#i need to figure out a last name for her too

[cattjull]

hii hehe,just before I request I wanted to say thaf I enjoy your fics a lot!! But do you think I could get Abby who gets home late fron partol to reader sound asleep but she’s just so needy and pent up from today patrol she can’t keep her hands to herself? It could be dom or sub doesn’t matter just need her to grind my ass

The promise.

a/n: I'm so sorry it took me forever! Also I suck at writing smut so I hope this lives up to your expectations. I'd really appreciate feedback from you!

cw: porn with barely minimum plot, somnophilia, ass humping (r!receiving), strap-on usage (a!receiving), dom!reader, sub!abby, hair pulling.

wc: 2200k.

As always, Abby had lost rock paper scissors against whoever-the-fuck it was this time. And as always, now she'd have to do the latest patrol, as you so much hated since you didn't have your pretty girl to cuddle you and help you sleep.

Now, Abby was frustratingly getting ready for patrol. As it was spring, she didn't need to put much clothes on. Easier to take off. You stared at her up and down as she took off her pajama shorts and tank top, leaving her in only her underwear. She acted so nonchalant while you were getting wetter and wetter with every single move she made, it was frustrating.

"You look so hot." You praised her, looking up at the big woman from your place on the bed. Your voice came out sultrier than ever, you were so turned on.

The look in your eyes, fiery, almost predatory, didn't go unnoticed by Abby. She carved a need in you so effortlessly it almost scared her, like you would never get tired of playing with her pink little hole. It was also one of the things she loved about you.

Abby's initial instinct when she noticed the tone in your voice was to look at the clock in your bedside table. She was already late.

"We can't, babe." She warned you as she put a grey tank top on that hugged her figure and made her biceps stand out.

"Why not? You'll be a few minutes late." You insisted with fake innocence, sitting up and already taking off your shorts.

"Last time you said that you tied me up for three hours." She retorted sternly as she finished pulling her pants up, trying to sound resentful as if she hadn't loved it. You snickered internally at the memory.

"You should learn about forgiveness." You said with a roll of your eyes as you took Abby's your oversize shirt off.

"When I get home you can fuck me." She promised you with a smile, showing her eagerness in her oh so beautiful eyes.

"But it's like... Three hours!" You complained. "I'll have to wait too much." You pouted slightly.

"Go to bed early, yeah? I'll eat you up as soon as I come back." The golden haired girl asked you gently, about to close the door behind her instead of giving up to your desires.

"No, baby, I promise I won't." You reassured fervently, even if she was asking for quite the opposite.

"I'll wake you up." She promised, as many times before.

"You're lying." You accused her, seeing right trough her lie.

Abby always told you white lies, and it was irritating at times. Telling you she'd wake you up when she came from a late patrol, saying she's not injured, lying to protect your poor heart. But it felt just annoying sometimes, so annoying you wanted to push her against the nearest surface and finger her until she forgot her own name.

"I'm not. I'll wake you up, yeah?" She insisted softly.

You wanted to make sure she woke you up this time. You sat up and walked to her, holding her hand and bringing specifically her middle and ring finger to your cunt. You moved your panties to the side and massaged yourself with her fingers, wettening quickly due to the slick that formed just by just seeing her changing clothes.

As you did that, you stared up at her, looking right into her blue eyes.

"You'll wake me up, will you?" You asked as you rubbed her fingers against your clit desperately, making you gasp.

"I..." She was at loss for words; you never failed to turn her on. "I will." She affirmed, a bit more surely this time as her voice turned breathy.

She quickly pulled her hand away from your underwear and walked out quickly before the temptation took over her and you found yourself dressing up again with annoyance.

You'd stay up, waiting for her. You'd show her.

Abby entered the house, tired from staying up for so long. Luckily she was not hurt; she didn't even face any infected or scar. It had been a quiet and unnecessary patrol, but at least she had had Manny by her side to keep her awake.

Even if in the first hour of patrol she had been eagerly thinking about coming back home and riding your thigh, or taking your fingers, or whatever you wanted her to do, she was too tired to wake you up and have sex. You could do it in the morning, like always.

That's the opinion she maintained until she opened the door to your shared room. There you were, as beautiful as a devil, sleeping like an angel. The only piece of clothing you had on was that lacy g string she loved so much, face down with a pillow between your legs. Her pillow.

All the neediness you gave her before patrol came back and crashed her down like a tsunami, drowning her in lust at the mere sight of your sleeping form as the ache between her thighs returned.

You had, indeed, did that on purpose, ensuring you fell asleep on that position.

She wouldn't wake you up, not when you looked so tired... She would be quiet, and gentle. Your ass was already up, maybe she could hump it. You had done the same with her other times and she woke up, but that was because she was a light sleeper... It wouldn't be the same for you.

As she finished reasoning, she quickly walked to the bathroom to clean her hands and came back to the bed. In a record time, she got rid of her boots and clothes, trying not to make any noise.

She jumped to the bed beside you and started rubbing slow, strong circles around her pulsating clit while she stared at your sleeping self, all quiet and pretty. It was all good until she realised she needed more.

Then she tried straddling your thigh and grinding on it. After one or two minutes, she gave up. It wasn't good enough.

She finally moved to your ass, which provided her the firmness she needed, the flesh being jiggly and perfect for her to ride, as if your ass was made for her to grind her pussy against it.

Time passed by as she grew needier and faster. Her pace slowly but surely grew rougher, her whimpers louder, and you already were soaked with her juices and she wasn't even that close to cumming.

A particularly rough grind, followed by a loud cry of your name, abruptly brought you back to lucidness. You felt Abby's weight over you, and at first you just didn't care. You fucked her when she wa asleep, she did too. No worries.

But then you remembered her promise.

The way she was using your poor sleeping body for herself, not even deigning to keep her word and wake you up to fuck you made your blood boil. How could she break such an important promise?

You waited until you felt her get weaker, her hands trembling at your sides. That's when you shifted, trying to get up and ruining her orgasm, what left Abby frozen in a mix of excitement and fear. You could be dangerous when she wasn't good or honest.

She immediately got off of you and you turned around, feeling her wetness all over your right buttcheek.

"I thought I told you to wake up." You reminded her, your voice already threatening even if you were still under the effect of sleepiness.

"Babe, you looked so peaceful sleeping..." She excused herself, her voice trembling and breathy. "I just wanted to cum." She said weakly with those doe eyes you loved, rubbing her thighs together as she tried to get back the pleasure she was feeling a few moments ago, but it was no use.

"Ass up now." You commanded, opening the drawer to take your clear strap. You quickly put it on, adjusting it, and climbed to the bed. You were still sleepy.

By the time you had finished adjusting it, Abby was already in her fours, back arched and her big, juicy ass on display just for you.

"Hmm, and now you're pretending to be a good girl." You said mischievously as you kneeled in front of her. "But I don't think you were. You promised to wake me up." You brought it up again, your voice cruel as you held the fake dick in your hand and introduced her in her mouth.

She tried to talk, but all that came out was a choked gagging. You took the strap out, wettened by her saliva in a way that made your walls clench.

"I'm so sorry. Didn't want to disturb your sleep." She gasped out, seemingly desperate for you to use your strap in her cunt and not just making her suck it.

"Too late." You retorted, and she knew from that tone in your voice that she wouldn't be treated any nicely.

"Please fuck me." She begged you, staring at you from her position.

"I was already planning on doing so." You admitted, your voice softening for a moment. "But first, suck it." You commanded, pushing your dick into her mouth roughly; she barely had time to open her mouth.

You spent around three minutes just making her suck your strap, making sure she got desperate. You didn't feel anything but an almost nonexistent brush against your clit, but the sight of her swallowing as much as she could from you almost made you feel like the silicone was a part of you, filling her mouth with precum.

Your clit pulsed so violently that you just pulled her braid back to stop her. You leaned against the headboard, still kneeling.

"Please." She pleaded almost religiously, as she should. Her blue orbs stared right into your soul, filling it with a sinful mix of compassion and lust. You would've loved to make her suck your strap and beg for you much more, but you also needed her. You yanked at her braid a little harder, earning a soft moan from her throat.

"There's no please. If you want me then fuck yourself on me." You replied simply in an icy yet mocking tone, hoping to fullfill your own needs.

She turned around and positioned herself with her ass right against your strap. She started moving up and down, letting the tip of the silicone rub against her, making her even more wet than she was already from her previous orgasm.

She then finally let your dick slide easily inside of her, letting out a soft whimper of relief.

"You're so wet." You mocked her.

"I just missed this..." She sighed out as she started bouncing back against you, using enough force so she was hitting your clit just the way you needed it.

Her braid was right there, adorning her back, inviting you. You yanked it back, drawing out a gasp from her and seemingly motivating her to get herself off on you with more force than before. Her pace was slow, but firm. Her ass bounced and slapped against you in that way that would leave you dazzled and drooling every time.

She grew needier and needier as time passed by, becoming more desperate and unable to speed up due to the position in which she was. You noticed she was close to cumming, probably due to her own arousal rather than because of the little amount of pleasure she was receiving from you.

You noticed her legs started trembling. That's when you placed your hands in her waist and started slamming your hips against her with no mercy, not only for her but also because you needed more friction against your clit.

You felt so close now that you were the one strapping her and not her fucking herself on you since you could apply as much force as you needed for the base of the strap to rub your clit just right. Your climax was slowly approaching you, and so was Abby's.

You started thrusting faster and harder. Since the whole time you hadn't made a move, you had enough stamina to fuck her as hard as you wanted, slamming into her walls rapidly.

"Can I... Babe..." She cried out loudly, clearly affected by your pace. Your hand gripped the back of her hips tightly, moving them as you pleased against you to get that sweet relief you needed.

"Yes! Oh my god, Abby, yes!" You screamed, already cumming. A loud moan followed by a trail of curses came out of your mouth as you moved faster, riding out your orgasm.

Abby's orgasm crashed her like a wave, slow but intense enough to drown her in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yes baby there there there...." She begged until she started babbling stupidly, encouraging you to push the strap deeper and deeper inside of her pretty pussy.

You kept going and ruthing your dick into her at that same relentless pace until she started sobbing and gripping the bed sheets hard. You weren't really into overstimulation; seeing Abby uncomfortable made your heart twist and clench and want to stop working. So as soon as you noticed her orgasm had already gone, you gave her one last thrust before sliding out of her entrance and kissing her cheek.

"Eat me out as you promised and we'll go to sleep, alright?" You asked demanded her sweetly.

[planetpedri]

Moments 𖦹 Alexia Putellas !

summary. on your second christmas together, alexia can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of love for you.

word count. 510+

disclaimers. fluff , wlw !!

bea speaks. merry xmas to those who celebrate!! if not, well just happy day! it’s actually xmas eve for me rn but i needed to post..

The snow was light in Barcelona, which you were grateful that there was even any—but the air had a wintery bite. Inside the warmth of your shared home, christmas lights sparkled throughout the room, casting soft glows of many colors over your faces and the walls. You sat beside Alexia, wrapping a few extra presents in a sea of colorful papers and ribbons.

Alexia had been quiet the whole night, her usual playful quips absent. You’d figured she was just tired and it’s not like you didn’t enjoy being in the silence with her, until it reached thirty minuted before midnight, and you could see her eyebrows pulling together the more she thought.

Finally putting the scissors aside, you nudge her knee. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

She glances up at you, her expression tender but distant. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” she answers softly.

Smiling at her, although her tone gave you slight pause, you tilt your head to the side questioningly. “Lucky how?”

“For you.” She murmured, her eyes flickering over your face.

“For this. For us.” She picked up a small ornament on the tub beside her, one that had your names written in sloppy glittered letters. It was pink, you’d picked it out last Christmas—a small memento to your first holiday spent together.

“I’d never thought i’d have peace like this in my life. I’d always been so focused on football—too focused. You know? Like I was afraid I’d get too in deep if I let someone in.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded anyways. “And now?” You ask gently.

“Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” She admitted, her voice raw as she gave you a half-lipped smile. “I’m always afraid of losing this—you.”

Moving closer, your heart aching at her words, you take the ornament from her hands and set it aside. “Cariño, you’re not going to lose me,” You say as firmly as possible, cupping her face lightly. “I’m going to be around for every moment, every Christmas, and everything in between. I am not going anywhere.”

The blondes lips quirked into an actual smile then, her eyes glassy as she looked at you. “You have a way with words.”

“I do.” You grin, brushing a thumb over her cheek, “I’m here because I love you, every moment with you.. I cherish, even the quiet nights like tonight.”

Alexia leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. “Seriously, how do you always know what to say?”

“Because I’m just as lucky as you are?” You quip, Pulling away to smirk at her.

With a small chuckle, Alexia wrapped her fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer to place her lips on yours.

The warmth of her lips spread across you, spreading through your chest like the lights from the tree. Pulling away ever so slightly, you whisper against her lips, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, mi amor.” She murmured right back, now only feeling warm and full of love for you.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future alexia posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby

[goldfades]

could you write a fic with joe burrow where reader is a ballet dancer? i’m one myself and thought it would be cute to read 🎀🤍like maybe reader is getting ready for class and joe is all lovey dovey and infatuated with her skills or something along those lines😆🤍

this took such a long time cause i genuinely didn't know anything about ballerinas but i finally finished it! i hope you enjoy!

you’re standing in front of the mirror, tugging your hair into a sleek bun with a precision that feels second nature by now. the elastic snaps against your wrist, the rhythm of muscle memory guiding your fingers. the early morning light spills through the window, casting a pale pinkish glow on the hardwood floor of your apartment. your bag, stuffed with pointe shoes and an assortment of worn leotards, sits slumped against the door like a patient, silent companion.

you don’t hear him at first—too lost in the ritual of tying up your hair and mentally walking through the combinations you’ll be rehearsing later. plié, tendu, jeté. the words are as familiar as your own name. but then there’s the unmistakable creak of a floorboard, and you catch his reflection in the mirror, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

“how is it possible,” joe says, voice still gravelly with sleep, “that you look this graceful even when you’re just standing there?”

he’s in sweats, hair a mess, arms folded across his chest as he watches you like you’re some sort of masterpiece in motion. and maybe to him, you are. his lips twitch into that soft, lopsided smile—the one that never fails to disarm you, even after all this time.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “you’re bias.”

“nope.” he steps further into the room, bare feet quiet against the wood. “just observant.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you finish securing the last stubborn strand of hair into place. joe has this way of making every little thing you do feel like an event worth documenting, like he’s quietly cataloging moments to replay in his mind later. it’s sweet, if not a little overwhelming at times.

“shouldn’t you be at practice or something?” you ask, reaching for your bag. you don’t turn to look at him, not yet but you can feel the warmth of his gaze like a second skin.

“shouldn’t you be at class?” he counters, stepping closer. his hands find your waist, gentle but deliberate and he spins you around to face him. you barely have time to protest before he’s looking at you like you hung the moon. “i’ve got time before meetings. figured i’d spend it wisely.”

“wisely, hm?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. but there’s no real bite to it, especially when his thumbs start tracing lazy circles against your hips. it’s maddening how easily he can undo you with the simplest of gestures.

he nods, his expression softening. “yep. watching you do what you do best is a pretty solid use of my morning.”

you blink up at him, momentarily disarmed. “joe, i’m literally just putting on shoes right now.”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, tilting his head like he’s considering something profound. “you make everything look... i don’t know. effortless. like you were made for it.”

heat blooms in your cheeks and you glance down at your feet in an attempt to compose yourself. his words always seem to hit a little too close to your heart, peeling back layers you’re not always sure you’re ready to expose. but joe has a way of doing that—of making you feel seen in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

“stop,” you mumble, though your voice lacks conviction.

“not a chance.” his voice is low now, teasing but tender and you feel his fingers brush a stray thread of your sweatshirt. he tugs at it absentmindedly, his touch lingering like he’s unwilling to let you go just yet.

you step back, needing a moment to collect yourself and crouch to dig through your bag. the familiar scent of worn fabric greets you as you pull out your shoes. they’re old, the satin fraying at the edges, but still serviceable. joe crouches beside you, his knees cracking as he lowers himself down.

“i’m not trying to embarrass you,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now. “i just... i don’t think you realize how incredible you are. how much work you put into this. it’s—i don’t know, just amazing to watch.”

you glance at him, and there’s no trace of sarcasm or pretense in his expression. just honesty. it’s almost too much.

“you’re such a sap,” you say with a smile, trying to deflect, but the words come out softer than you intend.

he grins, completely unbothered by your deflection. “you love it.”

and god, you do. more than you probably should admit.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰XES & Os

Lara Raj x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been seeing lara for a while and she’s finally invited you to see them perform at an award show from the vip lounge, but you didn’t expect to see the last person you’d want to run into on the way to the bathroom, and lara isn’t too happy when she spots the both of you from onstage

warnings: nsfw, suggestive/sexual themes, hickeys, biting, rough!lara, dom!lara, jealousy, possessive!lara, semi-public!sex, car!sex, teasing, dirty talk

Y/N adjusted her dress—red, lara insisted she sported her favourite colour for good luck—smoothing the fabric over her hips as the bass from the concert hall vibrated through the walls of the VIP lounge. Tonight was a special night. Lara had personally invited her as her plus one to this show—a full house for some award show.

She had the perfect view of the stage—of Katseye.

Y/N had heard Lara sing before at Katseye concerts, but seeing her command an entire stage with her group was going to be such a new experience. The anticipation of watching her girlfriend in her element sent a thrill through Y/N’s body.

The woman decided to step out for a moment before the show began. The hallways were bustling with staff and a few other VIP guests milling about. There were tables on tables of food and drinks ordered perfectly, before a fancy bar offering many tapped kinds of beer. Y/N barely had a chance to orient herself and take in the room when she collided with someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Y/N started, but her voice faltered as she looked up and locked eyes with a familiar face.

Billie Eilish O’Connell.

“Y/N?” Billie’s scoffed, her voice like a melody she hadn’t heard in years but still recognized instantly. Her ex’s trademark smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Wow, it’s been a while.” Her eyes raked over the red, silky dress hugging Y/N in all the right spots. “You look… good.”

Y/N’s heart sunk. Of all places, why here? Why tonight? She cleared her throat, trying to maintain composure. “Yeah, it has. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m performing tonight,” Billie said casually, brushing her red rooted hair back. “And you? Who’re you here for?”

Y/N hesitated, debating how much to share. “My girlfriend, Lara invited me.”

“Lara?” Billie’s smirk widened knowingly. “As in Lara Raj from Katseye? I always knew you liked a woman with a bold hair colour,” she joked, “Small world, hm?”

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Billie’s piercing gaze always had a way of making her feel exposed, even when there was nothing to hide. Before she could figure out how to end the conversation gracefully, a deep voice called out. It could only be whom used to be one of Y/N’s more familiar friends, Finneas. “Hey, Billie! We’re needed backstage!”

“Coming!” Billie called back before turning to Y/N. “Well, it was nice seeing you again. Maybe we’ll catch up later?”

“Sure,” Y/N lied, already dreading another conversation.

Billie leant forward for a quick hug, her hand placed securely on Y/N’s waist before pulling away with a grin.

As Billie disappeared down the hallway, Y/N exhaled shakily. The timing couldn’t have been worse. She knew Lara wouldn’t be thrilled about her talking to her ex, especially not tonight of all nights. Y/N made her way back to the VIP lounge, hoping to put the encounter out of her mind.

The concert was electric. Katseye’s energy was infectious, and Lara shone brighter than the stage lights. Her voice soared, her movements captivated, and Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off her. Every so often, Lara’s gaze seemed to flick toward the VIP lounge, and Y/N felt her cheeks flush under the weight of her attention. It was impossible for Y/N’s voice to go any louder, she practically lost her voice shrieking her girlfriend’s name as they moved around the stage for “Touch”.

Lara made sure to blow a kiss her way before they ended.

A couple more acts came on after Katseye, all delivering unique performances. When Billie sauntered onstage, the audience erupted. Y/N froze in her seat as the spotlight illuminated her ex. She watched Billie and Finneas exchange a quick nod before the music started. Their voices blended beautifully, creating a hauntingly powerful harmony. But as Y/N’s eyes darted between them, she couldn’t shake the tension knotting in her stomach.

Toward the end of the song, something caught her off guard. Billie’s eyes flicked toward the VIP lounge—toward her. It was brief, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

And backstage, watching the dozens of screens streaming different angles of the show, it was nearly impossible for Lara to miss the deliberate motions Billie seemed to throw her the VIP lounge. Initially, she thought she was crazy, there were a couple other people standing behind the glass of the lounge, it could have been to anybody. But, after a wink, a blown kiss and intense eye contact as she moaned in apart of the song “Bitches Broken Hearts”, she was almost certain her girlfriend, standing out amidst the others in that linen dress, was the target of Billie’s affection.

And the girls’ teasing just seemed to solidify the theory.

“Damn, Billie’s really coming for your girl, huh?” Manon joked, nudging a tense Lara with her elbow, “Look at her face.”

Daniela exhaled deeply, “I could feel the heats from here.”

Megan whistled, fanning herself. “Can you blame her? Y/N’s looking mighty fine in that dress.”

Sophia playfully shoved her in the shoulder as she eyed the tight clench of Lara’s jaw. “Don’t go instigating, guys. There’s like twelve other people standing in that VIP box.”

Yoonchae tilted her head, before pointing at something on one of the screens. “Is Billie… pointing?”

The six members gathered around the screens, their headsets and mic’s still clutched in their hands. It looked to be Billie standing from her seat beside Finneas. And as the man played the tune to “I Didn’t Change My Number”, Billie walked her way to the edge of the stage, gazing over thousands of fans reaching for her and letting out shrill screams. But her own gaze landed on the woman up in the VIP lounge, shimmering red beneath the showcase lights. Her hand rose to point at the woman as she belched a particular line, a line she had written for her when reminiscing on the times Billie would love waking to this woman’s bare back.

Lara knew of Y/N’s past, her friendship then turned brief but toxic relationship with Billie. Y/N had assured her many, many times there was nothing there anymore, they don’t even talk, but the way Billie seemed to be flaunting her feelings for her girlfriend was like waving red before a bull.

She was going to fucking murder Billie Eilish.

Assisted backstage by Katseye’s manager after the concert, Y/N waited anxiously, knowing she’d have to face Lara sooner or later. She was excited to jump into her girlfriend’s arms, showering her with kisses and praise for how good she did onstage. She hoped to explain everything in case she had seen the whole Billie fiasco, but fate had other plans.

“Oh, hey!” Billie called out. She was catching her breath, sweat dripping from her head with her hair clipped up lousily. She had a bottle of water in her hand, half-drunk and crushed in between her fingers. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Y/N swallowed, nodding politely. “Yeah, you were good.”

“Yeah?” Billie smirked, looking down to wet her lips as she capped the bottle. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

The woman glanced past the singer’s shoulder to scout for her girlfriend or somebody from Katseye who could get her out of this situation. “Yeah, I really enjoyed the show. Hey, maybe we should catch up some other day over drinks, yeah?”

Billie tilted her head, “Really? I’d love that.”

She pulled her phone out her pocket, “I’ll text you a time and place. You still have the same number?”

From behind Y/N, Katseye had changed into the outfits they came in. They were laughing and chatting about the success of their performance. But Lara was ahead of the group, buzzing on her feet in excitement to see her girlfriend.

“Oh my God, is Y/N… talking to Billie Eilish?” Daniel gasped, “Wait, Lara, I didn’t know your girlfriend was friends with her. Maybe she could introduce us.”

But Lara stopped in her tracks, staring at the singer inching closer to her woman with a phone in her hand. She was sporting that signature smirk, her sleepy eyes drinking in the perfect skin to dress ratio her get-up offered. Without another thought, she strode over.

Y/N felt big hands palm her waist, sliding down and around her back. Warm lips met her cheek, before a taller figure loomed over her and alluring dark eyes met her own. She was basking in that post-performance afterglow and she looked ethereal. Before Y/N could greet her girlfriend or contain the excitement she felt suddenly surge from her head to her feet. Lara was already glaring at Billie, who just looked between them with an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, baby” Y/N started, the smile on her face spreading as she grabbed Lara’s face, pressing a couple kisses against her cheek. “You were incredible tonight.”

“Thanks,” Lara said curtly, her attention still trained on Billie, who brushed her nose and looked away. Her grip on the shorter’s waist tightened, fingers making its mark on her skin beneath the dress. She nodded towards Billie, who slipped her hand in her pocket. “What’s good? I’m Lara.”

“Billie.” The latter stuck a hand out, but retreated when Lara didn’t seem to entertain the offer for a handshake. “I’m a big fan. You guys looked amazing out there.”

“Mhm. What’re you guys talking about?”

“Nothing, baby, we were just catching up.” Y/N’s hand rested on Lara’s chest, fingertips caressing the fabric of her top in attempts to soothe the seething rage from the singer. “I was just saying goodbye to Billie. I’ll, uh—see you around?”

Billie nodded, winking. “See you around then, pretty girl.”

As she turned to leave, Lara pried herself from Y/N’s grasp. Her jaw locked and her fist clenched, she would have thrown a punch if Sophia and Y/N hadn’t held her back. The girls circled around the couple, keeping the redhead from getting in any trouble cameras could potentially catch.

“Lara, baby, please!” Y/N gasped, both hands on Lara’s chest as the taller looked over her shoulder at Billie disappearing into her dressing room.

“What the fuck is her problem, doesn’t she see me here?”

“Just let it go, it’s what Billie does, she’s trying to get a rise out of you.” The younger fixed the hair that fell into Lara’s face, gently cradling her face. Sophia motioned for the other girls to leave the two of them alone, they slipped away to the Katseye lounge for the afterparty. “Breathe, baby.”

Lara huffed, her lip twitched. Her nostrils flared as her jaw remained clenched, still looking anywhere but at Y/N.

Still, she didn’t reject her girlfriend’s touch.

Y/N’s arms circled around Lara’s neck, her fingers nipping at the baby hairs under her waves. Her body leant into Lara’s, gently tugging her into an embrace.

When she pulled away, Lara’s harsh grip on her hips softened.

“What the fuck was that? ‘Pretty girl’?” She scoffed.

“This is what she does, you can’t let her get to you.” She assured, “Billie’s just being… Billie.”

“And the fucking serenading? Is there something you wanna tell me, Y/N? She was singing and pointing at you during all her fucking sex songs.” Lara grunted, crossing her arms. “What, it’s just a fucking coincidence she was looking straight at the lounge of all the places she could’ve looked at?”

“Baby, you’re being ridiculous.” Y/N sighed, “I told her I was here with you. It’s not like that.”

“Really? After that whole show she put on onstage?” Lara’s jaw tightened. “And you just happened to run into her tonight? Backstage? With her all up on you like a slobbering dog even when she knew you’re here for me?”

“I didn’t plan it,” Y/N said quickly. “I bumped into her when I was tryna look for you. We only talked for a minute, I swear.”

Lara’s eyes searched Y/N’s face, her walls firmly up. “She was staring at you the whole, fucking thing. Do you have any idea how that looked? To me? To the audience?”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only have eyes for you, Lara. Billie doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

Lara hesitated, her tough exterior cracking just slightly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you had other things to worry about,” Y/N said earnestly. “You worked so hard for this, and I didn’t want to distract you. I’m sorry for talking to her, she just wanted to catch up.”

Lara sighed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “It’s not just about tonight. It’s about how I feel when I see you with someone like Billie—someone who clearly still wants to fuck you. Have you seen the way she was ogling you like you were a piece of meat?” She took the brown leather jacket she had on off, draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. “This pretty little body should just be for me, you got it? Me. Not Billie.”

“Lara,” Y/N gasped, feeling the taller’s hands palm her ass.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby girl,” Lara looked down at her girlfriend’s body, her eyes darkening and her lips slightly parted. Her hand slid beneath the base of Y/N’s dress. “Who does this body belong to, hm?”

“You, baby,” Y/N moaned softly, “Only you.”

Without warning, Lara closed the distance between them, capturing Y/N’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she melted into it, letting Lara’s touch silence every worry. Lara’s hands moved to Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer as if to claim her in front of the world.

When they finally broke apart, Lara’s eyes burned with intensity. “Come on.”

Y/N doesn’t even remember how they guys got there, but they were parked in an empty lot somewhere on the way back to the dorms. She was too focused on Lara’s hand inching higher and higher each minute as she sped down the streets. Then, Lara would hop out the car, circling around to pop open the door on the passenger’s side. Y/N let out a loud squeal as the Indian leant in to pick her out, carrying her in her arms. She kicked the door closed, opening the one in the back and gently setting the younger inside.

Getting in, Lara cramped herself in between the woman’s legs, closing the car door behind her.

As she leant down to push her own jacket off her girlfriend’s shoulders, her free hand raked up the woman’s bare thigh, scrunching her red dress. The two of them were making out like two animals in heat, a complete mess. The Indian’s teeth grazed the skin of her jaw, trailing wet kissed down her neck to her collarbone. Her lips latched onto the smooth skin of her chest, sucking red, dark bruises onto her.

“Fuck, I love this colour on you.” Lara growled into their neck, her hands caressing the curve of her hips.

With her mascara running and her lipgloss smudged, Y/N looked up at Lara’s darkening eyes taking in her disheveled look. The straps of your spaghetti dress were already halfway down your arms. She smirked, “I prefer it off of me.”

Her hands had found their way under her dress, fingers lacing into the waistband of her red laced thong. She rubbed her clit through the fabric, drawing out a moan from Y/N’s lips.

Growing frustrated with the fabric, she slid them off her legs.

Automatically Y/N spread her legs, giving Lara better access to her glistening pussy.

"Aww, baby. Look how wet you are for me." She teased as she rubs her bud gently. “You this wet for Billie too?”

The car filled with the sound of their bodies shifting, fabric rustling, and harsh breaths as they both grapple for control. Lara’s fingers grabbed one of her legs, throwing it over her shoulder, her fingertips digging into her skin, while Y/N’s hands tangle in her hair, pulling roughly. The younger woman shook her head, whimpers escaping her swollen lips.

“Please, Lara, don’t tease.”

Lara pulled away quickly, hand raising to grab Y/N’s cheeks harshly. She whimpered at the loss of friction, fingers reaching down the older’s back, nails scratching lines into her skin. Y/N bucked her hips into the knee between her legs, needing more.

Y/N can't help but focus on the sensation of her leg between hers, the friction sparking a tickle within her. She ground against her harder, the heat building between your legs, and she let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the seat.

Lara’s hand trailed down her inner thigh, teasingly close to where she need her most.

"Nobody fucks you like I do." Her fingers slip further under her legs, tracing her fingernails against the skin around her core. Y/N can feel the heat of her hand, fingers inching closer, but not close enough. "Say it." she groaned, her lips brushing against her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her hips move with the rhythm of her hand, pushing against it, seeking more. "Yes, Lara," Y/N whispered, her voice hoarse with desire, "Nobody fucks me like you do.”

“Mmh, that’s what I thought.” she smirked, her warm breath brushing her cheek as she slowly pulled her hand away, leaving you empty and aching.

She watched her girlfriend squirm under her, a leg still held over her shoulder. Her eyes flicking down to where she was still pressed against her thigh, seeking relief. She spread her legs slightly, allowing her more room to grind against her. “Such a fucking brat, flirting with your ex.”

“Stop being an asshole and fuck me already!” Y/N whined desperately, her nails digging into her shoulders.

She moved her fingers to plunge into her girlfriend. Y/N let out a loud moan.

“At least when I’m an asshole, I have enough gas in the tank to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.” she growled, pressing herself against her. “In the back of my car like a whore.”

Lara dove into the crook of the younger’s neck, her teeth sinking into her tender flesh to silence a groan coming from her own throat at the feeling of your cunt around her, starting a steady rhythm, she gripped your hips harder. “You gonna go talk to Billie after this? Show her the marks all over your body?”

The younger moaned loudly, the sound reverberating off the car walls. Her hand grasped at Lara’s hair.

“Shut up and keep fucking me.” she argued back, pushing back against her to meet her thrusts. the force of her movements made the car rock, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

Her moans grew louder and more desperate as she continued to pound into you, one hand moving to grip your hair roughly. “Oh, fuck—God, Lara!—don't stop!'"

Lara’s other hand reached around to rub her clit, her fingers pressing hard against the sensitive nub as she fucked the younger mercilessly. Y/N’s body shook with the force of her movements, her legs trembling on the seat.

She hissed in Y/N’a ear, her breath hot and heavy, “You take me so well, baby,” she bites and sucks, quick to muffle any noises with her mouth, “just obsessed with my fingers, right?”

Y/N arched her back even more, pressing herself against Lara’s hot body as she filled her completely.

“Y-yes. Lara…” she slurred, “You feel so good!”

The windows of the car fogged up as the vehicle rocked violently with each thrust. Lara’s sweat dripped down her arm as she drove into Y/N relentlessly. By the way her legs were shaking, Lara knew she was close. “Cum for me, baby.”

Y/N’s moans grew louder, more urgent, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Lewd noises escaped her parted lips. She clawed at Lara’s back as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Lara helped her ride out her high, before sliding out. She plugged her fingers straight into her mouth, moaning at the tangy taste. She leant down, ignoring the slight burn she felt along her spine, kissing a panting Y/N’s forehead.

“Next time I see you with her, I’m gonna make her watch as I fuck you silly. Got it?”

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.6 (Finale) 6.8K MDNI 18+

Here she bloody is, my darlings!

All done, finally, giving me room to write even more Ambessa stuff. Next stop Professor Medarda!

That being said, I've loved writing this story and feel so honoured by the reception it has received. Thank you especially to @shinyshayminflower for the initial prompt, @uselessbard1031 for the endless support and @chocolate-quotes for the stunning cover art which I adoreddddddddddd.

Love you all, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Degradation, Name Calling, Overstimulation kinda? Lots of alcohol idk I'm British and this is set at Christmas okay.

Chapter 6:

You’d failed at the first hurdle, the first second, the truest and largest fuck up possible of a New Year’s resolution. Bubbles fizzed in your blood, common sense popping like a thousand little sparks. 

She tasted good, like whisky and regret and those tiny chocolate puddings on the trays at the party. The party you couldn’t quite remember or reconcile, the party that faded to blurring noise as she consumed you. 

Ambessa’s mind was screaming at her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to go. Rather the opposite. She was going to kiss one of Cassandra’s uptight friends, unwind them a bit and then take her drunken gaggle of children home. 

Instead she’d been ripped to shreds by her daughter and was now eating the very forbidden (but no longer?) fruit she had tried to avoid. 

You pulled away merely to breathe, but it was enough, like a shock of cold water. Tears, hot and angry sprung into your eyes almost immediately. 

“What was that?” You snarled, gulping in air. 

“I-“ Ambessa coughed slightly, “A mistake,” 

You scoffed, shoving her, “You can say that again,” 

“No,” She backtracked, muddled, “I just meant-“ 

“Do me a favour and fuck off, okay?” You wiped your mouth viciously with your sleeve, panic heavy in your heart as you rushed past her without another word. Drunk and distressed, you made your way into a random corner and stayed there. 

You’d tell Mel in the morning, you told yourself with trembling hands, but right now it would be too much. 

Ambessa was having the most tiring evening ever. Nothing was happening in the right order, as if she’d been given the smaller part of every wishbone in existence.Her mouth was a villain, intent on ruining everything. Glancing in the reflection of one of Cassandra’s crystalline statutes, she saw her massacred face, red smudges everywhere. 

“Well,” Cassandra Kiramman’s smug voice rang out, “That was a damn sight better than seeing you kiss my child like last year,” 

Muscled shoulders seized, wide golden eyes meeting cool grey ones, “Lovely party,”

“I think that’s the first time in twenty years you’ve said that,” She snorted, “I needn’t lecture you about how stupid that was, we both remember what happened with Maddie,”

“She isn’t Maddie,”

“Evidently,” A click of teeth, an outstretched hand holding cloth “I’ll see you on the 14th, I can take your money and your secrets then,” 

Ambessa sighed, wiping her face of lipstick and taking a regrouping breath. There was little to do but sober up and figure out a battle plan. Divide her stupidity and hopefully conquer her love. Or some other battle analogy she was too pissed to think of. “Thank you,”

“There’s no need for that,” She smiled, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You’re hosting the women’s luncheon in February,” 

Fuck.

You were sitting in a fancy taxi, a snoozing Mel on your shoulder as Kino rambled about the artwork in Caitlyn’s house. You didn’t care about the fact that the frames were worth as much as the art, or that some of them had taken years to find. You didn’t care about anything at all really, save the brooding woman in front of you. She seemed so cold, so distant, and you found that it did not suit her. You’d never be rid of her, that understanding had set in as you stumbled out of the car and into the front porch. She was like Japanese knotweed, strong and thriving and made to rot the very foundations of life. Here you were, a three time offender of succumbing to her, despite your morals and your strength and your hatred. 

Deft fingers attempted to grab your wrist as Kino and Mel waltzed arm in arm up the staircase, but her hold found nothing but air. A snap, a growl, something animalistic as you trailed quickly after your friends, the third of the good little wolves and nothing more. 

Sleep was easy due to alcohol, though all it really did was lock you in dreams. Tender kisses and bitter words fighting for the spotlight, leaving your mind a flashing drunken strobe. Sweaty, distressed turning and rolling until dawn beckoned and you lay shivering in the fetal position. No amount of fancy heating systems could rid your bones of the chill, heavy limbs freezing you in place. 

It took several hours and a minor pity party to make it into a different pair of less sweaty pyjamas, another hour to make it downstairs and fifteen seconds for your hopes of sorting this out as soon as possible to be crushed. 

A series of texts from Mel. Mel and Kino had left twenty minutes ago, a sibling breakfast tradition you had been omitted from due to your lack of appearance. Fuck. Just her, somewhere, lurking. 

The kitchen was safe, paprika crisps settling your stomach as you brewed some longjing tea. A plan was formed, tell Mel, pack your shit and stay with your cousin until the housework finished later this week. It was solid, grounding and allowed you to get the fuck out of this weird fantasy land. Nothing felt tangible here, all consequences smashing down as soon as the spell of the upper class echelons was shattered by travelling 20 miles north. You holed yourself up in one of the spare sitting rooms, avoiding where she thought you’d be in favour of unfamiliar cream sofas and animal artwork. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Tentative footsteps, her arrival heralded by Mina, like a slow marching procession. There was no escape. One way in, one way out. The oak door clicked shut softly. You did not, would not, give her the satisfaction of looking up. 

Your name on her lips, measured and calm, as the sofa to your right dipped with her body weight. A loud clunk, your gaze meeting a bottle of artisan Olive Oil. 

“Olive branch?” She muttered, “We were out of breadsticks,” 

You looked at it, still not her, nose twitching. Her charm, though flavoured now with hesitancy, was viscous and wrong as it lapped at your skin. “That implies there’s a conversation to be had here, and there isn’t,”

“Look at me,” Soft but impatient. 

Your eyeline did not move. Her arrogance astounded you.

“I was thinking-”

“No, Mrs Medarda,” You snapped, formality and fury, making the cat jump, “There is nothing you can say, I am going to tell Mel and then I’m going to get away from you, as fast as possible,” 

“A tad dramatic,” Cryptic, passive smile, “Mel knows, darling,” 

“What?” This had you meeting her gaze, “You told her?”

“Not yet,” A sniff, “Not exactly,” 

“Well then she doesn’t fucking know, you twat,” 

Ambessa’s lips upturned slightly, “She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows my motivations,”

“Motivations?” You scoffed, “Your untameable pride and sex drive you mean?”

Ambessa, despite having spent most of the night replaying every interaction you had ever shared under the rosy haze of infatuation, had yet to find a way to piece together her confession. Part of her wanted to wax lyrical, a modern day poet speaking in nothing but nonsense and flowers. But your impatience, borne of hurt and exhaustion, hung heavy above her. She was the one fearing the guillotine’s blade now, she should have learned from history that the revolution always comes in the end. And here it was, the revolt of her own mutinous heart. 

“Well?” Her silence unsettled you, those carved brows scrunched inwards, as you fought a mounting urge to backhand her. 

“Not quite that,” She muttered, “Wouldn’t have bothered with the olive oil if it was just sex, dear,” 

Your eyes rolled, pushing off of the sofa, body fleeing before your blood curdled in your veins. 

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back down with a thud, “Stop I-” gasped air, “I’m trying to be honest here,”

“You’re speaking like a Dickens novel and I’m supposed to take you seriously? Three Ghosts come and slap you in the face? Or some New Year’s resolution, is it?” You yank your hand back, skin fizzing and yearning for the calloused warmth to return. 

“Yes, actually,” 

“What was your Christmas past like then?”

“Troubled,” She quipped, rolling her eyes at you, “It is a resolution, one I indeed to stick to,”

A laugh, grating against your throat, “Didn’t take you for the type, you don’t seem in a rush to change anything about your life,” 

“Stop being childish and listen,” She snapped. 

“You have two minutes,” You spat, “And then I’m leaving,”

“Two minutes isn’t even enough time to boil an egg,” 

“Ambessa,”

Muscles tensed. Fine. Fucking Hell. “I’ve been bad to you,” There, well done Ambessa, a start. Accountability, the sharp blade you must crush within your palm. 

Tart and hard, an unripe cherry between your teeth, shock bloomed. There was nothing particularly reassuring about her words, but you jumped all the same. 

“I abused your kindness and took advantage of you,” How lovely and romantic, the muted whites of the room shifting to morose greys. 

“Old news, cemented about nine kisses ago,”

“I know that,” It was sharper than she’d intended, a sigh rattling out, “I know,”

“If you know, why are we having this conversation?” You grabbed the olive oil, waving it about, “What kind of weak, spindly branch is this?”

“You’re so pedantic, must you have everything spelled out for you?!” She growled, tenderness foreign on her tongue, “The I’m in love with you kind,” 

A spell, like a muffling blanket of snow, enveloped the room. Such a tender, sweet truth, with all the certainty and promise of the apple of Eden. Was she the snake or Eve, you could hardly tell. You sat, in stasis, as she swallowed. 

FIve minutes. Ten. A brutal, endless fifteen. 

“Don’t be cruel,” Acid burned in your mouth, tears smarting your eyes, “Don’t wave that about,”

Snip. Your words cutting Ambessa’s newly found heartstrings, “I wouldn’t,”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” It was firm.

“And that’s what Mel knows?” You asked, eyes narrow. You didn’t believe her, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. 

“She insisted upon it, screamed at me in the Kiramman’s bathroom,” 

“Wait,” Awe bubbled between your ribs, “Last night?”

A begrudging nod, that soft half smile that made you melt. She loved your lip twitches of surprise, your mouth turning over words you couldn’t vocalise. 

“Why?”

“She sort of stumbled into it, as did I,” A pause as she pulled a red wine bottle and glasses from seemingly nowhere, “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do,” You snarked, flicking the cork onto the floor, “But by all means, don’t let that stop you,” 

“I won’t,”

You took the glass she offered all the same, settling into the sofa with renewed confidence, petulant hands spilling drops of burgundy onto the cream sofa. “Stumbled, you said?”

Ambessa crossed her legs, Malbec coating her tongue, “She was..frustrated that I had not distanced myself enough from you,”

“I noticed a distinct difference,”

“That’s what I said,”

“Not taking your side,” You swished your hand for her to continue. 

“She said I was selfish and many other things, another character assassination,” Heavy chug, “But she wanted a reason, a cause,”

“She always does,” Anticipation was building now, possible half truths and sweet words lingering just out of reach, “It’s the only reason she forgave me, because of how I felt,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes distant, “Did you know I find it harder to sleep now?”

What? You were hungover and hair of the expensive vintage dog was not quite cutting it.  Speak plainly you maddening cow, your mind cried. Instead, “Pardon?”

“I miss the weight of you on my chest, and the coldness of your toes on my calves,” She muttered, memory easier than big declarations, “It’s what I thought of when Mel asked me to prove it, to prove it was..” 

Monster. Cannibal. Villain. She was gnawing at your bones, words like ambrosia to all the battered, tired shades of you that sat before her. You missed that too, had mourned it like so many other little, luxurious sweetnesses. 

“That’s still a physical desire,” You rationalised, lips stained with wine. 

A grunt, “Do you need more?”

A nod. Several. Only confirmational overkill would do here. 

“I-” Her hand twitched, “find myself trying to force an affinity for apple tea,”

“You hate it,”

“But it tastes of you,” She said, “Sometimes it’s all I can do to stave off the craving,”

“So you miss my mouth? Physical.” 

Ambessa pouted, heavy hand overpouring another glass, “What do you want from me? I’ve already said it,”

You laughed, in spite of it all, “I want to know what you’re feeling, not what you miss or crave or imagine,”

It seemed to rent her asunder, her feelings etched in memories, stuck far away from words. Love was one, but it was vulnerable and rough against her tongue. It had only come out via happenstance, sleep deprivation and growing panic. Affection hung in the background, and devotion sat like oil on her smooth skin. How was she to wield them? A great axe pulling her into herself, straining underdeveloped muscles. 

“It’s a bit like quicksand,” Her tone was unsteady, “It’s eating me whole,”

“What is?”

 “Love,” She snarled, as if it was obvious, eyes ever so slightly glazed. 

“The more you fight, the more you sink?”

She nodded, a heady relief in your understanding, light at the end of her confusing tunnel, “Exactly that,” 

You downed your glass, “Then I’ll throw you a stick, help you out,” a dismissive sniff, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” No hesitation, “You fell before I did, Sweet Girl,” 

“And look where that got me,” 

“But we’re in it together now,”

“There is no together, Ambessa,” You were sinking, she would not be proven right, “Your love is as dangerous as your indifference, wolves do not cradle their prey tenderly,”

“You aren’t prey,” It was a cry, angry and indignant, as her hands found yours. 

“Then why am I covered in your bitemarks?” 

She grumbled, “I think we’ve used the full extent of this metaphor, darling,” 

“Metaphors, jibs, cold truths, however you spin it, you are an emotionally immature mess,”

“Mel called me an emotionally impotent bitch,” She said, interlocking her warm hands with your trembling ones, “You were kinder about it,” 

“I’m always kinder about everything,” You replied, tightening your grip.

“It’s one of the things I love about you,” 

“Stop saying that!” 

“What?” She smiled, something giving way inside her, “Love? That I love you?”

“I-Yes,” You were chest deep now, thick wet sand eating you, “I don’t know what to do with that, with you,” 

Ambessa sat, rhythmically stroking your knuckles, as her head leaned closer to yours, “You let me earn you, my darling,”

Thick sludge, stealing your breath away now, “Earn me?” 

“Will you let me try?” Her voice was molasses now, pushing you down into the very bottom of the pit, her brain finally catching up with her body, “Words fuelled by action?” 

“L-like date me? And woo me?” Your eyes were fluttering, heart a schism of fear and fancy. 

She hummed in confirmation, free hand tucking some of your glitter crusted hair behind your ear, gaze soft. 

“Doesn’t seem very characteristic, Ambessa,” 

“Yes, well,” A humorous sigh, “You’ve clearly made me sick, some kind of spell or curse,”

You smacked her arm, a nonsensical laugh slipping out. She was ridiculous and stupid and images of her sending you flowers or taking you mini golfing came into your mind unbidden. 

“Is that a yes, my darling?”

“What does Mel think?”

“I think you should ask her,” Ambessa’s voice wrapped around you, “Regardless of this, I will not monopolise on your relationship with her,”

“I think you’re suffering from head injury,” She was perfect, she was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, so why couldn’t you take it? “I think I need some time,”

She nodded, ignoring the dark growl in her chest, “There’s no timeline,” Actually, the timeline was she wanted to be between your legs right now, but it seemed the clocks were confused. 

With an odd, robotic stroke to her cheek, you stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs. Ignoring your door, you curled into Mel’s room, allowing yourself to be engulfed by frilly bed sheets. She’d find you later and you could have a chat. 

Find you she did, snoring and pale in her bed, with wine stained lips and tear stained cheeks. Hungover limbs crawled around you, kissing your forehead. 

“Babe!” It was a happy shout, as you flinched awake. 

“That was not the only way to do that,” 

“It’s the way I chose,”

The conversation that transpired was as follows. You bared your snotty, shattered soul and called her mother all the cruel, loving things you could think of and she nodded sagely whilst stroking your hair. She then decided to take her mother’s side, and say that you should definitely pursue a relationship if you loved her, as if it was that simple. You were now battering her shoulder with a candy cane shaped cushion. 

“Hitting me isn’t going to change my answer,”

“It’s not normal to tell your friend to date your mother,” You cried, “The only sane person in this family is Kino,”

“Really?”

A memory of him drizzling a chicken wing with melted chocolate the night before returned, “Christ, okay you’re all nuts!” 

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Mel murmured, taking the candy cane from your grasp, “Just that she’s evil and you feel weak when she smiles, which honestly urgh,” 

Uncertain, jittering hands tug at a strand of hair, “I don’t think I know,”

Silence, her hand on your shoulder, as you sorted through the bombed out craters in your mind. Each kiss, fight, and confession had made its mark and the rubble was hard to decipher. 

“I think I want to exist a bit, before I commit to anything,” 

“You have been through a lot, babe,” Mel was so gentle, you adored her more than she could ever ever know, “Maybe just be you? Mum’ll wait,”

“Will she?” That was your hope and your fear. 

“She’ll have to if she’s serious, and if she doesn’t then fuck her, you can find another fish, preferably one I’m not related to,” 

“I love you,”

“Damn right,” She kissed your head, “Now can we watch TV or something, my head hurts,”

Three days passed, and she was surprisingly normal. There was no forced affection or ultimatums, just the same smile; considerate and mischievous. You were grateful, the space confirming what you’d said to Mel. You needed to be you, away from the magic and madness of this house, and only then would you really know. 

When you told her as much, firelight flickering in the library on your last evening, she let out a long sigh. The grating, dull pain in her heart intensified, but with it so did her plan.

The last dinner felt stupidly biblical, final and massive, as though you may never return. A veritable feast, overflowing plates and glasses, as even Rictus joined you for the meal. Kino was a jester of epic proportions, breaking more than one glass in his pursuit of a punchline. Ambessa sat, quiet but merry, against the carved mahogany chair of the dining room. Mel, as ever, was the master of pictures. You dreaded the thought of the costs to develop that much film, though you placed bunny ears behind Kino’s head as you grinned into the flash all the same. Rictus, though, was the real diamond in the rough of the evening. Strong and well mannered, with your exact sense of humour. He was quiet and yet seemed to fill every silence that threatened to hurt you. You felt sorry to have overlooked him in a way, leaning a heavy head against his shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you,”

“Miss my endless free labours?” He joked, a gruff voice above your ear. 

“Miss your sanity,” You said, “Miss your friendship,”

“Well, I’m only ever a phone call away,” He replied, “Us furniture have to stick together,” 

You laughed, bright and true, as he dolloped another mountain of tiramisu onto your plate. 

Slowly, but surely, you all retired to bed, a holiday well spent and a heavy desire to return to normal weighing in the air.

The next morning, as he bundled your endless possessions into Mel’s boot, Rictus called you over. 

“Something the matter?”

“Kid,” A sternness, “You’re going to be alright?”

You snorted, “I told you I’d keep in touch, where’s this come from? Delirious from all of Mel’s handbags and shoes?”

“I love Ambessa Medarda very much,” He said out of nowhere, hand stroking your arm, “Don’t let her wants eclipse yours,”

“What?” What the fuck was he on about? 

“Speak of the devil, and she appears,” He muttered, stepping away without a further word. Bastard. 

Ambessa squeezed Mel with all her might, an acceptance blossoming in a relationship filled with shards of glass and broken promises. “Look after yourself, work hard,”

“Party harder,” Mel muttered, “I know Mum, I’ll see you at Easter,”

She climbed into the preheated Land Rover, just as Rictus wandered back into the Manor with a shout and a wave. Kino had said goodbye over breakfast, nearly breaking a rib, and so it was just her.

The goodbye was stilted, her large hand stroking your hair as she took an audible sniff. It made you giggle wetly, swallowing down the impulse to just collapse into her and let yourself be consumed. You first, her later. That was probably what Rictus had meant, god your brain was slow today.

“Thanks for a lovely Christmas, and everything in between, well most things,” You mumbled, watery smile. 

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet Girl,” 

“I-I’ll be in touch, when I can,” Her hand was warm in yours, keeping you anchored in place. 

“IF you can, Dear,” She corrected, voice caring “I expect you to take this seriously,” 

A scoff, as you nodded and pursed your lips. Everyone was treating you like you were suddenly going to go back on your plan and jump her bones against the front door. It was a valid concern, even you hadn’t decided completely if you would or not.

“See you soon,” She said, a throwaway comment, as you let go and climbed into Mel’s car. 

Several beats. Your heart full and empty, a weird schrodinger’s joke. A fern tree smell from the little car freshener. 

“Well that was agonising to watch,” Mel quipped, shooting her mum a wave and pulling out of the driveway. Manicured nails flicked on a random playlist, 80s rock heavy, as you stared out at the frosty scenery. 

The flowers started a week after you had gotten back to Edinburgh. Always different, always perfectly sized for your light green vase and never overwhelming. It was a constant sign of her presence, without the stifling need to be responded to. There was never a note, beyond her initials, and that made each delivery all the sweeter. Sometimes other things would come with them too, after a long deadline or big presentation, there would be wine or a new book. It was a more considerate type of materialism, reminiscent of sand castle buckets and chiffon dresses, as glimmering parts of your old self emerged from the explosion of Her. 

Winter socials, dancing around the house in pyjamas singing ABBA with Mel as the world began to thaw.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and with it a little bouquet of roses and a takeaway voucher. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, Ambessa x

                               You too, Sweet Girl x

It was your first point of contact, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. She was slowly but surely winning you over from afar, earning you as she’d said and this new, fresh, old version of yourself was happy to let her encroach a bit on No Man’s Land. Plus, this burrito was one of the best things you’d eaten in ages.

Ambessa was smiling widely at her phone, heart a jackhammer. She felt foolish, any acknowledgment sending her into a tailspin, but that soft kiss at the end of a text was enough to solidify her already immense resolve. You were hers, and she was yours, however long she had to wait.

You were granted the funding you needed, your academic success propelling you into spring with tired and happy limbs. Eleven weeks of flowers, a few scattered texts and one slightly drunken nude later, Mel was rambling at the dinner table about Easter plans. 

“Dad’s not back till the last week,” You replied around a very hot mouthful of chicken parm, “Presumed I’d spend the rest of the time with you,”

Mel’s eyes glistened, shit eating grin on her glossed lips, “Did you now?”

“Oh come off it,” You snapped, “Ambessa already offered anyway,” 

“She has? How nice of her,” Excitement fizzed in her, battling with a bit of sadness at losing her friend’s full attention, “And how is that? Calla lilies this week, I noticed,” 

“Why’s that matter?”

“They mean beauty,” 

“They have meanings?” Tomato sauce stained your grey joggers, you didn’t care, “What about the others?” 

She snorted, “You thought they were just random?”

“I-I” A gulp, “Well, fuck I don’t know I just thought they were pretty,” 

Her laughter grated at you, google your true friend in the matter, as you scanned through each message Ambessa had supposedly sent. 

Bluebells first - Humility. Ironic start. 

Honeysuckle - Bonds of Love

Yellow Tulips - Sunshine in a smile - your heart seized. 

Peony - Bashful - not a word you’d really associate with her. 

White Hyacinth - Loveliness - Hers or your own? Both, you decided. Both. 

Edelweiss - Devotion - a dizzy wave of warmth over your skin. 

Red Roses - I Love You - apt for Valentine’s day. 

Chamomile - Patience in adversity. How brave she was, how ridiculous.

Forget-Me-Nots - True Love Memories - Her stained grin, garlic bread in hand came to mind. 

Red Camellias - You’re a flame in my heart - This coincided directly with her receiving a picture of you in a lacy red bra and thong, courtesy of cheap pints in your favourite pub, and an uncharged vibrator. 

Calla Lillies - Beauty. 

Your chicken parm was cold now, your mouth hanging open, as your eyes burned slightly. 

“You back with me, babe?” 

“This is so stupid,” You spluttered into cold marinara sauce, “She’s so stupid,”

“Love makes a fool of us all,” Mel said wisely. 

“Is that why you, Viktor and Jayce were curled up last night? I saw you holding hands,” 

“Be quiet!” She whined, “Die,”

“Don’t throw stones, Mel,” You mocked, “You’re looking awful glassy right now,” 

You would stay for Easter then, you both agreed over chocolate mousse, as you sent a thumbs up to Ambessa’s invitation. 

Ambessa, glasses balancing on her nose as she read a novel, scanned the text. Once. Twice. An exuberant third time. Rictus ended up battered with requests for a clear and ornate Easter menu, despite the fact that the holiday was over six weeks away and not at all favoured by the Medarda family. Mina had taken to nibbling her phone but only ever when you texted, and Ambessa was beginning to take it personally.

Your spring deadlines came and went, as April and its gentle rest bite from academia beckoned. The journey was painfully familiar to you now, as was the warm and rough rock sitting in your stomach. You felt you again, which was terrifying as it finally gave some space for her. Something you had come to want so desperately it made your dreams turbulent and your hands shaky. She still had some work to do, but as you flicked through your sparse text exchanges you couldn’t fight the smitten smile. 

You loved Ambessa Medarda, and that was okay now. For both of you. 

Ambessa had been waiting for three hours by the door like an overexcited dog. Several times Rictus had come to ask her questions or show her things, and each time she was transfixed on the long driveway.

“Mel said they wouldn’t be here before 2,” He said, smirk on his lips. 

“She’s never reliable,” 

“She is literally compulsively on time,” 

“Rictus, do I pay you for these kinds of conversations?”

“No, but you probably should, I was going to bring it up during my next performance review,” 

“Ah yes, 31st of April, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, wandering back towards the tower of hand painted easter eggs he was tending to.

2pm on the dot you pulled up by the house, clambering to stretch your legs. As the door opened Mel ran to it, kissing her Mum’s cheek and shooting past her to get to the toilet. Whether intentional or serendipity, Mel had given you the perfect opening to stare like a lovesick fool at her mother. 

“Ambessa,” Her name a cry of joy.

“Sweet Girl,” She ignored the thickness in her throat, eyes glimmering at seeing your face again. 

“T-Thanks for the flowers,” Unsure hands, “And the messages they sent,”

She smiled, stepping forward and squeezing your arm. “Always, as long as you enjoy them,” 

“You’ve been just what I needed,” Affection swelled in your chest, “Present but distant,”

“Like a ghoul?” 

You giggled, “Exactly that,”

“You keep comparing me to spirits and ghosts,”

“I actually compared you to Scrooge, not the ghosts themselves,” 

She rolled her eyes, snorting, “You must always be right, mustn’t you?”

“Ambessa,” You repeated, gentiler now. 

She hummed in question, gaze meeting yours. 

“I think I’m ready to try now,” A sharp inhale, “If you are?”

“Well,” Her crimson lips part into a dazzling smile, “That makes me very ha-”

“Princess!!” Kino, dressed in plaid pyjamas, shouted as he ran to engulf you in a hug, “You’re here!”

“Bastard child,” Ambessa grunted under her breath, watching as you cuddled her son and made faces at her over his shoulder. 

“Later,” You mouthed, before focusing on Kino, “Hello there, Peacock Prince,”

She wandered back inside with a murderous expression, greeted by Mel halfway through a bag of Quavers, “Kino cockblock you?”

“Mel, I fund your lifestyle,” Ambessa snapped, “Do not antagonise me,”

“That’s a yes,” Her crunchy words said, offering her a cheesy grin. 

It took until after dinner that evening for you to get a moment alone together again, your spot in the library occupied as you stared across at her. Kino was out with another lady friend and Mel had common sense, so the air that crackled around you would not be interrupted. It was a good thing too, you’d spent the whole time eating your spaghetti trying to make yourself look alluring. Until Mel had pinched you under the table. 

“So,” You started, chest tight. 

“So,” She repeated, stroking Mina, “You said you were ready?”

“Yes,” Your decision was certain now, having spent some time back in her presence. You wanted it all, as soon as you could get it. Seemed you were as damned as she was. The devil on your own shoulder.

“We can take it slowly, Sweet girl,” She said, leaning forward, “There’s no rush,”

Your blood was thick and hot, mind whirling, “What if I want to rush?”

Ambessa grinned, chucking Mina away and with one sharp tug moving you onto her large thighs, “Then I’d say, where would you like to start?”

She was solid and seductive and all the things you’d avoided in your time finding yourself. She was as sticky and tempting as always, though her love tempered the fire now. Things were never done by half, and you’d fooled yourself when you planned to build a relationship step by step. Ambessa had laid the foundations, floral and firm, so now you wanted to chuck brick and cement together as fast as you could. 

“This maybe?” You half slurred in anticipation, hungry lips meeting hers. 

Ambessa was, for once, incredibly surprised. You were devouring her, with no restraint, as if no time had passed at all. But you were different now, she could sense it. Stronger, more certain of your place, your needs and wishes. It suited you, like an attractive new coat. Her hands were roaming about, searching for the best place to land, each patch of skin more perfect than the last. 

“Are you sure?” She murmured against smudged lips, holding your chin in place to stop your desperate advance, “I don’t want to push you away again,”

You melted, kissing her palm, “You won’t,” it was breathless, “I promise,”

“I’ll only do this if I get to take you out tomorrow, a nice long day together,” Her honeyed voice muttered, though one hand was already making its way under your shirt. 

“So a win-win?” 

Calloused fingers grazed your nipple, kissing your neck as she nodded into it. 

“Not sure I could ask for a better Easter,” You joked breathlessly, body twitching into her touch. 

“That’s why you’re not going to ask for it,” Her voice was dark, a switch flipped, “You’re going to beg,” 

Welcome back Ambessa Medarda, you’ve been sorely missed. I hope you fuck my brains out now. “Please?” You quipped. 

A sharp pinch to your nipple, a low growl, “Do you think I’m joking, girl?”

You ached for her, mind fracturing, as an earnest apology ripped from your throat. Your pleading was real now, her wet kisses maddening. 

Ambessa felt hungry, ravenous in fact, and you had offered yourself like a perfect little dessert. How kind. How naive. It took her a few minutes of pawing at you for all of your clothes to be left on the floor, goosebumps prickling your skin as you rubbed yourself against her thigh. This was perfection, your thoughts slush as she whispered filth in your ear. 

“More,” You whined, the pull on your chest not harsh enough. 

She twisted until it burnt, making you jolt, as her wet tongue soothed the ache, “That enough pain for you? So desperate for it,” 

“I-I”

“Is that why you sent me those filthy pictures?” Her thumb, slick with you, danced in circles across your clit, “Wanting to show yourself off, hmm? A slut in red lace?”

“Ambessa,” You gasped. 

“You wanted to drive me mad,” A suck to a sore nipple, “Wanted to corrupt me, after I tried so hard to stay away,” 

“It was an accident,” You slurred, stomach tensing as you thrust in rhythm with her touching. 

“An accident?” She scoffed, nuzzling against your throat, “That’s what you call spreading yourself for me on camera?” 

You were so close, her words like gasoline as you whimpered a confused apology, your mind desperate to keep feeling good. 

“Is this an accident too, Sweet girl?”

“Wha-” Your eyes rolled, cunt gushing as your first orgasm slammed into you like a sledgehammer. 

She slipped you off her lap, sliding out from under you to the ground, as your bare skin touched the cool red leather chair. She knelt, a devious grin on her lips, between your trembling legs as she watched a soft slickness drip down your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess,” She said, disapproving pout on her face, “Say you’re sorry,”

“S-sorry, Ambessa,” You mumbled, eyes glassy. 

“Good girl,” She stroked your thighs, a tight grip on them, tiny crescent moons from her nails, “It’s okay, I’m here to tidy you up,”

She had always been skilled, playing you like an instrument, but as her hot tongue hit your folds you found yourself blank, empty and unsure if you would ever feel anything other than raw, molten pleasure again. Teasing kitten licks lapped up your juices, her golden eyes controlling your every move, as you went limp against the chair. It smelt of her. Everything in this room did. Your body twitched again. 

Her tongue drew another two orgasms from your needy body, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead as you tugged at her salt and pepper curls. 

At some point you ended up flat on the floor against her fancy Persian rug, legs spread as she sat on your face. She was soaked, your cheeks wet as you ate mindlessly. Her orgasms were like nectar as she came apart above you, stern voice turning airy and dazed.

“Just like t-that,” She panted, fucking herself on your tongue.

Your hummed agreement hit her swollen clit, her tongue lolling out her mouth as an animalistic grunt filled the room. 

You were in a bed now. How had that happened? 

“Still with me, little one?” She teased, stroking your hair as she loomed above with a long, hard strap-on. 

“That looks nice,” You babbled, chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Would you like it?”

A nod. 

“Ask nicely then, Sweet girl,” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You said, sweet as sugar, spreading yourself just as you had in those pictures. 

Ambessa Medara was a strong woman. It was her defining feature in fact. Iron will and firm muscle, she prided herself on being a fortress. Here, however, with a whimpering slut beneath her, her resolve shattered like china against marble. You were stuffed before she’d processed the last plea, a surprised gurgle as she worked to destroy you. 

Again, and again and again. She fucked that sweet spot in you with relentless efficiency, as cool leather rubbed against your clit in time with her thrusts. You’d long since given up on the idea of being quiet, mewling gasps and shouts of her name leaving you hoarse with fluttering eyes.

“Cum for me,” It was a sudden command, voice harsh and high, as she fell apart with a vicious thrust. 

You obeyed, the coil in you snapping again, as her sweat covered skin collided with yours. 

You stayed like that, hearts beating in time, as lust faded to contentment and exhaustion. Her slurred praise soothed your battered body as a cold flannel wiped away the stickiness that lingered everywhere. 

There was little else to be said that night, words of love and happiness pouring from you both under your shared silken sheets. 

She loved you. 

You loved her. 

How perfect. 

Slightly lopsided, with a turtleneck to hide the smattering of bruises across your skin, you made your way to the breakfast table. You’d agreed with Ambessa to tell Kino this morning before your date, the only thing still truly weighing on her out of the way in order for you to have the perfect day together. 

He was currently assembling a tower of waffles and bacon, as Mel systematically pushed it over. Rictus stood making more construction materials at the hob, sharing a grin with Mel. 

Ambessa, seeing you enter, coughed loudly to silence the squabbling. 

You wandered over nervously, resting beside her. 

“I’d just like to make everyone aware of something,” She started slowly. 

“Someone dead?” Kino muttered, staring at you. 

“No,” She held her hand up to silence him, “Nobody’s died,”

“Someone pregnant?” Mel asked. The shit stirrer. 

“No I-” Ambessa glared at her, taking a deep breath her hand gravitated towards your shoulder,“I wanted to let you know that we've decided to pursue a romantic relationship,”

“Oh,” Kino’s body tensed, “And when did you make this choice?”

“Last night,” You replied hesitantly, “Why?”

“Fuck,” He groaned to himself, a gruff laugh heard from the hob. 

“I do believe we said one thousand even,” Rictus mocked, flipping a waffle onto the boy’s plate. 

“You couldn’t have waited another twelve hours,” He grumbled, fishing for his wallet in his coat. 

“What is happening right now?” Ambessa said, voice stern. 

“I bet yesterday,” Rictus said as if it were obvious, “Wolf pup here bet today, thought you’d need a little time to warm up, silly boy,”

“You’ve been betting on our relationship?!” You cried, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I wanted to feel included somehow,” Kino whined, “Everyone was taking me out for breakfast to shut me up,” 

Your gaze turned to Mel, who held her hands up, “I knew nothing about this babe, I swear,” 

Liar. Her grin gave her away. 

Ambessa took the wad of cash from Kino’s hands before Rictus could, taking two hundred pounds from the pile, giving you a hundred and keeping the rest for herself, “Our commission,” Her voice was tiny daggers, “For entertaining you all so thoroughly,” 

Both men grumbled, though the sparkle in their eyes told them it was never really about the money, the satisfaction coming from destroying the other's pride. 

A pause, as she turned directly to her son, “You’re taking this very well, Kino, despite your usual nonsense, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark,” 

“About as dark and subtle as a bat signal, Mum,” He laughed, “I knew you’d tell me when it worked for you.

“Yes, well, thank you anyway,” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, as she kicked down his tower this time. 

The loud, nonsensical rumble of infighting filled the kitchen as her hand found yours, a tight squeeze making you smile. 

No more secrets. No more sadness. 

You were finally officially a Medarda.

[tarohugs]

to my first (l.jn)

►idol!lee jeno x reader

► angst (of course), childhood bff jeno, slightly toxic jeno (or very...)

► w/c 1.0k

►a/n not very long but wanted to feed you guys something since i've been so inactive. sorry for all the jeno content but i know y'all will enjoy

“Grow up y/n. It’s time we move on from this.”

Jeno is your childhood bestfriend. Or, was, your child bestfriend.

After he moved to Seoul to pursue his journey as an idol, he managed to keep some contact with you. This didn’t last for long though. With the strenuous hours he was instructed to train and schooling, he had little time for communication. Of course, this broke your heart as a teenage girl, but you moved on regardless as time progressed.

Today, you meet with Jeno as he came home for the first time in years for Christmas break. The company always gave him little time for rest and insisted that he spend holidays in Seoul to maximaze his training. When you heard Jeno was coming back, you were ecstatic to rekindle.

You had hours of news and gossip to fill Jeno in. Although your relationship was not what it used to be, you were adults and were aware that this would occur. As a result, you tried to keep contact with Jeno and follow up with him when time allowed.

You were always the first one to reach out to Jeno, however, you were quite disappointed when he failed to tell you himself that he would be visiting home. Why would Jeno not tell you? You had just assumed the best - he was going to surprise you.

The surprise you had in mind was much different then what he actually brought home. Jeno had a girlfriend.

She is beautiful. Her style was feminine and clean, right up Jeno’s ally. Her figure was delicate and contrasted the falling pursuit of snow that surrounded her as she and Jeno held hands, walking to the doorstep to greet his family.

His family had invited you over, ecstatic to see you two reconnect after years of little contact. Jeno’s family had always been fond of you, teasing that one day you would be their in-law. Of course, you denied all accusations. You and Jeno were nothing more than friends and he made that extremely clear as he introduced everyone to his girlfriend, Yena.

Everyone looked at you when Jeno had presented his relationship, but you couldn’t help but smile. You were happy for Jeno, you had to be. Jealousy wasn’t a pleasant emotion, you had to avoid it, even if it were calling your name.

You couldn’t compare to Yena. Everything about her was perfect. You understood why she was so lucky to claim Jeno as hers. Even when you two made eye contact, nothing about her read as insecure knowing you were Jeno’s bestfriend.

As dinner time approached, you tried your best to converse with him, but to no avail, he was too busy catching up with the rest of his bloodline. You were confused to why Jeno had never told you he had a girlfriend, not that he needed to, just some form of updates would have been acceptable. Reaching to sit in the chair next to Jeno hoping that this would be your opportunity to catch up with the boy, you were immediately swatted away. He claimed the spot was saved for Yena, fair game.

Instead you sat by his cousins on the opposite end. You were disappointed. Extremely disappointed. Jealousy couldn’t even cross your mind, just anger. Anger for the boy that promised you so many things when he was young. Angry that he didn’t even care about your existence.

This isn’t the Jeno you know. You had to get him back - which is what led you to the conversation you were in now.

“Grow up y/n. It’s time we move on from this.” Jeno had stated harshly once you finally had time to speak with him privately.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you were stronger than this. “Jeno, I just don’t get it. Why don’t you care for me anymore. I get that you have a girlfriend and I’m happy for you. But can’t you at least care for me a little?” You had spilled your true feelings for Jeno, all except your actual romantic feelings about the boy.

Of course you had liked him when you were younger, that’s just how girls and boys act when they’re kids. Even as you grew into adulthood, you moved past your small crush. But part of you will always hold a place in your heart for the boy that first earned it. Lee Jeno.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s gotten into your head. We were just kids that grew apart. We were never bestfriends after I moved away. We’ve talked no more than 10 times over text, is that what a bestfriend is to you?”

Ouch. Jeno offered no sympathy. You had reached out many times to try and catch up with him. He was always the one to ignore you but you excused his actions for his busy work schedule.

How had you missed so many signs he was giving you? For the first time, you felt defeated. For the first time, Jeno had failed to make you feel respected. He hated you.

You had no words to offer Jeno. All you wanted was to curl into a ball and cry away your sorrows. But you couldn’t. You would have to give an explanation to the rest of Jeno’s family for your early departure and reject Yena’s continuous motions to become friendly. You couldn’t do that to the rest of them, even Yena, the girl that you should detest.

Jeno noticed you were at a lost for words and offered to end the conversation there with a single phrase. “Look y/n, I don’t know what is going on in that head of yours, but I need to get this through. We’re adults and you need to act like it. Our relationship from us being kids stopped as soon as I moved away, you know this. You never mattered to me, get that through your head.”

Lee Jeno had just broken your heart. He was the first one to give you butterflies and he was the first to cause heartbreak. He had managed to do it all.

Even through all of this you couldn’t deny, Lee Jeno will always be remembered as your first love.

[macknshift]

THE ONE WHERE . . . I INTRODUCE Y'ALL TO LEO!

SOOOO…i have mentioned leo in like, 90 different posts atp and never actually made a "leo intro" (mainly bc i have weird feelings ab sharing him heavily to the rest of the world lol) but! i figured now would be the best time to get into explaining him to y'all.

LEO , commonly given the last name SCOTT (depends on the dr!) is actually originally the main character's love interest in a hockey romance book i've been in the process of writing. after getting #sickandtired of annoying ass book men i gave up and began drafting one of my own. the main character is literally me (i mean, for christ's sake her name is sloane mackintosh,) and eventually, i began thinking of him in other "au"s (i used to do this a lot on wattpad - i mean DRs but the term AU is usually more digestible to ppl that may not be aware of reality shifting. Anyways.) and began kind of placing him in everything. a list of the drs he is my love interest in is follows;

BETTER CR : (fc silasj2004*) the hockey romance book pretty much as a dr. small changes occur but basically he's the exact same as leo in the book lol

PARENT DR : (fc jack schlossberg. yes. i am one of those girlies. i am not ashamed! at least he has morals + a backbone y'all this could be much worse) the "backstory" is my better cr dr. i'm now a mother of 3 (amelia or mimi, aged 5, giselle or gigi, aged 4 and i'm pregnant with vincenzo, our final kid,) and it follows our life after what would be the events of the book. i sort-of made it also as like a WAG dr in a sense bc leo is a professional hockey player! (but he retires 2 years before this point in time so idk where my thought process is w this lol)

FORMULA 1 DRIVER DR : (fc pato o'ward MY!!!! mclaren man ln4 U ARE NOTHINGGGGGGG) leonardo dempsey, son of actor patrick dempsey (my forever celebrity crush ugh he's so fine) and driver for aston martin aramco f1 team under #99. i essentially took l*nce str*ll's daddy's boy backstory and gave it to leo bc he is indeed a daddy's boy. the only dr leo and i are enemies to lovers bc i'm too obsessed w him otherwise LMFAO

MARVEL DR : (fc marcello hernandez (MY MAAANNNN)) leo scott, secretly the speedster superhero 'comet'. hired by my dad as essentially a bodyguard (leo's not intimidating AT ALL idek how the hell this is supposed to work LMFAO) as comet and knows me out of costume as his sister's roommate (mj is also in every dr ever and actually is here in this cr. i can never leave her out i love her DOWN) basically marichat vibes (god i miss marichat)

POP STAR DR : (fc marcello hernandez, again) leo sinatra, nepo baby great-grandson of frank sinatra (there's a whole, incredibly large bit of lore ab this LMFAO + he's also a great-grandson in my better cr dr too bc i need my man RICH!) and Saturday Night Live cast member. basically i go on snl and immediately fall in love. i've stolen the 'unlikely couple' weekend update sketch for us & he does domingo, which is my song lol we're funny for it idk

THE FCS, in color photos:

i'm missing like, 18 other drs that i can think of but some important info about him;

he's half oaxacan mexican. i've tried my damnedness to find a way to make it obvious but when i was 'designing' him (aka drawing him out) i used jack, silas (*NOTE: he is leo's typical fc if i don't have an designated one for him) and marcello as references to make him look the most like him as i can. the fcs are kind of loose for him but i need a way to like fully visualize him. so. yeah. his 'color palette' (weird way to put it but idk how else) makes him tanner than all three of them i fear. all of the fcs i use (other than jack schlossberg but like. idk his main celebrity lookalike in the better cr is him so i kind of had to) are latino, but i feel like it never ever properly translates when i talk about him bc his name is fucking leopold scott. like. huh.

he's also tall AS FUCK lol and built like a tank lowkey (think tom welling clark kent GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY) but it's mainly bc he's a hockey player. in every vers he's like. 6'3. shortest he is is w marcello as his fc and even then he's 5'11. (note in pop star dr he gets a lot of comparisons to jacob elordi for some reason??? idk my fans are weird)

he's got big brown baby cow eyes. every. single. time. like that is this man's defining trait and you know what? i would not change that for the world lol

his position in hockey is a goalie! he uses the number #29 and plays for our college and later for the new jersey devils before being traded to the anaheim ducks. after he retires he becomes a firefighter!!!! (which is sooo hot btw)

[sasahuaa]

Can you add scaramouche to your omega character series? He'd be a disastrous omega that needs lots of healing but I'm sure his partner can provide

You're doing great! I love reading your fics and characterization

Scaramouche as an omega

I was really considering Scaramouche before to start with genshin! I was a bit scared to start with Scara because I could see that I would start yapping, and almost did, I had to cut so many things bc my initial idea was to write him in all stages of his life, also not sure if you meant the canon timeline or fatui!scaramouche, but I can do that in the future, for now this fic has some brief mentions of Kabukimono and the fatui. And thank you for the kind words, it means a lot!

gn!reader; cw: contains deep dives into his mindset so he has pessimistic thoughts in some parts (like him thinking that reader is a sort of player, bur nothing too heavy)

This poor omega is indeed disastrous, since the moment his creator abandoned him, Kabukimono was left with a lot of questions regarding his worth. He does not understand, truly, by venturing around he discovered that omegas were not treated with much respect, was that the reason why his mother abandoned him? Does she think an alpha would be more appropriate to be an archon? But he was a puppet, designed by her will, it didn't make sense why she would make him an omega to begin with if that was her reasoning, so what was wrong with him?

The little fledgling was happy during his stay in Tatarasuna, Niwa was a father figure that teached him many skills, and the village helped each other, he was pampered by everyone. What a pity that disaster caused by a doctor's interest befell such a kind community.

Scaramouche felt his dignity crumble more each year, month, day, second that passed. At every step that he was corrupted by the fatui's ideals and methods - his body torn apart from Dottore's experiments - the thoughts of self-doubt grew in his mind. He wasn't enough to be a god, discarded before he had the chance to try, his hands didn't purify the water nor cut through mountains, no one would sing his name in worship, but he also wasn't enough to be human, his skin is artificial, unflawed like porcelain, not even a mechanical heart occupy the emptiness of his hollow chest. Forever lost in between the limbo of where his existence belongs.

For a being so emotional, Scaramouche wonders when was the last time he felt anything besides rage, it doesn't matter too much for him, as he learned how to use his anger as a tool. His underlings - though only in the fatui, as the people of Sumeru never faced the omega's wrath (or better worded, don't remember) - whispered out of his earreach, murmurs wondering if the beautiful omega was capable of love.

And now, carrying the title of Wanderer and face to face with the reason that made the vacant part of him tremble, he finally found the answer.

Courting

Nahida's orders indirectly led him to you, to be a student of the Akademiya would eventually force him to interact with other scholars, you being from Vahumana or not didn't matter, as students from different darshans would often benefited from cooperating. And like many people he met nowadays, he was indifferent at first, which considering his past as The Balladeer, when everyone was an annoying fly in his way, is a considerable improvement.

But for many aspects of life, even as he accepted that this would be something that he never would reach, he was interested in humanity. What makes people human, their flaws, traits, mannerisms and personality, what makes them yield or fill them with confidence. His almost deification didn’t bring him the same satisfaction as he felt with Niwa and the rest of the Tatarasuna people, but watching the Sumeru's citizens may be close enough.

If it's something he can't be, then he will appease himself by observing.

As he looks at alphas, he thinks that this is another thing that he is flawed at. In his studies, Scaramouche determined that omegas supposedly went crazy over alphas, but he never felt it before, or maybe he never gave himself a chance to try. A long time before he learned the consequences of creating genuine connections, that humans tend to betray the same way gods do.

But… he learned that they never did abandon him, that maybe he can trust again.

And while you both worked on your project, these types of thoughts ushered to the top of his mind like never before. You were nice to him,and laughed it off when he was being purposely cunning. You were also attentive, meticulous in your work and doting on him, always bringing him tea or other types of bitter delicacies, and just shrugged when he said there was no need to feed him.

He liked to see your reactions, there were moments when your behaviour took a tired and upset turn, when you mumbled curses about the things that went wrong with your work. It was somewhat relieving and entertaining to witness, that the gentle façade crumbles when faced with challenges.

“It's always better to work with a full stomach” you said, not sparing a thought that he didn't need to eat.

“This is pointless” the omega grumbled, he took a step away from the food.

“So just eat for the satisfaction of it, the success rate of content workers is higher than stressed ones” you insisted, and Scaramouche hated that.

Why do you treat it like there was no trouble in taking care of him? Getting out of your way to please others is dumb, especially for the likes of him.

The omega knows that he is a pessimist, that people always have motives behind their actions, and even Nahida didn't escape his judgement as he does not believe she is merely being kind and benevolent. You are no different, and when he is alone with his thoughts after bidding you goodbye and retiring for the day, he must find your intentions.

As he looks himself in the mirror, Scaramouche looks carefully at his appearance, “alphas and betas are always kinder to pretty omegas, we all know that they only want one thing” it's what the older men from the bazar say. He raises his hands to cup his face, fingers touching smooth skin with no marks, doe indigo eyes look back at him with something akin to divinity, and as he glances lower, he does not think his body lacks in beauty.

That must be it, they clearly are being good to me only to get in my pants!

Scaramouche is not a saint, he knew that, but since he started to work on his path to atonement, he was completely honest about himself. The omega knows that not everyone is like that, people that mask themselves behind lies and generous mannerisms are the worst kind of evil, and to think that you would be capable of that-

Hurts.

There is an annoying pain in his chest and a prickle behind his eyes. He needed proof, he will uncover the worst in you, that's a promise he made to himself.

Scaramouche was snarky and insufferable the following days, refusing to cooperate at all. And though he won't admit it, it was hard for him to do that, your scent wavered with a hint of sadness everytime he was rough, and he felt a need within him clawing to be free, he had to fight himself against releasing a comforting scent to appease you.

But his instinct quieted down whenever he saw you acting honorably to other omegas, when you held the door open for a nobody, or when you generously lent a hand to someone feeling troubled. The rage he felt was immeasurable, he growled lowly and was almost convinced to attack whoever was taking your attention from him.

So he wasn't special at all, he wasn’t needed, he wasn't wanted, it's always like that.

It all came to a boiling point when he snapped at you, harsh words thrown at your directions about what he thought you were doing, messing with omegas hearts just to set them aside when you were done getting what you wanted, truly shameful. Nonetheless, he felt regretful when he saw your pained expression.

“What made you think that?” your voice was quiet, and Scaramouche would prefer if you looked pissed by his accusations, anything to reassure him that he was right “You could have told me you were uncomfortable, I would've stopped”

Uncomfortable? He isn't uncomfortable by your actions towards him, he is… pleased that you did not shy away from a broken thing like him. What he did not like was when you did things for others that he believes should be only for him, and the perceptions he created himself even when you never gave him a reason to.

During all this time Scaramouche was overwhelmed by feelings, and though he is used to feel too much, what he felt about you was completely foreign to him, not the familial care he felt for Niwa and the kid from ages ago, not the gratefulness he felt for Nahida and the traveler for giving him a chance to atone for his mistakes, and not the kinship when he met Durin.

“So are you saying that you were running away from it?” Nahida questioned, placing a flower crown above the omega's head, aranara's joyfully circling around both of them “It's fine to be scared, and if you talk to them about it I am sure they will understand”

“How are you sure that people won't disappoint you? Don't you believe it's easier if you cut the problem by the roof so you never have to discover it?”

“I decide to give an opportunity for everyone to prove themselves, and maybe you would be happily surprised by the results” the goddess cupped his face, pinching the fat of his cheeks and giggling when Scaramouche bat her hands away “You look different since you met them, even your scent doesn't hold that sour end from before”

And he followed Nahida's advice, not because she told him what to do, but staying away from you was killing him inside. This is not normal, is it? To think the world is falling apart just because your desired person is not close by.

Moreover, he guesses that since becoming a citizen of Sumeru he started to work on redeeming himself, what is one more person to apologize for when you acted out of line?

Scaramouche prepared a basket of fruits and Padisarah flowers and headed to your work station, exchanging these types of words is still unfamiliar to him, but he made it very clear that he wanted to improve your relationship.

It's possible that the state of your relationship was just confirmed when someone he was jealous of before questioned him.

“Of course we are courting, don't ask stupid questions”

Honestly, it's possible Scaramouche just came to terms with his feelings after he said that. The omega was still astonished that he is loved back, he doesn't know if he deserves this.

And yet, he can't deny himself the pleasure of being in your arms, taking deep breaths of your scent and resting his eyes with your rumbling under his head. If he is being selfish and taking a good alpha form a good omega, so be it! No one deserves you anyway, if another omega even thinks of taking you from him they will be met with sharp teeth and claws.

You both become inseparable, while it's mostly because he enjoys spending time with you as much as you - and he sees you as one of the few people that it's not a waste of time to be together -, it's also a result of a deeply buried insecurity of being betrayed, he knows that some were misunderstandings, but it's hard to change a mindset after hundreds of years believing in it.

He prefers the reassurance coming from actions instead of words, so when his alpha permit him to scent all of their clothes and also their body, or hold him tight and shows that he belongs by their side when he is feeling bothered by the presence of another, it's moments like this that he feels the most complete.

Scaramouche is truthful in a relationship and he expects you to do the same, if he feels that he needs something and you can provide he will ask, he may not be the romantic type, but everyday he makes it very clear how much he adores you.

He doesn't have a favorite gift to receive - unless you make a table full of sweets, he will complain non-stop if you do that. Spending time together is enough for him, but he appreciates anything you give him, gift him a small plushie and say you thought of him when you saw it, perhaps he will tease you and joke a little, but he will keep it safe. If you give Scaramouche jewelry or any small token, he will bring it with him anywhere he goes. His gifts to you include artifacts he finds when Nahida sends him on expeditions, also Scaramouche doesn't have hobbies for himself, so instead he will engage on yours.

Growling

During the fatui era, growls were very frequent sounds he made, it was almost impossible that someone that worked with him and never heard him growl. And he felt so powerful doing so, a long time ago, while he still lived in Inazuma, omega's were heavily punished if they growled at someone, and though this conservative behavior diminished a lot compared to the past, it was far from being extinguished.

So with his title as a harbinger, Scaramouche growled until they all cowered by his feet, just like a god should be revered.

But since living in Sumeru, he doesn't growl as much anymore, this is because he is not as stressed as before, he lifted the weight off his shoulders that was having to act like something he would never become, he was not trying to sacrifice his body for his objectives anymore. There's the occasional growl when other people irritate him, as a warning to watch their words and actions.

In a relationship with you, Scaramouche also growls when he is feeling jealous or insecure, but overall, he does not growl at you unless he is in a deep mindset that something feels wrong, he will require reassurance in times like this.

Purring

Scaramouche doesn't remember the last time he purred, and now he is almost sure his purr box is broken. The omega has two reasons to think that, one is that it has been centuries, he does not know how to purr due to the disuse of that part of his vocal cords, another is because of the experiments Dottore made on him, turning his body almost inside out.

Nowadays he does not care whether he purrs or not, it's a thing he lived almost his entire life without, and he does not miss it.

If he somehow discovers that he can purr again, it would be an almost inaudible sound. If you want to hear it, you would need to rest your head over his chest, it's more vibrational than vocal. Scaramouche will not purr in public, for him, it's a thing that just both of you should be aware of.

Nesting

Scaramouche does not have a proper nest, actually, what he calls his nest is merely two pillows and one blanket that he carries around his home. at max he will try to put the blanket in a circular shape.

He took a while before introducing you to his nest. He was a bit insecure at first, other omega's have big and filled nests, with an enormous assortment of colors and textures, while his… during the fatui, he would say it was just another thing that proved something was wrong with him.

And he enjoys it so much when you are with him in his nest, you could be just relaxing around the house, and he would bring his blanket and wrap it around you wordlessly. It made him feel warm with adoration whenever he saw you inside something purely his.

He won't get out of his way to buy or make things for his nest, but he will increment it if it is a gift from his alpha. He thinks it is kind of lovable that his alpha would try to get things to make him more comfortable, and Scaramouche deeply appreciates that.

Marking

He marks you all the time, even before you started to officially court. His scent is now almost ingrained into your skin, and if he already had permission to give you a biting mark, he would.

It's not just a sign for other omegas that you are already committed to him, it's also a reminder for you, that you have an omega to come back to, and that he would do anything to keep you with him.

But even after he becomes confident that you won't leave him behind - no omega or yourself is going to separate you from him - he still covers you in his smell, Scaramouche became very fond of the whole process of scent marking and to claim you for himself.

It's therapeutic to him, he will nuzzle quietly your cheeks and bring the scent glands of his wrists to your neck, not a single gland of your go untouched. For him, it's a mandatory procedure that you must go through before leaving home, especially if your agendas oblige you to not be together for the rest of the day.

Subspace

He never entered subspace before you, and it also took a while for you to achieve that. He denied himself the mindset many times before, he felt kinda scared by it, to be so vulnerable. Anytime he felt that his mind was starting to feel like it was becoming cotton filled, Scaramouche immediately backed away from you and tried to distract himself.

When he does enter subspace, he is whiny and clingy, following you around your home and hugging you when you are busy, from behind if you are cooking, sitting on your lap and throwing his arms around your neck while you work.

Scaramouche feels like he took a shot of serotonin when he smells your skin, he is addicted, touching every exposed part of your body to his contentment. He also likes to bite, so you probably will be covered by marks of nibbles by the end of it.

And when he sobers up again he gets flustered easily, he can't believe he let instincts control over his body. He will hiss if you mention anything that he did during subspace. Nonetheless, he will eventually get into it again and the cycle will repeat itself.

☽ ☼ ☾

Scaramouche supposes things should turn out like they were before, that everything would come back to normal, he followed Nahida's advice, the instinct in his gut that begs to be with you, and yet, it seems worse than before. The omega may have had a strong reaction before and jumped into conclusions far from the truth, but he has also gotten used to silently pine for you, not expecting anything from it - maybe he can be and was aggressive towards other people that had your attention, but he won't mention it! -, for he can count the number of times in his long life that situations turned into his favor.

But Scaramouche reminded himself that he has to learn that your entire existence is too good to be true. You give him hope in many ways that he never imagined before. Your arms are stretched before him, holding a light blue and soft blanket.

“And for what reason would you give me that?” he stepped forward, picking the material from your hands.

“Can't you guess?” you chuckled and shook your head, the movement dispersed your scent that was reeking of amusement “If anything, see it as a gift to compensate the time we spend apart, to show how much I cherish you”

His eyes widen at the proclamation, under his nose he can smell that the blanket is scented. An item for a nest and carrying your smell, isn't that a sign of a courting gift? He couldn't help but hug the blanket tighter at the thought.

“Thank you for trying to look out for me”

For a long time he desired for a normal life, all his objectives from the past had the intention to lead to it, sadly all was for nothing, and he hopes he didn't look pitiful for that. And yet, in front of him, he saw an opportunity for that, he just needed to reach for you.

Once again, he gives himself the chance to dream of a better future.

[covenha]

Synopsis: Seonghwa watches Hongjoong crash and burn and decides to revisit a good ole tactic to help his buddy out. This is a two-part spin off of the simp!verse. Pairings: nerd!hongjoong x fem!reader; guest appearances from Soobin and Yeonjun from TXT Genre: crack, my piss attempt at humor, hongjoong my poor guy is such a simp god bless his heart Warnings: swear words, witchcraft technically WC: 2.4k (I got carried away, oops) a/n: This monster of a chapter was birthed by my sleep-deprive brain from travelling for the holidays. I'm glad I put it out before christmas though because I wanna write something christmas themed before christmas day. This fic is purely fiction and does not portray what the characters are like irl. Feedbacks, reblogs, and comments are also deeply appreciated and highly encouraged! and as always please enjoy :)) Read part 1 here ; Read simp!hwa here

Seonghwa didn’t like getting involved in other people’s lives (he’s lying to himself, really. The aries in him loves making people his puppets). But seeing his best friend and dorm mate, Hongjoong, pouting on his bed whining about his sim’s wife not reciprocating his feelings, he just knew he had to intervene. If he hears Backburner by Niki playing one more time on Hongjoong’s speaker, he’s going to go clinically insane himself. 

“Okay, Hongjoong you gotta stop this! C’mon get up!” Hongjoong is currently face down on his mattress, mumbling along to the song for the nth time this week. 

The Goo Goo Dolls are dead to me the way you should be too

“Joong, I swear-”

But you bring them up along with how much I fucking miss you!

Hongjoong continues to mumble along the words to the song, almost like he’s drunk. And after this, Seonghwa swears he needs a drink too.

“Look, maybe you’re a bit of a fixer upper. I was too! But now look at me, I’m in a loving relationship and I couldn’t be happier.” he still doesn’t seem convinced at whatever peptalk Seonghwa is trying to feed him. But he does stop his singing so it’s a win in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a little trade secret of mine. As much as I look like the total rizzler that I am. I didn’t exactly get the girl on my looks and charm alone.” Hongjoong furrows his brows at this. Ignoring the fact that his friend just used the word “rizzler” unironically, he was desperate at this point. 

“An Etsy witch?!” he looks at Seonghwa, unimpressed at the boba-eyed boy. 

“Look, you just gotta trust me on this one okay?” Hongjoong sighs, I mean he was desperate. His conjured up future of you with his poodle and 2 goldfish was hanging in the balance right now. So he decided to humor Seonghwa. 

“We just gotta use a little bit of manifestation. Alexa play Take a Chance with Me by Niki!” 

With a newfound determination in his step, Hongjoong walks to class that day with one goal in his head. He had to figure out what your name was. 

“I have to find out her name?” Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows at the instructions. 

“Well, yeah. Seulgi needs to know her name for the ritual to be done correctly.” He replies in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. 

“Why can’t I just use that pink stone thingy you used?” 

“Because she has to wear it for 3 days. And, no offense, but I doubt that she would accept anything from you, Romeo.” Seonghwa pats him on the back. “But this will work, trust!” 

“You better be right, Hwa.” 

When he walks into the amphitheater, you are sitting in your usual spot typing away at something on your laptop. You were wearing a green beanie this time, seeing as the weather was getting colder. Hongjoong couldn’t help but swoon a little on the inside at you. You looked like a cute brussel sprout and he just wanted to bite you (but of course in a loving and sweet kind of way.) 

“Hi!” Hongjoong starts. “We talked for a little bit last week… I don’t know if you remember.” He shyly smiles at you. 

Oh, you remembered. He was the same guy who just randomly shouted at you before the class started. He was cute, you’ll admit that. He had a sort of nerdy vibe to him that you usually found cute in a guy. If only it weren’t for the piss poor first impression he pulled. You notice he still had that jittery look in his eyes, the same one he had last week. You didn’t like where this was going. 

“Oh, I remember.” You give him a tight smile. 

“Oh!” he manages to blurt out, albeit very loudly. This startles you and makes you jump a little in your seat. And this also causes a ruckus in the amphitheater causing eyes to look at the interaction between the both of you again. Great, you think. So much for keeping a low profile. 

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. Can I ask you what your name is?” He looks down at you with a hopeful look in his eyes. He really was cute, you think. But you hated all the eyes on you. You wanted this to end as quickly as possible and return to your peace and quiet. But you also didn’t want to embarrass this guy in front of the whole class. So, you do the next best thing. 

“My name is Wendy Lu.” You give him a fake name. 

I mean, what he won’t know won’t kill him right? You get him off your back. He gets to search up some finance major that frequents the cafe that you work at. And in your defense, she was totally cute! She also had a caffeine addiction but you digress. 

“Nice to meet you, Wendy!” Hongjoong rushes off to find his seat at the back of the room with a beaming smile on his face. This Etsy witch Seulgi sure did have her work cut out for her. But I mean, if she could get Seonghwa a girlfriend, she could totally get me one, right? 

“So, her name is Wendy Lu. I came up to her this morning and asked for her name, and she totally smiled at me! I got this one in the bag.” Hongjoong is beaming with glee at Seonghwa. 

They’re walking down a part of town that is a bit of a ways away from their usual path to their dorm but they had to make a detour to go to Seulgi’s physical store to get some supplies. She wrote down some instructions for Hongjoong to follow in his ritual for love spell casting and then they were off on their merry way back to their dorms. Unfortunately, Seonghwa had a 10-page essay he had due that very night to which he was very sorely behind on. 

“Can we go grab some coffee first? Either I’m going to finish this essay or it will finish me.” Seonghwa sighs, a stressed look on his face as he turns to the closest cafe that was on their route. 

That’s when they are greeted with you manning the cash register of the cafe. There’s a line at the cash register because this is usually when the cafe is at its busiest and you don’t even notice them coming in. Hongjoong is trying to contain himself and keep his chill. But he can’t help it if you look so effortlessly beautiful with your hair tied up and in your cute barista apron. The man is basically shooting heart eyes your way but you’re too busy taking orders. 

“My usual, please. To go.” Wendy Lu tries to give you the best smile she can, but it just ends up looking like a twitch on her face. Midterms must be coming up, you concluded. Sucks to be a finance major. One iced americano with 4 espresso shots, coming right up. You finish ringing in her order and give the ticket away for your co-worker to start on her drink. 

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” You bring your head up from the cash register and feel a dread settle into your stomach. It was the guy from earlier. Hongjoong, if you recall correctly. 

“I’ll have a Vanilla latte, and a pistachio bagel please.” Seonghwa replies. 

“Oh, and uhm. I’ll have a Caramel Macchiato with a tuna melt.” Hongjoong adds. 

“Will you have this for dine-in or take-out?” 

“We’ll have it for take-out, please.” 

And as you finish ringing up their orders, you forget one crucial detail that just managed to slip your mind. Wendy Lu. 

“Iced americano for Wendy Lu!” your co-worker, Soobin, shouts. 

Both boys look at you with confused eyes as Wendy Lu grabs her drink from Soobin and rushes off. You try to ignore the tension in the room but Hongjoong blurts out, “I thought you were Wendy Lu?” 

“Well, Wendy is a pretty common name.” You just nervously giggle off and hope he doesn’t press further. 

“Hey, Y/n. Yeonjun needs help rolling out the croissant dough in the kitchen.” Soobin interrupts the awkward conversation. “I’ll finish that up for you, go help him.” 

“Right.” You give them one last glance before walking over to the kitchen. 

And we are back to square one with Hongjoong. Well, not necessarily square one, more like square one and a half. Seonghwa likes to look on the brighter side of things. 

“Hey, at least you know her name! And besides, this ritual thing will still work, so what if she gave you a fake name at first.” Seonghwa tries to console his distraught dorm mate. 

“When you become best man at my wedding, can you leave this part out of your speech please?” Hongjoong just lies on the floor and pouts at him. 

“Oh, the part where you crashed and burned the first time you met your future wife? Sure.” Seonghwa deadpans at his friend. 

“Now, just do the ritual, my guy. I have an essay to write and you have a girl to wife up.” Seonghwa motions for him to get up. 

“Fine.” Hongjoong gets up and goes to get his supplies for the ritual but notices that the instructions for the ritual are gone. He furrows his eyebrows and digs through his things trying to find them but they don’t seem to be anywhere. He asks Seonghwa if he’s seen them anywhere but he claims to not even have held the paper. This confirms a theory he’s had in his head that sends a storm of unease to his stomach. 

He remembers putting his stuff out while waiting for his tuna melt to be heated up. The last time he remembers seeing that pink sheet of paper was at the cafe table. He had to go back to that cafe. He checks the time and it’s around the time that it closes, if he remembers correctly from the door. If he rushes now, he could get to the cafe right before it closes. 

So he rushes out the door yelling out that he was going to the cafe, leaving a very confused Seonghwa to attempt to finish his essay. 

Hongjoong arrives at the cafe on a mission to find that pink-ruled piece of paper that holds the key to his happiness. The cafe is deserted at this point, the door sign says “closed” but he can still see you and your two other co-workers cleaning up the establishment. He gulps.

Here goes nothing. 

He knocks on the door to the shop and points to the locked door. 

You and Soobin shoot each other a look and Soobin walks up to the door.

“So that was lover boy, I assume?” Soobin glances down at you as you wipe down the counters behind the cash register.

“Oh scarf guy?” Yeonjun pipes up. 

“Yeah. Kim Hongjoong.” You tell them. “Guy seems sweet and all but he brings so much attention during class. Made me want to disappear into my seat.” 

“Well, seems like lover boy’s got it bad. He was going to cast a spell on you.” Soobin says trying to imitate a dracula accent. 

“What? No way.” Yeonjun dismisses him. 

“Look. He left it at the table they were at. Even went to that trinket shop down at the corner next to the deli. Poor guy was going to get Wendy Lu to fall head over heels in love with him.” He waves a pink piece of paper around. 

You grab it and look at what’s written down and stare in utter disbelief. Was he really willing to go this far? 

“Man’s a simp if I’ve ever seen one.” Soobin concludes. 

“He just doesn’t know when to give up. I mean, you were pretty straightforward the first time around. Take the L, my guy.” Yeonjun shakes his head. 

“Hmmm, well I thought it was a bit harsh. But he is persistent. I'll give him that.” Soobin shrugs. 

“Ugh, I was too harsh, wasn’t I?” You ask, to no one in particular. But you didn’t mean to be harsh. Being the center of attention was never your favorite thing and it brought out a side of you that had no filter. 

“Are you forgetting the fact that he hired an Etsy witch to make him fall in love with you?” Yeonjun reminds you. 

“Well, I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff. Pink rocks and weird drawings? Be fucking for real.” 

And as luck would have it, a knock on the door stops your discourse. It was Hongjoong. You and Soobin share a look and he goes to tell him that the place is closed but then you stop him. 

“Wait, Soob. I need to talk to him.” You stop Soobin as he reaches for the door knob. 

Hongjoong panics when you see him walk over to the door knob. Oh God, she knows. She’s gonna think I’m some creep! I mean, on paper it does seem creepy that some guy who she’s talked to like thrice has some instructions from some dodgy Etsy witch on how to make her fall in love with him but he swears he means no harm. 

You go over to open the door. 

“Hey, Hongjoong.” You start. You wipe your sweaty hands off using your apron. Confrontation was never your best feat, but it seems like the universe had different plans for the both of you that evening. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for being kinda harsh to you the first time we talked. You seem like a sweet guy, but you kinda put me on the spot and I was pretty uncomfortable back then….” You explain yourself. 

“O-oh! Well, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I never meant to do that I swear! I just, you’re…. Pretty.” He shyly smiles at you. 

This is the first time you are actually able to take a good look at him and you start to notice little details you never did. The slope of his nose, the glasses that frame his face, the dimples that decorate his cheeks, and the one finger he has painted with nail polish. He was kinda cute, you concluded. And as he calls you pretty, you can’t help the heat that rises up your cheeks at his confession. 

“Well, if you wanna, we could do it the old fashioned way. You know, the one where there’s no Etsy witch involved.” You shoot a small smile his way when he starts floundering and trying to come up with a way to explain himself. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Hongjoong walks back to the dorm with a dumb smile on his face. Seonghwa was so totally gonna be his best-man at his wedding. 

[jujutsukgojo]

The Baby Project Chapter 7

Summary: All because your back was turned. tw: angst, lost kid, brief assault, panic, idk what else

Yona leads you back to her office after your cry fest. You don’t dare look anyone in the eye. It’s embarrassing enough that Sakura saw you freak out and to face these random people who saw you cry in the foyer would be too much right now. Inside, you inform her of what’s going on. 

“We figured it was because of his past.”

 You shake your head no. “Not just that. It was everything. I broke the scholarship’s rules.”

“And they brought up Kenji.”

 “Kaibara brought that up. How does he even know that?” Yona stretches and rubs her ear. “The brat gave Noa to him. That is the only time they interacted.”

 You shake your head. “No, no. He dug deep into Ken and used it against me. Kaibara would’ve had to at least know his name. I never talked about you guys!” Did you? It was months ago and so much has happened in that short time frame. 

 Yona sucks on her teeth. “Do you think he may have been watching? I don’t know what he looks like. He could’ve come in and heard Ken’s name in passing. He’s a hero,” She sighs and sits on the corner of her desk. “They’re smart. It wouldn’t take him long to figure it out.”

 You are silent and take that possibility in. It’s strange and frightening to think he had been watching you all because of twenty bucks. Yona clears her throat. “Pretty, we understand what happened and welcome you back to work but I think you should talk to Ken.”

“Is he mad?”

“Not at you. I think you might be mad at him.” 

 You straighten up. You didn’t reflect on what you felt towards Ken individually. You knew you would miss him and Yona terribly, but not if you were mad at Kenji. Now that you think about it, only one answer comes to mind. “I’m not mad at Ken.”

Her eyes soften and her ladybug wings settle against her back. “Then go tell him that. He’s been walking around here like a kicked dog.” -

“Ken?” He turns his head a little to see you. Never have you been afraid of Ken. You didn’t judge him for his past since it’s none of your business. Besides, he doesn’t do it anymore. So, why bother him about it? Despite what Kaibara and U.A. say, you don’t let that darkness that festered inside him stop you from loving him. Especially since he hasn’t done it since he paid his dues. To you, he's Ken.

 He looks the same since last you saw him. His hair is still in need of a haircut. You run into his arms and squeeze him tight. 

“How’ve you been, bub?” As you squeeze him, his back cracks. Ken groans and answers, “I’ve been better, sugar.”

You have so much to catch up on with him and Yona, the customers, the latest gossip on the streets. You want to brag about your grades and Noa, about Izuku even though he’s in the dog house. First, you need to reassure the cook so he doesn’t poison you.

 You separate from him and look down. Even though you didn’t have anything to do with U.A.’s decision, you can’t help but feel guilty and complicit. “Ken, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

You suck on your lips and put your hands behind your back. “I didn’t fight hard enough for you. I should’ve defended you more and at least called after I quit.”

 He rubs your head. “No apologies needed, kid. It’s not your fault, it’s theirs.”

His pardon puts a big smile on your face. You bounce up and down. “I’m working here again!”

Ken raises his brow. “Yeah? What’d you do, blow up the school and make them cave?”

“No! As long as I’m listed as a volunteer, I’m good.”

“Guess we’ll just have to make people tip.” He swats a towel on your head. “Now shut up and get over here. Cut the onions, I hate doing it.”

-----------

Now that the stress of your finances has been slightly lightened, there is another problem that needs attention. It’s hard to ignore that Noa is starting to have a hitting problem. Recently, he smacked Hana across the face with his toy truck resulting in a scar. You couldn’t apologize enough for it. Ema got over it and understood because Hana's going through the same thing. Kirishima, on the other hand, is still pretty pissed. Since he is Ema’s problem, you’ll leave that to her even though their relationship is still on the rocks. 

 You don’t really know what to do other than scold Noa for it and put him in time out which isn’t really working. Yona’s advice to have him channel it into something productive is a fine suggestion, but what? He colors already and plays with everyone he comes in contact with, what else? You already make crafts with him, read, and even have him study with you. Noa is two years old. All of this stuff should be gaining his attention.

 You write this in your report. The thick pamphlet that is soon to be filled out seems to have more negatives than positives. You sigh and look at his little shelf of books. Lately, all the kids’ books you have aren’t working. He seems more partial to the things you’re reading than anything. Especially The Great Love Story. Although it is a good read, it’s getting tiring. Is it possible that the daring fight with the dragon is affecting him? 

Noa pops up from the bed and walks over to you. “Hey, mini man. Did I wake you?” He nods and has a deep frown. You pick him up and place his head on your shoulder, slightly rocking back and forth. “What do I do with you? What should we do to make you stop hitting and getting into stuff? C’mon, what do you like?”

 His eyes light up and says with a groggy voice, “Food.” 

“Like the cake for Papa?” It still stings mentioning him but he is Noa’s dad and is a part of his life. 

Noa nods enthusiastically. Now that you have a spark of relief and happiness, you list foods that the two of you can cook. You take out a notebook and put on the lists he agrees with. Right now, money is a little tight, so you’ll just have to hold him over with smaller and cheaper recipes until you can work your way up with your new chef.

It's strange. You hug Noa with genuine happiness when you see how excited he is.

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

Ema rubs her eyes when you enter the classroom with Noa who is wearing his Deku hoodie. He was adamant about matching his Papa. With his hand in yours, you gain the attention of others. “What?”

“He’s tall!” Riko puts her hands on her hips. “I saw you last night and he wasn’t this tall.”

You shrug your shoulders. “He grew?”

The door opens behind you. Snipe looks down at Noa. “I heard you from the outside. I have to say, I think you’re right.” He squats and asks, “Can I see your tummy?” Noa shakes your hand and points. You hum and lift his hoodie. On it is a new number. 

“Three years old!” You exclaim. It isn’t that you didn’t notice his growth or care. It’s just news because how in the hell were you able to pull that off? It can’t be something as small as cooking. 

“Congratulations to (Y/n) and Noa. The first to reach three years old.” Snipe claps and laughs. You beat Ema of all people? She’s like the golden standard of this project. How in the hell did you beat her?

Noa cheers his own name, making you roll your eyes. This kid has yet to call you mom.

Snipe walks to the podium. The class is silent and waits for him to start the session. Everyone has their kids today and most of them are well behaved. Snipe rubs his face under his mask. “Now, about the caregiver situation-”

“What about-” You start to say. Snipe smacks the podium lightly. “(Y/n)! Enough.”

You raise your hand. He sighs and calls your name. “The caregiver? And-”

“One question at a time for you. The caregiver is one of the students in the support course who,” He looks around and sees all of the kids’ faces. “Um, help Mei Hatsume with the assignment. She’ll take care of them during class.”

You raise your hand again. Snipe groans. “Anyone besides her?” 

“The gall…” You mutter. Riko looks at you and then raises her hand. “Now that general studies are starting to be taken seriously, does the class get the same benefits they do?”

   Attagirl. 

Snipe puts his hand on his hips and stares at you. “I didn’t say it!” 

“No, but you put her up to it. Riko, the differences in the curriculum between you and the third year hero course are drastic. So what is allowed with them is strictly because of that. Nothing else.” 

How in the hell did he come to the conclusion that you made her do it? You can't control her mind. You may tell people what to do but you don't control them.

You raise your hand again. He glances at you and simply says, “No. Now let’s start class.”

He did nothing but create excuses for them. Of course, he did. 

-

Right as you are writing down important notes, in the corner of your eye, you see Noa raise his hand. This should've been expected since he is creating this habit. Alas, you and everyone else didn't realize how far it would go until Noa screams and hits everything. You try to calm him down with things he normally likes. Drawing, his ‘homework’, books and toys, all of it. You grab his offending arm before it swings again, “Listen, boy, you’re young so you don't have survival instincts yet,” He blows a raspberry in your face then stops as quick as he started. “Trust, I will tear your ass up in the middle of this class.”

Snipe begins to scold you. “Hush!” You point to Snipe then turn back to Noa who’s pouting. “Noa, this behavior is over, ‘kay? We’re not doing this. My sous chef can't act like a fool. I will not have a fool for a cook. Act right, wait, and color Mommy a pretty picture so I can put it on the wall over there.”

Snipe puts his hand on his hip. “You cannot pin something on the wall-” Snipe begins to growl at your disregard.

“Bet. Noa, you will behave. If you want to sit on my lap and help, that’s fine. If you want to dance and mind your business, go ahead since it won't hurt anyone.”

He looks like he understands for a second until he looks up defiantly and throws what he believes is a trump card. “I’ll tell Papa-”

“And I will beat his ass too. Papa is victim number one. With a switch and everything because I don’t give a damn. You are going to say sorry, and you will behave."

Everyone remains silent as he apologizes to Akane, his victim. Akane coos over how polite he is and how clear he speaks. Kobeni calls Noa’s name and he wanders to the back of the class to play. Snipe points to you and says, “That is what you don’t do. Threatening is not allowed.”

“Neither is abandoning kids to villains yet here we are.” 

“Child-”

“Man.”

Noa bounces up and down, excited that he's running around. Snipe points to the door. “Hallway.” 

The hero's foolery must stop.

You get Noa and head to the hallway. “This wouldn’t happen if we had a caregiver.”

In the hallway, Noa tries to do a cartwheel and lands on his face. You suck in your lips so you don’t cackle. Even though you don’t mind what he’s doing right now, you still have to talk to him. 

“Noa, I’m going to need you to calm down when we’re in class.”

“Your class!” He makes a point. “I’m bored!”

It’s understandable. You even struggle with it. Unfortunately, it’s something you have to sit through. As a three year old, it must be harder. “I understand Noa, believe me, I do. But baby,” You sit down. “When we’re in class, I need you to be as calm as you can.”

“I’m trying.” He nuzzles in your hand that is gently cupping his chubby cheek. 

You give him a kiss. “I know, baby. I also know that you won’t hit anymore, so thank you for that.”

“Trying!” He groans and stomps his foot. You rub his arms and sigh. You know he is. And you also know that the hitting is over. It will be nearly impossible to get him to calm down, though. And everyone else’s kids are active in class, just not as disruptive as he is. It's gotten worse over time.

“I was like you, too. So, I get it! I’m trying as well.” You kiss his forehead. “How about we try together, partner? I’ll bring more of your things and ask to be moved to the back, eh?”

“You’re out here again?” You jump when a voice interrupts you and Noa’s moment. It’s him. Shouto Todoroki walks into the hallway. His dual colored eyes observe both you and Noa. Around the start of this, you felt an intense anger towards him and his whole family. Since then, it’s calmed down due to you being busy with life. Now that he’s in front of you, that anger starts to spark like little embers on wood. 

Through gritted teeth, you ask, “What’re you doing here?”

Seriously, how the hell does he know you come out here a lot?

“Looking for my partner.” Then, you notice the infant in his arms. He isn’t wearing his hero costume or gym clothes. He isn’t disheveled or bothered at all. “Why?”

“To give her the baby.” Noa hops over to him. “Lemme see!” He stands on his tippy toes and sees the baby that looks like that one girl. You don’t really know her other than her reaction at the Sports Festival. The only thing that baby has of him is the eye color and pink hair.

“Why?”

“That’s personal.”

“So are us being out here yet you believe you should point it out. Now why are you passing on your responsibility again?”

His face remains the same. Indifferent and a little awkward. “Couldn’t the same be said for you with Midoriya?”

Bitch.

“What’d you mean?” You take steps to him. He shrugs. “You make him the father when Noa has one right next to you. How can you judge me when you pass Noa to someone who isn’t even doing the project?”

“Izuku wants to. I'm not making him!” You hang onto that since he is helping. To others, it must look like you've pushed Noa onto him if they weren't paying attention. It’s embarrassing because you’re aware of how it looks.

“He pities you-” The raise of your hand was quick and harsh. The slap made him gasp and your hand tingly. “I may be a lot of things, but a pitiful creature I am not. It’s you and your family's fault that we’re suffering 24/7. If you would disappear and stop reminding everyone of your father and fine ass brother, I wouldn’t be in this mess!” 

His baby sucks on their thumb, totally oblivious. The rage, the hatred, you’ve felt towards him during these last few months come up to the surface. You can’t find it in you to feel bad about slapping him or for anything else. You don’t have sympathy for him. What you care about is you and yours. He and his family, fuck them. Why should you and anyone else feel bad for them? Does anyone doing the project have the energy to?

Fuck the Todorokis. Dabi was fine as hell but his looks can’t save him. 

“So, why don’t you just drop out and off the face of the earth?” His face drops. The sick satisfaction of his pain makes you smile from joy.

"Oooh! You smack! I'm telling Papa, ooohh!" Noa points at you accusingly with a smug look on his face. 

--------

The plan for a caregiver is brilliant. Everyone in class takes a turn watching the children. Today, it’s Riko’s turn. Tomorrow will be Sakura’s. This plan won’t work during school hours which sucks but hopefully, everyone can come up with something. 

Akane shifts her weight on her feet.  “You sure you’re okay?”

Riko rolls her eyes. “Yes. Now go study! The kids and I will turn on a show and paint something. Trust me, this isn’t my first time babysitting.”

 Another idea pops in your head. “What if during school hours, the caregiver works in the back and we’ll take notes for them? Maybe we’ll do each other’s homework?”

Riko shrugs. “Nah. That won’t work during tests and shit,” She waves her hands around. “We won’t think of that right now. Now is the time to practice so you can kick butt.” You smile at her, grateful that she’s enthusiastic about it and understanding. Lately, U.A. is working on Mineta’s investigation. No one knew that it was a thing until Riko was approached by Mic. Apparently, the questions were checking to see her status. She had told you that they hinted, or implied, that depending on how she is, he may come back. She isn’t sure and hasn’t told you what the questions were exactly. You want to respect her privacy and not jeopardize anything.

 “Let us know if you need us,” She nods and sighs. You point at Noa. “Boy, you’ll come up missing if you act up, capisce?”

“Capisce!” He gives you a thumbs up. You wave him goodbye so he can hang out with his friends and Auntie Riko. 

In the commons next to the kitchen, you lick your lips and try not to laugh at Hansuke's Hawks’s impersonation. You clear your throat. “Mr. Hawks-”

“Yes?” 

You loudly cackle and squat. Hansuke's impression of Hawks is exaggerated. “Why’re you laughing chickadee? Hurry up so I can go get some chicken with Endeavor.”

“Ugh!”

Tears slide down your temples as you laugh on your back. Today, you’re practicing going in front of Hawks with the notes you made. Undeniably, there’s still a lot to do and study for but practice makes perfect as long as Hansuke stops making you laugh. 

“That’s another thing we have to work on: your emotions. You tend to get very hot-headed when challenged, (Y/n).” Benio takes a drink in an attempt to collect himself. 

“Whew, okay, okay.” You get up and smack your cheeks. “Okay, let’s go.”

Hansuke bounces up and down a little. “So, (Y/n), you say U.A. wrongfully put the baby project onto your course as a way to duck-”

“Ha!” You snort. Hansuke has one hand on his mouth and the other on his hip. His body is shaking from him trying to keep in his laughter. He wears red construction paper taped to his back like wings. On his face are glasses that resemble Hawks’s old costume along with a puffer jacket. He looks ridiculous and his suggestion of putting on Hawks’s eyebrows is too much. 

“(Y/n)!” You turn to look at Riko who has her hands on her hips. You perk up. “Is Noa okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. I’m talking about you! You need to take this seriously.” Before you can retort, she claps her hands. “Chop, chop! Get to work!” 

You stick your tongue out at her. In the distance is a creak. You frown and crane your neck to look behind Riko. “Mm, probably nothing.”

“What’d you mean?” She cocks her head to the left. You point behind her. “I thought I heard something. Eh, it’s nothing.”

Riko decides to watch the class study and scold you when you laugh at the bootleg Hawks. Minus the way he’s acting and looking, you’re actually pretty good. There are still some valid arguments he makes but you are getting better. Way farther than when you started. 

“I’m gonna go check the kids.” Riko walks off to the corner. 

Suddenly, as you are laughing and chewing on your chips, Riko calls out Noa’s and Kobeni’s names. You frown and yell, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Those two are probably hiding!” You can hear her footsteps walking around. You lick the red seasoning off your fingers and clap your hands. “Okay, there’s a possibility that Hawks decides that our wellbeing is expendable since there is no for sure evidence of anything physically wrong,” Jule scoffs at your statement. Out of everyone, Jule has gone through physical ailments the most. Kaminari is completely pathetic. 

“What I mean is, anytime we have the slightest thing wrong, we need to go to Recovery Girl. When she asks why or how be honest. Tell her what’s going on and that afterward, you want a copy of her report. If she says no, tell her it is your right.”

Benio scratches his head. “Is that written somewhere?” You nod and point to Akane’s text. “Right here.” 

You hear Riko scream. Everyone pops up and runs to her. Each parent goes to their child first, except you and Benio. Neither Kobeni nor Noa is in sight. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I can’t find them! The door-the door is open!” It’s as if time stopped. Your heart doesn’t even beat because it feels like it is filled with lead. “Is…is he upstairs?”

“No, no I looked everywhere. The door, the fucking door is open!” The lead in your heart sinks to your feet. Your instincts tell you to run outside and look for him but you are cemented to the carpet. Your eyes are wide and your face is as frozen as your body. Nothing is registering other than his disappearance. Still, you cannot move. 

Benio’s the first to run outside. Sakura is on the phone calling someone. Mira holds onto her leg and looks around. It’s chaotic. Everyone is scaring her. Yet, you still can’t move. 

Run outside! Call for him! Call Deku! If anyone can find Noa, it’s his dad. Your feet can’t move, though. Your legs have the heaviest weights in the world on them. 

With a quiet voice, you ask, “Did you check everything? My room?”

“The doors automatically lock! Your door is shut.” She apologizes repeatedly. Her eyes are misty. Your voice remains a whisper. “The crawlspace?”

“What crawlspace?” Bit by bit your heart starts to lighten. Riko must not have paid attention to the random chair by that window. That’s where the crawlspace is. You run up the stairs.

“Noa! Noa! Kobeni?! Babies please, please answer Mommy!” You scream as you check every corner. “Do you want to talk to Papa?” Deku’s supposed to come over today anyway. Whenever he doesn’t do his internship or work study, whatever the hell it is, he’s with you and Noa. There’s no doubt in the world that Noa doesn’t know his Papa will be home tonight. Maybe he wants to talk to him right now? Sometimes Noa wants that. Even though you haven’t forgiven Papa, you are still very civil in front of Noa. Izuku is also ‘disappointed’ in you, as well. 

For Noa, you’ll cave. Your pride and feelings mean nothing. Your cry goes unanswered. There is only a lonely echo desperately searching for an ear that matches his Papa’s. 

You look beside the window with a stray chair next to it. In the small crawl space, there is nothing but a cobweb. You take off to your room to find the door shut and locked. The key fumbles in your hand.

“Noa? Kobeni!” You swing the door open and find no one in the open space. There isn’t anyone in here, you can tell, but your desperation searches anyway. Involuntarily, your body starts to shake. Tucked in your back pocket is your phone. Trembling fingers dial the one person who can find him. 

“(Y/n)!” His voice sounds light, surprised, delighted, that you called. “Deku…”

Even though you can’t see him physically, you can tell his smile dropped. “Noa’s missing.”

----------

“Where’s the last time you saw them?” Embarrassingly enough, Sakura called Kacchan who is searching outside the gates. Along with him came the rest of the class. Izuku sticks close to you without a word since he was on the phone. “I’m going to go look. Stay here.”

"I have to go!" Your class is spread around looking for them. You feel safer with him; more secure that he's with you in this. There's no way you can't search with him.

  "Shouldn't I be looking for him, too?"

Izuku whips his head to stare into your eyes. They don't look normal. Where there is light, it is becoming tainted with a darkness that makes you tense. 

"You were supposed to be looking after him in the first place. Stay here." You press yourself against the wall, wanting to shrink from his gaze. "Stay here, (Y/n)." His nose is flared, and steam is practically coming out of his ears. He runs out of the dorm's commons to go on a mad hunt.

-

You quickly call the restaurant. At the same time, Snipe is yelling at you in the same room fucking Deku left you in with some of your classmates.

“Yona, Noa and Kobeni are missing. Can you look out for him? He knows his way there so he could be headed to you.”

“Of course, baby. What are he and Kobeni wearing?” Your heart is pounding in your ears so loud you can barely understand her. “Um, he’s wearing a red shirt with khaki pants. I didn’t choose that, I swear and Kobeni is wearing a blue sweatsuit, I think.”

“Why is Noa dressed like Jake from State Farm?”

“I don’t know, Yona. He chose it! He took his Deku hoodie off, so he now looks like that.” 

Right next to you is Snipe, whose hands are clenched in tight fists. “How can you be so irresponsible?!” Snipe’s mask is off so he can yell at you. Your legs are shaking from the images of Noa in various states. You go to move past him. 

“Yona, I need you guys to help me, please! I turned around for two seconds, I swear-”

“I’ve given you a lot of leniencies. Way too much so it seems. This situation and your utter disregard for authority and correction have gone too far. You were irresponsible! Take responsibility now!” He snatches the phone from you and hangs up. 

Before you can retort, he continues to growl. “What were you even doing?” Akane tenses up. Her sparkly lips open to answer but you subtly lift your hand to stop her. If Snipe found out what was going on, everything would be for nothing. It hurts that you’re getting the sole blame for it, though.

“You’re judging me? You? Someone who lost an entire teenager?” Snipe growls. “Docked. I’m putting Noa back to two years old.”

“What?!” You can hear Akane gasp. Your face feels warm from all of the negative feelings you feel. From hurt to embarrassment, fear, and anger. All of these are whirling in your body at once like a twister.

“You want him younger? I can do that! We’ll put him back as a newborn so you can start fresh.”

Your shoulders slump. Noa’s come so far and to have that ripped away is cruel. Almost like an artist finally putting the finishing touches on their painting just to have someone come and splatter on it. “Don’t do that…”

“Maybe just scrap Noa altogether?”

“Snipe, stop.” Noa’s former body, the lifeless doll, is something you dread to see again. You should be jumping for joy and relief, but you can’t. He leans into your space. “Two years old and detention.”

“My volunteering-” You can’t afford to lose the income again. He’s turned three and is growing like a weed. You don’t want to be a burden or have Izuku think of him that way. Lord forbid if Kaibara helps with anything. 

“Indefinite. Maybe now you’ll get the fucking hint, (Y/n). However long that takes.” His yellow eyes don’t look right. The pupils are dilated too much and the glare is too hard. 

You flinch. He has never cussed at you even though you’ve been a mess at times. The remainder of your classmates watch Snipe lose his cool. The heat from your body is too hot. He’s staring at you. Everyone is staring at you. You step back and turn away in shame, hurrying to leave him and this hallway. You enter the dorm’s yard, relishing the fresh air that was taken from you. You’re going all around and immediately stop. 

Kaibara stomps towards you. “How could you?!” 

You can’t deal with him or Snipe right now. They need to get out of your face and preferably die. Why is he angry? He's never cared about Noa. You run past him until you are grabbed by your arm. “Get off-”

“You had one job. One fucking job and that was to watch him!” He’s squeezing too tight. He, Izuku, and Snipe all have the same eyes. Noa is out there somewhere, and they are busy judging you, hating you. Noa is adventurous. He always walks around, and you always catch him until now. You turned away and are dealing with this.  “I-I couldn’t-”

Kaibara shakes you by your arm. “You were supposed to do it!” The sun casts a shadow on him that is all too fitting for his true colors. “Why can’t you do something right? God, I should go to the heroes and ask for a better mother.”

Mother.

You are a bad mom. You’re an awful person, mother, daughter, and student. Noa doesn’t even call you ‘mom’ and now you know why. This look on Kaibara’s face is the same one Izuku and Snipe have. They’re all making this face and saying the same thing. Even Shouto drew to the same conclusion. 

You should be a good mother and stop this crusade against heroes. How long will you hold this anger, this pain, that resulted into a fight for a grudge? Kaibara’s angry eyes disappear from your sight. It’s replaced with the vision of Noa’s back facing you and his little feet carrying him away into a fog. As the fog lifts, at your feet is a lifeless Noa with Kobeni’s hand in his. All around are the bodies of the kids you watch grow up. 

  If it weren’t for you, Benio and the kids wouldn’t be hurt and missing. Your anger and hate have led to Benio’s sorrow and Riko’s guilt. If you weren’t occupied, they all wouldn’t have had to witness your humiliation. They wouldn’t have had to look at you! All because you are a bad mom, Noa and Kobeni are gone. 

You whimper as the thoughts run rampant. You close your eyes. The sound of a forceful hit opens your eyes. Kaibara is on the ground with a bloody nose. Above him is Shouto Todoroki who has flared nostrils and a killer glare that isn’t directed toward you.  

“I-I need to find him.” You don’t look into his eyes from shame. This whole time you’ve preached about their irresponsibility, and you have fallen into the same trap of stupidity. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find him.” His hand touches your face. “I’m gonna take you to Recovery Girl, now.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders. Even though you fall into him, you hate his touch. 

"I want to find him, Shouto. I can't leave." He shakes his head no. "You're shaking. I'm not taking any chances."

At least no one is looking at you.

---------

You wait on Recovery Girl’s bed with Shouto. He doesn’t need to stand here with you. “You don’t have to be here.”

“I know.” He answers. Recovery Girl comes up and pats your knee. “Here’s water and a snack.”

What is water and a snack going to do? How’s that going to find Noa?

As if she read your mind, she says in a bedside manner fit for a doctor, “It’s not going to help your predicament with Noa but it will help you. There’s no reason to worry yourself sick. If there is one thing I learned, is that this generation of heroes won't quit.”

There is a reason to worry. Noa is out there in God knows what shape. Worst of all, you are losing touch with reality. Noa's not real, he's fixable. There is a feeling that has eclipsed your anger. Your sense of self is dwindling the more you are affected by this whole thing. Being attached to a doll, letting these people get the best of you, is wearing you down. You aren't this shrinking person. You aren't one to doubt your cause and here you are trying to push it away. The baby project feels like Shigaraki's touch, from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, you decay.

-

“How many times has this happened?”  

You say nothing. Recovery Girl sighs. “I knew this project was a bad idea.” 

Riko comes in with her hand rubbing her arm. She isn’t looking at you. Hesitantly, she asks, “Are you okay?”

The old hero answers for you. “She’s fine, physically. But I do suggest she rests for the rest of the day. Okay?” The old woman turns to you. “Noa will be fine. There are fully equipped people on the case.”

Recovery Girl pets your head soothingly. Her wrinkled lips move subtly. “This project has gone too far…”

“(Y/n),” Riko’s voice shakes. Right before she can continue, Snipe comes into the room. You sit up and wipe your face. Shouto hasn’t left your side the whole time. 

“We have some things we need to talk about now.” Snipe points his finger at you. “First off, what the hell were you doing to let him wander off like that?” He’s already yelled at you. What else does he want? 

Riko speaks up, “Snipe-” You wave your fingers. She immediately shuts up. Snipe looks between you two. “What, Riko? What were you about to say?”

She stares into your eyes. If you let her run her mouth, it will reflect negatively on her. With this investigation or whatever on Mineta, what happened will most likely be used against her. What if they let him back in? What if they don’t take anyone else seriously because she isn’t perfect? The heroes already have an opinion of you. They drew to the conclusion that you were at fault before anything was even looked into. 

You can’t let the truth be known. If they knew what you were doing during that time, it’d all be for nothing. You could always bring your grade up somehow and protect yourself from failure. But is your grade and vengeance worth what Benio, Kobeni and Noa are going through? If Riko is found out, what would happen to her and the class? To Noa? Even though what they are saying is hurting, you'll keep your mouth shut for your friends and your son.

Aizawa and Nezu come in after Snipe. Riko stands against the wall. Her left eye lets a single tear flow as you are berated for something you didn’t do. The sin you committed was leaving him in Riko’s care. Nineteen children were under her watch. You should’ve known better and not have her watch him. As Nezu scolds you for your actions, you can’t help but harbor resentment towards her and Noa. It's awful, you are an awful person for passing the blame. 

Mei comes in with Noa on her hip. Noa smiles wide and waves at everyone. Mei sets him down when he wiggles towards you. She walks quickly to Nezu and hands him a remote. She says nothing to you, nor does she acknowledge you. Something says that it isn’t from disappointment or anger, but dread. 

Noa excitedly begins to tell you about his day. “Mm! Kobeni-” He still won’t say ‘mom’. From the corner of your eye, you spot Snipe crossing his arms. You flinch at first. Noa, already three years old and aware of his surroundings, stops mid step. 

Nezu gestures. “Now is the time to explain what’s wrong.” They want you to scold him right now. He may not even know what he did wrong. In class, he knows he’s supposed to be calm. However, you never discouraged him from hanging out with his friends. To him, if you punish him, it may shock him immensely. You don't know what to do.

Noa’s slowly coming toward you, very aware of your expression. With a gentle and loving voice, you ask, “Noa, why did you run away? You weren’t supposed to go so far-”

“They are not allowed to leave unsupervised, (L/n).” Nezu is firm with his tone. Your lip wobbles when you look back at Noa, who is looking nervous. “Baby boy, next time you want to walk around, make sure I’m with you. Leaving like that could’ve gotten you hurt.”

He stomps his feet in protest. Eyes study the scene in front of them. Their judgment leaves an unwanted chill along your body that tenses from it. To your dismay, Noa notices. He stops his pouting, confused on why you are acting unusual.

“It’ll be okay, little love. But please, don’t do that again.” You rub his arms. 

“Mmm! It’s fun!” You understand. It’s hard for a toddler to sit still. His intentions were good, no doubt. There's a difference with his behavior in this situation than in class. He doesn't know what he's done exactly. He hasn't been taught this yet. 

“(L/n),” Snipe calls in a low voice. “Tell Noa to stand still.” Nezu holds the remote with Mei’s chibi face on it. He’s doing it. 

“Is this really necessary?” Shouto places his hand on yours. You begin to shake. “Stop, please.” You whisper. Noa has his hands out. “Don’t cry!”

Nezu presses the button on the left. “Please, wait! Please!"

It’s too late. He who was once the tallest has lost inches of his height. His clothes are baggier too. Izuku just got him those Ingenium sneakers and now he’s flooding them.

Recovery Girl shakes her head. Her cold hands press on your body. Your gaze is set on Noa. She scolds the heroes. “You people really are cruel.” 

They say nothing. Instead, they just look at you. You can feel them study you. Shouto hasn't used his quirk, yet you are somehow frozen stiff.

Izuku comes in. His eyes find you first then Noa. “What?”

“Papa!” His voice is different, too. It sounds like how it was before. Izuku clearly notices. You can't bear to look him.

Nezu straightens up and separates his eyes from you. “Midoriya, we were just in the middle of talking with (L/n). If you want to talk to her, you must wait.”

His eyes dart around. He spies Shouto, his dear friend next to the bed with his arm around you. The vibrant greens then go to Riko who is plastered against the wall. Her state is worse than yours, maybe. The teachers speak in things you’re not understanding right now. 

“Is she in trouble?” He asks quietly. Nezu sighs but will not address you. He has lost his harsh tone. His small arms are behind his back. “This can’t be ignored. Her irresponsibility can’t go on.”

“No. If you are going to yell at her, you have to do it to me, too.”

“You weren’t there, Midoriya. I commend you for your initiative to find Noa and Kobeni today, but (L/n)’s responsible for her own actions. You can’t keep taking the blame for her.”

Ah. So he did get in trouble when Noa peed on Eraserhead. 

“I’m his dad. I’m just as responsible as she is.” He stands in front of you. “Midoriya, with all due respect, you aren’t his father.”

Snipes adds something stupid, “Which brings me to the other problem. Why is he answering to Noa Midoriya?”

Finally, you mutter with a voice that became raspy from your scream. “Because that’s his name.”

Aizawa cuts in. “No, he’s Kaibara’s son, (Y/n). I know what happened between you is upsetting, but that is his son. I completely understand distancing yourself from him. But the least you can do is include him in the report. The other mistake is putting Noa onto Midoriya.” His voice has lost its aggression. His head is lowered when he addresses you.

Izuku clenches his fists. “How much sense does that make? And she hasn’t kept Kaibara from him. He stays away.” Izuku interrupts them. “And I am Noa’s dad. That’s why he called me Papa. If Kaibara is upset about it, tell him to come to me and not run behind you.”

“Midoriya!” Eraserhead scolds. It doesn’t stop the god child. “My name may not be on the paper but that is my kid. I’m the one who raises him with (Y/n). Not Kaibara. If she’s in trouble, extend that to me. Us being treated the same is only fair."

“Her length of detention is indefinite. That’d get in the way of your work study.” Nezu points out. Izuku scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Look at Noa.” Reluctantly they look at the toddler. “What more can you do to her? What the hell is detention compared to that?”

With a gesture in your direction, he asks the nurse, “Is she alright?” Recovery Girl straightens up. Clearly, she’s not used to his authoritative voice. “Yes, she’s fine. I am suggesting she rests. And you,” She pokes you. “Tomorrow, I want you back here so I can check on you. If this isn’t the first time this has happened, I need to report it.”

  Your eyes are still focused on nothing but the distance. "All of us. Check all of us."

“What do you mean?” Snipe uncrosses his arms and takes a step forward. His mask is on and not a hint of his face is shown. You feel warm as everyone's eyes are on you. Last month you felt like your world was crumbling and today is the same. When this project started, you thought you’d be able to separate yourself enough to not get affected like this. Alas, it was a fool’s dream.

You get off the bed with Noa. Riko still stands there against the wall. Her eyes are glossy as she watches. She sucks in her lips then tries to confess. She’s losing it. She opens her mouth. “Wait, it was-”

With the simplest wave by your leg to stop her. Izuku’s eyes go from the movement next to your thigh to Riko’s expression. You walk out with Noa on your hip. He goes on about his day with Kobeni. Apparently, he was trying to find and introduce Yona and Ken but found an actual ladybug that looked like Yona and got distracted. You figured his intentions were pure.

In your room, you set Noa down. Your eyes have remained lowered, and you are silent. Izuku comes into the room after you and encourages Noa to play. 

“(Y/n).” You hum. “What really happened?” He questions. You shake your head and shrug. “I messed up. You heard everyone.” 

It hurts. What they say about you feels like hundreds of cuts. Seeing Noa regress in his age tore your heart.

“(Y/n), please.” You ignore him and sit down on your desk chair. Noa’s back is facing you, he’s completely oblivious to his parents and the year he lost. Deku stands in front of you and runs his hand through his green curls. Izuku gets on his knees. He slides you over to him and wraps his arms around your midsection. His face is against your stomach. “I’m sorry.”

You say nothing. He talks instead. “I blamed you and wrongly took my anger out on you. I’m so sorry, my dear.” Again, you don’t even give a whisper. He presses kisses on your stomach and works his way up. His hand cups your face to his wet cheek. “Forgive me. I’m so, so, sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

Sweet words from someone who doesn’t know the meaning. His other hand goes to your other cheek to pull you to his lips. Your eyes get big for a second until his lips are gently on your forehead. The pressure behind your eyes is appearing once again. “I’m a villain and a bad mom.”

His tears match yours. “Never. You are amazing. He would have never made it this far if it wasn’t for you. Do you understand? They are wrong. I was wrong.”

“He ran away, Izuku. He could’ve gotten hurt.” Your voice wobbles. He kisses your chin. “It was an accident. One that you didn’t do.”

Your breath hitches. “No, no, it was me.”

“Honey, I’m not blind. I saw you and Riko.” He rubs circles on your waist. You make contact with his eyes again. “Please, don’t say anything. If anyone asks, it was me.”

“Why?”

“There were some questions about Mineta or something. I don't know much about it.” You grab his arm. “She isn’t a perfect victim. What if they don’t take it seriously and let him back in? This could hurt her.”

Before he says anything, you interrupt him. “It was an accident. We came up with a system for a caregiver. One of us would watch the tots while the others study. We’d rotate the job and help each other with school! She came into the room and Noa and Kobeni snuck out. Izuku, please don’t tell. It was an innocent mistake. Noa’s learned to open doors, she didn’t expect it.”

He kisses your cheek. Since he started, he's been peppering kisses on you and avoiding your lips. Given the situation, you're grateful. 

“You are the kindest person I’ve ever met.” He sighs. “This is not happening again, understand?” Izuku wipes away the dampness on your face with his thumbs. He’s gotten very bold with you. Despite your usual snark towards him and the world, you can’t find it in you to push him away. Instead, you nestle into his comfort after this long day. Hopefully, this pain will subside, and you’ll never see those eyes again. You hope that rather than remembering what happened with Noa, you'll remember how you didn't kiss him then dream of what could've been. 

“You okay?” Noa comes from behind Izuku. Immediately, you straighten up and put a smile on your face for Noa. He frowns and raises his eyebrow. “You know what we should do?” Izuku leans into Noa’s ear. You don’t know what he’s said, but he pulls you down to the ground.

“What-oh no.” Him and Noa poke and tickle you. You laugh from the sensation but not from joy. At least Noa’s smiling and not scared anymore. 

--------

You lay down next to Noa who has reverted back to sleeping with you rather than his little bed. It’s terrible because of the lack of space in both the bed and the room. At least he’s still potty trained and isn’t having an accident in the bed.

The only light in the room is from Noa’s nightlight. The hero symbols that display on the ceiling from it disgust you. Most of these heroes you've never met and God willing, you never will. Izuku lays in bed with you with Noa in between you. “I’m so sorry.”

He's already said that. He presses, “Tell me what to do. Anything to make it better.” He caresses your face. Really, he didn't do something out of the ordinary for a parent. What's wrong is that he didn't question your guilt and didn't give you a chance to explain until afterwards. What's wrong was the way he looked at you. Because of that, there is something in your mind. He complimented you, yes, but you want his honesty. 

You ask him, “Am I a bad person?”

Are you wrong for your cause? What has been broken in you is turning into anger again. Are you wrong for your feelings? What happened today affected you and others. Was your longing for justice worth it if the results are shards? Your pride shouts for you to stand and start swinging but your mind keeps repeating everyone’s words like a song on a broken record. They all can kiss your ass, but Noa's smaller frame steals your scream. All of this, does it make you a bad person? Not just a mom, student, daughter and worker, but a human being?

“No. You aren’t bad. No matter what you try to show me, you could never be wrong. Except for with some of your homework.”

You smile a little. “I barely know you.” Yet there is something that says you do. Izuku's forehead touches yours. "I don't think it matters with us." He's gotten so bold, and you don't mind. His reassurance of his care is helping put what is broken back together, slowly. 

Your eyelids are growing heavy, and the pillow has gotten softer. Right before your light is out for the night, you hear in the distance, “As long as it’s you, do whatever you want.”

If these pieces you are mending together result into the same wrath as before, Izuku, would you still say that? Would your friendship stay?

@xoxoangellll @js-favnanadoongi @imas1mpp @candiiee @moodyhuesworld @dinorawrss @luvrluvrr @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @d4n1elll4

if i didn't get you, let me know!

[pftones3482]

Not me being one of the last ones to post my Secret Santa gift lol - life has been crazy.

This is for @authenticcadence18, who I know asked for something with Canderemy. I hope you enjoy the fluff!

(Set in the future, post Candace graduating law school and marrying Jeremy, and because it's me, she works for OWCA lol)

Under a cut for length. You can also read it in The One Shot-inator!

~~

“Why are holiday cards even still a thing?” Candace groaned, leaning back in the dining room chair until her spine audibly cracked. She gave a sigh of relief and then scowled at the pile of cards scattered across hers and Jeremy’s kitchen table. “And why do we know so many people?”

Jeremy chuckled from his seat across from her, finishing the address up on the one he was working on. “Is that rhetorical or serious?”

She grumbled, sitting back up and snatching the next one from the stack. “Rhetorical,” she said with a sigh, eyeing the name scrawled on top in Jeremy’s fancy cursive. Bobby. “I know, I know, maintaining physical media and connections is important. But seriously, why aren’t we just addressing one card to all of Love Handel? It’s not like they don’t all live together.”

“That’s insensitive,” Jeremy tisked.

She shook her head fondly and went back to signing the card.

In all seriousness, Candace wasn’t mad about the holiday cards. She was being maybe a little whiney and dramatic, but this was a tradition she never wanted to give up. Sitting with her husband a week before Christmas, listening to orchestral holiday music over their speakers, drinking spiked hot cocoa…it was worth it.

She’d always loved getting physical mail – it felt more personal than a text, especially on the holidays. Jeremy felt the same way and had introduced her to his family’s tradition of having a day set aside just for card making and present wrapping.

And especially with the boys in their second years of college, farther away than usual…sure, she was still going to see them for the holidays. Hell, she and Jeremy were actually hosting Christmas at their place for the very first time that year (which reminded her, she needed to get more gouda for the charcuterie board). But it was almost cathartic, getting to write them little messages in their cards about how much she appreciated and loved them.

Sometimes she missed their backyard shenanigans. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone but Stacy.

She handed off Bobby’s card to Jeremy and pulled the next one off the stack, lips twitching a little at the swirled-out Perry. He had protested at the card every year since Jeremy had been looped into what her job with OWCA actually was, claiming that they could literally just text him, but Jeremy had been absolutely adamant. So every year, Candace found an increasingly more ridiculous card to give him, just to watch him roll his eyes and try to hide his fond little smile.  

This year, it was a snowman dressed as a platypus, which according to Stacy was hysterical.

She started signing the card, giving careful thought to her words (equal parts snark and sap), all while her smile grew at the sound of Jeremy humming along to one of the songs on the radio.

It had taken her a while to get used to spending her holiday season with her husband instead of her parents and brothers. Three years ago, their first Christmas together in their home, she’d had a meltdown at the thought of missing time with her family. She’d been petrified Jeremy would be mad. Instead, he’d admitted much the same to her – that he also didn’t necessarily know how to do Christmas without his parents and sister. And then he’d reassured her that they’d figure it out together. The next year, their first Christmas as newlyweds, they’d stumbled a little bit then, too.

Now, they had it down to a science.

They only lived about twenty minutes or so from both their families, so Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were alternated between them year to year. It’d been easy, too easy, so of course Candace just had to offer their home for the holidays this year so that everyone could spend it under the same roof. Why she hated herself this way, she didn’t know.

She slid Perry’s card over to Jeremy and sighed, rubbing her temples. He glanced up from Bobby’s card and his wax sealing supplies, lifting an eyebrow. “Okay, hon?”

She dug her fingers into her skin just a little bit more, trying to dull the ache forming behind her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think my eyes are gonna fall out from staring at so many words.”

Jeremy chuckled, setting down Bobby’s letter and stretching his arms above his head. “We have been sitting here for almost an hour. We can take a break.”

“We still have thirty-six cards to fill out,” Candace pointed out, squinting at the menacing stack to her left. “Plus then we have to wrap all our presents, and I don’t even want to think about how full that living room is.”

He walked around the table making grabby hands at her, and for a second she just wanted to be dramatic, so she turned her squinting gaze on him. But she could never say no to his endearing puppy dog eyes, so she relented and took his hands, letting him drag her to her feet. “Come on, take a break,” he said, wrapping his arms at her waist and tugging her close. “We’ve got all day. Plus tomorrow, if we really need.”

“But it’s supposed to be done in one day,” she groaned, thunking her head on his shoulder and draping her arms over his shoulders. For a second, they stood in silence, swaying gently to the Christmas music that was still playing.

“Well then someone needs to stop making friends across the galaxy so we have less cards to sign.”

“Meap is a childhood friend, it’s not like I regularly go to space and meet new people!”

Jeremy snorted, spinning her in a gentle circle around the dining room. “Sure you’re not just stressed about hosting?”

Candace considered the question as they moved, lifting her head off his shoulder and humming. “Hmm, maybe a little. But I know Mom won’t let me stress about it. She’s always been good in the kitchen. It’s just different, is all.”

“Your mom is great in that way. And hey, different isn’t bad,” Jeremy said, twirling her lazily under his arm. She chuckled as she fell back into his grasp. The Christmas song shifted, less “Silent Night” and more Mariah Carey. “I like different.”

She smiled, feeling warm, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Me too.”

His lips settled in a crooked grin, and a boyish spark glittered in his eyes when she pulled back. “Good. Now what do you say we go back to signing the cards for your secret agent platypus and alien bestie?”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

[overtake]

A soft Maxiel Christmas moment | 2k (also on ao3)

CWS: mpreg and the canonical bodily terror of pregnancy

Daniel stares straight ahead at the faux crackling fireplace, his swollen feet propped as close as he can manage without risking them melting off with residual heat. Outside, there’s no majestic snowfall. It’d started briefly yesterday, and for a single minute, with the world a quiet white blanket outside their frosted windows, he felt a moment of peace and sanity.

It’d gone as quickly as it’d come. The temporary relief of fresh snow quickly faded to grey piles and puddles inside pot holes. They’d had to run to the store for last minute items, and Daniel’s mood had quickly soured with every step of his new boots through the slushy squelch. They were brand new for this season, a size up and wider than his old ones because his feet are too fucking big to wear what he already has, and he needed to pad them out because his ankles hurt constantly.

A warm shiver wracks its way through Daniel’s insides, like a hot fan coil has replaced his spine and is boiling his blood from the inside out. He throws off his wool blanket in frustration and tries to heave himself up. Unfortunately, all that brings him is a loud groan before he collapses back into his spot, suddenly sweating and ready to smash every single item in this stupid fucking house to smithereens once he figures out how to stand up again.

He pants for half a second, then uses his hands to shimmy himself along the couch until he’s as far away from the electric fireplace as he can reasonably manage.

Then, all at once, his body’s internal heater shuts off and leaves him shivering again.

“Oh fuck off,” he groans to his round belly. He doesn’t want to grouch at his unborn baby. There are all these studies about when the baby can hear them and how they react to their parent’s mood. It’s why Max says good morning to it before he helps Daniel out of bed. He’ll reverently kiss the bump three times before he leans up to give Daniel four kisses so, “You don’t think I love you less than I love baby.”

That’s what he calls it, baby. They’ve been in gridlock over the name for three months, and Daniel’s argument that he’s the one carrying the back pain and morning sickness falls on deaf ears because Max absolutely fucking hates his name choices. Maybe Daniel didn’t start off great by intentionally antagonizing him with the boy’s name of Dale and waxing poetic about Dale Earnhardt, but Max gave it right back to him by pretending he’d name a child after his father. Safe to say, pregnancy hasn’t brought out the best in them from time to time.

When they’d clasped hands tightly and watched the pregnancy test develop, both pretending they were doing something more dignified than staring at a cup of piss in Max’s plane toilet, Daniel had pictured pregnancy to be full of beautiful moments, some sort of film montage of kitchen dancing and 3d scans and tiny baby shoes.

He hadn’t been totally naive. Michelle had the worst morning sickness through both her pregnancies, and Victoria did not shy away from complaining about all the cruelties her children unleashed on her digestion, hair, and even her nose. Daniel had panic googled that one and immediately regretted it. The last thing he needed on his face was for his nose to get even bigger.

Max had just laughed when he expressed his concerns and kissed the curve of his nose, reassuring Daniel that he’d want him even if it fell right off.

So he knew there’d be hard parts, but he reassured himself that Max being there and the promise of their family together would be enough.

Instead, he’s awake at 4 a.m. on Christmas because he’s gassy and in too much pain to sleep, and the soft snores he used to love from Max made him want to claw off his ears and tear out his hair. He’s constantly overstimulated. Their cunt doctor kept saying things about how geriatric pregnancies are even harder on the body until Daniel refused to keep seeing him if he said the word geriatric one more fucking time.

Worse still, he was banned from flying home. They’d had a whole plan, with Daniel flying out just before it’d be too late term to make such a trip, so he could be around his family until the season ended and Max could join him back in Australia. He’d have a summer Christmas and let their baby be born in his country before he had to take his little family back to Monaco for the new season. It was planned impeccably.

Then the doctors started heming and hawing at his last scan before he left and told him that flying would be a major risk, especially such a long distance. This time, they were wise enough not to add anything about his age.

So now his whole family and Max’s are in a giant ski cabin, taken away from Monaco and the cats so they could all fit in one home, and Daniel had to sit through a 7 hour car ride that turned into 10 with all his toilet stops.

The worst part of all of this is that Max is so patient with him. He massages Daniel’s feet and knows how to tease him about the swelling without hurting Daniel’s feelings. He rubs stretch mark cream on Daniel’s bump, even though he thinks they’re cool and likes to run his fingers up and down the white marks, because he knows Daniel hates them but is too tired to prioritize putting cream on his stomach every day on top of keeping this baby alive. He’s going to be the best dad, and Daniel has to sit grumpy with the knowledge that he’s the pregnant buzzkill ruining Christmas and resenting the child that Max loves more than anything.

He must nod off at some point, because he wakes up vertical on the couch with his head in Max’s lap and a blanket tucked neatly around him to form a Daniel burrito. Max has his feet propped up on the coffee table and is playing classical music, a constant these days because he followed some Instagram parenting accounts that claim it’ll make your baby smart. Daniel’s skeptical, but god knows the baby could use any boost it could get because Daniel’s not handing down much in the way of school smarts.

The house is still silent around them, but light is starting to creep in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It highlights the silver ring on Max’s finger when Daniel pauses his movements and pulls Max’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss onto the cool metal. His matching one sits around his neck these days, his fingers too constantly varying in size to cover the tan line on his finger. It used to make him bitter to look at Max flaunting the ring Daniel can’t wear, but with some sleep in his system, he feels slightly less like the Grinch.

“Merry Christmas,” Max beams when Daniel lands his kiss and he registers that Daniel’s awake. “I’m going to help your mum make breakfast in a minute, but she’s getting you some cocoa and a moment to ourselves first.”

Max takes one thick finger and carefully thumbs the sleep out of Daniel’s eyes. Daniel’s body is too weighed down by foggy warmth and Max’s love to muster a response. Instead, he turns his face into the meat of Max’s thigh, dutifully clad in the matching pajamas his sister had brought for the whole group, and huffs out a hot breath he hope expresses his gratitude.

Max leans over him to kiss the bump good morning and wish it a, “Merry first Christmas.” Daniel can’t help a spark of warm satisfaction that Max said Merry Christmas to him first, then a flash of guilt and embarrassment that he’s competing with his unborn child on today of all days. Max thinks it’s funny, but Daniel tries to keep most of the thoughts internal.

“I have a gift for you,” Max says. His whole body is curled sideways over Daniel’s so his head can rest on the bump, and he rubs at it absentmindedly.

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “I should hope so. It’s Christmas.”

Max laughs, his crinkly-eyed joyous one that’s lived permanently on his face since they saw the plus sign, but also maybe since the day they both said I do.

“This one is very special,” he says, then dislodges Daniel’s head from his lap for a second so he can fish something out of his pocket and place it into Daniel’s waiting hand.

It’s not wrapped, so Daniel can see it immediately. It’s a picture ornament, small but ornate. The gilded frame showcases Daniel’s bump in the pregnancy photoshoot Victoria had insisted upon. She’d promised Daniel that pregnancy feels like shit for nine months, but you still regret all the moments you didn’t document. Daniel had tolerated about thirty minutes of it and refused to look at the pictures after, but he knows Max loved them. He had them printed and put in a special book, and he’d promised Daniel that he’ll keep it hidden until Daniel’s ready.

“I thought we agreed—“ Daniel says, but the words die out when he reads the little writing at the bottom.

“Joseph/Delilah’s First Christmas,” it reads. Stupidly, Daniel feels himself begin to well up.

“I’m not naming our child Dale,” Max says, wagging a finger in Daniel’s face and giggling when Daniel tearily bites at it. “But Delilah is a close for a girl, I think. And I would probably not name a baby after my dad, but yours.” He shrugs. Daniel’s dad is obsessed with Max. The two of them spent half of winter break fixing up an old motorcycle the first time Daniel had brought him home, and whatever happened in that garage had formed a tight bond between them.

When Daniel doesn’t answer, Max adds, “We can also do Grace, but then it feels like we’re picking a mother, and that’s not nice.”

Daniel clutches the ornament tight to his chest and buries his face tighter into Max’s thigh, blinking into the fabric and letting his tears soak Rudolph’s nose into a damp, dark red.

“Thank you,” he says wetly. He sniffles, then steals Max’s sleeve to wipe his nose with the corner of it. Max doesn’t even reprimand him for it. He’s too busy staring down at Daniel with his gentle, sweet lips tugged into a smile, then pursing them to warn Daniel of an incoming kiss once Daniel’s slightly less snotty.

“I know pregnancy has been really hard,” Max says. His head hovers right over Daniel’s, even though it must be killing his neck to crane it that way. “I love you for not divorcing me for doing this to you.”

Daniel shakes his head. “Hey, there’s a week or two left to go. Don’t count your chickens.”

He pauses, takes in Max’s face. He runs the hand still holding the ornament down the prickle of stubble dotting his soft chin, pokes the freckle decorating his pink lips, admires the morning sun glaring off yesterday’s fallen snow and making Max’s hair glow golden. “Pregnancy has been shit, and I complain a lot, but I’m really excited to be a dad with you. Thank you for this.”

His voice breaks off at the last words, and Max kisses him again. His mouth is cozy like the fireplace heat, and they break into still-kissing giggles when the baby does what feels like a flip of excitement under Max’s resting hand.

Daniel’s mum is probably moments away from interrupting their moment. The kids are all going to be awake any minute now to start tearing into presents, and Daniel will probably be back to being grumpy and overstimulated within the hour.

He pushes what’s to come aside and cuddles into his husband’s loving arms and lets himself feel temporarily alight with gratitude.

(“So it might not even be a boy, but you still get all the credit of having maybe named a child after him?” Michelle hisses later, smacking Daniel’s arm as their dad hugs Max and cries. “Dickhead. Was it not enough to become a millionaire racing driver? You’re not invited for Christmas next year.”)

[abbysimsfun]

Dating Deanna Entry: Nicola Moody-McMillan for @changingplumbob

Hey everyone! I've never done anything like this before so I don't know exactly how to introduce myself. But I'm a schoolteacher in Henford-on-Bagley, the same small town where I was born and raised.

I'm currently living in my childhood home in the Bramblewood with my mother, Kim, and my younger brother, Dominic. Our relationship is pretty good even though my mom can be a bit of a problem at parties, but I'm a family-oriented sim! My mother and brother mean the world to me, and we've been especially close since my dad passed away not that long ago.

Apart from my job, which I love, I like doing Henford things - offering favours to people in need, cross-stitching, gardening, and talking to birds! I haven't really travelled much, but I'm ready to get out of my comfort zone!

I think. I really love comfort, and I've heard these bachelor shows can get a little wild. My friends said not to worry about my manicure - but honestly, I'll probably always worry about my manicure.

The big elephant in the room is my marital status - divorced. At 24! I married my high school sweetheart but she turned out to be less sweetheart, more heartless...sorry, that's a boring story! We grew apart.

Some days it feels like we divorced just yesterday. But some time has passed, I really believe in counseling, and I'm ready to try dating for, really, the first time in my life. That's kind of embarrassing to say out loud!

My friends said don't be negative. But some days can feel like the worst day ever, you know? Maybe you don't know. I don't know. I'm not always great at first impressions and I can be a little high maintenance, but I'm excited about this experience!

I can't wait to meet Deanna. Joey can flirt with me if he wants, but I'm a high maintenance lesbian who wants a family, so he'd be wasting a good line on the wrong gal! Even though I can be a pretty competitive teacher on School Sports Days, I'm really looking forward to getting to know the other contestants, too. People who don't know Hazel. Who isn't important.

More about Nicola, housekeeping, etc...

Nicola Kimberly Moody-McMillan (she/her), daughter of Henford townie Kim Goldbloom, and granddaughter of townies Ian McMillan and Derek Moody, who adopted Kim. Nicola's father was a very blond randomly-generated sim named Eddie Harmon (RIP!). She has a younger brother named Dominic.

She's grown up from a wee sprite in my Sims In Bloom legacy challenge as a best friend and then girlfriend/later wife of my Gen 2 heir's little sister (until it all fell apart).

Nicola is a cis lesbian who is exclusively attracted to women, both romantically and sexually. She is a monogamous sim, but Henford is a small town. Whether her interests include non-binary or trans women remains to be discovered, actually.

Goes By: Miss Moody-McMillan (in class), Nicola, Nic, but not Nicki Hometown: Henford-on-Bagley Traits: High Maintenance, Family Oriented, Good (originally she had one of @maplebellsmods's More Traits - Spoiled - in addition to the last two, and I figured High Maintenance was closest to that one). She had a fourth bonus trait, Childish, which I lost when I switched out Spoiled, but feel free to add it back in for the sake of keeping her canon if you have the extra slots! Fears Being Cheated On (I think this should carry over into the Gallery-saved version but I'm actually not sure...) Likes: Bowling, Gardening, Handiness, Research & Debate, Cross-Stitch, Fitness, Wellness, Physical Intimacy, Flirtation, Deep Thoughts, Compliments, Stories, Small Talk, Discussing Interests, Discussing Hobbies, and has a more upbeat, poppy, or catchy singer-songwriter driven music taste Dislikes: Dancing, Fishing, Programming, Arguments (they make her feel bad even though she can be combative), Deception Favourite Colours: Blue, Grey, Purple, White

Open to flirt/get intimate with other contestants? She's there for Deanna and to build a future with her, but she's also spreading her wings for the first time so yes.

Open to polyamory? As much as marriage sucked for Nicola the first time around, she still believes in soulmates and true love and monogamous commitment.

Open to woohoo? She would be if it feels right.

Doesn't vibe with pessimistic, argumentative, and ambitionless sims. And yes, with her traits and Henford origins she's definitely grown up to be a little fairytale princess-coded. Maybe she's a little like The Princess and the Pea, so we'll see how she does with the challenges and her high maintenance mood swings.

Now that introductions are out of the way, she and her Watcher are All In.

Download Available: On the Sims 4 Gallery under userID simcann, 'Nicola for DatingDeanna.'

cc used? The submitted version of Nicola has EA eyebrows in a shade darker than her hair colour, but normally she has TwistedCat's Lush eyebrows which are Maxis-friendly. Even though they look darker on her, they're the same shade of blonde as her hair. Most of the above photos were taken with her new eyebrows, except the portrait with her mother and brother, which shows her OG cc brows.

For anyone curious to see her dear departed dad, Eddie, here he is with Nic's mom, Kim, in their younger years, next to a shot of kid Nicola because I'm shamelessly buying affection for her:

And recently, Nicola randomly dressed for Spooky Day as The Final Girl. Just saying:

WCIFs: The picture of Kim, Nicola, and Dominic is from @simmireen's amazing Ultimate Family Portrait posepack, a perpetual favourite of mine! The classroom is just a room, but I found it on the Gallery by Jmadyson1030 - I love the aesthetic, the hamster cage, and the cushy extra seating along the walls. Felt like a classroom I'd almost want to be in myself!

[arrowmance]

[ 🟇 ] 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 .ᐟ

← back to series masterlist | main masterlist "I should have clipped her wings and made her mine for all eternity"

( 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 & 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬. ) it's alright, he can pretend. ↳ 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐭: extra content of tbfmun. solomon x gn! mc, obey me oc & solomon, canon-divergent, senior high school au, RAD intramurals arc, dancesports player! solomon, cheer member! mc, mc is genderneutral, pet names (starlight), ft. original obey me ocs (daera)

“Cheer for Black! Fly high, Black Ravens!” 

For once, the roaring screams from the endless arrays of people stacked atop benches and reaching high up into the cold, rusted metal bars that secured the pitch black ceiling of the arena felt nauseous. Almost everyone positioned on the left court had to be pulled aside by security to not cause much of a ruckus, and that wasn’t including their loud, booming voices that outlasted the outdated speakers set to the highest volume.

His platinum hair had reflected the lights in mystic hue, much like a prism. He had his hand stretched to his right yet never opened his palm wide enough for an inviting grip. Gray eyes had its focus shifted away from the long simple black dress that shifted to a harsh mix of oranges and reds along the hem, with her straps connected to a fiery stretch of silk that attached itself from behind the restraining choker. 

He never paid attention to the wandering hands tidying up his attire. The weak fanning from the coach while other members of the team pinned and sewed patterns and golden tassels, muttering nonsense whilst they cursed on how they never had the time for a proper tailoring. Wearing one of the old suit jackets much too tight for his usual activities, but had the perfect size with a few minor tweaks just for this very moment. 

No, he thought. Solomon, for once, hated the crowd.

“Sol,” the coach murmured, his grip tightening on Solomon’s shoulder. “Eyes on the court.”

Solomon’s gaze shifted from the muted buzz of the crowd to the center court. It was customary for events like these to be held in the gymnasium, but he still hadn’t grown accustomed to the slick, freshly-mopped marble floor. Much idiotic since the janitors should have been aware of the sequencing of events.

His coach’s voice dropped lower, tinged with impatience. "No backing out now, understood?"

Solomon hadn’t heard that tone in a while—a rasping edge that hinted at his frustration. The coach had hardly ever been annoyed, or so Solomon thought. But he seemed different now, especially when he’d summoned them to the venue hours before the official call-times. His stress had been palpable as he barked orders to the other students, rushing them through the last-minute outfit changes with far more urgency than needed.

Beside him, Daera stood frozen, her hands trembling. Her long dark blonde hair was pulled tightly into a bun, while two other students worked meticulously in front of her, layering on ounce upon ounce makeup. Behind her, two more figures adjusted the fabric of her outfit, smoothing it over her waist and dusting off any stray bits of lint with practiced hands.

Solomon looked into her eyes like how she avoided his. He’d notice how she’d dart to her friend, mouthing phrases with her lips quivering. He likes to believe that she doesn't pay much attention to his wandering gaze, but all evidence with the way her long pointed nails dug into her clutch made him perceive the contrary.

“You hear that, Solomon?” asked the coach once more. “Better than disqualified.”

Grey eyes find themselves scanning Daera once more, with this time, it was his turn to receive the not-so-subtle signal. With how Solomon’s eyes squint, analyzing the words syllable by syllable, taking notes of when the tongue clicks or remains behind her pearly whites.

“Say yes.”

Flickering eyes of a true Red Dragon, only to be guarded by bounties governed by flocks of Ravens. Solomon sighed, looking to his side, and giving him a firm nod.

“Yes coach.”

If he must persist, then he shall—even when he had not the choice lest he faces another entrée of guilt at the sight of his best friend wielding the enchanted ball.

The coach chuckled, tapping his large heavy hand on Solomon’s shoulder. He gave it a light squeeze, before walking away.

He whistled, “Remember: chemistry."

“Do you think they’re also forced to dance with people they dislike?”

Solomon’s eyes widened at the demoness’ words, as they awkwardly swayed back and forth during the short practice run before the immediate turn to the final solo waltz. He’d watch her bright pink eyes burn holes into Diavolo’s rose-engraved suit jacket, furrowing her brows at his partner, otherwise known as Eury from potion class.

Unlike their pair, Diavolo and Eury seem to have a fun time. While not obviously too intimate, they manage to veil an unbreakable bond given how one would give subtle-but-noticeable hints to the other, especially as they make a new step.

“They look swell,” Solomon commented.

Daera shook her head. “That’s nice.” 

“I never knew they got along.”

“I wished I hadn't backed down on the opportunity.”

Solomon pauses, frowning at Daera. “You regret not switching teams?”

“I can have my regrets,” the latter sighed. “The feeling’s mutual anyway. Don't try and be the ‘good guy’ all of a sudden just because you're playing fan favourite.”

Solomon gulped, clearing his throat. The lights were blinding, and it only gets worse by the minute each day touches the small specks mounted on the black fabric along her collar. “Good guy, huh?” he slyly asked.

“You can only wish.” 

With that, the music began. Like harmonicas mixed with dials of an on-hold telephone and Gregorian Chant-like vocals. An artistic catastrophe, Solomon believed Simeon would comment. It was classical yet modern, remixed by a mediocre DJ who only helped for extra credit.

One tap from the shoe, and grabbing her hand in a cold grip. One, two, slide—eagle eyes carefully analyzing the court as to prevent any accidental collision with the other contestants. One, two, slide— Solomon had his hand behind the small of her back, feeling her only tense up beneath his touch.

One, two, slide—and it was time to let her go. 

One, two, step—and it was another cue to continue again. The repetitive notions of counting, and going back-and-forth between both partners. Daera having to be careful due to attire, and Solomon having to keep a keen eye due to recklessness.

“Don’t step on my foot, Mon.”

The boy snicked, his hand meeting her body again. “Don’t call me that either.”

Daera lets out a small laugh, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “We both don’t and won’t at all get what we want,” she mockingly cooed, before glancing at the other contestants.

Solomon hummed, “You too?”

“They were right,” she shrugged, pulling herself towards him as he twirled her around. “Ravens are desperate.”

Just as the Red couple finished their perfectly executed routine, the crowd went wild. It wasn't for the old performance (though some eager fans were screaming out the top of their lungs how much they adore the choreography), but instead, of what came next. Hearing the emcee boast the team name loudly, as it was time for him and her to enter the stage.

“Now it's time forrrrrr…”

And there they were, walking out into the crowd as the voices got louder. His hand in hers, with her other one outstretched to welcome the praises and hopes of everyone who eyes the couple. His was behind his back, moreso out of requirement than actual respect. 

“Couple 1-0-7 of the Blaaaack Raaaaveeeens!” 

And suddenly, Solomon once more, began hating the excessive attention.

The announcer’s booming voice echoed through the grand hall, and Solomon felt the collective gaze of hundreds pressing down on them like a weighted spotlight.

His grip on Daera’s hand tightened instinctively. She smiled, effortlessly poised, her free arm gracefully extended toward the roaring crowd. To them, she was a picture of confidence and beauty. But Solomon—Solomon felt his skin crawl under the suffocating attention. His own way of masking the unease was a more blank expression, having a subtle smile to not seem too intimidating.

As they took their positions, Daera turned her head just slightly, her voice a gentle murmur only he could hear.

“Careful.”

He nodded, his movements stiff.

“Like what we practiced,” she added, quick-witted but soft enough for no one else to hear.

His jaw tightened, but he complied, forcing himself to mimic the fluidity of her steps.

“Slow down,” she said next, her words barely audible over the growing rhythm of the music.

He could hear the sparks—see them, even. Flashing bursts of white and silver dancing in the periphery, electrifying the air.

Sparks. Sparkling.

When the music played its course, his view darkens. No more was the flashing light or the sight of many people, but instead his vision fogged up into pure darkness. 

To his front, Daera camouflages herself into the environment, slowly sweeping away from Solomon’s grasp. His breath hitched—no—this is bad. Solomon closed his eyes again, taking shallow deep breaths whilst hoping any judge would never notice the heaving rise and fall of his chest with every beat that exhausts from the loud speaker. 

All certainty left his fingertips. 

All he could only perceive were the tiniest glints of what looked to be golden sparkles reflected along the near end of his partner’s dress, with each synchronized tap and ‘clank’ of the leather shoe, being careful not to tug at the delicate fabric.

They weren't as grand as the colorful arrays of blue and fluorescent yellows from the ferry lights that adorned the ballroom walls, or as harsh and dizzying as the bright white and red flashes falling down from the ceiling. Nevertheless, those tiny stars alone shone brighter than even the warmest hues of candles hung by the chandelier.

Much like someone he knew, it sparked like gold.

Suddenly the hand of his mate felt weightless. Suddenly what little that clung to the cuff of his sleeve pulled away, from a dance it became a chase. The grand decorations mounted on the walls; the little fairy lights barricaded by wilted vines. 

Away from the bustling sounds of each garish 'clink' of wine glasses and the malodor aroma of liquor and dates from the judges. 

Away from the sweet-salty smell of buttered caramel popcorn or the loud wisp of the referee’s whistle.

 Away from the drama, the noise, Daera and the Ravens—with him and only the reignited flame of a suppressed spark.

For now, it was not Daera, but the fires of Hell coming to dance with him. Hallowed be his name, the kingdom comes on earth as it would in heaven. Given this day that he would be forgiven of his wrongdoings, but instead be inflicted upon the same wrongdoings done by others against him.

Leave him to rest, and chase after the ignition before it eventually distinguishes.

His eyes would squint with how the fire takes shape, rising below the hem of the dress and blooming into a familiar face. The coldness of his hand was replaced by a relaxing warmth of a calmer sensation, as instead of his shoulder, it glided itself behind his back.

It was burning, but he couldn't feel it but was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He’d follow the rhythm, at one point snapping his fingers just to keep up with the quick-ever-changing tempo of the song. While still slow, he maintained his guard— ‘one minute, thirty seconds,’ he reminded himself.

But as the tone reached its highest point, Solomon went lower. Kneeling down, feeling the electrifying kiss of the flamed figure on his forehead. He had his eyes closed, careful breathing so as to not break away from the dream.

So as to not break away from the incarnate of the flames figure, who cheekily rushes away from him as soon as seconds passed. He would get back up, but he knelt a while longer; arm outstretched while the sparks circle around him. 

As Solomon knelt in the whirlwind of golden sparks, the music surged again, a crescendo that seemed to vibrate through his bones. The flamed-figure danced around him, its movements fluid and almost playful, yet hauntingly precise. Its form was ephemeral, a shimmering silhouette of yellow and orange, its edges flickering like tongues of fire reaching toward the heavens.

The crowd faded to the background, their cheers muffled, as if a veil had been drawn between Solomon and the world. It was him. Only him and the person of flames at this second.

The flames’ glow intensified, casting long, flickering shadows on the polished floor. Daera’s absence was like a hollow echo in his mind, but he couldn’t focus on it now. Not that she even mattered to begin with. 

The figure demanded his full attention. It wasn’t just a dance anymore—it was a confrontation, a test of his will, his control. 

Of his skill, of his wit, of his charisma… of his fate, his wisdom, his will.

The figure darted toward him suddenly, stopping just short of his chest. Its “hand” hovered, not quite touching him, but close enough that he could feel the searing heat radiating from it. 

Solomon’s breath caught in his throat. 

The figure tilted its head, as though studying him, and for the briefest moment, he thought he saw a pair of eyes within the fire—eyes that were sharp, piercing, and all too knowing.

“Starlight?” 

He stuttered, and the lights flickered back on.

What surrounded him was no longer the nightly darkness, but the uproar of the applause. Looking down was not the warmth of the fire, but the coldness of Daera clinging to his arm, looking away and smiling at the crowd.

His eyes wandered again, looking for any sign of that spark.

Nothing.

Clearing his throat, he lets go of his partner, carefully helping her with her dress as he and her both bow down to the audience. All directions, all for the maximum points.

At the corner of his eyes lay the framework of the flamed person. There you were, cheering loudly whilst wearing the infamous red jersey, one adsorbed with scales of a fierce dragon, as you bore those cheap fire sunglasses you had.

Solomon couldn't help but smile, you looked cute.

Solomon could also not help but look bitter, eyeing the sign you held. “We are Fire. We are Thunder. We are Power: Go Go Red!” 

Solomon, as much as he hated to admit, saw red.

"Forfeit?"

Satan gasped, fingers clenching around the cold soda can. "You forfeited our last hope for top 3?"

"I'm the crowd favourite still, aren't I?"

The blonde could only sigh; dropping the poor abused can on the wooden table before his fingers rested atop the bridge of his nose.

"You fucking moron," said Satan. "You do know that each dance is worth 180 points of the total- nearly the third most worthwhile event just behind Fangol and Basketball?"

Solomon gives a faux pout. "But I though the audience's reaction already puts me at a comfortable first place?"

"Of course, IF popular vote was part of the criteria."

"Then wouldn't the judges share the same feeling?" Solomon asked again. "Relax, I got the top 2."

Solomon leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the window, gazing out at the horizon where the faint glow of dusk was beginning to creep in. The words hung heavy in the air, unspoken but understood between them.

"I thought you moved on," Satan muttered, his voice low. "But it seemed like you weren't."

"I thought so too," Solomon replied with a chuckle, eyes closed shut with a half-hearted smile. "Can't really help it. Trying your best only to see them cheer for someone else."

"That's why you gave up?"

"Hm?"

"Is that why you practically crouched down earlier to the point Daera had to improv?"

Solomon shrugged. "They know."

"My Diavolo, Solomon."

For a moment, the blonde was taken aback. It wasn't unusual for there to be sudden confessions between contestants inside this more "accessible" version of the fall, but as Satan recalled, Solomon had never been this vulnerable with anyone.

Much less the likes of him.

"Are you confident then if they like it?" he asked, raising a brow.

Solomon could only sigh dreamily. His eyes opened a final time, taking a final glance at his good friend.

"What do you think?"

© 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 2024. do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

18.12.2024 | dividers by enchanthings

[greatgoddyke]

gggfied some old ocs (ramblings about thought process + (hand gestures) about the story under cut)

started with the idea of turning reverie into a ggg oc n worked from there to make a fake level

reverie being the god of safety came immediately initially i had trouble figuring out how to go about with them bc my og idea felt too similar to what we're told is going down in buzzhuzz but focusing back on three specific elements of og reverie helped a LOT n gave a lot of direction those elements being escapism dissociation and fire

the level takes place in the wunderholz hotel which is currently in disrepair and only being operated by one person ie the receptionist cupid d. andrews as the rest of the staff are doing literally anything else as the request of reverie before their domain became basically inaccessible

location was vague originally all i had in mind was wanting there to be physical danger throughout the level similar to the finale of milldread so originally it was gonna take place in a forest (hence the hotel being named wunderholz. literally just wonderwood in german) n the danger element was just gonna be that the forest was on fire but that doesnt really work bc like. fire department?? + extremely visible + would easily spread to the other areas so it needed to be something less obvious n not as clear of a fix-it bc its supposed to be tied to reverie (like miss mitternacht's flood n cobigail's vines) THEN remembered the shining (book not movie) which snapped into place the danger being an overheating boiler n the level taking place in a hotel

other stuff reverie was chief of safety when the hotel was being built (which they got elected for) their domain is in the basement right next to the boiler (formerly n still kind of employee breakroom) n in universe it wasnt originally supposed to be a hotel but construction got switched to one after reverie ascended (pretty cool to have a god in ur basement tbh) also hobbyhoo implies that the letter shenanigans have been going on for at least a few days bc of the last few episodes sucking n im running with that for this with it being like two weeks or so

marcelee d'vonair used to be a sfm oc whos design i never nailed down her thing back then was just she was an uninspired fashion designer n u gave her some photos of fashionable habitants to cheer her up marcelee now is the chief of safety at the hotel n the one in charge of the boiler but is instead outside chatting about fashion with vib during the level and you have to get vib away from her for the end sequence (crucial thing vib is actually working on stuff while marcelee is all talk n dodging questions)

she n cupid are (currently until i play with things further) the only reverie followers in the level (bc other followers typically go into fields more immediately relevant to maintaining safety (osha god) like repairmen or health inspectors) n were the two that were (attempting) to keep the hotel in shape during reverie's absence until a few days ago where the stress of not being able to fix the boiler (+ inability to get help from specifically reverie) got to marcelee n she stopped trying n avoided the issues by dreaming up fashion ideas (n not doing anything bc its safer not trying than it is to fail)

cupid's changed the least of the three hes just been redrawn in the style n had his story adjusted accordingly (rip stupid paper bag he used to have 😔✌️) hes the character godpoke would be interacting the most with n provides the hints for progressing (for reasons that will become clear when we get to reverie) n he also provides the obligatory flirt line with his greeting ("hey sweetheart!")

for the last few days cupid has been solely responsible for keeping the wunderholz together which hasnt been going very well bc hes just one person n while he has the knowledge of all the stuff thats done to keep things running he doesnt have the practical skills or experience to fix things like leaks (which the hotel needs regularly bc its oldddddddddddd) or The Boiler so hes stressed n no one's listening to him bc hes just the receptionist what does he know n he can't leave to get help bc everything Will fully fall apart if he goes (believe it or not this is actually much better than his situation in his og story. mostly due to it being significantly shorter but still) and is deeply grateful for godpoke's help although was startled by them initially bc their room is... "unavailable due to damages"

the entrance to the basement is superficially blocked off with a paper danger sign (similarly to the woodboards in front of mitternacht's entrance) n u just get rid of it with megapon after cupid gives the ok for godpoke bc well they have a mask so they should be fine

hearthy haunt is a lush green forest with a fireplace (? is it still called that if its outside) thats perfect for cozying up n unwinding however that is not the hearthy haunt you get to experience during the level as the place is filled with smoke obscuring everything from sight and rendering the area near uninhabitable

reverie themself is completely out of it not even aware that someone else is in their domain (or whats happening around them) n unfortunately this means that reverie isnt too much of a character for the level (marcelee n cupid are more prominent to fill the story gap) but is used as a puzzle solving mechanic by throwing stuff at them to steer their daydreams to get specific lines to twist n stretch (was also thinking maybe that u have to suck up some smoke with megapon to be able to hear their responses similar to drying sirena off but that sounds Really Annoying mechanically so probably not)

dont really have specifics in mind for whats said in the letter reverie received just like what its about n what its angling for the angle is to get reverie out of the picture obviously so the rift can continue to open but the means is emphasizing the disharmony between gods (that are literally a result of the letters) n doing so heavily on the disconnect between thespius-click clack n bauhauzzo-huzzle mug bc those are the dynamic duos!! we're really screwed if even they arent getting along!! n the letter being more.. sympathetic ig by being about letting people live in blissful ignorance that end times are near cause theres no way we- i mean you would be able to close it without the other gods help it's best to just give up n try to have fun with the time you have which results in reverie trying to see the logistics of only 3-4 gods closing the rift by themselves coming to the conclusion it wouldnt work (didnt talk to the other gods bc well the god of innovation is in a quarrel n as the next best thing they dont think they stand a chance) n asked the staff to do as they please before lying down n giving up bc its safer to leave them now than to watch everything end

end of level stuff end sequence (ie getting the milldread berry or romantic bulb) is triggered by getting a whistle from the boiler (it gets louder n more shakey as the level progresses. also can be used as a flirt line on other characters bc i think that's kinda fucked up) n throwing it at cupid netting the line "THE BOILER'S BEGGING TO BURST!" to then throw at marcelee who cracks admits to avoiding her responsibilities (n cupid) forms an evacuation plan n gives the two final lines to throw (in the order marcelee says them "oh reverie... looks what's been done." (shes not addressing reverie here its more like shes saying oh dear) n "i'll get everyone outta here lickety-split!") which are thrown reverse order at reverie to shock them out of their episode and reveals what remains of hearthy haunt

reverie's domain is desolate the once tranquil woods is now charred logs and ashes with only the hearth and reverie themself being left standing

surprised by godpoke being there reverie reflexively puts on their psa bravado but still somewhat dazed n the destruction clear around the two its dropped quickly while reverie puts the pieces together of what's happened n bides godpoke farewell while drawing together some cleanup plans

leaving their domain has a quick cutscene of the boiler stabilizer now no longer being superheated by the fire n you go back upstairs n outside for the final cutscene of the area where everyone rejoices upon realizing the boiler's not gonna blow

goodbye dialogue stuff reverie's is about prioritizing getting some stuff that needs to be fixed done before they leave for the rift how they shouldnt have given up without a fight n a joke about how reverie has literally no idea who godpoke is (as in joke to us reverie isnt making a joke. they refer to godpoke as puppydog tho bc they dont know their name) marcelee laments leaving cupid to deal with things by himself n being too ashamed to get help from another town but remarks they did at least help vib brainstorm some outfits cupid is SO relieved that everything worked out n the line about godpoke's room comes back with cupid revealing that its unavailable bc its where cupid was staying as he wasnt able to go home during the whole ordeal jokes about giving godpoke a share of their next paycheck bc they never clocked out n have been working overtime "but seriously sweetheart at least let me comp your room... whenever i get it fixed up that is." (if the sweetheart line was used on cupid the paycheck joke is replaced with him offering a pity date)

n thats all for the story other misc stuff both cupid n marcelee capitalize They/Them when referring to reverie n while theyre both followers of reverie marcelee leans more towards it being bc she's a fan of reverie as a person while cupid is more about what reverie represents vague idea for bizzyboy video for the area is about deferring to authorities n professionals ie what they position themselves as (styled like schools psas about calling 911 in emergencies. bizzyboy home invasion skit) idk how much more i'll do with this outside of doodles but if this was an actual legel there'd probably not like a lot of interactable npcs in the area with some being bizzyboy van driver adjacent as in theyre in the environment to show theres people n in my mind theres one interactable npc thats a family on vacation (even got a specific set of old ocs in mind for them) but functions like a normal npc outside of their dialogue (as in u throw something at the family n they all react to it rather than each character being a separate npc) cupid is nonbinary n gendered language is a mix of neutral n feminine (he/him only for pronouns tho) n capochin is the only character who the sweetheart line doesnt work on as a flirt line bc he recognizes it as cupid's voice n immediately (and vaguely) complains about something that happened before godpoke arrived (i have something specific in mind but its funnier to leave it vague. capochin is the only bizzyboy in the level that doesnt appear inside the hotel for related reasons)

reverie's relationships n views of the other gods was decided entirely based on reverie being the god of safety so theyre extremely fond of bauhauzzo huzzle mug inspekta (ruh roh) n king bc theyre all gods of things important for safety (+ bonus industrial revolution for buzzhuzz duo) n then for the rest reverie doesnt like cobigail bc she likes scary type pranks n reverie doesnt (wimp 😔✌️) neutral towards thespius n click clack n neutral leaning positive towards miss mitternacht bc of her being the oldest god so they should show her some respect

[water-writings]

ways to say i love you + as an apology + hana!

I loved this one so much! Thank you, Leaf, I hope you like it! I'm starting to love Hana and Law so much. This is my first piece I've ever written for them. Enjoy!

Heart sinking, Hana stared at the pieces of paper on Law’s desk. The white sheets slowly turned brown as the coffee seeped into the material. Wide eyes slowly turned up to look at her boyfriend and she held back a squeak when she saw the look on his face. 

Law was staring down at the papers and books on his desk, a vein throbbing in his forehead. He was silent as his hand clenched around the pen he was holding, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t move, only sat there staring at the ruined items.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, almost to the point it was hard to breathe. Hana was holding her breath, shaking as her brain ran a mile a minute. She couldn’t figure out what to do. Should she say something? Clean up the mess? Leave? Run? She was afraid to speak. The look on Law’s face and the fact that he hadn’t moved or uttered a word  terrified her. She couldn’t figure out how to help her boyfriend and with her clumsy nature she knew she’d only make it worse. She shouldn’t have brought the coffee to him.

Slowly and with shaky hands she started to pick up the coffee mug. A piece of sopping paper clung to the ceramic and the pink haired woman poked at it, trying to knock it off. Her eyes kept shifting from the mug to Law, back and forth, back and forth. 

She finally opened her mouth. “I um-” “Just leave it,” Law said quietly, still not looking at her.  “I-I-I’m sorry, Law, I ju-” “I said just leave it!” he snapped. His eyes snapped over to look at her. His grey eyes were sharp and angry as he glared at his girlfriend.  A loud squeak came from Hana and she nearly dropped the mug. “I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mea-” “Get out! Now!” the captain shouted.  Tears welled up in Hana’s eyes. Law had never shouted at her before. Only ever to give her orders along with the crew, but never like this. Her cheeks turned pink and she clutched the mug to her chest, lips trembling as she tried to find her voice.  “I-I-I’m so-s-sorry,” she whispered.   Quickly she ran out of Law’s room, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t mean to anger her boyfriend. She didn’t mean to ruin his research. She just wanted to bring him a cup of coffee because she knew it was late and he’d been in his room the majority of the day. All she wanted to do was help and show him she was thinking of him.  Slamming a fist on the desk, Law cursed under his breath. His research was ruined. He’d have to start his notes all over and he’d been working on them all week. He had just finished them! Brow furrowed deeply, he snatched up the documents, crumpling them up in his fists before practically slamming them into the metal waste bucket next to his chair. He brushed the remaining coffee off the table with the back of his hand before grabbing a rag from the small wardrobe he had in the corner. After the spilt coffee was wiped up, he sighed as he rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes. It would be another all nighter just to redo all the work.  ooOOoo

By the time Law had completed redoing his notes he could hear the tell tale signs of his crew moving around. The sound of their voices echoed off the Polar Tang’s walls. Laughter and shouting could be heard as they all gathered to get breakfast.  It was morning.  Groaning, Law ran a hand down his face. It was definitely an all nighter.  Trudging out of his room, Law followed the noise of the crew to the dining hall. As he walked into the room he was greeted with the entirety of his crew. Some were shouting over at each other. Others looked exhausted and grabbed cups of coffee and food as they took their seats at a table. Glancing over at the far end, Law could see Penguin, Shachi, and Ikkaku arguing about something or another. Grumbling, Law went to grab his own breakfast, choosing to grab a cup of coffee and a muffin.  “Captain!” came the gleeful voice of Bepo. “Good morning!”  “Mornin’,” Law grumbled as he sipped his drink.  Bepo looked around, smiling at some of the crew before his brow furrowed. He did another take of the room, eyes scanning over each head.  “Um…Captain?” he said slowly.  “Hm?” came the grunted reply from the dark haired doctor. “Have you seen Hana?” the Mink asked, looking worried. “She’s normally one of the first one’s here and I don’t see her.”  Law’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about, she’s right…”  He trailed off as his eyes didn’t see the familiar head of pink hair. His first mate was right. Hana was nowhere to be seen in the dining hall. The herbalist was usually smiling and talking with the others as she drank her tea or hot chocolate, but she wasn’t there. It was odd behavior for the woman. 

“Do you think she’s sick?” Bepo asked, breaking the captain’s thoughts. “No, she was fine last nig-” Law trailed off again as memories of last night popped in his head. The image of Hana’s tearfilled face flashed in his vision reminding him of what happened. “Fuck…” he cursed as he ran a hand over his face.  Without a word, he grabbed a plate of fruit and a mug before exiting the dining hall. Ignoring the calls from the crew he made his way through the halls once more, heading back the way he came. The whole way he was berating himself in his head. His brow furrowed deeply. He forgot about last night, and he hated himself for it. He couldn’t believe that he had yelled at her like that. He blamed his sleep deprivation and the headache that had been growing before Hana had visited him. He’d never yelled at her the way he did last night and he was angry with himself for it.  Standing outside the metal door that was decorated with a few hanging dried herbs and flowers, he stood there thinking over his words. With a sigh, the man raised a tattooed hand to the door and knocked. Through the other side he could hear a little squeak followed by a soft thud. Hana could be heard giving a sad “oh no…” and Law knew that she had dropped whatever it was that she was working on. Most likely a new batch of medicine. 

“H-hello?” Hana called out.  “It’s me,” Law replied. Shuffling on his feet awkwardly. As he glanced at her could just picture Hana curled up on her bed and hugging one of her stuffed animals to her.  Another squeak could be heard from his girlfriend. Law waited a moment, but when he didn’t hear any movement or see the door open he let out another sigh. She was hiding. “Hana,” he called out.  Silence.  Gritting his teeth, Law balanced the plate of food and mug in one hand as he opened the door. Figures it wasn’t locked. Hana never locked anyone out of her room. She always enjoyed the company of anyone from the crew over being alone.  Pushing the door open, Law was greeted with a mess of leaves and flowers surrounding a spilt bowl of medicine on the floor. His eyes trailed up from the mess to Hana’s bed where he saw a lump under the floral sheets surrounded by her usual pile of stuffed animals.  Sighing, the doctor walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Placing the plate and mug on the nightstand, he sat there in silence with his hidden girlfriend. He looked at the lump and raised an eyebrow before gently grabbing the blanket and pulling it off of her. Hana squeaked, as she looked up at Law. Her eyes were wide and her face was starting to turn red. “H-h-hello, L-Law…” she greeted. “You weren’t at breakfast,” the captain pointed out. He jerked his head to the nightstand. “I grabbed you some fruit before the others ate it all.”  Slowly, Hana sat up and looked to where the breakfast was. Her eyes shifted from it to meet Law’s gaze once more. Her hands were shaking as she fiddled with them before reaching over and grabbing the plate. Her boyfriend shot out a hand when he saw her nearly drop it.  “Careful,” he said firmly. “S-s-sorry!” she stuttered out, her cheeks turning even redder.  With yet another sigh, the man looked at her, watching her turn her head away from him as she started eating the fruit. He had an unreadable expression on his face which was only making Hana squirm where she sat. It was tense and quiet, not helping the woman in any way feel comfortable.  Without a word, Law placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled her close to his side. They sat like that for a while in silence, the only sound coming from Hana chewing on the fruit and the distant sound of the crew in the dining hall.  Hana sat there, staring at the plate, as she felt her heart pound against her chest. She didn’t like the silence. She normally did when she was with Law. It was always peaceful. But not this. She could feel how tense Law was as she sat against him and she was waiting for him to scold her for last night.  Seconds turned into minutes before the pink haired herbalist had the mug shoved in her face. Blinking, she looked at it and gasped. It was hot chocolate. Turning her gaze from the drink, she looked up at her boyfriend to see him staring off in a different direction. Taking the drink, she blushed and smiled lightly to herself before sipping it.  A kiss was pressed to the top of her head and words were mumbled into her hair.  Blushing even more, Hana looked back at Law once again. There was a hint of pink on his cheeks as he looked down at her.  “H-huh?” she said, eyes going wide.  Law sighed, and closed his eyes before meeting her green eyed stare. “I’m sorry,” he said.  Her breath hitched as she was pulled into a tighter hug from her boyfriend. He didn’t say anything else. She knew he’d eventually say something, but right now she just leaned into his embrace. A smile danced on her face as she enjoyed the moment with him.