, you tried to bring it up to him. Of course, you didn’t bring up your incredibly attractive, overwhelmingly cool, and strong coworker who had made it very clear that he was into you. You did ask him if he could be a little more attentive when you would tell him about your day, leaving out the way Sukuna would completely ignore customers until you finished whatever story you were babbling to him about your current tables, his chin propped up on his fist in feigned boredom. In addition, you pleaded with him to take himself a little less seriously than he had been since beginning his internship, not mentioning the way Sukuna let you paint his nails black in the breakroom after you joked about how it would complete the edge-lord look he had going on. 

Each time though, you were shut down. Even more mortifyingly so, you had been branded as the ‘nagging girlfriend’, and although you tried desperately not to, you took it to heart. You were more hesitant with the manner in which you’d even ask what he wanted for dinner, worried he may snap back at you the way he’d done that night. It felt as though you were back in front of those difficult customers, too afraid to stand up for yourself and your expectations as you knew deep down you should have. 

So, when you walked into your shift that day, tying your apron around your waist since you’d picked up to work on the floor tonight after a desperate call from your manager, your breath hitched when you saw that familiar presence behind the bar. Biting back a smile lest you appear too excited, you moved to punch in. From across the room, he caught your eye, his bicep flexing as he maneuvered the shaker aggressively over his shoulder, and his movements faltered for just a second. It was long enough for you to notice though. His blinding white canines shone under the light as he flashed you a wolfish grin. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you went about your shift. It wasn’t until your third table that someone finally ordered a drink from the bar, and you had an excuse to make your way over. He was busy with another customer. The restaurant was fairly packed tonight, but you figured that much when your boss practically begged you to come in. Waiting patiently on the side, you noted with a fond smile that he still had that chipped, black polish on his nails from when you painted them about a week or two ago. 

“If it isn’t my replacement.” Sukuna tutted as he finally made his way over to you. He slid a shirley temple over to you, something he had begun doing every shift since your little hiccup behind the bar. Unable to hold back your grin, you popped the cherry still floating at the top between your teeth, humming in satisfaction. Leaning against the counter, he tilted his head at you in amusement. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his eyes down your face appreciatively. “Heard you’re becoming a fan favorite, doll. How’s that tuition fund coming along?”

“Piggy bank’s almost full, Kuna-Kuna.” You informed with a beam that had his hard heart melting. If he wasn’t so engrossed in the way you smiled so sweetly at him, he would have been just a tad bit mortified that anyone else would hear that nickname you had given him. Despite that, he didn’t have the heart to tell you to quit calling him that in front of people. “Even submitted my application last week.”

“Yeah?” He smiled proudly at you, drinking in the way you were looking at him like he put the stars in the sky. You nodded softly, taking a sip from your drink in hopes it would cool the heat rising in you. Leaning in closer to you as if he had a secret, he winked at you. “Shoulda told me earlier. Would’ve made it a dirty shirley.” 

You would be lying if you said your shifts didn’t flow a lot more smoothly when Sukuna was there with you. Whether it be the pick-me-up drinks mid shift, or the teasing banter each time you set down another ticket for him, he brought a blinding excitement to your days that were noticeably darker when he wasn’t around. Then again, he couldn’t stop all misfortunes from coming your way. 

You waved a quick goodbye to him and the remaining host as you punched out of your shift, a fond smile seemingly stuck permanently on your face as you got into your car that night. As you turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtered pathetically before turning back off. With furrowed brows, you attempted it again, only to get a shorter, more concerning response from your barely-hanging-on vehicle. Groaning softly, you banged your head gently against the wheel. A frightened gasp escaped you as you unintentionally honked the horn. Cursing under your breath, you sent a quick text to your boyfriend explaining your predicament. 

Talk about timing :( You okay to call an Uber? I’ve got an exam tomorrow I’m in the middle of cramming for. 

A small lump began to form in the back of your throat as you read his message. Realistically speaking, there was no problem with you calling an Uber to come get you, but, in combination with all the rest of the shortcomings that have been popping up in your lackluster relationship as of late, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the dread of it all. You thought about what your future might look like, and what you wanted so desperately for it to look like. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you suddenly felt as though you were mourning the loss of how your highschool self envisioned yourself-- your relationship, your self worth. 

A sharp rap on your window had you gasping out in between your quiet sobs. Looking up, Sukuna’s large head was peering in through your window, his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made him look absolutely terrifying. You shook your head at him, waving dimissively as you tried to quickly wipe your tear-stained cheeks. His expression deadpanned, and he only knocked again, more purposefully this time. Sighing in exasperation, you hesitantly rolled your window down. 

“The fuck are you crying for?” He asked before the window was even all the way down. Your abrupt change in mood almost gave him whiplash, seeing as you were all sunshines and roses as you closed the restaurant alongside him just a few minutes ago. 

“Nothing--”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me.”

You dropped your head into your hands, another sob forcing its way up and out your throat. Sniffling pathetically, you mumbled into your palms. 

“My car won’t start.”

It was silent for a beat as he assessed the situation with an exasperated expression. He wasn’t buying it. 

“Your car won’t start…” he questioned as if asking if he was following along correctly, to which you nodded, still unable to face him. “So you’re boo-hoo crying in the parking lot?” You hummed in agreement to his words, not caring how pathetic it made you sound. Anything as long as you didn’t have to explain the shambles your relationship was currently in. “Your man can come get you though, right? Not the end of the world, doll.” 

Your silence made him lean in closer, prying your hands from your soaked face. Now forced to face him, there was a look of defeat on your broken face that made him want to beat your boyfriend’s ass to a stone-cold pulp. 

“He’s… he’s got a big test tomorrow.”

He tried to bite back his irritation at your poor attempt at an excuse, but he couldn’t help the way he sucked his teeth and took an extentive breath out to calm his temper. Casting a forlorn glance to the side before taking one more look at your once sweet face littered with pain, he reached in to unlock the door and then swung it open. 

“C’mon,” Sukuna urged as gently as he could, grabbing your arm to help you out of the car as you stared at him in question. “I’m taking your sorry ass home.” 

“No, Sukuna, I’m ordering an Uber. It’s--”

“Like hell you are, it’s almost midnight. Let’s go.”

Before you could protest further, your car door was being shut behind you, and he was walking you toward his bike. Turning toward you, he wiped at your tears haphazardly before placing his bulky helmet over your head. 

“What about you?” You questioned with a still shaking voice as you watched him mount the bike with no protection. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m already dumb as rocks. Gotta protect that brain of yours so you can get into your program, yeah?”

You were grateful for the heavy contraption covering your head so he didn’t see the small smile that sliced through your previously pitiful expression. He nodded for you to get on. Grasping his shoulder for support, you carefully slid on behind him. The warmth of his back set you ablaze as your body slid forward to meet his. You nervously wiped the palms of your hands on your jeans as he started the motorcycle, the roar of the machine rumbling in your sensitive ears. 

His head tilted back to look at you with a raised brow. Pink hair rippled gracefully in the wind in the most picturesque way as he smirked at you. 

“You gonna hang on, or should I let you fly off as soon as this thing takes off?”

With a thick gulp, you leaned forward in an attempt to grasp at his hips in a way that could ensure you maintain your composure throughout the ride. He tutted softly, grabbing your wrists and wrapping your arms firmly around his waist, shoving your cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. As he took off, the rumbling of the bike beneath you did nothing to help your flustered state. Against your frigid fingers, you could feel the taut muscles of his prominent abs flexing as he leaned forward on the motorcycle. 

It took everything in him to concentrate on the road before him. As he felt your small fingers timidly exploring the expanse of his abdomen in a way you surely thought was subtle, the task at hand was proving increasingly difficult. And yeah, maybe he did speed up just a little bit to feel you tighten your arms around him. God, he could have moaned at the feeling. Some primal urge deep within him wanted to pull this bike over and tell you that you didn’t have to act so shy, he’d let you touch him anywhere your pretty little heart desired. What he’d give to have you explore all of him with those small, timid hands of yours.  

Sukuna had to clear his throat as he rolled up in front of your apartment complex. For a minute, you both just sat there, allowing each other to be so close for just a minute longer. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against his back. In the end, you were the first to pull away, wrangling the heavy helmet off your head. As you did this, he maneuvered off the bike with ease, only to grasp his large hands over your waist to lift you off and onto the ground. Unnecessary, but a little showing off never hurt anyone, right? 

“Thank you, Kuna, really.” You mumbled as he took the helmet from your hands and settled it on the bike. You were peering up at him through your lashes, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were begging him to kiss you. Hell, maybe you were, but he knew deep down that’s not a line you would be able to live with yourself if you crossed. Still, you reached up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. It took everything in him not to lift you up and just take you home with him right then. So, he swallowed the feeling of sand running down his throat and opted to press a soft, safe kiss against your temple.��

As you reluctantly pulled away from the now overly familiar and comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smoke that clung to him, you smiled softly as you began walking away. You turned upon hearing footsteps behind you, following you. 

“What… are you doing?”

“I’m taking you up to your apartment, the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” He stated obviously. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t…” Your words drifted upon seeing the challenging look that settled over his face. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you found it within you to continue. “It’s just-- I don’t want my…”

“You don’t want your boyfriend to see that someone else took his girlfriend home since he apparently had something better to do?” Sukuna guessed, that familiar irritation creeping up in his chest, and he had to tell himself to cool it. You could only nod dumbly. “Yeah? Well I ain’t fucking scared of him. I’m walking ya’ to your damn apartment.”

With the finality in his tone, you had no choice but to allow him to trail menacingly behind you all the way up to your apartment door. The blood was rushing in your ears with anxiety, and you hoped he couldn’t see the way your hands shook as you unlocked the door. Sukuna stood in the hallway outside, but that didn’t prevent your boyfriend, who was sat on the edge of the couch alongside his friends with a card game sprawled out on the table, from seeing the intimidatingly large, tatted up man who’d just seemingly dropped off his girlfriend through the crack of the door. His brows furrowed at the sight, his imagination running a mile a minute, and he slowly stood up from the couch. 

God, in all his years being paid to rock the shit out of some seriously sketch people, Sukuna had never wanted to knock the teeth out of someone so badly. The dude was approaching the door as if he was really going to try something, and the bartender almost actually laughed at the thought of him trying. Before he had the chance to get questioned by your pussy-ass looking boyfriend, you had quickly shut the door in his face after muttering one last thank you. 

You sighed shakily as you locked the apartment door. Without the looming threat of Sukuna causing a scene about what had transpired that night, you were able to take in the sight before you. His friends, the card game, the drinks surrounding them. Your brows furrowed. 

“Who was that guy?” You heard your boyfriend question skeptically, but you were shaking your head in disbelief. Ignoring him all together, along with his friends that waved to you in greeting, you pushed past him to get to your shared room. “Hey!”

You attempted to shut the door in his face, just wanting to be alone for the night to process that your boyfriend just ditched you to play cards with his friends, and, worst of all, he lied to you about it. The door quietly shut behind him as he slid into the room, that suspicious look still everpresent on his face as if you were the guilty one here. 

“Babe, who was that guy out there?” He asked again. His voice was level, but you could hear those undertones of fierce defensiveness-- the kind you hated feeding into. You wanted to brush him off, tell him he was just a coworker of yours, and that he should get back to his friends who were waiting for him. In the back of your head though, you could hear Sukuna’s gravelly voice.

Assholes like that only shit on you so much cause you let ‘em

That night, for the first time in your seven year relationship, you let your boyfriend have it. You stood up for yourself, and you confronted him about lying to you, about not being decent enough to come make sure his girlfriend was okay when her car broke down in the middle of the night, about how you’ve turned into someone he only seems to be annoyed with. It was the first and last time you had ever stood up to him. When you came to work the next afternoon, you were almost an hour late, but you had two duffel bags worth of your things in the back of your Uber. 

As you pushed in through the double doors, you kept your head down as you made your way to the break room to drop off your bags. You heard your name being called, but you couldn’t face him right now. It was too embarrassing, the thought of having to tell him it didn’t work out after defending him for months. Your feigned ignorance to the call of your name didn’t stop Sukuna from bursting into the break room just seconds after you, watching incredulously as you hauled in two big ass bags.

“What the hell happened to you?” He questioned, grabbing the two, large duffel bags from your shoulders and setting them carefully on the ground. “Fuck, I almost clocked out and went over there myself.”

His irritated rambling only ceased upon seeing your swollen eyes and red cheeks. You didn’t have to say it, he already knew. Already feeling guilty for having raised his voice to you in such a state, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms tightly around your small frame. Sobs wracked your body, but he thought maybe if he held you tight enough he could squeeze all the tears out for you. Your arms hung limply at your sides as you pressed your face pathetically into his chest once more before pushing him away. 

You shook your head, frantically wiping your face and attempting to fix your hair. His red eyes were still intently on you, waiting with bated breath for you to either tell him what happened or snap, whichever came first. Slowly sinking down into one of the chairs, you brought your knees up to your chest. 

“You were right, Kuna.” You cried out with a bitter smile, unable to look him in the eyes. “He only walked all over me ‘cause I was letting him. I’m not gonna let him do it again, alright?”

“The fuck did that asshole do to ya’?” Sukuna snatched a chair out to face you before settling down with his chest pressed against the back of it. Your eyes drifted to the side, and he felt his jaw click with how roughly he was grinding his teeth together. “Huh?”

“He…” Your bottom lip trembled again, but this time it was out of sheer embarrassment from what you were about to tell him. “He asked me if you were the reason I had been questioning our relationship.”

That caught the usually quick-witted bartender off guard. He didn’t even know that you had been questioning your relationship. Had he been the reason for it? He couldn’t help the thoughts that began racing in his mind. 

“What’d you tell him?” It was all he could muster out, watching you with bated breath. 

“I told him to fuck off.” Through your blubbering tears, you managed to laugh, and Sukuna felt himself smiling along with you, a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest at the thought of the once timid girl finally growing a backbone. “Just like you taught me, Kuna.”

Abandoning any thoughts of fleeting hope that maybe your possible attraction to him was the straw that broke the back of your already straining relationship, he reached out to ruffle your hair. 

“That’s my girl.” He quipped, now working to smooth your hair down for you. His teeth caught on his bottom lip as he tried to suppress his next question, but he just had to know. “Did he cry?”

“Sukuna!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his eager question. Sniffling back your tears, you shoved at his hands and fixed your face before standing up. “Maybe.”

A victorious, villainous sounding cackle fell from his lips, and he high fived you. 

“Fuck yeah, he did. C’mon, heartbreaker, I’ll make you a dirty shirley to get you through your shift.”

It was definitely one of the harder shifts that you had had to brave through, but Sukuna was there each time you needed to take a breather. Hell, he had even gone as far as to run most of your drinks for you despite your boss’s demands for him to stay behind the damn bar for once. It only took one pointed glare from the bartender to straighten that situation out quicker than it had started. 

Still, no matter how many marashcino cherries he snuck over to you during your shift, or however many time he pulled you out back for a smoke break when he could tell you were about to lose it, the end of your shift was drawing near, and you were about to be faced with the reality of your decision once again. 

“Your car still acting up, doll? Need a ride?” Sukuna’s cool voice questioned from the bar as you got done wiping down your final table. You sighed, turning to lean against the now squeaky clean table. 

“No, I’m gonna stay with a friend. She lives kind of far out, so I’ll just take an Uber and call a mechanic to come take a look at that piece of crap in the morning.”

“How far out? You ain’t on the schedule for tomorrow?” He asked, walking back with you to pick up your bags from the break room. You watched him tuck his helmet under his arm in addition to your hefty bags. 

“About an hour or so. It’s alright, I just have to leave a little earlier than usual. Living the dream, am I right?” 

You heard his tut softly, and his steps out of the break room halted. 

“That’s bullshit, come stay with me.”

In an instant, your face flushed at the implications, and you were quickly shaking your head at him with a scoff. Sure, you would be lying if you said you weren’t extremely attracted to the man. Getting yourself into a situation that sticky only a day after exiting a seven year relationship though? A situation in which you’d be depending on said attractive man for the roof over your head? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon, I’ve got an efficiency that the brat uses when he comes to visit. Nice little kitchen and everything. You’d have your own space. It’s just sitting there, don’t be so proud.”

It wasn’t your pride getting in the way though. It was the fact that this man had made it very clear on multiple occasions that he was ‘next in line’ should your relationship fail. You weren’t sure accepting a room with those kinds of conditions was the best idea for you at this point. 

“Sukuna…” You murmured, kicking a scuff of dirt off your shoe just so you didn’t have to look at him as you explained yourself. “I… I need some time. Thank you for being so nice to me and all, but… I’m just not ready for--”

“Jesus, I’m not tryna cash in your ass for rent, doll.” He explained, and there was almost an underlying tone of offense in his usually cool voice. Although, even he had to admit that he couldn’t blame you for assuming such a thing-- what with the way he flirted relentlessly with you, but that was more so just to be able to see the way you blushed for him. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Look, you can take the efficiency, and you won’t even have to see my dumbass if you don’t wanna. Separate door and everything. I’m not asking you for anything in return, just wanna make your life a little easier till you get back on your feet.”

It did sound like a romantic enough offer, you thought as you chewed on your lip pensively. Additionally, it wasn’t as if he’d ever advanced on you inappropriately, and he always turned it down a notch if he noticed his teasing was making you uncomfortable. After all, you could always reach out to your friend should things go south.

“No conditions?” You questioned apprehensively. 

“Eh, might make you take some of my weekend shifts to make it up to me.”

An amused smile fought its way onto your lips despite yourself. You were disciplined enough to live with your extremely attractive, fit, and funny co-worker right after a bad breakup, right?

Wrong. You were not disciplined enough. It had been three days since you moved into the small efficiency at Sukuna’s modest home. You figured his little gig as a makeshift hitman must have paid him a decent amount to be able to afford a house on his own, but you weren’t gonna ask any questions. The space he offered you was neat, neater than you’d expected when he said his teenage nephew had been living there. There were photos hung up in the tiny living area, and you were shocked to see what looked to be a spitting image of the bartender, save for all the piercings and tattoos of course, beaming brightly at the camera alongside his larger, more brooding counterpart. 

Sukuna meant it when he said you didn’t have to see him if you didn’t want to. You hadn’t heard so much as a peep from your neighbor except for when he’d offered to carpool with you to work. Even then, he would wait outside the front door for you, never once stepping into your space. You were grateful, you seriously, seriously were. Still, the thought of him being just a wall away from you every night was driving you a little bit crazy, and you were beginning to feel a bit like a freeloader. 

So, that Sunday morning when the restaurant was closed, you got yourself up bright and early and began cooking. Waffles, eggs, bacon-- the whole nine yards. Once you were satisfied with your spread, you packed everything up and tried to appear confident when you knocked on his door. You waited. One minute. Two minutes. Was he even home? You peered out and saw his bike still parked out front, a large, black tarp covering it. When you turned back to the door, it was abruptly swinging open. 

Oh, right. Sukuna mentioned something about taking the bartending position to get out of working mornings. You were reminded of that little fact as you took in his dishevled appearance. His pink hair was messily strewn out in every which direction, complemented by the way his eyes squinted down at you to adjust to the light. The only thing he currently donned was a pair of baggy, black sweatpants that clung dangerously low on his hips. Your previous assumption had been correct; those intricate little tattoos did cover his entire body, most notable being the two that accentuated his already defined v-line. 

“Oh… I’m sorry. I just--”

“That for me?” He asked brashly, pointing lazily to the three tupperware containers stacked haphazardly in your arms. You could only nod, afraid of making more of an idiot of yourself than you already had. A rough grunt slipped past his lips, and he opened the door to let you in. “You coming in or what?”

You really had just intended to drop off breakfast for him, say your thanks, and leave, but this worked too. His space was neat, a little lifeless in your opinion, but what could you expect from a guy like Sukuna? Unlike the little efficiency you had settled into, there weren’t any photos hung around anywhere for you to pry into. As he set the tupperware down on the table and moved to grab some plates, you looked around his tidy kitchen. Hung on the fridge with a plain looking magnet was a letter of acceptance into a local university. Upon closer inspection, you noticed his nephew’s name on it. Jesus, he was making it really hard to not swoon. 

As you two shared your homemade breakfast on his small dining nook, he asked you about how you had been holding up, and you were honest with him. It was definitely an adjustment, but you felt as though you had been mentally checked out of the relationship for some time, and maybe that was why you felt a little more put together about it than you probably should have. Despite this, you told him how the hardest part was not having that person around that you always felt comfortable telling everything to. You couldn’t gauge what the look on his face meant upon hearing this confession. 

“You know… I got an email on Friday.” You began, deciding you needed something to break the sudden tension between you two. He hummed in question as he moved to clean your now dirty dishes in the sink. Your fingertips grasped the counter top in anticipation, and part of you questioned if he would be as excited as you were. “I got into the program.”

The dish he was holding dropped into the sink with a concerning clatter, and he spun around to meet your gaze. 

“No shit?” Sukuna gasped in disbelief, suddenly appearing more awake and alert than he had in the past hour. Grasping at your shoulders, he smiled excitedly down at you. “No shit! Why am I just hearing the damn news now?” 

You squealed in surprise as he lifted you up into a bear hug. His bare skin was warm against yours, and you took advantage of the proximity to trace your finger curiously down the tattoo on his neck. With a breathless laugh, you hoped he couldn’t feel your face heating up. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the celebrating mood three days ago if you can recall, Kuna…”

“Right, right,” He groaned, setting you down atop the counter so he could look you in the eye. His gaze was glimmering with pride, and you found yourself once again seriously questioning what dimension this man had fallen from. “So, what now? You gonna quit your job? Is it close by?”

“No, it’s local. I’ll probably see if they can keep me on part-time at least. Can’t leave my favorite bartender behind, can I?” Your voice was soft as you stared down at your lap shyly. With your gaze turned away from him, you missed the way his eyes softened at your words. 

Throughout the past few days, Sukuna wanted nothing more than to pound on your door to check in on you, but he knew these next few weeks would be sensitive for you. He didn’t want to cross that line-- make you regret agreeing to stay with him. Your story stuck in his mind every night though, what your asshole boyfriend had asked you just before you left him. As you sat in front of him, eyes shyly cast down and talking so sweet to him in that way you were so good at, he felt his resolve slipping. 

“Can I ask you a question, doll? And you don’t gotta answer it if you don’t wanna.”

This made you peer up at him in question, not anticipating how close he’d be when you did. You nodded with an inviting smile, almost scared of what he was about to say. 

“That asshole… he asked if you were questioning things with him ‘cause of me.” Sukuna began, and he watched the knowing look fall upon your face. It was too late now though. Leaning a hand against the counter, he tilted his head sincerely at you. “Was it? ‘Cause of me?”

The thinning barrier between friends and more was disappearing right before your eyes, and you found it increasingly difficult to tear your eyes away from his. They captured you with a fierce presence, begging you to prove him right, to let him know it wasn’t just him. Your entire mind was being clouded by Sukuna-- his eyes, his scent, his aggressive dominance that demanded to be felt. So, against your better judgement, you inched forward. 

“If I said it was… what would you do?” You questioned, your voice just above a whisper. His heart leaped into his throat. Something switched in his expression in just a second, and it almost darkened as he regarded you intensely. The hand he held beside you twitched, threatening to graze against the plush flesh of your thighs that spilled out from your pajama shorts. 

“Nothing unless you asked me to.”

“And… if I asked you to?

You felt it then, his rough fingers creeping up to grip your thigh. A small gasp escaped your lips, and he watched the motion with a smirk. Leaning in until his lips brushed dangerously against the shell of your ear, he whispered lowly. 

“I’d reach places in you that lowlife didn’t even know existed.”

No matter how badly you wanted to reach out to grasp at his tattooed shoulder for support, your hands seemed to remain superglued to your lap. Still, as your chest heaved softly, you could feel his firm pecs graze against your breasts teasingly. The proximity, the teasing, the anticipation-- it was damn near making you lightheaded. 

“Sukuna?” You whispered, and he hummed in question. “Please… please, touch me.”

As his hand dove into the front of your frilly shorts, and you gasped so sweetly into his ear, Sukuna made a mental note to thank his brat ass nephew for telling him to stay out of trouble while he was gone. 

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I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[bogleech]

Marine environments have repeatedly experienced new record temperatures for years now, and marine life subsequently keeps finding new ways to die in droves. This time it's most likely a neurotoxic protist, though it could be some other parasite. Sawfish are critically endangered and this phenomenon is killing them right now at several times the normal rate. It makes me so fucking murderously livid that everyone responsible for environmental degradation was allowed to continue making money the same way my entire life and still does while the consequences happen right in front of everyone.

REPUBLICANS (yes, those republicans) even identified climate change from man-made pollution as a serious threat over fifty fucking years ago. Then suddenly they turned into conspiracy theorists who reject all scientific fact, and the other half of America's government just won't do anything useful because they still get all their money from big oil.

[macfrog]

I miss our beloved scom family. How are they doing this fine day?

god, i miss them too. here's what they probably got up to today.

something blue 3.6k words | series masterlist warnings: y'all know the drill: being a mom.

Sarah leads Ellie, the way she always does, into the kitchen at seven a.m. sharp.

She stops by Joel first, squeezes into his size at the counter, and pushes onto her tiptoes. When he sidesteps to let her see (even though he point-blank refused to let you), she wraps two arms tight around her sister and hoists her up.

“Pancakes!” the three-year-old squeals, and loses her grip on her plastic dinosaur. He falls headfirst into the counter.

“Shh!” Sarah hisses, slinging Joel a disgruntled look. She sighs and swipes the T-Rex from his hand.

“The heck you lookin’ at me for?” he grumbles.

The girls eye you the entire walk over to the table. One as suspicious as the other. Sarah moves smooth, floats over to her spot with her chin skyward.

Ellie thumps at her heels, staring you down and almost stumbling into a chair.

“Careful, Nel,” you whisper, and her poker face cracks. You turn to Sarah. “I know it’s pancakes. It’s the only thing your dad ever figured out how not to burn.”

Joel’s shoulders jump. He swallows the laugh in his chest and says nothing.

Ellie sucks the chocolate clean from her dinosaur’s head. Last week, she decided his name was Bill. You, Joel, and Sarah are still trying to figure out where the hell she came up with it. Whoever he’s named after, she doesn’t like him much – not with the rate she lobs him around.

Kid’s an enigma. She suits it just fine.

She stares at you, still, as Sarah helps her up into her chair. Judders forward with each shove under the table. Comical, the two of them; like Pinky and the fucking Brain, you once told Joel – though you’re still not sure who’s who.

Your eyes drop to a stain on the toddler’s outfit. “You want me to wash that yet, Gagarin?”

She looks down. An arm swishes up to dab at the tangerine splotch. She grins, amused with herself, and shoves the dino back between her gums.

Sarah shakes her head. She turns back to you and flashes a trademark Joel frown. Eight years old and somehow, she manages to encapsulate the same fifty-six-year-old, unimpressed glower.

“Nel,” she turns, uttering between teeth, “You can’t wear dirty clothes today, remember?”

“I don’t think spacesuits are allowed at preschool,” you sigh as you push yourself up. “Much too sophisticated – huh, baby girl?”

Ellie giggles and flings her arms to the ceiling, sending Bill in a somersault across the table. She’s in nothing but pull-ups underneath the onesie – although it’s rare for her to ever be in much more than her pull-ups and, usually, one loose sock.

The suit means she’s feeling fancy. But what the fuck for?

All of Sarah’s leftover chaos, the magic she left in your veins after she was born, seems to have poured into her little sister. Smaller, mightier – more reckless, but not half as savvy.

Rarely seen without one of her prehistoric pals in her fist; evidence of what she had for lunch smeared around her lips. Chasing after Sarah, after Shimmer, after a butterfly that found itself trapped in her bedroom last month.

She scaled a chest of drawers trying to reach it. Joel caught her just in time. Some nights in bed, you can still feel his heart pounding from the scare she gave him.

Chalk and cheese. Sarah and Ellie. The former calm, composed. Candid and levelheaded, book smart and (alarmingly) wise beyond her years.

The latter – well.

It’s her first time on the planet, too, you try to remember.

You wander over to the washer, tossing the suit into the drum. You dig an elbow into Joel’s side and he flinches.

“Can I see yet?”

He turns, shielding whatever’s in front of him with a wide shoulder. “Not yet, baby. Not done.”

“You’re taking fuckin’ forever,” you mumble, pressing the words into his shoulder blade. From the corner of your eye, you watch the girls babbling to each other, scratching Shimmer between her floppy ears.

Joel twists, still hiding with his hands, and dots a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose. He smells like coffee and toothpaste. It still dizzies you every time he’s near enough for you to breathe it in.

“I’m almost done. Promise.”

You steal a kiss from his lips and smirk, stepping away. “Okay,” your eyes drift down to the counter, “If you say s…Alphabet sprinkles?”

His jaw slackens, moves like a bubbling fish. “Uh – they’re for – they’re for somethin’…Duck?” he clears his throat, “Tell your mom what they’re for, would ya?”

Sarah freezes. She stammers just like her dad. She does a lot just like him.

“A…a…a school project,” she says, and stares down at the dog.

“A – a – a school project?”

Your daughter nods. Still fixed on the smudges of sable around Shimmer’s eyes. “Bake sale.”

“You never told me about any bake sale,” you cross your arms, “What’d you make?”

She’s quick as lightning. “Cupcakes. But we haven’t made ‘em yet. Tonight, right, Dad?”

Joel’s voice is hoarse with panic. “Tonight,” he rasps.

You lean back against the counter, eyes shifting to the right. A different tactic. A rogue tactic, that’s for sure, but she has her moments. “…Nel?”

Your youngest looks up from her belly button.

“Not Nel,” Joel pleads, catching your eye for half a second.

“Why not Nel?”

His voice drops. “That kid would spill a state secret if you dangled a marshmallow in front of her.”

You tsk. “That’s mean. And wrong, anyways. The reason they have state secrets is ‘cause of kids like her. We should be proud, Miller.”

Ellie’s clutching the dinosaur when you look back over, chewing on his tail. She blinks back, and you wonder if there’s anything other than mastermind plans of mischief behind her eyes.

Joel says she has the same look in her eye that you do. Like you’re in on something the rest of the world has yet to catch up on. Twins, from the moment she stumbled ass over foot out of your body.

She talks just like you, and acts just like you, and – some nights, chatting sleepy gibberish under the slow turn of her rocket ship nightlight – you figure she must think just like you, too.

The perfect little riot.

Joel nudges you away, whispering, “Go on,” and you snicker, pushing off.

The sun combs through the room, glinting off cutlery and radiating from your daughters’ smiles. They chat and giggle and kick their feet; Sarah blows raspberries and Ellie sprays saliva all over the table when she tries to copy.

This is life, now.

You used to wake up to a silent house, sip your coffee and watch the oven clock count down the minutes until you had to leave for work.

You used to keep the radio on, even when you were out back – just to feel like someone was home with you. You used to sing to yourself as you flicked every light off at the end of the night.

Now, the laughter lives in the walls. It echoes even when you’re home alone. The oven clock counts down until there’s another pair of smaller hands in yours; until your man’s arms are back around your waist where they belong.

Come nightfall, you pluck odd socks and toy cars from under the couch. You tuck your children into bed, nuzzle your nose into their cheeks. You curl up beside Joel and trace shapes into his palm.

I love you, you write, some nights.

Dickhead, on others.

It takes a village, they all say. And sure, sometimes it does.

Sometimes, though, all it takes is two neighbors, a handshake deal, and a little bump named Duck.

“Woah, Nellie,” Joel chuckles, setting the first plate down. He clicks his teeth and taps a light knuckle on the girls’ hands, locked in a death grip. “Play nice. I got yours here, too, kiddo.”

Ellie straightens immediately. She watches, eyes fixed and glasslike, as her own breakfast is presented to her. And then she breaks into a wide grin, cheeks swelling. Her heels thud thud thud on the legs of her chair.

You lean over, cocking your head to see.

Two stacks of fluffy pancakes – a healthy dollop of chocolate spread on Sarah’s, and Ellie’s drizzled in golden syrup. Shards of strawberry and slices of banana scattered over the towers; blobs of whipped cream like clouds.

And on top of each, in clumsy sprinkle letters: Duckie and Nellie.

Sarah grins, two front teeth brand new and beautiful. She picks up her cutlery and raps them against the table, a nervous jitter about her.

You realize, just as her eyes flicker across yours, that she’s not beaming at her pancakes.

You realize, as he sways over to your side, that she’s beaming at him.

He’s holding two more plates. He sets his own down, a messy crater carved into the chocolate.

Your brows pull. “What happened –?”

“Bill happened,” he scoffs, shooting Ellie daggers.

She’s too busy tearing her stack apart, mixing a paste from syrup and cooked batter. There are few things the kid loves more than food and mess – and nothing she loves more than both at the same time.

She looks out of her mind happy, smothering the glossy mixture all over her cheeks, chewing in contentment.

“Like ‘em?” Joel asks, and you glance up.

“Yeah,” you laugh, eyes welling, “I love them. What’s the occasion, Miller?”

“Just…” his head wobbles as he considers it, “…we wanted to ask you somethin’.”

You turn to Sarah.

She’s still smiling, wider than you’ve ever seen. So bright that you worry she might shatter the glassware on the table.

“We?” you ask, smiling much the same.

She gives nothing away, and yet, at the same time – everything. Her knee bounces with excitement. Her breathing quickens.

“You wanna read yours?” Joel asks, tilting the plate in his hand.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you sniff, “I’m scared.”

He lowers the plate.

The letters blur in and out of focus as you blink.

Red, green, yellow, pink. The second M is an upside-down W. The Rs lean into each other, chocolate pushing from the middle of the letters. A question mark crafted from a C and half of another letter.

Your lungs jump, though you knew it was coming. Though you’ve talked about it for months, now.

Let’s just get it outta the way, make it easier for the girls when we’re older. Few forms to fill out then it’s done. We don’t gotta make a big deal of it.

Can’t afford to make a big deal of it, anyway.

Wouldn’t want to make a big deal of it.

You’ve never been one for big deals.

This is a big deal. This is a big fucking deal, Joel.

All multicolored, flecks of whipped cream on them. Silly little alphabet letters.

Marry me?

Joel kneels as you swivel around to him. He kisses your cheek, takes your hands, rubs his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Look,” he says, voice trembling, “I know we said we wouldn’t make a big deal of it. But…you gotta let me make a big deal of it, honey. You gotta let me make a big deal of you.”

You laugh, tears spilling down the front of your shirt. Your heart is pounding, body alight with nerves or excitement or both, in one lightning bolt of feeling.

It’s everything you ever wanted, and nothing you ever expected.

“Everything I have –” Joel says, “– the kids, the house, the dog – I found it all with you. Because of you. I love you so much, and I can’t – I can’t take another minute that we’re not…”

His hands squeeze yours, and you swear you feel your pulses align. Beating together, two hearts on the same bassline.

He swipes the tears from your cheek, catches them in his palm. “…It don’t have to mean anything, I know that – but you, darlin’…you mean everything. What do you say we go do it?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world. And not just because you knew it was coming, knew to expect it soon enough.

Joel could’ve asked you the minute you found out you were pregnant with Sarah, and you reckon you would’ve said yes.

It’s easy. Loving him is so easy. Being with him is so fucking easy.

Coffee at sunrise, low volume TV in the bedroom. Skin and sheets, marks on your neck and chest and thighs. Laughter for breakfast, homework for dinner. Two bodies squeezing into one tiny shower cubicle, Joel’s hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles.

“Today,” you whisper, cupping his jaw. “I want to do it today.”

“Today?” his eyes flash over your shoulder to his daughters, “We gotta take the girls to –”

“No, we don’t,” your head shakes, “Do we have a marriage license?”

“Got it last week.”

“Then they come with. We get all dressed up, all four of us, and head down to the courthouse. We’re married by the end of the day.”

He laughs, loose and disbelieving. Shakes himself back into the room. “Today,” he repeats. “As in, right now?”

“Right now, baby.”

“Okay. Yeah, alright. Today.”

“Ask me.”

Joel’s cheeks lift. Tears disappear into his beard.

You lean forward, lining your forehead against his. “Ask me, Miller,” you whisper.

It’s no big deal. It’s a regular Wednesday. Packed lunches and dinosaurs with Nutella in their teeth.

It’s no big deal, but when he asks you, time stops.

“Will you marry me?”

“Fuck yeah, I will.”

Sarah takes forty-five minutes to apply your mascara, some powder, and a pink lip. She promises she’s being neat, and you tell her you don’t care – you’ll love it either way.

She says she knows, but she promises she is anyway.

Ellie curls up in your lap and twists your necklace around her fingers. She asks four times if her spacesuit is dry yet.

“Ellie,” Sarah warns – and you know it’s serious when she uses her sister’s real name – “You can’t wear a costume to a wedding.”

“Mama is!”

“No she ain’t! Brides are s’posed to wear white. Mama’s dress ain’t white. What you got on is fine,” she decides.

Ellie knows better than to keep arguing. She catches her heel in her hands, huffing. “Wanted to be an ass-traut.”

You catch Sarah’s eye. Don’t.

She bites her giggle.

“You are an astronaut,” you squeeze your toddler, “Our astronaut. Whether you’re in your spacesuit, or you got your big bare butt out for us all to see.”

She giggles into herself, a sound sweet enough to convince the sun to rise at dawn. Her baby teeth are small and wonky. She snorts, settles in your arms again, and watches Sarah lean in with the lipstick.

You lift your chin, holding steady. “Is Dad ready?”

She pauses, letting go of her breath. “He says he’s been ready the last half hour,” she mutters, and dabs more color on.

“Is he nervous?”

Her eyes lift. Eyelashes long and thick – black mascara that you made her pinkie swear she’d wipe clean the moment she gets home.

She smirks. It’s like looking in a mirror. “Are you?”

You press your lips together, blending the pink. “Little bit. You think that’s a good sign?”

“Mhm.”

Sarah straightens, capping the lipstick. She smiles at her masterpiece. “You look beautiful, Mama.”

“Well,” your chest fills, “I’m only beautiful ‘cause you made me that way, Duck.”

Joel’s voice sails upstairs and into the little pink room.

“Courthouse is closin’, sun’s almost down, they’re diggin’ my damn grave already. Are we good to go, or what?”

Sarah grins and leaps over an upturned toybox in the middle of her room. She pirouettes out to the landing, pursing and then smacking her lips together.

You fix Ellie’s skirt and lead her out after her sister. “’s go, Nellie.”

“Mama,” she tugs at the fabric, “I gotta…Need…need…”

“Shit,” you whisper, watching the ballerina twirl downstairs to her dad. “Uh…Duckie?”

“Hi, pretty Duck,” Joel calls, catching her in his arms. He spins her around and the skirt of her dress billows.

Her little heels click when he lets her down. She keeps on spinning, watching herself in the mirror.

“Baby?” Joel calls. “Y’all ready?”

“Nel’s gotta go!” you reply.

He scoffs. “She nervous or som’?”

“Or som’,” you sigh, walking the kid into the bathroom.

Ellie takes about as long as a three-year-old should, to be fair to her. It requires an amount of determination that right now, neither of you have the focus to lend it. Potty training doesn’t wait up, even for weddings.

Eventually, she announces with a triumphant shout that she’s done, Mama! – and claps her hands as the toilet flushes.

You carry her downstairs, heels clunking on the solid wood. At the bottom you set her free – and she sprints out to join her sister on the lawn.

The pair run circles around one another. They cartwheel on the grass; they race Shimmer and use the flowerbeds as hurdles. They dirty their dresses – ivory stained with bursts of green – though they look better that way, anyway.

They take turns playing Swingball with the only remaining racket (a mysterious disappearance that neither will own up to, and both are most certainly involved in). Sarah tells Ellie that she won – and the smaller girl throws her fists in the air and roars in victory.

Joel stands on the porch, hands in his pockets, watching. Even from behind, you can see the shape of his cheeks: he’s smiling. He crosses one foot over the other and taps his heel against the wood.

You emerge from the house slowly, quietly. “We didn’t get matching corsages this time,” you say, and he turns.

He starts, as though he glitches for a second. As though his world tilts on its axis, just from looking at you. His expression softens, his lips curve into a smile.

Then he breathes a laugh – a shaky thing, like he’s seventeen again, watching his homecoming date saunter over.

“That’s alright,” he replies, and slips a hand into his suit pocket. He fishes out two white tulips. “Remembered Alice dropped these off the other day. Here.”

Delicately, lighter than the breeze, he tucks the flower behind your ear. He steps back to admire his work, just like his daughter did.

All the best parts of you, you reckon, are the parts that are loved by them.

“How do I look?” you ask.

Joel sucks in a shattered breath. “Beautiful,” he chokes, like it’s all his voice will allow. He sniffs, drags his knuckles across the bottom of his nose, and says, “You ain’t never looked more beautiful.”

“Your turn.”

You take the second tulip from his fingers and drop it into his breast pocket, turning it until it looks perfect. “There,” you pat his chest, “Now we both look beautiful.”

He steps forward, dipping his head to kiss you. Arms around your waist, hands splayed on your back. He laughs against your lips. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is,” he mumbles, tugging at the pale material.

“It still fits!” you say, running a palm down the smooth silk. Flashes of light, a squealing guitar, heated kisses and a thudding bassline. It spins past your eyes as he leans in again.

He tastes the same. Less alcohol, sure – but that same, sweet-as-honey, instantly intoxicating taste. Like you were a goner before you even hit the mattress.

You look back up, and Joel’s eyes are on yours.

“After two kids, it still fits,” you whisper.

“Hm,” he muses, glancing down. His hands slip around your ass. “Looks even better than it did then, Mama.”

You laugh against his lips. “It’s my something blue.”

“Oh, yeah?” He lifts an eyebrow. “What else you got?”

“Well, something borrowed –” you hold your left hand up, a plastic ring glinting in the sunlight, “– Duck gave me some of her finest jewelry. Something new –” you wiggle your earlobe, “– Mother’s Day earrings, and…something old…”

Joel tilts his head. His expression tightens, tightens, tightens – until he understands. He clicks his teeth and steps back. “Funny. You’re so funny, I ever tell you that?”

You giggle, letting him drag you across the porch. “I’m just bein’ realistic, man. What else do I got that’s as old as you?”

He ignores you. It makes you laugh even harder.

It always did.

The wind surfs through silk, lifting your skirt as you stride over the driveway. Your hands stay interlocked – and you know that, secretly, Joel’s as nervous as you.

He whistles and his daughters look up.

“Serena, Venus,” he calls, nodding to the truck. “Get in.”

They skip over. Sarah takes her dad’s hand – the picture of royalty as he aids her up into the backseat – and Ellie swings into your arms.

You strap them in, point fingers to warn them not to bicker, and climb in the front.

The doors slam closed and you exhale slowly. Two kids aren’t any more complicated than one – especially in yours and Joel’s case – but holy shit, they’re tiring.

They compare dresses in the backseat. What color is yours, Duck? Pink, Nel. Is mine’s pink, Duck? Yours is yellow, Nel.

Joel’s hand slips around your knee. He smiles. Gives your leg a little squeeze. He flicks the radio on, and an Eagles track sways through the cabin. He fixes the tulip in your hair, peppers kisses along your wrist.

His voice is as soft as Henley’s, when he asks –

“Wanna go to a wedding?”