#i hope our predictions live up to your expectations

[fivewholeminutes]

hi! wanted to ask a few people this: since wembley is in 2 weeks, do you have any predictions on what might happen, or do you think sleep token will do anything special?

Hi Anon! Do I have some answers for you, hoooo boy. (jk, I know you've already been redirected to my post with predictions by the real mvps @moonchild-in-blue and @a-s-levynn, so you do have my answer and much, much more already <3)

Still, I've been meaning to make an Important Addition™ to that post and your ask is a great opportunity to do so, so thank you!

The addition is as follows: I hope the person who sets something on fire would be iii. He looks like he could use some arson. Someone hand him a flamethrower. You know, like the one cheerleader Gerard had? Cheerleader Gerard looked happy with a flamethrower, let iii experience the same kind of joy.

And I'll add my favorites from other people's predictions added to my post too:

new messages/lore! How could I not think of this one before! (Also this one is the most possible one imo);

first/last songs being TNDNBTG and Euclid. My fave was that they start with Euclid and end with TNDNBTG (oh the angst of going full circle. delicious);

new make-up variations!

the bane of @thevenomousseprent's and mine existence: the cloak will be ironed and tassels will be intact;

T E L O M E R E S;

TLYW dancers making a comeback!

I will also use the opportunity of this ask to say that I am going to the Wembley ritual, because I don't think I've told y'all that before?? The ticket sale happened way before this blog, so that's why.

[unusualtfs]

The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but… 

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

[myster-roca]

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[kaiser1ns]

i told you, didn't i? time is nothing but a construct, an easy thing to manipulate but we'll start with the living dead or the walking dead, call it however you like, my little puppet! everything is more fun when its uʍop-ǝpısdn. hope you will enjoy being stuck between the physical and spiritual realm. remember, reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram. buy gold, bye!

𝗷𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗵𝗶!𝘀𝘂𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

THE CORPSE'S BRIDEㄑword count :: 6121 ▿ finding a red envelope with money often symbolizes marriage, but sometimes luck is just on your side as you pick it up in the city center. what you didn't know is that you accepted а marriage proposal. and this is how the suo family tricked you, a living woman into becoming the ghost bride of their deceased son.

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

“You are a disgrace to our family.”

Every day it was the same old tune, like a broken bamboo flute that had worn out its melody. You’d hear it as soon as you stepped through the front door, sometimes even before. “How come the gods have cursed me with such a daughter?” your mother’s voice carried over the sounds of her stitching, accompanied by the echo of your father’s disapproving grunt. They acted like they were personally offended that you were still breathing.

Yes, yes … The unmarried daughter. You knew the script so well by now, you could predict every insult before it left their mouths. There was no getting out unless someone asked for your hand in marriage. It was already getting more than annoying, you wake up wondering when there will be a wedding and go to sleep thinking about how you want everything to end. If you had been born a boy, it would have been much easier for you, but apparently, the all-mighty gods want you to suffer.

“Are you in this house again?” Even though you were the one coming home from the market, laden with bags of food you’d bought with your own money. Not that they ever thanked you, for making dinner and serving delicious meals on their plates. The most gratitude you got was a side-eye from your mother as she sewed something, muttering to herself as she added the finishing touches to the red and gold dress.

You froze. Red and gold? No, no, no.

“What are you staring at?” She snapped, her needle pausing mid-stitch on a piece of crimson fabric that shined bright by the house lights. “This is your wedding dress if you ever manage to get a husband.” her tone was as sharp as the needle in her hand when she returned to her sewing, sighing at the fact that you were still here.

This wasn’t your first marriage guilt trip. Ever since your two older sisters had gotten married off, the pressure was on you. Sometimes you genuinely considered just disappearing poof and you are gone. Then you could haunt them forever, appearing in their dreams and turning them into nightmares.

“Mother, do you need me to do anything else?” you asked, hoping to escape even for a little while. Her eyes narrowed, the needle suddenly looking more like a weapon in her hand. “Go fetch some water from the well, and get something sweet for your father.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing the wooden bucket, you made your way to the center of the village. It was quiet for once, no bustling crowds or nosey elders asking why you weren't married yet. You mimicked your mother's nagging voice under your breath, lowering the bucket down into the well.

"Your sister is already expecting her first child, and you still don't even have a husband, blah blah blah..."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on the rope. The weight of it felt so familiar to your life, dragging downwards, just like your mother's hopes. And then, something bright caught your eye, a splash of crimson against the dull stone. You squinted. There, floating near the bucket, was a red envelope.

“Finally!" you muttered, quick to glance over your shoulder. It was an unspoken rule — finders, keepers. Maybe the universe had finally tossed you a bone. You bent down, fingers brushing the envelope's edge, and a chill ran through you, despite the sun hanging lazily overhead. Red envelopes were usually given for weddings. Could this be a sign? A stroke of luck for your otherwise underwhelming love life?

But the moment your fingers touched the envelope’s contents, the air shifted and the wind seemed to whisper your name—in a voice that wasn’t yours.

You looked around. No one was there. Strange.

Opening it like it was your last meal on this earth you couldn't believe your eyes. "Gold!" you whispered. The crisp smell of paper money filled the air, your fingers trembling slightly as you counted it. Your mind raced with possibilities—finally moving out, finally escaping the daily nagging, finally—wait.

Inside the envelope was a small, folded piece of parchment. It was old, the edges colored in yellow, and as you opened it, your heart sank. There was a lock of someone's hair, it was a slightly reddish brown with a small note tied to it. The words on the paper weren’t a blessing. They weren’t even good news. The name next to “groom” was unfamiliar: Suo Hayato.

Heart pounded fast as you pieced it together. You hadn’t just found some stray money. You’d accepted a proposal—a ghost marriage proposal. There are beliefs that if an unmarried boy is not married in the afterlife, his spirit could bring misfortune or illness to the living family members, pushing families to find a bride for him and one way to do that is to leave a red envelope, tricking the girl into thinking it has money. Because even in death, a person is not seen as complete without a partner. It also ties into beliefs about spirits and the afterlife, where the dead might reach out to the living to resolve unfinished matters.

Slowly your gaze slid back to the red envelope. An intricate pattern was etched into the surface, symbols you didn’t recognize. The kind of symbols your grandmother used to warn you about, eyes wide and voice hushed.

"Do not touch what belongs to the dead," she'd always said, but how exactly would you know that something belongs to someone who is not here anymore?

You cursed under your breath. Well, great. It was too late to back out. The Suo family had tricked you into becoming the ghost bride of their dead son. A gust of wind blew through the well, carrying with it a low, chilling hum. You swore you could hear that voice again, whispering softly in your ear, "Thank you for accepting me." 

That gentle voice, with that honeyed sound, made you shiver as your hands began to shake. That couldn't be true, it wasn't real. You just accepted an invitation to your own wedding and of course, no one alive would want you, of course, it would have to be someone dead. Quickly taking the overflowing water bucket you hid the letter in your clothes. You would think about it later, you were running late and would be scolded more than usual. The dead boy would wait a little longer, there was nowhere for him to run.

You go home as quickly as possible, the strange feeling of someone watching you still hasn’t left you. Your mother was done with sewing the dress, but she was nowhere to be found as you placed the bucket in the kitchen. Then you found her and your father in the garden talking, sitting between the statues of the ancient dragons that you and your father used to play among when you were little. When they loved their daughter and engagement did not destroy the relationship between a girl and her parents.

"I don't want our daughter to be treated like that. But this is what we should do." hiding behind the wall you were shocked by her words, eyes wide and tears started to form in your eyes. You never expected to hear such a thing from her as you wiped your tears and heard your father. "To keep this image of a perfect family. I hope someone asks for her hand soon because she won't live in this home any longer." Of course, traditionally, girls who did not marry were regarded as a threat to the entire family and were not allowed to continue living at home. Suddenly the letter fell out from inside your robe. You are practically married now and maybe tonight you will pay your husband a visit in the graveyards.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? You hadn’t asked for this. But there it was—a contract, a promise, an unholy bond.

Fingers trembling, you snatched up the letter that had fallen and shoved it deeper into your robes, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe this could be your way out. If the Suo family’s dead son had claimed you, then at least no living man could. You thought back to the voice, that soft murmur, almost too tender for something no longer living. But could you trust a voice that came from the dark?

Your parents' voices faded into the distance as you hurried to your room. The dress, a crimson red with delicate embroidery, hung neatly on the wooden frame, waiting for you. Its beauty felt like a mockery now, knowing your parents had likely sewn it for some stranger. You brushed your fingertips over the fabric, the reality of your situation sinking deeper. This dress would never be worn for a joyous occasion. Not for you.

As the evening sun began to set, you glanced out the window toward the distant graveyards. The lanterns lining the street flickered eerily against the walls. A strange pull began to take hold, like an invisible red string tugging you toward the resting place of the stranger you were about to marry.

But still, you were curious, who is this husband of yours? How old is he because that was important ... you didn't want to marry some 50-year-old grandpa. It wouldn't be your first time sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep because right now, the urge to go and find his grave surpassed even the heavenly world. It was time to meet him, the one who had called out to you, to see if this strange and unnatural union could be undone. Or maybe you were bound forever.

You could still feel his presence—the weight of it lingering in every step you took as you made your way through the empty streets. The moon hung low in the sky painting everything in its silver glow. The silence around you was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your sandals against the dirt path.

The closer you got to the graveyards, the colder it became. The wind picked up again, swirling around you, bringing the chills. You almost turned back to go home, but the thought of your parents, of being cast out from your home, pushed you forward.

Finally, you arrived at the gates of the cemetery. The iron bars stood tall and ominous before you, half-covered in creeping vines. Beyond them lay the rows of graves, their headstones arrayed like one great army. You swallowed hard, hesitating for just a moment, before pushing the gate open.

Your feet carried you towards the Suo family’s burial plot and the further you ventured in, the more you felt that presence intensify. It was suffocating, wrapping itself around you like a veil. And then, there it was—a single grave, marked with the name of your husband.

The earth before it looked freshly disturbed as if something—or someone—had been moving beneath the soil. You stopped, breath hitching, your body frozen in place. It had been dug up, there was dirt everywhere, and by the light of the lantern, you could see that the dug up was deep, to say the least. You put a hand over your mouth in complete shock. There was no one in the coffin. How come there was no one? Your breathing became heavier, the warm air coming out of your mouth suddenly turned cold, your eyes wide with complete fear when you heard noises near you. It could be someone passing by, a bird, or ... a rabbit.

A little white bunny, with a color just like the moon reflecting the yin energy. But will it bring you good fortune and peace in a place like this? Why did everything suddenly just turn into a scary fairy tale and why did you have to be the main character? You and the small animal looked at each other, its red eyes shining brighter than the lantern next to your face until suddenly it ran away when you tried to approach it.

And then, you heard it again—that voice. But this time, it wasn’t a whisper.

"Welcome, my bride."

The voice came behind you.

Swallowing hard your body shook, more than before as you couldn’t move. You stood in one pose, like a statue until you heard footsteps approaching. Spinning around, heart pounding in your chest, you screamed as loud as your lungs allowed. The sight before you was more horrifying than anything you could have imagined—a boy, or what had once been a boy, stood there, grinning at you. You instinctively threw your lamp in defense, the small flame flickering in the air and for a moment you thought the fire would pass through him like a ghost. But the impact was real. It struck his chest and clattered to the ground.

“W-what? Stay away from me or I will … I will–” You stammered, your mind racing. He wasn’t just a ghost, but a corpse. A jiangshi, a walking dead boy. Panicked, you glanced at the disturbed grave behind him, a confirmation that Suo Hayato had indeed risen from the dead.

But something was strange. His pale skin didn’t have any signs of decay, no silver hue like the stories warned, no moss clinging to his rotten flesh. He looked almost normal, almost alive. His brown hair hung loosely over his face, parted to one side and his singular eye or his living eye, watched you and made you feel the goosebumps. The other eye was covered by a leather eyepatch, which only gave you an unsettling feeling. A pair of yellow tassel earrings, with red gems like the rabbit’s eyes swung with his movements. And there was the black hat, a yellow talisman attached to it, though the paper was blank.

“Please, do not fear me,” he said, voice still sweet and calm despite the terror bubbling inside you. “You woke me up from my slumber for our wedding. My parents always wished for me to marry, but you see … “ His words trailed off as he lifted the talisman from his hat, his grin widening as if trying to comfort you. “I died before I could tell them who I truly wanted.”

You let out another scream, louder this time. The absurdity of his casual tone while he stood there, very much undead, with his smile flattering for a second and his single eye widening slightly because he had expected as much. You backed up until you were pressed against the cold stone of another gravestone. This couldn't be happening. He was dead, he should be dead, and yet here he was, speaking to you as this is just another day.

“I-I don’t want this! I don’t want to marry a dead man!” you shouted, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your footing, knees weakening beneath you. All of a sudden, the weight of what was happening crushed you down. You didn’t want to die anymore. Not like this, not as some undead bride in a nightmare you hadn’t asked for.

The boy, Hayato, tilted his head, his smile now almost sorrowful. “I am not here to harm you. I was brought back for this, to fulfill my parents’ wishes.” you caught a glimpse of the boy he might have been before death took him. “I can’t bear to see you afraid of me. I never wanted this either, but you were the one who took the red envelope my mother left.”

You paused, trying to steady your breath, eyes darting between his face and the talisman he held. The numerous stories of jiangshi that your grandmother told you—these creatures were said to drain the life force from the living, feeding on their energy until nothing remained. Was that why he was here? To suck away what little life you had left? To take you down into the grave with him?

“I won’t let you drain me,” you blurted out, your voice shaking but your defense rising despite the fair. “I’m not ready to die yet!”

Hayato’s eye widened, and then a deep sigh escaped his lips. He stepped closer, too close for your liking as you flinched. But instead of attacking, he let the yellow paper fall over his face again. “I am not here to drain you. I was raised … incomplete. Not fully dead, not fully alive,” he explained, lowering his gaze to meet yours. “I simply wanted to meet you.”

“But you are a jiangshi,” you whispered, blinking as your eyes were fixed on him as if watching for any sudden movement. 

“Yes,” he admitted, his smile fading completely now, replaced with sadness. “But I did not ask for this fate any more than you happened to be my bride.”

His words sank in, making you rethink everything. He was just a strange boy who stood between life and death. His pale face, his empty eye socket beneath the patch, the talisman that should have controlled him but didn’t—he was terrifying, yes, but also…trapped.

“Then what do you want from me?” you asked, and as much you wanted to run, to escape something kept you rooted in place.

Hayato hesitated, then looked up, meeting your gaze with that single eye of his. "I want what I was denied in life. A chance to choose for myself. And maybe..." He paused, and the tiniest hint of hope flickered in his gaze. "Maybe to experience love."

Your heart was still racing, unsure of whether you should trust him—or if you even had a choice at all.

“Just accept him already, young lady! I want to sleep when it's dead silence.” someone's female voice called but there was absolutely no one near you and you started to look around. "I'm down here, but you have time until you join us."  The woman's voice came from leaning against her tombstone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, ma’am." Your breath hitched, and your gaze landed on a nearby tombstone. The name etched into the stone was worn, nearly faded, but still there. A woman’s ghostly form leaned casually against it, translucent and calm. You were talking to dead people now. Wonderful.

Just because you decided you'd be rich from a dumb envelope, and what did it turn out to be? You live between these two worlds as much as your husband. "Ah, the boy of the Suo family. They finally found you a bride."

This time it was a deep male voice as you both looked in that direction. It was coming from a tall, ghostly figure standing just behind another tombstone. "Good choice! I know the women in her family are unearthly beautiful!” You didn't know how to take that, a compliment you'd never received before. Hayato looked at you while you were still looking down at the ground, the moon illuminating everything above you.

His eye filled with something like... affection. He waited patiently for your response because it wasn’t easy to just accept a marriage proposal, a ghost one at that.

The dead were already speaking to you as if you were one of them, and perhaps you were—caught between their world and the one you had known your whole life. Maybe you didn’t want to die, but living in this strange in-between place was better than being cast aside by the living. You took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

"I... I accept," you whispered, almost to yourself, then met Hayato's gaze. "But I need to go home first." He smiled, the kind of soft smile that made you forget for a moment that he was no longer alive. "Of course. I will wait for you."

You turned, leaving the graveyard behind, though the voices of the dead still whispered in your ears, their conversations muffled by the distance. The walk home was quieter than before, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching from the shadows, but you knew that the light would appear again.

A week passed when you gathered courage and told your parents everything. You showed the envelope, explaining what had happened—how the Suo family had chosen you, how you had unknowingly accepted the fate of being a ghost bride, and how his spirit had come back to claim you. By not telling them, however, that your husband is somehow alive. You expected anger, disbelief, or perhaps even outrage. But instead, your parents stood in silence.

Your mother was the first to break the stillness. She took your hands in hers, her grip trembling slightly, but a small smile appeared on her face. "You... you will be married?" she whispered as if daring to hope this strange, supernatural fate might finally be your salvation.

Your father, though pale with shock, slowly nodded. "This is... unexpected," he muttered. "But if it means you will be safe, and the Suo family is satisfied, then this is for the best."

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mother rushed to answer it, and there they were, the Suo family—Hayato’s parents. His mother, a graceful woman draped in mourning clothes, approached you with a smile that held both grief and relief.

"You have given my son peace," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "For so long, his spirit was restless. He didn’t even tell us who he wanted to marry. But now, he has found his bride, and he can be at peace. Our family is forever grateful."

Feeling as if you were floating between two realities—the living and the dead, bound by an agreement you hadn’t fully understood. But now, there was no turning back. This was your life now. This was real. It wasn’t some bad dream. You were truly a bride—if only to a ghost. Or rather, what remained of it.

The dress your mother finished sewing would be wrapped around your body soon. At least that's what you heard from the conversation of the adults in the great dining room. How did it all happen so fast? You could believe that Hayato told his mother in her dream. You could talk to the spirits of dead people after all.

You were walking in the big yard of your house when you heard a light tapping, small and gentle steps and in the middle of the garden was the white bunny from yesterday and immediately rushed towards the animal. It started running and you followed. Why does this rabbit appear out of nowhere? Are the gods giving you a sign to escape your fate as a normal human? Most probably, yes.

It stopped in front of the family temple where you honored your ancestors but for some reason, you hadn't been here in a few weeks because you were always doing work around and outside the house. You saw the rabbit jump up the steps and stand in the center of the temple, surrounded by tombstones but it hopped in front of your grandmother’s stone. Asking her for help won't hurt, you missed being here, finding peace in this beautiful place especially since your grandma never judged you.

Lighting the candles and incense, you kneel down, hoping for guidance from your ancestors. Please, if you can hear me. I need your help and advice. I need to know what's the best thing to do. You stood there holding your hands in an attempt to get an answer. You could see and talk to the dead, and that must include your family too. Suddenly the heat from the candle went out and you snapped your eyes open to see several of the stones with their names begin to glow and the rabbit was still sitting in front of your grandmother's table stone.

Images appeared from the blue glow, rather the spirits of your ancestors as they sat over their stones, and you looked to the one of your grandmother's, and as a finale, her spirit appeared last, and the white bunny jumped into your lap.

“So this is our ghost bride? She is too beautiful to be buried alive.” a woman called out, and you believe this is your grandmother who lived 120 years ago, as she waved a fan in front of her face. “A ghost bride? She took that from you.” Next to her was a man, dressed in warrior armor as his arms were crossed like he was judging you.

“Said the man who denied getting married because he was already married to the war.” waving her fan slowly but you could still catch her sly smile in a teasing tone before the warrior opened his mouth and someone cut him off.

“A wedding is a wedding. Don't fight over the happiness of someone so young, either.” you knew that voice as you looked at the spirit next to your grandmother it was your grandfather. Your eyes watered when you saw them again. Hugging the bunny with one hand, you got up, and with the other, you tried to touch them, but failed. They were just ghosts, they weren't like Hayato because their debts and wishes had been fulfilled. “My sweet child, I wish I could hug you as well.” 

You wanted to ask how you could even see them, but that was a stupid question from the person who was about to marry a dead man. Of course, you could see them because the moment you touched the envelope the physical and spiritual realm merged into one. 

“Grandma, why does this have to happen to me?” your voice trembled as the words spilled out, heavy with the confusion and heartache that had been building for days. Becoming a ghost bride... it wasn't something you could ever have imagined for yourself.

Your grandmother looked at you with that soft and reassuring smile. "Everything happens for a reason, my dear," she said, but did everything have to have a reason or was it another joke of fate? "The gods have chosen you, and so has the Moon goddess. You have everyone's blessing, even though you may not experience love the way you dreamed... I know, without a doubt, that the boy loves you deeply."

You stared at her, disbelief washing over you. "How do you even know if a dead boy can feel anything? His heart stopped... How could he possibly love?"

Your grandmother laughed at your innocence, the sound warm and comforting, like a lullaby from long ago. "You don't have to be alive to love. Love isn't confined by life or death. It’s a bond that exists between souls. The red thread that connects you two may be invisible, sometimes tangled, but it will always lead you to the right person, living or dead."

Her words settled into your heart, but still, a tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled with the weight of it all. As you wiped your eyes, you heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind you. The spirits of your family turned, their eyes full of knowing as they gazed toward the garden.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, your dead husband-to-be, wandering quietly through the garden, stepping into the light from the backyard’s small door.

"See now, my dear," your grandmother whispered, her voice lingering like an echo. "Love always finds a way."

You turned to speak to her again, but they were gone—the spirits of your family had vanished, leaving you alone in the garden. Without hesitation, you rushed towards Suo as the bunny stayed at the temple, your heart drawn to him in a way that defied all reason. Everything is happening too fast to be true.

Anger. Confusion. Fear. His presence in the garden felt too sudden. And yet, there he was, standing under the bright daylight with that same eye smile you remembered from the last time you saw him, but now you can see him more clearly.

"My beloved, I have wondered to whe—"

"Are you crazy?" you hissed, cutting him off with a whisper-yell as you looked around anxiously. "You can't just show up out of nowhere! What if my—no, your parents see you?"

Your heart was racing now, not just from the shock of his sudden appearance, but from the fear of what would happen if someone else saw him too. Suo’s presence, while comforting to you, was a ghostly impossibility to the living. People would panic, or worse, think you'd lost your mind.

He, however, seemed completely unfazed by your panic. His gaze was soft, patient even, as if he had expected this reaction. Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with a strange warmth that startled you. The sudden contact made you tense up, your breath catching in your throat. 

"Only you can see me, my love," he said quietly, his voice gentle as you blinked, processing his words. Only you can see me. It made sense now, why the spirits of your ancestors had appeared without anyone else knowing, why Suo could walk into the garden without causing a stir. But still, the way the words "my love" slipped from his mouth—it felt both sweet and unnerving.

You gulped, suddenly unsure of how to respond. "My love?" It was all you could manage to say, trying to reconcile the person before you with the man you were supposed to marry in death.

Suo’s smile didn’t waver. It softened, his gaze steady as if there was no question in his mind. "Yes," he said simply. "You are my love. You have always been."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to protest, to ask how he could say such a thing when your relationship had never truly begun, but the truth was undeniable—he had come back for you. Whether by fate or the pull of the spirit realm, you were bound to him, and he to you.

And for the first time since all of this began, you didn’t know whether to feel relieved or afraid.

Suo’s hands held yours gently, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your heart race. His touch was warm, so real, despite everything about this moment feeling so impossible. You searched his eyes for answers, trying to make sense of the emotions and memories, but nothing came.

He noticed your confusion, and his smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment. "I know you probably don't remember me," he began softly, his voice laced with a bittersweetness, "since you moved houses."

He paused, glancing down for a second as though gathering his courage before meeting your eyes again. "But we used to play together as kids. You were the wife, I was the husband... and my dog was our child." He chuckled softly at the memory, but you could hear the longing hidden by the humor.

Your breath hitched as scenes of long-forgotten memories began to appear. The boy... the boy you used to play with every day, laughing under the summer sun, pretending to be grown-ups before life pulled you apart. You had moved after a terrible storm destroyed your home, making you move out to your sister's home for a while and your own house had been renovated during that time. It was chaotic, and in the midst of it, the boy who once filled your days with laughter had simply faded into the background of your life.

"I..." You shook your head, confusion washing over you. "You were the one who gave me a lantern with a special message inside when we were kids?" 

Suo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "After you moved out, I was desperate to find you. I did, but you never spared me a glance. You were always so busy with chores, with life... and I was just a boy standing on the sidelines, watching."

His hands tightened around yours as he gently pulled you closer. "But apparently, I couldn’t stop thinking about you... even in the afterlife."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession sinking in. All this time, he had been holding onto memories of you, even as death claimed him. His wish, left unfulfilled in life, had somehow bound you two together in the strangest, most unexpected way.

He glanced at your family temple, where the spirits of your loved ones seemed to smile warmly at him. Even the white bunny was jumping around as if in celebration, as though the universe itself had conspired to reunite you two.

“So please give me a chance. I promise you that in the next life, whichever one of our many to come…I will always find you and love you.” you could feel it, you could see it, that he is really into you. Despite his interest in you all this time, it was strange to you that someone liked you, he saw you as more than the girl who did the dirty work of her parents.

But was it as easy as it sounded? To love him the way he loves you. In a week you had already seen it all and knew that there is no way to escape fate no matter what you do, no matter what life you live because what is written for you will happen unless you want to write your own story.

The boy you had left behind when life pulled you away. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized that,  you had always been connected despite the years and the distance.

"I remember you now," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "You were always there... and I forgot." A pang of guilt struck you, but Suo’s gentle smile reassured you that you hadn't done anything wrong.

"You didn’t forget," he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "Life just happened. But we were always meant to find each other again.”

The idea of destiny suddenly feels more real than ever before. It was as if fate had tied this entire journey tightly, leading you back to him—even in death. You couldn't deny it anymore. You were bound to him, not just by circumstance, but by something deeper that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to unfold like the lantern lights during a festival.

Suo leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” He asked but your heart raced, your hands trembling as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, as you couldn’t tell him yes. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, one that sealed the connection between your two worlds, between your souls. In that tender moment, everything seemed to make sense, and the talisman on Suo's hat glowed faintly, the word "爱" (love) appearing under the bright sun with that striking crimson color.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your face was burning as you couldn’t see but were sure that you were redder than the color red. "I can’t believe my first kiss was with a zombie," you said, still holding onto his hands.

He chuckled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. How that was even possible when his blood circulation should have been stopped, you didn’t know—after all, he wasn’t technically alive but you found yourself not caring anymore. Why should you care when the person in front of you really loves you and proves it? It was him. That was all that mattered.

"Well," he said, smiling down at you and squeezing your hands "here I am, having my first kiss with a living person." You both laughed, hands intertwined, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the garden. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to marry someone like him, it would be more interesting, especially since you have to balance two worlds now. You had nothing to lose, but you wanted to spend more time alone with him, to remember the boy who was once a part of your life and now will be with you forever.

Remember the dead even when they appear for you with a marriage proposal. Because there is something to see and hear, but mostly to feel. And he felt too alive when you started running towards the exit of the garden as he looked back to see the spirits of your family cheering and dancing with joy and your grandmother looked at him with that warm smile she only showed to you. Suo would be curious how his family would react if they too would hold a banquet in the world of the dead because…

“You are a blessing to my family.”

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @heartkaji @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary and special thanks to @kiurona for suggesting the idea and working with me and @nyxypoo for doing a beat read

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[guiltyasdave]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

[moonselune]

By the Silk That Binds us

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one, part two

CW: Gore, feminine drow reader

This is a pure indulgent fic inspired by @mimetoist 's request, I had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it though recognise there's a lot of lore here making it hard to leave up to people's individual interpretation/preference. Also I have been very flexible with the already in place drow lore, and have mainly made my own but hey ho that's what fanfic is for

⋆.˚✰ Minthara ⋆.˚✰

Matron Minthara Baenre stood amidst the ruins of House Liakyre, her blade gleaming with the blood of those who had dared to stand against her. The women of the house had been slaughtered, their screams now a haunting echo in the silent halls. Kyorlin and Lesaonar Liakyre, the last of their line, knelt before her, their heads bowed in resignation.

"Your blood will purge Baenre of any weakness," Minthara declared, her voice cold and unwavering as she lifted her blade, ready to deliver the final blow to the twins. House Liakyre had helped House Baenre in an hour of need and in the future that Minthara had for her house, no history of weakness could be permitted to live.

But just as the blade was about to descend, the bells of Menzoberranzan rang out, their peals announcing the new rankings. Minthara ignored them with a perfected arrogance, she knew her house would remain where it had been for centuries, at the top. Though to Minthara's shock, Kyorlin and Lesaonar began to shake, not in fear, but in laughter, a sound that filled the bloodied room with bitter irony.

"Why do you laugh?" Minthara demanded, her confusion mounting as she lowered her blade, but they did not answer. However, before Minthara could raise her blade once more to cease their apparent joy, one of her servants, pale and trembling, hurried to her side.

"Matron, you must come outside, immediately`.There is something you need to see." The murmured, the voice shaking in unbridled fear.

Reluctantly, Minthara followed the servant out into the open, glaring at the twins with a vengeful promise. She walked briskly with the servant towards the balcony, a few bodies strewn across it. The rankings were displayed prominently, and to her expectation, House Baenre remained at the top. What she did not expect was directly beneath it was the name she thought she had literally just eradicated: House Liakyre.

She spun back and stormed over to the twins, fury blazing in her eyes. "How is this possible?" she screamed. "Your house is decimated! Your women all lay breathless!"

Kyorlin, still laughing, met her gaze with a cold smile and leaned towards his brother. "Say, Lesaonar, how fortunate it was that our sister's handmaiden looked so similar to her. Anyone could mistake her corpse for our dear sister's."

"How right you are Kyorlin, how irritating would it be for some vengeful matron if she survived? Alive all along." Lesaonar wheezed out, his lungs battered from the beating he had received just moments prior.

Minthara's fury turned into a tempest and she lunged for Lesaonar, lifting him up by his bloodied robe. She knew immediately who they were referring to, you, the fifth daughter of the House of Liakyre, the only one she had not slain with her bare hands. "Where is she? Where is your sister?"

Before either of them could respond, a frantic messenger approached, bowing as low as they possibly could so not to direct her rage unto themselves. "Matron Minthara, you are summoned to the High Priestess's chambers. The Liakyre brothers are to accompany you - alive and harmed no further."

Minthara unceremoniously dropped Lesaonar to the floor, and motioned for her convoy to depart. Not before, however, she set the remains of House Liakyre on fire. Kyorlin and Lesaonar barely got out in time, and they only had moments to mourn before they were fetched by the High Priestess' servants themselves. Seemingly having predicted that Minthara would not assist them in their journey to the temple.

Her mind seething with rage and confusion as Minthara marched to the High Priestess's chambers. She burst in, with no respect for the authority before her, her anger barely contained. "What is the meaning of this?"

The High Priestess, seated with an air of calm authority, gestured for Minthara to hush. "Matron Baenre, calm yourself. You may be Matron but even you still bow to our sacred customs."

Minthara bit her tongue and bowed to the High Priestess in formal greeting, she was still Lolth's favoured after all. Minthara's bloodied armour dripped onto the polished marble floor and she was overall dishevelled. She then began to pace, an unfortunate habit she picked when she was unable to contain her rage.

"I apologise, High Priestess, but please may you enlighten me why I have been summoned here? I have much more urgent matters to attend to-"

"-Like the assassination of Y/N Liakyre?" The High Priestess interrupted and Minthara stood still. She turned to the High Priestess and her scowl intensified, she had an instinctual feeling that something was very much the matter, if the High Priestess was involved. The High Priestess smirked and gestured for Minthara to sit, reluctantly, she did.

"Minthara, I warned you when you started this campaign to purge House Baenre of any history of weakness, to disturb the delicate web of the foundation your family has thrived upon, that history would come back to disturb you." The High Priestess looked upon Minthara with a sense of twisted satisfaction. "It seems it finally it has."

"What do you mean?" Minthara gritted out, and the High Priestess handed over a piece of old parchment, a contract. Though the way it shimmered in the light, Minthara realised it was no ordinary contract, it was a binding vow. Minthara picked it up with a dreadful distaste and a pit formed in her stomach.

"That is a binding vow between House Baenre and House Liakyre, made between the respective Matrons from over a dozen centuries ago." The High Priestess began to explain, "It states that in return for House Liakyre's sole trade of their weaponized silk in the war against House Oblodra, House Baenre offers their protection and as security, if their house was ever brought to near ruin by their descendents' hands, and to ensure Liakyre's survival they promise a union between Liakyre's highest ranking surviving member and their highest ranking member."

"You cannot be serious-"

"As you have not yet married, that makes you, Matron Minthara Baenre the highest ranking member of Baenre and Y/N Liakyre the highest ranking of Liakyre. By this binding vow and Lolth's will, you two shall marry." The High Priestess announced, before taking a lower tone, "And no further harm may come upon House Liakyre, you cannot kill your way out of this Minthara."

Minthara sat there stunned, yet not in silence, "This is ridiculous."

"It is, as who would ever bring a house to near ruin and allow a survivor to bring forward such an ancient and specific binding." The High Priestess said venomously towards Minthara, though there was an undeniable smugness behind her words.

"That means she's here in Menzoberranzen she is-"

"-She is right here, Matron Baenre," You said as you stepped into the room, and the air stilled at your presence. "or rather, my betrothed."

Minthara stood up at the sound of your voice and turned to you. There you stood, alive and breathing. She covered her astonishment with a smirk and straightened herself out.

"If I knew I was meeting my betrothed today I would have washed their families viscera off my armour first," Minthara spoke to you with restrained contempt. "Apologies for your loss,"

"Worry not, if they were felled by the likes of you then they were deserving of death." Your insult did not go over Minthara's head and she tightly smiled at you. You stepped towards her. "I believe a formal introduction is required, I am Y/N Liakyre, remaining daughter of House Liakyre."

"I am Matron Minthara Baenre, Matron of house Baenre." Minthara introduced herself and the two of you bowed in recognition.

With a cold nod, you addressed the High Priestess. "High Priestess, may I summon my brothers? Considering they will be part of the Baenre household, it is only fitting for Minthara to meet them."

The High Priestess waved her hand in assent, and a servant was dispatched to bring Kyorlin and Lesaonar. Moments later, the doors to the chamber opened, and your brothers entered, their expressions a mix of defiance and unease. They had barely escaped death at Minthara's hands mere hours ago, and now they were expected to meet her as members of the same household.

Kyorlin, with his head held high, and Lesaonar, with a wary glance at Minthara, approached. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the echoes of the recent violence still fresh in the air.

Minthara's eyes narrowed as she regarded them, the memory of her blade poised over them still vivid. "These are your brothers?" she asked, her tone icy.

"Yes," you replied, stepping beside them. "This is Kyorlin and Lesaonar Liakyre. As my kin, they are now under House Baenre's protection."

Kyorlin gave a curt nod, his jaw set in a firm line. "Matron Baenre," he said, his voice steady but guarded.

Lesaonar, more cautious, managed a strained smile. "Matron Baenre," he greeted, though his eyes flickered with the memory of his near-death experience.

The High Priestess watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "It is good that you all meet now. The future of your houses depends on your ability to work together."

Minthara's lip curled in a faint sneer. "Yes, of course," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to House Baenre."

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent standoff between old enemies forced into an uneasy alliance. Your brothers, though wary, stood their ground, determined not to show weakness before Minthara.

After a moment, Minthara sighed, a gesture of reluctant acceptance. "Very well. If this is what Lolth wills, then so be it. But do not think for a moment that I will forget the past."

"Nor will we," you replied calmly, meeting her gaze head-on. "But we will do what is necessary for the future."

The High Priestess rose, signaling the end of the audience. "Remember, Minthara, Y/N, this union is blessed by Lolth herself. You will honor it, and through it, strengthen Menzoberranzan. Now go, and prepare for your wedding. The city awaits your union."

As you and your brothers moved into the grand, imposing halls of House Baenre, the reality of your new life began to sink in. The opulence of the Baenre estate was a stark contrast to the smoldering ruins of House Liakyre. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the glorious history of the Baenre family, and the air was thick with the scent of power.

Minthara, however, made no effort to hide her disdain. She ignored your presence whenever possible, her cold indifference a constant reminder of her intent to make your life difficult. She left you and your brothers to navigate the labyrinthine corridors on your own, offering no assistance or guidance.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar, though wary, adjusted to their new surroundings with a surprising ease. They were determined to make the most of their second chance, throwing themselves into their studies and training with a renewed vigor. The opportunities at House Baenre were unparalleled, and they were determined to excel, if only to honor the memory of their fallen family.

One evening, as you were unpacking in your new quarters, Minthara appeared in the doorway, her presence casting a long shadow across the room.

"Do not think for a moment that you are welcome here," she hissed, her eyes blazing with barely concealed rage. "I will make your life as hard as possible, Y/N Liakyre. You may be under my roof, but you will never be one of us."

Before you could respond, a soft knock on the door interrupted the tense silence. A young acolyte, dressed in the ceremonial robes of the High Priestess, stepped into the room. She bowed deeply, her demeanor respectful but resolute.

"Matron Minthara Baenre," the acolyte began, her voice calm and clear, "I bring a message from the High Priestess. She has sent me to ensure that the union between House Baenre and House Liakyre goes smoothly, and that Y/N Liakyre is treated appropriately."

Minthara's expression darkened, her anger palpable. "And what exactly does the High Priestess deem 'appropriate'?" she spat, her gaze never leaving yours.

The acolyte met Minthara's glare with a serene smile. "She means that Y/N Liakyre is to be treated with the respect due to a member of House Baenre. Any attempt to undermine or mistreat her will be seen as a direct affront to the High Priestess and to Lolth herself."

Minthara's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. The acolyte turned to you, her smile warm and reassuring. "If you require anything, Y/N, do not hesitate to ask. The High Priestess has instructed me to be at your service."

"Thank you," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I appreciate your assistance."

The acolyte bowed once more and left the room, leaving you alone with Minthara. The silence between you was thick with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

"Do not think this changes anything," Minthara said finally, her voice low and dangerous. "You may have the High Priestess's protection, but that does not mean you will have an easy life here."

"I never expected it to be easy," you replied calmly. "But I will not be intimidated, Minthara. I will do what is necessary to honor my house and our union, regardless of your efforts to make it otherwise."

Minthara's lips curled into a sneer, but she said nothing more. She turned on her heel and left the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenges ahead. The path would be difficult, but you were determined to navigate it with strength and grace.

As the days passed, the acolyte's presence served as a constant reminder of the High Priestess's watchful eye. Minthara's attempts to make your life difficult were met with quiet resistance.

A few nights later the grand hall of House Baenre was lavishly decorated for your engagement ball. The air was filled with the mingling scents of exotic perfumes, the sounds of laughter and whispered conversations, and the soft strains of enchanting music. Drow nobles, dressed in their finest attire, moved about the room like shadows, their eyes ever-watchful and calculating.

You entered the hall, your presence drawing immediate attention. Your dress, crafted from the finest spider silk, shimmered in the dim light, the intricate patterns woven into the fabric telling the story of House Liakyre's storied past. Your hair was adorned with delicate jewels, and around your neck, a bejewelled necklace you had managed to retrieve from your mother's corpse.

Minthara watched you from across the room, her eyes narrowing as she suppressed the unbidden surge of attraction that your appearance invoked. She was dressed in her battle regalia, polished and gleaming, a stark contrast to your delicate finery. Her jaw tightened as she saw the way others looked at you, their admiration clear. She had never felt such conflicting emotions before—pride in your elegance and skill, and an unwilling envy at the attention you garnered.

As the evening progressed, it was time for the traditional engagement tasks, meant to prove the devotion and compatibility of the betrothed. Minthara and you were called to the center of the hall, where a hush fell over the crowd. The first task was announced: together, you were to take down a Hook Horror, a fierce creature known for its deadly claws and tenacity. The task was designed to test not just your combat prowess, but your ability to work as a team.

The creature was released into a large, circular arena set up within the hall, its monstrous form towering and menacing. Its chitinous exoskeleton gleamed under the torches, and its eyes glinted with a predatory intelligence. The crowd watched with bated breath, eager to see how the new alliance would handle such a challenge.

Minthara stepped forward confidently, her blade already drawn. "Stay back," she said with a smirk, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'll handle this. Just take a seat and look pretty."

Before Minthara could advance, you moved with a speed and precision that left the audience gasping. You drew a length of your house’s enchanted silk, a weapon as beautiful as it was deadly. With a flick of your wrist, the silk looped around the Hook Horror's neck. The creature let out a guttural roar, thrashing about in an attempt to free itself, but your grip was unyielding. With a swift, practiced motion, you tightened the garrote, the silk slicing through the thick exoskeleton as if it were mere cloth. In a final, fluid movement, you decapitated the Hook Horror, its head thudding to the ground with a sickening finality.

The hall was silent for a moment, stunned by the efficiency and lethality of your actions. Then, a murmur of approval and admiration swept through the crowd. Minthara stood there, her blade still raised, a mixture of surprise and frustration on her face. She had underestimated you, and now, in front of everyone, you had proven your worth beyond doubt.

You turned to Minthara, your expression calm and composed. "I believe that completes the task," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Minthara sheathed her blade, forcing a tight smile. "Indeed," she replied, trying to mask her irritation. "You have proven yourself quite capable."

As the evening continued, the tension between you and Minthara was palpable. Yet, there was also a grudging respect growing between you, derived from the recognition of each other's strengths. Minthara couldn't deny the skill and poise you had displayed, and while it irked her to no end, it also intrigued her.

[harunayuuka2060]

Idia: *trying to hide his face with his hoodie*

Grandma MC: Are you alright, son? *has gone to the supermarket with him*

Idia: Yes, Granny. Um... People are just staring at me enviously, especially the hunks. What if they approach and beat me up?

Grandma MC: Oh, why would they do that? You are a handsome and kind boy. Unless they're a bully, of course. *smiling*

Grandma MC: If that does happen, Granny will protect you.

Idia: No thanks, Granny. I say we run instead of fighting. That's our best option.

Grandma MC: *chuckles* If you say so, son.

*A random man approaches them.*

The random man: Hi, miss. You look beautiful like the summer breeze. Would you be interested in having a dinner date with me? *winks then smiles*

Idia: ...

Idia: *pulls out the pan they bought and hits the man with it*

The random man: *falls to the ground*

Grandma MC: Oh dear.

Idia: ...

Idia: Oops. Let's run now, Granny! Quick!

Grandma MC: *laughs heartily as he drags her away*

Malleus: I'm proud of you, Shroud.

Vil: We didn't expect you are also this overprotective.

Idia: *annoyed* Look. I had no choice, okay? The guy cringed me enough.

Malleus and Vil: *laughs*

Grandma MC: *talking to Ortho*

Grandma MC: Idia will be a fine husband someday.

Ortho: You think so, Granny?

Grandma MC: *smiles* Yes. I hope I get to see him marry someone he loves.

Ortho: That's... still in the distant future, Granny.

Grandma MC: Oh, is it? *chuckles*

Grandma MC: It doesn't matter. Everyone can walk on their own pace.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: Granny, because of the Sundrop flower, you're going to have a longer life. Right?

Grandma MC: *smiles* My grandchild, I only wished from the flower to make me young on my remaining years.

Ortho: Huh? But...

Grandma MC: Please don't tell the others for now. And don't be sad. This Granny has better plans for herself. *smiles reassuringly*

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *smiles* Okay, Granny.

Idia: Ortho? What are you and Granny discussing there?

Vil: They might be making fun of you, Idia. *smirks*

Idia: No way. Granny's like an angel. Isn't that right, Granny?

Grandma MC: *smiles* I was just telling Ortho of how happy I would be if I see you get married someday.

Idia: ...

Idia: I'm sorry for disappointing you, Granny. But I don't see that ever happening.

Ortho: Idia, you can't just predict the future like that.

Idia: It is. My goal in life is to live with cats, to be honest.

Vil: Maybe we should ask Leona if he has a relative a bit younger than him to introduce to Idia.

Idia: Hey, stop that!

Grandma MC: *chuckles*

Malleus: How about me, Granny? I don't mind getting married sooner. Just so I could fulfill your wish.

Grandma MC: That's also fine. But marry someone you love and someone who values you as much as you do to them.

Grandma MC: Don't rush this kind of important decision. *smiles*

Idia: See? Granny is the only one sensible here. You all are bragging just because you're not an introvert like me.

Vil: Oh shut up, Idia.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; a low-key occasion (pt II)

For the prompt: Stephen Petersen, Bridezilla

Follows from here.

“Unbelievable,” Stephen says. “What are they thinking?”

Gabe’s tired. He just wants to veg in front of the TV with his bento box and his fiancé, but even though Stephen’s supposed to be picking the movie right now, he’s scowling down at his phone instead, his expression the one Gabe can only describe as ‘wedding face’. Gabe’s started to feel dread every time he sees it, and today’s no exception, though tired still narrowly beats it out. “Who is ‘they’?”

“They can’t truly believe that this is an acceptable substitute for our napkins,” Stephen says.

“Wait?” Gabe says. “Substitute? What happened to the original ones?”

“They discontinued the colour,” Stephen huffs. “Of course.”

“They discontinued white?” Gabe asks. “How do you discontinue white?”

“Alabaster,” Stephen says. “Not white.”

“Steve,” Gabe says.

“That’s what it’s called!” Stephen says. “And look what they want us to use instead!”

Gabe is suddenly blinking at a picture of white napkins on Stephen's screen. Presumably they’re different than the napkins they originally picked, but if Stephen hadn’t told Gabe that, he doubts he would have known. They look like napkins. White ones.

“They look fine,” he says.

“This looks fine to you?” Stephen says, shoving his phone in Gabe’s face. “This?”

It’s honestly harder to see with Stephen’s screen an inch from his eye, but —

“Yes?” Gabe says.

“Ridiculous,” Stephen says, yanking the phone away. “At this point it’s getting easier to list the things they haven’t fucked up about my wedding day.”

“It’s my wedding too,” Gabe says, though honestly, that’s feeling less and less true lately. “Are you going to pick a movie, or—“

“I’m not in the mood anymore,” Stephen says,

Of course he isn’t.

“I need my laptop,” Stephen says, springing up from the couch. “I’m sure they’re still available somewhere.”

“Dinner?” Gabe says, but Stephen just dismissively waves a hand at him on his way out of the room.

“They’re fucking napkins,” Gabe says, but very quietly. Stephen has exceptional hearing, especially if the topic involves him.

“Did you say something?” Stephen calls.

Exceptional.

This isn’t a battle Gabe’s willing to fight today. “You need to eat your dinner,” Gabe calls back, but, as he expected, silence is his only response.

“Well,” Gabe says, and grabs the remote, listlessly scrolling through options while he eats. He’s not in the mood anymore either.

~

“I have heard rumours,” Stephen says.

“Tell me!” Dmitry says. “I love rumours.”

“Rumours about you,” Stephen says.

“Even better!” Dmitry says.

Stephen’s mouth twists, and Gabe turns away. It’s not like Stephen doesn’t know he’s hiding a smile when he does it, but at least there’s some plausible deniability. Stephen’s usually fine with Gabe laughing at him, but not if other people are there to see him do it, even if it’s just Dima.

“Apparently,” Stephen says. “At my wedding, you are planning on making a speech.”

“Is my duty,” Dmitry says. “As Gabe’s best man.”

“We don’t—“ Stephen says.

Gabe can already hear the speech about how they don’t have any best men or maids of honour because this is not a traditional wedding and the people in their lives shouldn’t be arbitrarily ranked by — he can’t do it. He can’t listen to it again.

“Stephen,” Gabe says. “He’s baiting you.”

“I’m not!” Dmitry protests, but he does it with a smile.

Stephen takes a deep breath. Gabe’s half predicting Stephen’s preparing himself to give the spiel anyway, half hoping he’s finally listened to Gabe about about the numerous benefits of conscious breathing. Physical and psychological effects aside, if Stephen is focusing on taking deep breaths, he isn’t saying something he may later regret.

Or saying something that he won’t regret at all, but Gabe certainly will.

“What will be involved in your speech?” Stephen asks finally, after several deep breaths. Gabe’s proud of him.

“It’s a surprise,” Dmitry says, still grinning.

Gabe is less proud of Dmitry.

“See, no,” Stephen says, puffing right up. There are deep breaths being taken, but Gabe doesn’t think he’s exhaling them. “That is not acceptable. There will be no surprises on my wedding day. Our wedding day, jeez, Gabe.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Gabe says. Not even under his breath.

“You thought it,” Stephen says. “What’s going in the speech, Dmitry?”

“I haven’t actually decided yet, Stephen,” Dmitry says. “What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, you want me to help you write it?” Stephen asks. “I can do that.”

“I meant—“ Dmitry says, then looks over at Gabe as Stephen springs out of his chair, probably off to grab his laptop. “That is an English saying, yes? ‘What do you want me to say’?”

“Yep,” Gabe says.

“Stephen knows that saying?” Dmitry asks. "He is just pretending to misunderstand?"

“Yep,” Gabe says.

“He is about to write me a very boring speech,” Dmitry says glumly. “Isn’t he.”

Gabe takes a deep breath. He still hasn’t exhaled when Stephen returns, laptop in his arms.

“Okay,” Stephen says, sitting down. “So what sort of tone are we trying for with this speech? Comedy, I’m sure, but what sort? I know you like to play the buffoon, but—”

Dmitry looks at Gabe, presumably for help. What he doesn’t know is that Gabe can’t help him.

Gabe shuts his eyes, and takes another breath.

“Would you stop breathing, Gabriel!” Stephen says.

Gabe opens his eyes.

“Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” Stephen says.

“I am adding this to my speech,” Dmitry says. “I think it will get a big laugh.”

“I knew you had already started it!” Stephen says, spinning on him and pointing an accusing finger.

Gabe takes another breath.

[anniebeemine]

for @i-live-in-spite, hope you enjoy pookie

Every Saturday morning, you find yourself eagerly anticipating the sweet aroma of sizzling batter and maple syrup filling The Reid's kitchen. The ritual has become as comforting as it is predictable: you, Spencer, and his daughter, Naomi, transforming the kitchen into a cozy waffle-making haven.

Spencer stood beside her, watching carefully as she poured the batter. He would wince when he knocked the waffle off, pinching and dragging it onto a place. Naomi insisted she could do all of it herself. Spencer would have trusted her if he hadn't already let her make toast. He turned his back just in time to stop her from using a butter knife to unstick the bread from the sides.

For the past few months, you’ve become a cherished part of their weekend routine. Initially, you had been hesitant about embracing parenthood. Your life had been focused on other ambitions and dreams, and the idea of raising a child had never quite fit into your plans. But everything changed when you met Naomi.

The first time you saw Naomi, her wide eyes brimming with curiosity and mischief, something inside you shifted. Her energy was contagious, and her innocence, combined with her boundless curiosity, made you see life from a different perspective—a perspective filled with simple joys and profound connections.

You had been introduced to Naomi during a casual visit to Spencer’s apartment, and it didn’t take long for you to become enchanted by her vibrant spirit. You started coming over more often, eagerly joining in the Saturday morning breakfast preparations. The sight of Naomi’s ponytail bobbing as she decorated her waffles with a colorful array of toppings filled you with a sense of delight you hadn’t expected.

Today was no different. The apartment buzzed with the familiar clatter of kitchen utensils and the sound of laughter. Spencer, clad in his trusty apron, expertly flipped waffles while Naomi stood beside him, her own apron slightly askew as she focused intently on stirring the batter. She would occasionally adjust the chef's hat on her head.

You'd been instructed to take a seat at the kitchen table, a plastic fork in hand.

"Be our guest!" Naomi shouted when she opened the door to the apartment for you. She had placed her stuffed animals across the table, patting your leg and instructing you to chat. "They're nice. Pinky promise."

You did so, looking at the purple hippo. "I know right! This restaurant is so nice!" You pretended to wait for a response. "I'll have to try the quiche next time."

Naomi turned. "Who serves keys at a restaurant?" She asked.

Spencer panicked as her hand came dangerously close to the iron. "No, baby, quiche."

She looked up at him. "I don't get it." She thought about it. "Like capisce?"

Spencer chuckled softly at Naomi’s confusion, shaking his head as he continued to keep a watchful eye on the waffle iron. “Not quite, sweetheart. Quiche is a type of food—like a pie but with eggs and cheese. It’s really tasty.”

Naomi scrunched up her face, considering this new information as she carefully stirred the batter, her concentration evident in the way she moved the spoon in slow, deliberate circles. “I think I’ll stick to waffles,” she declared with the confidence only a six-year-old could muster.

Spencer gave you a sidelong glance, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re in for a treat, then. Naomi’s waffles are becoming famous around here.”

You laughed, glancing around at the stuffed animals arranged at the table. “Well, I’m honored to be in such esteemed company,” you said, nodding at the plush hippo, who seemed to be staring at you with its unblinking, beady eyes.

Naomi beamed with pride as she poured the last of the batter into the waffle iron, the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot plates filling the kitchen. “Okay, this one’s almost ready!” she announced, stepping back to let Spencer handle the final steps.

As the waffle iron clamped shut, Naomi turned to you with a serious expression. “Now, you have to wait patiently, okay? It’s almost done.”

You nodded solemnly, playing along. “I promise, I’ll be the best guest ever.”

She grinned, pleased with your cooperation, and skipped over to the table, where she began adjusting the positions of her stuffed animals, making sure everyone was seated properly. The sight of her so engrossed in her task tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how this little girl had managed to bring so much light into your life.

A few moments later, Spencer lifted the lid of the waffle iron, revealing a perfectly golden waffle, steam rising from its crisp edges. Naomi carefully carried it over to the table, her little hands steady as she placed the waffle on a plate. She took extra care to decorate it with a circle of whipped cream and a generous sprinkle of colorful sprinkles before presenting it to you with a proud smile.

“Here you go! A special heart waffle, just for you!” Naomi exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she watched your reaction.

"This looks delicious, Chef Naomi." You used the plastic fork to cut into it, struggling.

Naomi turned, pointing to the knife block. "Daddy, can we have the big knife?"

Spencer hummed. "How about a butter knife?" He said, handing her a dull one from the drawer.

You smiled warmly as Naomi carefully cut the waffle for you, her little hands holding the butter knife with determination. “You’re doing a great job, Chef Naomi,” you reassured her, watching as she expertly divided the waffle into neat sections, just like you always did for her.

Naomi looked up at you, a hint of frustration in her eyes as she handed the plate back to you. “I tried, Y/N. But Daddy doesn’t trust me with the big knife.”

Spencer chuckled softly from where he stood by the counter, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and protectiveness. “It’s not about trust, sweetheart. It’s about keeping you safe. Besides, you did an excellent job with the butter knife, didn’t you?”

Naomi pouted a little, clearly not entirely convinced, but the pride in her work won out. “Yeah, I guess so,” she admitted, her lips curving into a small smile as she watched you take another bite of the waffle.

You made a show of savoring the taste, closing your eyes as if you were in a fancy restaurant. “This is the best waffle I’ve ever had. I think Chef Naomi could open her own restaurant one day.”

Naomi’s eyes lit up at the compliment, her earlier frustration forgotten. “Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, nodding enthusiastically. “And I’d be your first customer.”

Spencer smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Naomi’s head. “And I’ll be the sous-chef,” he added, making her giggle.

The three of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing the breakfast that had become more than just a meal—it was a moment of connection, of love, and of building memories together. As you watched Naomi happily chat with her stuffed animals, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment.

This was what it meant to be part of a family, and you were grateful every day for the little chef who had shown you that.

Read more about Naomi and Spencer

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

↳ summary: you befriend a cat and somehow end up having to save new york in the process. or; a reader insert of season two episode twelve, of rats and men

↳ warnings: some mentions of violence, and one slight sexual innuendo

↳ notes: part two to this tmnt series that i'm doing. reader is autistic and a bitch. again, it can be read as a stand alone, but it's more enjoyable if you read these in order. once again, mainly a reader insert with a slight lean to a budding relationship between donnie & reader. can be with any other turtle if you want

↳ song: turtle power—partners in kryme

part one | next part | masterlist! | commissions! | carrd

"I know they said that pizza was gluten free, but I definitely tasted gluten."

The cold wind of a New York afternoon nipped at your heels as you meandered down the sidewalk, three figures in tow. Rocks and stray bits of litter dotted the crooked sidewalk, occasionally brushing an untied shoestring of yours.

It was the weekend. A time when school was at the back of your mind and pizza in the front. You had been called up by April this morning whilst lounging in bed, a sense of urgency in her voice as she invited you out with her and Casey for lunch. From the sound of it, she had been asked on a not-date-date again and was relying on you to break the ice. And since you were such a good friend, you changed out of your ratty pajamas to catch up, cursing teenage love under your breath all the way.

It was only after pulling up to Antonio's with a blank expression that you'd saw Irma loitering outside at the same time, tossing a limp wave to her as you both headed in to join your collective friends. Predictably, Casey hadn't been very happy to see either of you, and you responded by politely sticking him with the bill.

Now the four of you were walking aimlessly. Not in the direction of anyone's apartment, which was to assume that you knew where Irma lived. Which you didn't. You weren't sure you were on that level of friendship with her; or any level of friendship really.

Caseys bike ached and creaked with age as he pushed it along beside him. Occasionally you'd find yourself looking back at it, as if expecting it to fall to pieces at any moment. You wonder how long he'd had it for; and why he insited on bringing it along with him if he thought this would have been a romantic getaway. Maybe he was hoping to go on a couples ride or something. The thought of it made you smile wryly.

"Thanks for hanging out with us on our date, Irma." Casey cleared his throat, sending a dry look the purple haired girls way. "We really needed a chaperone."

At that last bit he sent a pointed look April's way, who whistled as she pretended to hear nothing.

"Anything I can do to help." Irma responded, nonplussed.

"Who said that was supposed to be a date, Jones?" You questioned whilst playing with your hoodie strings. "Pretty sure I heard April call it a hang out when she asked me to come."

You heard the squeak of his bike hesitate before continuing, most likely taking your words with a grain of salt.

He might have responded to your poking with some of his own, if a sudden shadow hadn't darted out onto the sidewalk, stopping Casey dead in his tracks.

The beady red eyes of a rat stared curiously at you all as the hockey player jumped three feet in the air, immediately pushing his bike out in front of him as a makeshift barrier. It skittered off once deciding you weren't of any use, dissapearing down a sewer drain.

"I can't belive someone as big as you is afraid of a little rat!" Irma smirked. Or smiled. You could never tell with her. Casey just frowned in response, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well I can't belive that rat was afraid of this adorable kitty!" April kneeled to the ground inbetween Casey and Irma's bickering, picking up a mangy tabby that looked like it had seen better days. It yowled a little at her touch, squirming uncomfortably. You hadn't seen the animal before, but now there was no doubt in your mind that that's what the rat was running from.

"Give it here." You held your hand out to April, then hesitated and repeated yourself in a more softer tone. She looked at the cat and then you before shrugging, handing it over.

Immediately after securing your hold, you picked it up by the scruff. It's fussing ceased, and you took the moment to run a hand down it's neck, all the way to the back of it's tail. After a moment or two, it began to purr like a well oiled machine, leaning into you.

"Wow! You're really good with animals." April awed with her hands clasped.

"Not really. Raph tried to kill me when I first met him." You offhandedly mentioned, still running a concentrated hand down the cats back.

"Who's Raph? Is that your dog?"

You stilled as Casey and April exchanged nervous looks. No one answered Irma's question for a second, surely garnering suspicion from the fourth party.

"Uh, sure Irma. My dog."

"Hm." She pushed her glasses up and squinted at you. "What breed is he?"

You blinked. Your hand came down on the cat a bit harsher this time, resulting in a hiss to sound.

"He's a poodle!" April cut in. "Now can we get a move on? It's getting kind of cold." She looked happy to change the subject, even faking a shiver for effect.

"Sure. Your place this time April?" Irma said as she smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles along her skirt.

"Actually, I was hoping me and Red here could head off. You know. Alone." Casey slung an arm around April with a less than genuine gap toothed smile.

"If alone means with me and April, then yeah." You didn't miss the way April tossed you thankful look as you spoke. "We've got to find some place for this cat, and I'm not exactly fond of bringing it home to my parents. They've already got their hands full with, er, Raph."

Irma stared at you all unimpressed. April tossed her a sheepish smile while hopping on the back of Casey's bike; the former looking happy at the premise of her holding his waist. You just rolled your eyes.

"Sure. I'll walk beside you guys. No biggie."

"Hey, did you want to be the one to hold onto Casey's back?"

"Nevermind. Carry on."

The three of you parted from Irma, tossing seperate waves of your own back at the girl as she grew farther away. Her deadpan look never once faded.

"So. We're all thinking of bringing this to the guys, right?"

April and you nodded at Casey, immediately steering towards the closest alleyway as soon as Irma could no longer be seen. The cat stiffened in your arms at the change in scenery. With a gentle whisper to settle down, you scratched behind its ears. A cough was the thing to break you out of the little trance.

"Having fun you two?" Casey said smugly. You glared at him as he parked his bike and leaned it against an alley wall.

"Stuff it, Jones." You flipped him off the best you could with a cat in your arms, starting forward to where April was wrestling with the manhole.

None of you heard the distant scream as you slid the cover open, sliping into total darkness.

You had come to expect an overwhelming greeting anytime you showed up.

Mikey launched himself out of Donnie's lab the second he'd heard your voice. Nevermind that you were talking with Leo, nodding your approval at the showing of Space Heros on TV. You weren't even sure that Mikey registered that. Once he had his sights set on something, he was like a missile. A very loud very playful missile.

No sooner than stepping a foot into the living room, you were tackled with a exhale of air, falling over while somehow managing to keep the cat from clawing your face off. An impressive feat if you do say so yourself.

"You're back!" Mikey screamed your name, hitting his forehead on your chest with a frantic smile. "We thought we'd scared you off!"

After a few weak growls for him to 'get the fuck of of me Michelangelo', you stood up and brushed yourself off. Mikey bounced excitedly all around you, thankfully not touching. You might have kicked him if he did.

"Dont worry bud. It'll take a lot more than just some mushrooms to get rid of me." You eventually answered, looking very unsurprised for someone that had just been tackled by two hundered pounds of turtle.

"Yeah! I bet you eat mushrooms for breakfast!" Mikey struck a very crude ninja pose. Something that almost made you laugh, considering he was an actual ninja.

"That's what humans do, Mikey. They literally eat mushrooms with their breakfast." Leo called from the couch. You couldn't see his face from where you were standing, but you could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice.

"Oh."

"I know what you meant. Don't worry dude." You waved it off. Mikeys smile returned in no time flat, and you could see questions about the cat bubbling in his throat as he moved on. You were quick to start moving, not really up for a tirade of questions at the moment.

The turtle skipped after you as you headed in the direction of Donatello's lab. His door was still ajar from when Mikey had sprung out of it, and you could hear the faint clinking of lab equipment drifting from it.

"Did anyone order a flea infested cat?" You said as you strolled in, ignoring the many warning signs plastered around the room screaming at you to not enter.

You watched as Donnie looked up from whatever he was doing with a glowing green beaker, face breaking out into a smile at the sight of you. For a moment you did your best attempt to smile back, and it seemed to only increase the size of his. At least before his eyes dropped to the animal you were holding.

"Hey hey hey! Don't bring that thing in here!" His arms immediately shot out to cover any of the open substances he was dealing with. You paid no mind to him, just strolling over to the opposite side of his desk and leaning against it.

"What. The cat or Mikey?"

"Both!"

"Hey!" Mikey whined and pouted at you, still evidently hot on your trail. You snickered, continuing your stroking of the cat that had haulted earlier.

Donnie took one more look between you and the stray before sighing. He seemingly gave up before turning back to his work, probably glad you were entertaining Mikey for a bit. It always seemed to go that way when you came down here.

"So Mike." You watched Mikey stick his tounge out at you at the nickname and you mirrored him. "How do you feel about getting a new pet?"

"Seriously!" He gasped. Donnie stiffened from where he was sitting but didn't turn around.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "We found him up top, and he seems to be tame enough. You might want to make sure he gets some shots though. For worms and all."

You knew everything you were saying was going one ear and out the other for Michelangelo as he reached out to pluck the cat from your arms.

"Aww look at you!" He gushed before proceeding to spout ooey gooey nonsense at the animal. You faked vomiting.

"And Donnie?" You yawned as you felt the after effects of lunch taking hold of you, stretching your arms above your head. "Before you ask, yes, April's here."

You didn't even need to turn around to know that the crashing sound was probably Donnie falling out of his chair with a dopey smile.

"So is Casey." You finished with a slight smirk. Looking back, Donnie glared at you as he pulled himself up, cheeks still tinted red.

"You just had to add that part in last didn't you?"

"Save the best for last as they say!" The confident call of Casey came from the doorway. You looked over to see him leaning against it, trying his best to look what he most likey thought was cool as April strolled right past him.

"Hey my dudes!" Mikey popped up from somewhere behind you to wave frantically at them. He was holding ice cream for some reason now. You'd learned not to question his ways a long time ago.

"I see you've already introduced them to the little guy we found on the streets." April smiled. You rolled your eyes as Donatello made heart eyes at her, stuttering something out about how charitable she was.

"Can we keep her Donnie?" An excited Mikey squealed.

"You know, Master Splinter is a rat." The question from his brother seemed to snap some temporary sense into Donatello, turning in place to cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah! What if that cat goes nuts and attacks him? She'll feed off his body for months!"

"Thanks for the visual, Casey." You walked over to flick him on the crown of his head. A few panicked noises and thumps came from behind you, but you were too busy relishing in the look on Casey's face to notice.

"Alright, well you guys have fun. I'm going to raid your fridge." You stuffed your hands in your pockets and rocked on the balls of your feet. Faintly, you noticed Mikey rush out of the room with something in his hands.

"But we just ate?" April tilted her head at you. You smiled at her without any real emotion.

"I never said I was going to eat anything. Just save it for later."

"I guess I'll come with you." Donnie looked at the wall above you, no doubt checking the time. "I could use a break."

"Sure." You shrugged and turned. "You guys going to stick around or—" The last bit was directed at Casey and April, but they just shook their head and began to follow you out. On the way to the kitchen you were all joined by Leo and Raph, eventually reaching the kitchen table.

"Mikey, please for the love of god stop making out with the fridge." You didn't spare anyone a second look before balancing on your tip toes to open a cabinet. Rustling around, you came up with a bag of marshmallows. Letting a celebratory smile loose, you stuffed it in your hoodie pocket for later.

"Master? Are you okay?"

You turned around. True to Leo's question, Splinter was lumbering into the room. And not looking to hot. You noticed he lacked his usual poise. Instead, he was slouching and blinking slowly. He looked groggy, and you wondered for a moment if mutant rats could have nightmares.

"I need ice for my head." He mummbled. "And also. Possibly a cheese-sicle."

"Cheese-sicle?" You asked Casey from the corner of your mouth. He shook his head with a look that told you he knew about as much as you did.

"No sensei! You can't!"

All of you watched as Mikey slammed the freezer door on Splinter. The speed of it took even you by surprise. Either he had become self aware of the cost of electricity, or Mikey'd lost his mind.

"No?" The room seemed to ice over with the amount of coldness in Splinters voice. Your eyes grew big, and you resisted the urge to start snacking on the marshmallows like a bag of popcorn at the movies.

"You tell me no?" Splinter was hissing now. Any joke you would have made flown out the kitchen. Much like Mikey's body as Splinter sent a punch to his plastron.

"Jesus fucking christ!" You scrambled back, your cry getting lost in everyone else's as they yelled with surprise.

Splinter lowered to his arms and legs like a feral animal, and you managed to get a glimpse at his eyes. Normally, they were the exact same color as Donnie's. But now, they were covered in a sharp red film. Much like the rat that had crossed your path not too long ago on the surface.

Everyone scrambled in different directions as Splinter launched himself around the room. You included. You found yourself up on top of the fridge somehow, looking down with eyes as big as saucers at the scene before you. The thought of the tazer you carry with you crossed your mind, but you immediately felt guilty afterward. This was Master Splinter. The one who had made you feel the safest down here after meeting them. And you had just contemplated shocking him.

You didn't have long to feel guilty though. The turtles all eventually wised up and lunged at their master, pinning all four of his limbs to the kitchen table with difficulty. He continued to writhe violently, and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck.

"Would it help if I jumped onto his chest?" You yelled out, trying to find some way to help. You were met with an astounding amount of no's as an answer.

A few more moments of grunting and struggling played out before you. It didn't take long for Splinter, or whatever had taken his place, to gain the upper hand. Kicking everyone away, he sprung up onto his legs again.

"I have got what I came for." A slight echo tinged his voice. "Soon New York, then the world, will be mine!"

It was then he collapsed, and you finally allowed yourself to clamber down from the top of the fridge. Dust littered the bottom of your arms and legs from how you had been clinging onto it.

"Master, are you okay?" Leonardo was the first to approach him. April next, asking the same exact thing. Splinter grunted lowly in response. You waited with baited breath from him to open his eyes.

You let out a sigh when he did. They were back to brown again.

"The Rat King." Splinter uttered somberly. "He has returned."

You noticed everyone but Casey exchange looks with each other, looking very disturbed at this news.

A brief moment of silence. You blinked twice before speaking.

"The rat who?"

The lair's TV screen blared in front of you. Images of giant rats crossed the screen, and your eyes were trained on a very shrewd looking blonde reporter.

You and Casey had been filled in durring the amount of time it took to help Splinter from the kitchen counter to the living room. Tales of mind control, scientists turned into monkeys, and thousands of rats danced around in your head. You looked no worse than Casey at the news, who had done a horrible job at containing his horror when learning about a literal rat army.

You had barely begun to wonder how the news was still on air when a rat launched itself at the reporter. She dropped to the ground with a scream, and the feed cut to static before you were able to see if she was okay.

"Why did it have to be giant rats." Casey moaned as he flopped onto the couch.

"Er, maybe you should sit this one out Casey." April suggested with a wince. Beside you Donatello allowed himself a smile.

"Do you think tazers could take those things down?" You half heartedly asked no one in particular. Raph crossed his arms and shook his head in your peripheral. You slumped from your spot on the floor with a frown. He patted your shoulder hesitantly. Maybe you could kick them to death instead.

"Donnie, are you sure you can't build a giant mouse trap?"

"Please don't subject my intelligence to something so meaningless." Donnie said your name, rolling his eyes as he messed with his t-phone.

"I bet you'd do it if April asked." You spoke into your hand, not caring if he heard. You heard Mikey laugh at that from somewhere in the distance. If he was anywhere near you, you would have offered him a high-five at the backup.

"Alright guys." Leo now was standing in the center of you all with his hands on his hips. He was doing what you called his Captian Ryan pose, and the sight of it made the corner of your lips twitch into a small smile. If you had to bet, he was probably imagining himself as the fictional character right now.

Master Splinter stood off to the side, watching his son. His own mouth was pulled into a tight line, and he looked the most serious you had seen him in a while. You took one more moment to study him before slowly turning back to Leo.

"I have an idea."

If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that the turtles definitely did not have a driver's license.

A helmet clunked noisily against your head as you raced through downtown New York City. Rain pelted your vision, and you really regretted not asking for a pair of sunglasses ahead of time.

A four person race-cart sat beneath you, the seats filled by you, April, Donnie and Raph. The latter was driving, occasionally making sharp turns that would send you and Donnie clashing against each other respectively. You accidentally nailed him straight in his shell at one point, and now your elbow was throbbing something awful.

Screams floated to you from behind the cart. You knew if you turned your head, you'd see Mikey holding onto a rope and shouting his shell off, skating like his life depended on it. Which, technically, you guess it did.

The final piece de resistance was the giant foam cheese hat strapped to the top of his head. While you got fitted with an orange helmet that smelled faintly of pizza and sweat, he had been wrestled to the ground and forced to wear the yellow abomination. Apparently he was to be the bait for the giant rats, something that you got the feeling happened very often with him. The bait part you mean. Not giant rats. That was only a two time thing.

Casey was biking around somewhere a few blocks off, hitting stray mutants in the snout with his trusty hockey sticks. The only reason you knew he was still alive and kicking was the faint sounds of shrill screams bouncing off surrounding buildings. You might have laughed if you didn't feel like doing the same thing.

Another tight curb sent you face first into Donnie's lap. With a temper as hot as Raph's own, you scrambled up and yelled at the driver to watch it. You didn't even spare a glance at Donnie, skipping over how incredibly red his face had gotten.

"You try steering in this traffic!" Raphael shouted right back at you. You proceeded to make some not so nice gestures with your hands that April frowned at, the rain making you shake slightly in the cold, before falling back into your seat and awaiting part two of the plan. Something you'd named Grab That Turtle.

Mikey eventually got close enough to the bumper where you could grab his hand. With more effort than it would probably take a normal person, you snatched him up and into the cart. The result was a lovely three person dog pile in the back seat; something that you quickly remedied by pinching Mikey in the arms until he got himself and Donnie off of you.

You didn't even stop to yell at them. In exchange for that, you whipped out your tazer to sent a volt of electricity at a rat that had gotten too close, whooping excitedly when it yelped and fell back. It was nothing like what any of the turtles could have done, but that didn't stop you from feeling way too proud of yourself.

Your moment of celebration was cut short only when you noticed that you were no longer in the race-cart.

Cuts formed all along your face and arms as you tumbled out of the cart and to asphalt. You'd never wanted to discover what street tasted like, but you don't think you'd ever be able to forget it now.

Gravel found its way into your mouth and you felt something pop in your back as a slimey paw trodded on you. Before you could even gather enough strength to push yourself onto your hands and knees, a beak that felt too sharp and too precise for a rat closed around your middle.

Preparing for a quick snip and searing pain, you closed your eyes and grit your teeth. When it didn't come, you peaked an eye open. It was with much shock that you realized the rat wasn't attempting you eat you. Rather carry you, it seemed. Granted, it wasn't being the gentlest about it, but neither were you when you zapped it's brother on the neck.

At the thought of your weapon, you squirmed to try and reach it. Your attempts were stopped by the giant bite around you increasing in strength, practically cutting off all circulation in your arms now.

"Jesus! Fine I'll stop!" You snapped. It responded by dropping you and kicking you forward, growling when you hissed at it in pain.

For the second time that day, the world fell out from beneath you. Where the street should have been, a giant hole gaped. In the split second it took for you to fall through it, you recognized it as an entrance into the sewers.

"Urgh." Was all you could manage to say as the giant rat slid down the same hole, landing on you. Something made a loud cracking sound, and it was only after you felt the back of your head that you realized it had been you.

Your hand came back tinted with red. You glared at it before going cross eyed. And then nothing.

You awoke in a cage, next to the last person you wanted to see at the moment.

A spray painted mask stared back at you as you lifted your head up. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, nausea slapped you in the face.

"God damnit." You groaned and rolled over. You tried not to vomit. Of course Casey had been caught too. Now instead of just him, the turtles had to rescue you too. Way to go.

Before you could say anything else, your mouth was quickly covered. With half a mind to bite him, you growled. Casey just hit you in the head and no so subtly pointed next to you.

When you turned, you were met with the sight of Irma, who looked thoroughly confused.

The place all of you stood suspended above smelled horrible, and looked worse. You were sure you looked right at home with your torn clothes and hair matted with blood. Casey didn't look that good either, but miraculously Irma didn't have a single scratch on her. The only sign she was even witnessing the same thing as you was the telltale quiver of fear in her eyes.

"Irma?" You questioned with a blink. "What are you doing here?"

"Remember how we went out for pizza?" She frowned.

You nodded.

"I got attacked by a giant rat thing after you left. I tried screaming, but no one was around to help."

You resisted the urge to wince at that last part. Yowch. That had totally been you guy's fault. It seemed like she knew it too. You'd have to take her out for a snack after this or something to make up for it.

"Hey, at least most of us are together now." You reasoned, looking over at Casey. "We can probably try to find a way ou—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've never seen the two of you before." Casey grumbled, his voice a much deeper and much faker octave. You looked over at him with a crazed look in your eyes, not up for games. He just stared right back at you, silently gesturing to himself, his mask, and then a confused Irma while you watched.

"Fine. Whatever. Just, fucking, whatever mystery man." You grabbed the cage bars and hit your head against them twice before stopping.

"That won't work." Irma motioned to your head banging and did her signature move of pushing her glasses up. "I've been down here practically all day. Nothing budges these cages."

At the mention of more cages, you looked past your own to the outside. Sure enough, dangling a good ten feet off the ground and even more away from you, hung other people in mesh boxes just as reinforced as yours. Some cried, while most just looked horrified. They all shared that one thing in common, and you were sure they wished they didn't.

"Welcome esteemed guests."

"Oh please don't tell me it's this guy." You frowned.

"There's no need to fear, I will not hurt you. That I promise." A chuckle rang darkly through the room— cavern? it felt more like a cavern —that you were being kept in. You didn't have to think hard to figure out who it belonged to. It already reaked with enoigh pretentiousness.

Sure enough, when the figure stepped out of hiding and into the light, you got a good look at what had been described to you back at the lair. Tall, covered in bandages, and sporting a horrible choice of a trench coat. You barely held yourself back from booing at him, figuring that it probably wasn't the best way to go undetected. Casey didn't seem to share your carefully thought out sentiment.

"Let us out of here you freak!" He said, still donning his modified voice as he shook the bars to the cage. You kicked him in the back of the knee. A universal sign recognized all over the world to shut the hell up.

"All in good time." The Rat King echoed back.

You groaned and massaged your temples. This was really going to give you another tension headache, wasn't it.

You were left wishing for some Tylenol as your captor dove into an explination, calmly explaining how he had come to capture you. Something about rats, mutagen, science, rats, rats, his intelligence, and more rats. Probably. You stopped listening half way through and started feeling around the cage for anything sharp.

Right as you thought your search would turn out to be fruitless, your hand brushed against the bulk of your waistline. Cool metal met your hand, and with a start, you realized that they hadn't taken your tazer.

They hadn't taken your tazer.

Wracking your mind all the way back to after Splinter freaked out, you remembered the turtles telling you something. About how the Rat King used to be normal, before a freak electrical fire left him blind. Only able to see through the eyes of rats.

Your hand tightened around the base of the tazer. The words electrical fire bounced around in your head.

If a shock got him into this, maybe a shock could get him out.

You paid no attention to Irma as she dropped to the floor in a fainting stupor. The adrenaline and lack of food getting to her probably. You only felt somewhat guilty for your flippant attitude toward her well being.

Tapping Casey on his shoulder, you held a finger up to your lips. Even with his mask on, you could feel the confusion coming off of him in waves as you gestured down to your pants.

"Uh. Dude, you know I sort of have a thing with Red right?" He laughed awkwardly, stepping away. You glared at him with the force of a thousand suns before lifting up your hoodie to reveal the head of your tazer. Pointing out at the Rat King, you watched as his eyes widened in realization.

"I know you have something similar in those goalie gloves of yours Casey." You murmered. "When its our turn for whatever he's planning, let the rats drag us. But when it comes time for him to touch us, zap him."

"You think that will work?" Casey shuddered. You could only imagine that he was thinking about being touched by those rats again. And voluntarily this time.

"It better. If not, it might buy us enough time for the others to get here." You cracked your knuckles nervously. The look that Casey gave you made you tilt your head.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just forget how scary you can get when you're not yelling at me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The guys should really start letting you come on missions with us."

You snorted and went to say something else. Maybe that he was crazy, or that you didn't quite hate the sound of that. Whatever it was going to be, you were cut off by the clashing of metal against metal.

The door to your cage swung open, and a furry paw grabbed you by the face. Struggling to breathe through the must of rat droppings coming from the living restraint around your face, you weren't aware that you were being lifted off the ground and dragged in the nearest direction of the Rat Kings makeshift lab. Somewhere in the shadows, five sets of hidden eyes widened. The other pair began to turn red.

"Here we have our first volunteer for the serum." The point of a needle came into view as the giant mutated rat dropped you. Brown fur stick to the inside of your mouth as you sputtered like a fish out of water.

Many cries for you to watch out came from the surrounding cages, New Yorkers feeling powerless while watching a teenager get stalked by a needle.

You grasped blindly at your waist. For a horrific split second, you could smell the sourness of his breath as he approached you. And then you felt your fingers close down around plastic.

Flipping the switch on your tazer, you sat up and poked him in the eyes with two fingers. Predictably, it did nothing but make him grunt in annoyance. But it was to his detriment. The action gave you enough time to scramble up and point the tazer at his face, rushing forward and sticking it right between his forhead.

"Suck my dick." You said heavily. Not exactly action hero movie material, but there would be plenty of time to worry about it later.

Blue light lit up his head and upper torso in a painful sparkle. Rats from all around screamed and squealed as their master fell to his knees, clawing at his face. Somewhere inbetween all the tiny cries, you thought you heard a much larger one and then a scuffle.

Your chest heaved as you turned on your heel to climb back up over the cage you had just been sitting in. An enraged cry followed your movements, and you were sure thousands of rats were now surging in your direction. Your only hope was that the zap had slowed all of them down, not just the Rat King.

You began to shimmy up the rope keeping Casey and Irma from falling. Old cuts from tumbling on the street earlier opened back up, staining the rope and ends of your sleeves.

Somewhere in the amount of time it took for you to get to the top of the rope, a fight had broken out underneath you. A part of your mind hoped it was Casey holding his own, and the other part really hoped it wasn't. You weren't sure how long his hockey sticks would hold under a tidal wave of sharp teeth and wormy tails.

Sparing a look down, your eyes were assaulted with flashes of green and silver. Surprise over took your features as you watched the guys emerge from the shadows, weapons batting away any adversary that dare to attack.

And was that—?

"Master Splinter?" You choked, and slipped down the rope slightly before scaling back up.

The sensei, sure enough, was in the midst of all the seperate battles. He appeared to battling with himself, clutching the sides of his head as he stumbled around.

A loud call of your name tore your gaze away from him, coming to settle on a struggling Mikey. He was balancing his nunchucks in one hand, and a blob of pink white and brown in the other.

"Mikey!" You yelled back, still hanging on to avoid the swarm of rats approaching. "Is that the cat I gave you? What the hell is going on!"

"We were coming to save you—" He stopped talking as he dodged another wave of rats before popping back up. "—and then sensei just went crazy! He's chasing after the Rat King now!"

You noticed that Mikey purposefully didn't answer your question about the cat, instead just smiling innocently. Filing it away for later, you continued to make frantic conversation.

"Is there anything I can do!?"

"Help get everyone out of these cages! We can't let any of the civilians see us!" Leonardo butted in from somewhere. You couldn't see him, but it sounded like he was wrestling with something. Nonetheless, you nodded, and positioned yourself in preperation to jump off the rope.

It worked. With dificulty, you managed to land on the top of another cage near to Casey and Irma's. It teetered dangerously in the air, and you swung your hands in a windmill like fashion to avoid falling off.

Grabbing at a lone rat that ran over your foot, you held it to the base of the rope. It squirmed in your clutch angrily before latching onto the fibers and chewing. It didn't take long before breaking through it, and you barely managed to grab onto the end of the rope as it seperated itself from the cage.

The cage fell to the ground in a heap. Smiling, you watched the doors lock break on impact and it's captors rush out. They looked back up at you for a second, and you gestured at them to go.

"Help the others if you can!" Was all you had time to say before jumping to another cage.

Rope after rope snapped under your efforts, and cages fell from the sky like rain from heavy clouds. By the time you had reached the last one, you hadn't even noticed that the fighting below had stopped. Now all of the people had fled, and giant rats lay defeated all over the ground.

You dropped from the last rope, chucking the rat you had been using as a makeshift saw into the distance, sincerely hoping that the stupid Rat King felt that.

"I think that's the last of them." Raph spoke. You saw him and his brothers perched on a ledge above you, and waved. Mikey was the only one to wave back, and what you now knew as his cat from earlier copied the movement.

"What about Master Splinter?" Leo worried.

"He can hold his own." You piped up, bringing the rest of their attention down to you. "And I'm pretty sure he's already won. I don't see any more rats scurrying around after all. Either the mental link has been broken, or your dad beat the Rat King."

The boys seemed to consider your words. Leaping down next to you, they all watched as Donatello placed a hand on your head briefly.

"You did a good job helping today." He grinned good naturedly at you as you swiped at his hands, trying desperately to fix your hair. His smile only grew as you stuck your tounge out at him.

"Whatever. Can we leave now? I'm about done with search and rescue missions for today."

Murmurs of agreement rang out, and you all started towards the exit and back to the lair. All you could think about as the turtles bragged on each other about their performance was a nice long nap. Preferably on their couch. Their nice, soft couch.

Master Splinter returned late into the night. His robe was dirty, and paws aching. But his heart lightened at the sight before him; all of his sons curled up in a deep sleep as you yourself snored on the living room floor. April and Casey weren't far off, slumped over in a sitting position as they slept.

Grabbing the remote from Leonardo's limp hand, he turned the TV's volume down. A quiet snort came from you, and Splinter watched as you reached out to grab at something. A soft smile spread agross his face as you latched onto the nearest thing, which just so happened to be Donnie's leg, and began to lean into it.

"Rest well my children." He surveyed you all, eyes shining. "You have done well today."

The door to his dojo swung shut without a sound, and Splinter fell into a deep slumber of his own.

[nicka-nell]

Pairing: Suna x reader, Semi x reader, best friend Atsumu x reader

Note: Rockstar/Band-AU, angst, hurt, mdni, SMAU

Prev | Chapter 2 | Next

The mood was different when you came into your band room for the daily rehearsal. Atsumu walked past you and out of the room looking pissed off. Kita looked disappointed yet he and Osamu both couldn’t really look at you. Suna was acting differently too. Restless somehow. The only one who, as always, sat calmly on a chair and drank her latte macchiato was Yuki.

Even though you knew something was unusual, you still asked why everyone was so tense. Silly… Silly that you were truly worried. Because what followed was like a slap in the face.

“You know, babe, I need to talk to you about something. I know you’ll understand...” Suna began. But no, you couldn’t understand it. Suna’s words just hurt. Just the idea that he would agree to kick you out, the actual founder of the band. You, the heart of the band… Back then, he looked at you with loving eyes, told you how beautiful your voice was and that he couldn’t get enough of it. And now you’re supposed to leave the band that you dreamed of so hard as students because of your voice, because of your lyrics? The band that has always been your biggest dream, your greatest pride? You can’t even put into words how much his words hurt you. How betrayed you feel.

Therefore, it was predictable that the conversation would not end with understanding, as Suna had expected, but would become increasingly heated. Your voice got louder and louder, as did Suna’s. Objects flew across the room, tears rolled down your face. Kita had already suspected that it was a bad idea to pick Suna of all people for the conversation. Using your boyfriend, of all people, to tell you to leave the band. After all, it’s not just the band that connects you two. What a bad idea… He and Osamu want to intervene, wanting to stop you getting even more heated, but Suna’s next words silence you in one blow.

"Shit, don’t you get it? Nobody wants to hear your shitty voice! Nobody wants to hear your boring run-of-the-mill lyrics! Your songs suck and the fans tell us all the time, but you just want to live on in your delusional world full of flowers! Open your goddamn eyes!"

Everything is quiet... no one is talking. Everyone just looks at Suna with wide eyes. Even Yuki, who has been watching your argument rather indifferently, gives him a puzzled look. Your lyrics are boring... your voice is bad... one, two... no, it feels like a thousand stabs straight into your heart. Suna notices how your eyes water again, realizes that his words have come out in a rage. Words he never really wanted to say, never meant to say. “Babe, I-” but he doesn’t even manage to get another word out as you interrupt him immediately.

“Shut the hell up...” you say, looking at the others, asking them if they approve... if they are also in favor of you leaving. None of them have enough courage to look directly at you. Kita is the only one who shakes his head, standing rooted to the spot and seems speechless. Again you look at Suna. “That was our band! Our baby! And now you want to kick me out? Because fame is more important to you than the people in the band?” you scream and point your finger at him, pressing it to his chest while you look at him with nothing but lack of understanding. Suna just stares at you, unsettled.

“Fine. Fine... I’m gonna go. I’ll go and I’ll gladly leave you damn fake people behind. I can’t believe it. Hope you guys get really famous and choke on it. Especially you Suna Rintarou! Disgusting! And we… you and me, we’re done for good. Don’t even think about contacting me. We’re done.” You spit furiously before grabbing your bag and leaving without so much as a glance at the others.

But Suna’s hand reaches for your wrist. He stops you and turns you back to him. As if he couldn’t understand your outburst of anger. Yet you immediately pull your hand away from him again. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it like that. I just want what’s best for the band. For all of us.” Suna says, his voice barely louder than a whisper, and for a moment you really think he regrets his words. That he realized what an asshole he had just been. But the hope disappears immediately with his next words.

“Please, just think about what I said again when you’re unemotional. We can talk again later, okay? When you’ve calmed down a bit and can think clearly again.” He looks at you seriously, a slight smile on his lips. You fight not to slap him right in the face. You are speechless. Who is this man in front of you? Definitely not the Suna you met back in your school days.

“You want me to cool down? After what you said to me? No. We... we are so done! Done! I don’t want to see your face anymore. I don’t want to hear your voice anymore. I don’t want you to text me or try to contact me in any other way. Done means done. This is a breakup. And this is final, Suna Rintarou!” Without even giving him a chance to react to your words, you look at the other members one last time, giving them a look that says ‘I’m also done with you’, before you turn around and slam the door shut with a loud bang.

"I can't believe it. Was that really necessary, Rintarou?" Kita mumbles before he also dashes out, checking if you're still there but you're already gone.

[turbulenthandholding]

Richie as Director Avatar and Taylor Swift

I was talking with @thoughtfulchaos773 earlier today and something occurred to me about Richie singing Love Story in Forks. There has been a lot of really wonderful meta lately touching on Richie's role in the show. There's @currymanganese's excellent point that Richie is Storer's avatar as well as all of @thoughtfulchaos773's posts about Filmmaking and Season 3/Richie as Director (Part 1 / Part 2).

Anyway, previously I hadn't thought much about Love Story being the Taylor Swift song that they had Richie sing. It's well known, it's a song that would make sense that his young daughter would gravitate towards and would have exposed him to. There's a purity and joy to it that fits with the earnestness he gains in his journey throughout the action of Forks. However, with the context of all of the other great meta out there, it occurred to me that if we think of Richie as Director and Observer of Carmy's Love Life (as thoughtfulchaos773 called him in Filmmaking Meta Part 1), the choice of Love Story as the song is a LOT more significant. Richie is telling viewers what the story of The Bear is...it's a love story. And it's a love story with Sydney as opposed to the horror/haunting story that's being laid out with Claire (here and here and probably others I'm not finding right now).

I've also been trying to make sense of the use of Long Live, which plays in the background of the conversation that Richie has with Frank in Violet. I was expecting to get another Taylor Swift song in Season 3, but all of the guesses I had made were more directly tied to Richie's plot and story (This is Me Trying was my main prediction). So I was very surprised that the song they picked was Long Live. But in considering Richie as Director Surrogate, this choice starts to make a lot of sense.

I don't think the choice of song is trying to say anything about Richie and Tiff's relationship, or Richie getting over her, or his maturity in handling the conversation with Frank. Long Live is a song that Taylor Swift wrote for her band, in celebration of her first headlining tour (for Fearless). In our chat, @thoughtfulchaos773 suggested that Long Live is a reference to Richie's looking back and reflecting at The Beef (and contrasting the experience of working at The Beef with the experience of working at The Bear) and hoping that sense of comradery and joy is able to be found at The Bear eventually -- and I think that makes a lot of sense.

I said remember this feeling I passed the pictures around Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines Wishing for right now We are the kings and the queens You traded your baseball cap for a crown When they gave us our trophies And we held them up for our town And the cynics were outraged Screaming, "This is absurd" 'Cause for a moment, a band of thieves In ripped up jeans got to rule the world

There are a couple of other things that stand out to me in the song:

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made" And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid

Magic and sleight-of-hand are themes that come up in Season 3, and it may be because I have Unreasonable Hospitality on the brain, but it is important to Richie, who lists the dream weave as one of his non-negotiables. Will Guidara writes in UH that for a while at Eleven Madison Park, they used a literal magic trick to reveal dessert to guests during one of their courses. And EMP also employed an entire team of Dreamweavers whose sole responsibility was to make hospitality personal and special for their guests (seen in Season 3 in the scene with the Surprise with the cake and Richie singing happy birthday in Spanish). I don't necessarily think they picked the song to make this reference but there is a through line there, even if unintended -- and I do think that, dropped fork notwithstanding, Richie's journey towards Unreasonable Hospitality genuinely has become his purpose.

The second thing that stands out to me, which might well be more of an intentional reference, comes from the last verse (which plays as Richie asks Frank about how he got his house):

Will you take a moment? Promise me this That you'll stand by me forever But if, God forbid, fate should step in And force us into a goodbye If you have children someday When they point to the pictures Please tell them my name Tell them how the crowds went wild Tell them how I hope they shine

I am reminded of this very excellent meta of @currymanganese's which posits the name of the restaurant Fairest Creatures alludes to one of Shakespeare's procreation sonnets. I think this verse alludes to (or directs our attention towards):

Season 3's theme of legacy

The hope of reconciliation between Richie and Carmy

An allusion to Carmy's future children and sharing the legacy of The Beef/The Bear with them

[defectivehero]

Hi recently found your blog it’s so good! But was wondering if you could one where the hero lost there glasses in a fight maybe or just at home and the villain sees them idk take your pick possibly m x m? Ty even if not have a good day!

your wish is my command! (not really, but this is a great idea and you asked very nicely!) here you go, hope you have a great day <3

The hero has grown accustomed to working late night hours at the agency. He's grown used to being the last person in the office, to shutting the lights off and locking the door behind him once he leaves. The hero always feels guilty leaving right at his scheduled time, especially when his job can determine if a person lives as a bystander to a horrible event or dies as a victim. He begins to stay later and later into the night, and it becomes increasingly hard for him to tear himself away from the agency and his hero mask.

This overtime habit is how the hero finds himself hunched over his desk with rather painful crooked posture as he compulsively checks his computer for messages. His agency is one of the first to adopt a sophisticated messaging system that converts audio from emergency calls to text, which are sent as alerts straight to their inbox. The idea sounded morbid at first—the hero didn't want to equate life-saving to checking his email. But the system grew on him. It's convenient and easy to use, drastically improving the agency’s response time.

He squints at the screen in front of him, rubbing his eyes roughly when his vision begins to blur. He's tired.

Perhaps the hero’s exhaustion is the reason why he fails to notice a figure standing in the corner of the room, watching him. “Your eyesight is terrible.” The hero hears, stiffening in his seat and turning around to find his enemy, the villain, lurking in the shadows. It takes him a few moments to process the statement.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the hero then huffs, blinking a few times as he realizes his eyes feel incredibly dry. His close-up vision is passable, so he's still able to do his job. His distance vision, on the other hand...

The hero has worn glasses since fourth grade. He experimented with contacts but eventually went back to wearing glasses. He's spent an ungodly amount of time in his life wiping his glasses clean with a cloth or pushing his frames further up his nose.

“I’m serious,” the villain sighs. “How can you even see out of these?” At that, the villain steps forward and holds out his hand, revealing a pair of glasses. The hero immediately recognizes the telltale blue gleam that distinguishes his glasses, and reaches out to his enemy. He almost expects the villain not to hand them over, so when the glasses hit the hero's palm, he raises his eyebrows.

"Thank you," the hero feels the need to say, when the silence stretches on to a painful tension. When he puts on his glasses, the blurriness around his vision clears and he can see the words displayed on his screen in sharp, clean strokes. The hero then stares at the villain, several questions on the tip of his tongue. How did the villain remember the hero had lost his glasses? Did he go back to retrieve them? And if so... why?

"It took me a few days to realize why you hadn't shown your face since our fight," the villain answers, as if reading his mind. The hero has to wonder how he grew so predictable. "After that, it didn't take long for me to remember that blow I dealt you—rather powerful, if I do say so myself—and the ensuing clatter of your glasses falling to the ground. So... I went back to the rooftop and grabbed them."

That answers the hero's first two questions. He is still left with the most important query of all: why?

The villain seems to telepathically understand this question too. He takes a slow breath in and ambles around the office in a carefree manner that makes it seem as if he owns the space.

"A win is more enjoyable if it's a complete victory," the villain drawls, tapping his fingers along a nearby desk. The hero has to wonder if his enemy has his power activated—if charred fingerprints will be left as remnants (as tangible evidence) of their encounter. "That means no cheap advantages or hinderances."

Ah. The villain wanted a fair fight—one unimpeded by the hero's poor vision. He supposes he can understand that. The villain is honorable above all else. The hero knows this about his enemy, has grown to accept it. Perhaps he should've intuited that motivation before bothering to ask.

The villain is still lingering, as if waiting for something. The hero's patience only lasts a few minutes. “Well, was there another reason for your visit, or…?” The hero asks, looking at him with sharpened vision. His glasses now provide him with a glimpse of the nuance written in the villain's form—the minuscule pull to his lips, the faded scars tangled around his hands. The hero is suddenly thankful to have his glasses again—but for entirely different reasons than before.

“That was it,” the villain says, his gaze turning scrutinizing. "Why are you in such a rush? Got a hot date?" The latter statement is spoken with a surprising amount of venom.

The hero raises his eyebrows. "A date?" He hums casually, his heart racing in his chest. He didn't expect the conversation to take such a sharp turn into such a convoluted and confusing subject. "At this hour? Of course not."

Something settles in the villain's expression. "Right," he says, something close to relief coloring his tone. "Then, I'll be seeing you." He remarks, turning on his heel and walking out the door. The hero watches him leave, a multitude of different emotions battling in his chest.

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[pygmi-cygni]

Hi Pygmi! I hope you are having a wonderful week, can i request for our beloved tech bro Nathan? So in whatever situation you’re comfortable with, the reader is currently living with Nathan and it’s near our reader’s birthday, and growing up a celebration party is not common or even a cake to blow candle with, so our reader have no expectation when it comes to their birthday. And knowing nathan might not making a big deal out of it so our reader just went through the week as usual. So maybe it’s just a belated birthday party from nathan that surprise the reader because 1.they dont know how to handle a surprise party that’s for them, and 2.it’s nathan’s idea. And of course i’m leaving it up to you and most importantly your comfort on making it, thank you so much🥰💗

yes I can do that! thanks Rani!

cw: nothing, just fluff, teasing, some feelings, cuteness. fem reader

A Day Like Any Other

It was a nice routine, what you had at the compound. You stayed full time, six days a week, and on Wednesdays you flew back to the main campus for a debrief. Nathan would fly you back, rinse and repeat. It was predictable, smooth. Your upbringing was always chaotic so the easy pace was comforting.

Yeah, sometimes you thought about 'occasions'. Going out for the holidays or for a wedding or something. Nathan was pretty gracious with letting you take a day off, surprisingly.

But, in the three years you'd worked there, your birthday had never warranted a trip. It wasn't that you forgot or anything, it just...wasn't that important. As a kid maybe you looked forward to it because the kids at school would give you candy. But there wasn't much to celebrate about getting one year older.

Nathan had never mentioned it, so things continued without a hitch.

You were eating cereal when a small notification dinged your phone quietly. Absently, you flicked through your settings and shrugged. It was tomorrow, apparently.

The birds chirped loudly outside, fighting over a scrap of bread.

"What's that?" Nathan was looking at you, mug halfway to his mouth.

You blinked.

"...Cereal?"

His gaze was unamused. "No, the notif."

"Don't you know already? You've got bots in everything now, right?" Your tone was accusatory for a reason you'd yet to unpack. He raised his eyebrow at the attitude but left it alone, sipping his coffee.

He asked again that afternoon.

"Your calendar is free tomorrow, if you want to go out," he tossed at you while coding, eyes remaining on the screen.

You stared at him over your laptop. It wasn't an accident. Not if it happened twice.

"What's it to you?"

Again, he hummed and didn't pry. You huffed, frustrated at the reminder. When he didn't elaborate nor engage further, you slammed your computer closed and called it a night.

It wasn't that your birthday made you angry, it just wasn't any of his business. Nobody had cared before. It felt condescending. Like you were a child waiting for Santa.

The bedroom was dark when you heard Nathan shuffle in. You'd been laying for a while, staring at the wall. He noiselessly dressed for bed and slid in behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Like clockwork, his arms closed around your middle and the scruff of his beard rested between your shoulders.

Wordlessly, you turned and curled into his chest, exhaling deeply.

The bed was empty when you woke up, but Nathan's side was still warm. You pulled the blankets over your head and shuffled to his side, breathing in his cologne. Nothing on your plate today, you could sleep in.

You poked your nose out of the comforter, sighing contentedly. Nathan had bought new pillows, and they were maddeningly comfortable.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. You blinked as Nathan strode in, dressed in a hoodie and joggers. He had two thermoses of coffee and an expectant look on his face.

"You gonna get up or laze around?"

You wrinkled your nose. "Uh, you said I had nothing scheduled today."

"That can change."

Aghast, you sat up, blanket still wrapped tightly around your shoulders. "Blackmail? Fuck you, Bateman."

"I was planning to later, but not if you won't get your ass up."

He smirked as you grumbled to the dresser, pulling on outside clothes. You grabbed a thermos and took a big swallow, jolting as it burned your tongue.

"Careful, it's hot."

Nathan dodged your hand and tugged you out the door. You bundled into his warm side as the cold air hit your lungs.

It was refreshing, the outdoors. A pleasant silence fell over the both of you as you crunched through the trees. The birds were quietly flitting above, and a few squirrels darted about the underbrush.

Once your tongue had stopped throbbing and the drink was cool enough, you took a warming sip. You paused, staring at the cup.

"Is this a latte?"

Nathan nodded, still walking. "With vanilla."

You blinked again, taking a confirming sip. True, the perfect edge of sweetness blossomed on your tongue. You only ever got these when you went out, due to Nathan's dislike of added sugar.

"Do we have an espresso machine?"

"Keep walking, honey, this trail doesn't hike itself."

Puzzled, you drank greedily, hurrying to catch up.

He was waiting for you at the hill, watching you with a soft warmth. In another life, you thought, he should have been an outdoorsman. You smiled and reached for his hand.

He folded his palm over yours, something cool and distinctly foil-wrapped pressing into your hand. You pulled away, frowning. A square of chocolate, the good kind. Swiss.

"For me?"

That unimpressed gaze returned. "No, I just wanted you to hold it. Yes, for you."

Your acceptance of his gift was tentative now, the memory of last night resurfacing. You held his gaze for a moment, searching for that mischievous glimmer. But his face was carefully blank. Still apprehensive, you narrowed your eyes.

"Nathan."

His eyebrow quirked.

"Is this about...today?"

He hummed, feigning confusion. "Today? What's important about today?"

Now it was your turn to sigh in frustration. "Don't play dumb, I told you not to get me-"

"I just bought some chocolate and I thought you might want it."

"...And it just happened to be today?"

"Yes."

"Really."

"Yep."

You struggled with yourself for a minute, part of you wanting to return his spite and toss it into the woods. But you knew that he knew that you knew, and that wouldn't work.

Nathan brushed a cobweb from his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Well, after that intelligent debate, I'm going for breakfast."

You watched him leave for a moment, torn. Waiting till he was out of earshot, you broke off a piece of chocolate and bit it hungrily. The sweetness was delicious, and you shoved the rest in your pocket. You'd take the long way back.

Nathan was in the kitchen when you finally kicked off your sneakers. The smell of pancakes hit your nose in a wonderfully warm wave. You savored it for a moment before it clicked.

Nathan ate pancakes on his birthday.

"Seriously?" You asked, hands planted on your hips. Nathan turned slowly, pan in hand. He had a terrycloth towel over one shoulder and grinned at your scowl.

"What's that for, princess? Don't worry, I remembered syrup."

You seethed quietly, mind doing an Olympic floor routine of confusion. It was so obvious, what he was doing. Your mouth opened and closed, before settling into a pout. He watched you for a moment, smile fading to a knowing look.

"It doesn't have to be anything," he said quietly, setting the pan on the stove. "Just a day."

"Just a day? It isn't just a day, it's my birthday, and you're making a fuss-"

"I am not making a fuss," he interrupted, spatula pointed accusingly, "I just decided to get a bunch of things that happened to be very expensive and all your favorite and incredibly hard to find," he sighed in pretend flippancy, sliding his clever gaze to yours.

"Yes, they are birthday-time presents, because I am not in the habit of spending, but I am not fussing," he spat the word with distaste. "I don't fuss. I care. Sometimes."

You swallowed, feeling bad. His hand came up to chuck your chin affectionately.

"If it makes you feel better, I could do this every day. Y'know, to keep it consistent."

You snorted, pressing your face into his hoodie. Nathan laughed, a rumbling deep in his chest that warmed your cheeks. You stood there for a moment, swaying gently.

"Thanks," you mumbled shyly into his shoulder, fiddling with his tanned palms. Nathan pulled away, telltale smirk shining with mirth.

"For what? It's just a day."

You groaned, shoving him playfully. "Nathan-"

He bumped your nose affectionately and gestured towards the table.

"If you eat fast enough I won't break out the candles and streamers."

"You wouldn't dare-"

tags!

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Sharing is Caring Chapter 3

Summary: "Our plan is good, and I believe it will work, but if it doesn’t, remember that you’re our family Ominis, and we’ll fight for you.” Sebastian and MC help Ominis get out of an arranged marriage after he pulls away from them.

Warnings: 18+, lots of angst, lots of sex, maybe a tiny bit of fluff, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, cunnilingus, blow jobs, Ominis feeling unworthy because of his shitty family, idk what else guys, it's late and I'm tired, oh I'm pretty sure my tenses are all over the place

Pairings: Sebastian x f!MC, Sebastian x f!MC x Ominis

Word count: 13k (oops)

A/N: Important info first! Sebastian starts calling Ominis Darling, Ominis starts calling Sebastian Dearest. Huge thanks to @actual-queen-josephine for helping me pick those pet names! Good lord this got really long. I hope you guys think it was worth the wait! Thanks to my Fanfic Friends Discord babes for helping me through this nightmare. Love you!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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

It had been three months, three glorious months full of steamy nights with Sebastian and Ominis. Your relationship with Sebastian had only grown stronger in those months, something he liked to point out he predicted all along. Of course the rules Sebastian had gently lain out after your first night together as a trio had helped. When Sebastian had first brought up the idea of rules if this was to be more than a one time thing, you had thought he was being silly, his jealousy showing before anything had even happened, but now you were glad for them. 

First on his list, and most important if this arrangement wasn’t going to implode their friendship: You were his. He would gladly share you with his best friend, hell, Ominis could even flirt with you and hold your hand in front of him and the entire castle, but nothing sexual happened without Sebastian being there.

Second on his list: There would be nights when Ominis wasn’t welcome. Nights he needed to have you all to himself. “For the sake of our relationship” he had said the night you discussed his rules, looking you in the eyes, all his love for you written on his face.

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

You lay on the bed that was now a permanent feature in the Undercroft, watching Ominis get dressed, Sebastians head on your stomach, making no move to put your own clothes on. This was the one rule you had kept from Ominis, not that he couldn’t guess what was happening in the hour or two between his own return to the Slytherin common room and Sebastians. Ominis was more than welcome to have his fun with you, both you and Sebastian loved having him there, but at the end of the night you were Sebastian's girlfriend, and he would spend the time making sure you remembered that. 

You gently ran your fingertips over his scalp wondering what he had in store for tonight. Some nights it was rough, possessive sex, Sebastian making sure his was the last name you screamed in pleasure that night. Others it was soft, gentle love making, a rare treat, Sebastian keeping your body as close to his as possible, telling you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were to him, inside and out. 

Now dressed, Ominis came to the edge of the bed to kiss you goodnight, also pressing a soft kiss to Sebastian's forehead, having long since grown tired of him jokingly asking where his goodnight kiss was. 

“Goodnight, MC, I really enjoyed tonight. Sebastian, I expect you to return to the dorm before daybreak.” 

Sebastian sighed “It happened one time, Ominis, will you ever let me live it down?” 

“Not a chance.” Ominis chuckled as he stepped through the gate that would lead him out of the Undercroft. 

You lay in the silence for a few minutes, the sounds of you and Sebastian breathing echoing off the stone walls, before Sebastian let out a deep breath and sat up. 

“Close your eyes, Princess, I have a surprise for you.”

You did as he asked, knowing it was pointless to try to get any information out of him. You felt him get off the bed, heard his footsteps on the stone floor, heard him frantically search his clothes for his wand, heard him mutter what you thought was a conjuring spell, then - the sound of running water. 

“Sebastian, what-”

“Keep them closed, MC.” He took hurried steps, just barely audible over the sound of the water. As the water suddenly stopped you heard his footsteps at the end of the bed. The next moment his hand was on yours, gently pulling you to your feet. He guided you forward, telling you to wait here one minute more, the splashing sound that followed getting you excited. 

“Okay, open them.” 

You laughed as your eyes opened. In front you Sebastian sat in a ridiculously oversized bathtub, the steaming water turning his face pink, his hand held out for you. You took his hand, carefully climbing into the tub, settling between his legs. Sighing, you leaned back against him, thankful he had noticed how tired you were tonight. Sebastian knew you weren't one for baths, but a tub like this was something you had been dreaming about for the past three months, many mornings waking up sore after a night with both boys. He had gone a little overboard on the size, you could probably fit at least five people in there with you, but it was deep enough for the water to come almost to your neck while you sat up against him, which you had told him was the most important thing in a bathtub.

“I know it’s a little big, but I thought you deserved some relaxation after the night you had. I noticed how Ominis...was with you tonight...the mood he was in.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to your head. “He got an owl from his mother this afternoon, more of the usual shit from his family, I guess. I know I asked already, but you are alright, aren’t you?” His arms wrapped around your waist, giving you a little squeeze, as he bent his head and began kissing your shoulders. 

“Yes, I’m alright. He didn’t hurt me really, it was just so unusual for him, it surprised me more than anything.” You closed your eyes, enjoying Sebastian's kisses, but your mind went back to Ominis. He had been in a mood all evening, but you had expected it would melt away as he lost himself in your touch, the way his bad moods usually did. The truth is you knew you would have more than a few bruises by the morning from the way he had fucked you, but you didn’t want Sebastian to overeact. He had been rough, in a way that not even Sebastian had ever been, taking his frustrations out on your body. 

You knew Sebastian had been keeping a close eye on things during the night's activities, ready to step in if he felt it necessary. That was the final rule, unspoken even between the two of you. Sebastian would do whatever was required to protect you, even from his very best friend. But Sebastian took his cues from you, knowing damn well you could handle yourself. The few times he had looked at you with a questioning, protective look on his face, you had shaken your head. With each orgasm Ominis became a little more like his normal self, and by the time he had his fourth and final one of the night, he was once again holding you close, cupping your face in his hands, and sweetly moaning your name. 

“MC?” You snap back to the present as you feel Sebastian suck hard on your neck, a small “Ow” coming from your lips. 

“Ah, I thought that might get your attention.” Sebastian chuckled as you brought your hand up to guide his lips back to your neck. “What were you thinking about?” he asked between kisses, “Ominis again?” 

“I was, but all I want to think about right now is you.”

“We can talk more about Ominis if you want, Princess. You know you can talk to me about anything.” He spoke the words sincerely but his hardening cock pressing into your back seemed to have other ideas.

“Can you believe Ominis went for four rounds tonight? He almost broke my record with you.” You laugh loudly at this, knowing Sebastian is teasing you. 

“Seb, four of seven isn’t almost beating a record. Don't worry love, Ominis may have impressive stamina but you’ll always be my champion.”

“Why, thank you, my lady.” As he spoke, Sebastian wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his lap. “Speaking of orgasms, I know you’re tired and it would be incredibly selfish of me to ask, but seeing as neither of us had as many as Ominis tonight, should we attempt to catch up?”  

Your eyes grow wide. “How do you know I didn’t have as many as Ominis?!”

He chuckles, his hands running over your body. “You really think I don’t know when you cum, Princess? Watching you come undone because of the things Ominis does to you is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, MC, it’s hard to look away from.” His roaming hands find their way to your mound, rubbing you softly under the water. You let out a soft moan of his name, suddenly feeling completely refreshed and desperate for him. Reaching between your legs you take him into your hand, stroking him, making sure he’s ready for you. 

“Fuck, Princess, I’ve got to have you. Let me do all the work, just relax against me.” He kisses your shoulder blades as you continue to stroke him for a few minutes more before he can’t take it, lifting you up telling you to guide him to your slit. He lowers your body back onto him, pushing inside you, your moan joining his as you settle down on his full length. He wraps both arms around you, his hot breath on your neck, bucking his hips slowly.  

“How is it possible that you feel this fucking good around my cock every fucking time, love? Merlin, I swear I’ll never get enough of you.” He lets out a loud moan as he increases his pace a little, starting to lose himself in the pleasure. You grip the side of the tub, water splashing over the edge as Sebastian pulls you closer to him, moaning your name. 

As his orgasm approaches he presses his forehead against your back, mumbling “I love you, I never want this moment to end” between his moans and kisses to your warm skin. Using his strong arms to hold you down, making sure you take his entire length as his orgasm rocks through him, he rubs your clit and sucks at your neck while he continues his slow thrust, drawing your own orgasm out of you. Collapsing against him, your head thrown back, whimpering softly, you clutch at his arms around you. 

As you come down from your release, Sebastian continues to hold you tight as he pulls out of you, shifting your body so he can kiss your lips. 

“I know I don’t show it very often but I hope you know how much I love being close to you like this. It’s always fun to fuck you hard and watch you turn into a little slut for me, of course, but I adore the connection we share when it’s like this, I can see why it’s Ominis’ favorite way to be with you.” He sighs softly, pulling your lips to his. As you kiss you think about his words. It was the first time he had voiced his appreciation for the softer side of sex. 

“Give me more of it, Sebastian. Now, tonight, I need that from you. It’s so incredible when we make love. I know you hate that phrase but don’t roll your eyes when I use it.” You catch him mid eye roll and give his arm a playful slap. You wiggle out of his grasp and stand up, stepping out of the tub, your skin immediately reacting to the change in temperature. “Take me to bed, Sebby, make love to me again.” 

You stand next to the tub, water dripping off your skin as Sebastian stands, grabbing his wand and summoning the stack of towels you keep by the bed. He wraps one around you, taking his time to dry your skin, replacing it with his warm hands when you shiver at the cold air of the Undercroft. Bringing his head down, taking your nipple into his mouth, a hand coming up to tease the other, moaning as your fingers tangle in his hair, the sound vibrates through your chest, making you laugh. Pulling away, Sebastian smiles up at you, lifting you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his still wet body, slipping a little. You both laugh as he clutches you tighter, mumbling “Get back here… ah, maybe I should have dried off a bit.” 

“You got me?”

“I got you baby, but just in case…” Turning, he moves quickly, practically sprinting back to the bed, laughing as he collapses on it trying not to crush you underneath him. You laugh with him, pulling him down on top of you. 

“You’re so silly.”

“Sometimes.” He gives you a wink, kissing your forehead. “Now stop laughing if you want me to make loooove to you.” He waggles his eyebrows at you as he draws out the word love, sending you into another fit of laughter.  

“Nothing wrong with laughing while you have sex, Seb.” It takes you a few tries to get the words out around your giggles.

“That’s good cause I’m feeling very silly now. Come here, gorgeous.” His hands on your hips, he pushes you up in the bed, your head coming to rest on the pillows. He climbs over top of you, settling in for a long night of passion and laughter. 

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

Ominis sat in his bed, waiting for Sebastian to return, hoping this wouldn’t be the time he and MC decide to spend the entire night in the Undercroft. As soon as he left them his bad mood had returned, leaving him feeling angry and reflecting on how he had treated her. He wanted to rush back in and apologize, getting up from his comfy armchair in front of the Slytherin common room fireplace three separate times only to sigh and throw himself back down into it. After two hours he had gone up to his room, hoping that an extra door between him and the Undercroft would keep him from making an even bigger fool of himself. 

He had behaved horribly, refusing to let her happiness, her touch, her pleasure be the most important thing to him. He let out a huge sigh, cursing himself and his family for the tenth time tonight. Why had he let his mothers words get into his head? Why did he care what she thought? Most importantly, why had he let it come between him and MC? He brought his hands up to his face, slowly dragging them down it, sighing again, trying to ignore the answers his mind had already come up with. Why did he care what his mother thought? That was easy to answer. Even though he had never had a great relationship with her, never gotten the love he wanted from her, at the end of the day she was still his mother, and unfortunately that mattered to him. As for why he let this, or anything, interfere with his relationship with MC? That was even easier to answer. Because you idiot, you’re irrevocably, hopelessly in… 

“Ominis?” 

“Shit, Sebastian.” Ominis took Sebastian's return as a sign to push that answer deep, deep down to ignore for another day. 

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly, I thought you would be asleep by now, it’s been almost four hours since you left us.” Ominis heard him collapse on his bed, a soft sigh, then the creaking of him moving around. 

“Sebastian. Did I hurt her?”

Ominis waited in the silence for what felt like a lifetime, before he heard more creaking, the sound of bare feet on the floor, then felt his bed sag under Sebastian's weight as he came to sit next to him. Sebastians warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and he pressed a soft kiss to Ominis’ forehead. 

“Maybe a little, but she’s okay, I promise you that, Ominis. I wouldn’t have left her if I didn’t believe it. She is worried about you though, as am I. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Certainly not tonight, anyway. You must be tired after four extra hours with MC, let's get to bed, Sebastian.” Ominis felt Sebastian stand up and stretched out in his bed, letting out a small gasp as Sebastian got in next to him. 

“Sebstian, what are you doing?”

“You’re my best friend and you’re upset Ominis, I’m not leaving you alone. Besides, it’s not the first time we’ve done this. Now shut up and go to sleep.” Sebastian threw an arm around Ominis, pulling him close against him. 

“The bed is a lot smaller for us now, we’re quite close, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian sighed, propping himself up on his elbow, leaning down to whisper into ominis’ ear. “Ominis, I’ve sucked your cock and you’ve jerked me off, this is the most innocent thing we’ve done together in a while. I don’t think it's a big deal at this point.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that logic. Goodnight, Seb.” Ominis closed his eyes, listening to Sebastian's steady heartbeat. Just as he was about to fall asleep, the arm around him gave him a small squeeze, Sebastians sleepy voice mumbling “Besides, I’m quite enjoying feeling your ass against me.” Ominis’ eyes flew open in shock, but closed just as quickly, a smile flashing across his face. He couldn’t deny enjoying it himself. 

_________________ 

 You sit waiting for Sebastian and Ominis outside the Great Hall, enjoying the cool morning air, petting a cat that had joined you on the stone bench, lost in thought about the events of the night before. Hearing a muffled sound you look up, a small scream coming from your mouth as you find them both standing in front of you. 

“Merlin, you boys scared me. How did you sleep, loves?” 

Sebastian smirks as he wraps an arm around Ominis’ waist, pulling him close. “I’d say we slept pretty well, wouldn’t you, Ominis?” 

You watch with raised brows as Ominis blushes, wondering what could have happened between them, about to ask just that when Sebastian beats you to it. 

“Oh, I slept in Ominis’ bed last night. He was in a mood and wanted a cuddle, isn’t that right Omi?” He chuckles as Ominis turns red again. 

“Sebastian, someone will hear you!” 

“It’s fine, there’s no one around and I wouldn’t care if there were.”

“In that case, what I think you mean to say is that you snored in my ear all night.” Ominous’ tone was one of annoyance but there was a small smile on his face. 

“Oh, please, you loved it.” 

You let out a loud gasp as his face turned more red than a Gryffindor banner. “You did!” 

“I didn’t hate it, if you must know. Not that I want it to become a regular occurrence. That bed is far too small. Now if either of you know of a much larger bed, say one that is removed from prying eyes, I might reconsider.” 

“Hmmm, I might know a place.” You tease him back, wrapping both arms around him, standing on your toes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back softly, an arm snaking around your waist. 

“I’d say let’s go there now, but I know you must be hungry after last night’s activities, why don’t we get some breakfast first. Sebastian, why don’t you go ahead and find us seats. Little Dove and I need to have a word.” 

“Fine, but don’t judge me if I’m stuffing my face when you arrive. I had quite an exhausting night too.” Untangling himself from Ominis, Sebastian gave you a small wink before striding into the Great Hall.  

Ominis pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, whispering to you, his breath warm against your skin in the cool morning air. “Little Dove, I’m sorry about last night, I was angry and I took it out on you in the worst way I can imagine. You gave yourself to me, trusting me, and I took advantage. Before you say that you’re fine and it’s okay…don’t huff at me, I know that’s what you were thinking MC! Before you say that, I need to know if I hurt you physically, if I caused a change in how you see me, did I…did I scare you.” He stepped away quickly, leaving you to catch your balance, his hands covering his face as he turned away. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did any of those things, Little Dove. I need you to tell me the truth.” 

Pressing your face against his broad back, your arms wrapping around him, you spoke in a soft but confident voice, aiming to reassure him. “Ominis, love, what do you hear around us right now? Do you hear other people? No. I’m standing here, completely alone with you, and I feel entirely safe, at peace, at home. I may have a few bruises, but they don’t matter to me. Not the way you matter to me, Ominis. Your behavior last night did nothing to scare me, or deter me from continuing this thing we have. I know you well enough to see the real you and nothing could change that or take it away.” 

He spun around, crushing you against him. “Thank you, Little Dove.” He held you close for a few minutes before loosening his grip. “Let’s get you something to eat, I can hear your stomach growling.” You take the arm he holds out for you, looking him over once more as you enter the Great Hall. His eyes are red rimmed and his nose is the slightest shade of pink, the sight stopping your heart momentarily. Sitting down next to Sebastian, who was indeed stuffing his face, you had to take a minute to blink back the tears that threatened to break free. 

---------------- 

Two weeks passed and even though Ominis went back to acting like his usual self, you sensed something had shifted between you. At first it was small things, Ominis opting to study by himself, or rushing to your next class before you could even pack away your things. The biggest sign was when he turned down an offer to spend time with you and Sebstian in the Undercroft, on a rainy Wednesday evening, as you sat together in the library finishing the Transfiguration homework .  

“Are you sure, Ominis? We can wait for you to finish.” Sebastian asked as he shoved his books into his bag. 

“You go ahead. I’m tired tonight, I wouldn’t be able to completely devote myself to the two of you. I can feel you frowning at me, Little Dove. I’ll be alright, promise. Have fun, Darlings.” 

You gave Sebastian a worried look, but he shrugged and pulled you away from the table, pausing to glance back at Ominis before exiting. “That was weird, right? It’s not my imagination, he just blew us off, didn’t he?” He stopped walking, turning to look at you, a troubled look on his face. 

“It was definitely strange. I saw him sleep through two classes and part of lunch today, being tired can’t be his reason for not joining us. Has he said anything out of the ordinary lately?” 

“Oh, shit, you know I think he got another owl from his mother yesterday. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk what happened last time? You can’t really blame him for that.” He grabs your hand, continuing to the Undercroft, chuckling as he threw his robe over your head as you sprint across the Transfiguration Courtyard, doing his best to shield you from the torrential rain. He stopped to pull you close as you splashed through puddles, unable to resist the romanticism of the circumstances, leaning in for a deep kiss. You melt into his lips, forgetting about the world around you, and the rain now soaking you to the bone, only pulling away when a loud clap of thunder startles you back to reality. Laughing as you burst into the Undercroft hand in hand, you pull him in for another kiss, pushing the wet hair off his forehead. Summoning a towel, you throw it over his head, his large hand coming up to rake it across his head, laughing when he pulls it away, his hair going in all directions.  

“Oh, think it’s funny? Come here.” You let out a small scream and take off running around the room as he chases you, laughing as he catches you easily, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, throwing the towel over you, messing up your hair. “Now we match.” You give him a grumpy look, a playful sparkle in your eyes, earning you a laugh and a kiss. “You’re so cute when you’re pretending to be mad at me.” 

“We should get out of these wet clothes.” In perfect timing, a shiver runs through you as you shrug your robe off, Sebastian pulling you into his arms. 

“Baby, you’re freezing. Come here, we’ll sit in front of the fire and dry off.” He helps you out of the rest of your wet clothes, eyeing your naked form hungrily before crouching in front of the fireplace you had transfigured into the room, casting Incendo, and stripping out of his own dripping clothes. He summons another towel, drying your damp skin, lips trailing after the towel covering you in little kisses then pulls you down onto his lap, his skin already warmer than the fire. 

You stay snuggled up in his arms for a long time, never wanting to leave as he whispers loving words into your ear and kisses your neck. Caught up in the feel of his soft lips on your skin you hardly notice when he shuffles you around, laying you down on the soft rug, gently climbing on top of you. “Let me worship you, Princess.” Vaguely aware of nodding, you sigh as his warm hands spread your legs, his thighs press against yours, and he slowly slips his cock inside you. He moans your name as he sets a soft slow pace, his forehead resting on yours, his soul pouring from his eyes into yours as he never looks away. His hands slide up your body, raising your arms above your head and he laces his fingers with yours. His moans are soft and needy, his voice husky as he continually tells you he loves you and you’ve made him the luckiest boy in the word by choosing him. Even through your orgasms his pace never increases, his usual deep groans replaced by muffled whines as his lips seal with yours. He kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, expressing all his love and desire for you through it, continuing long after you’ve both come down from the high of your orgasm. When he finally pulls away his face is flushed under his freckles, his chest heaving against yours. “There aren’t words to describe what you mean to me, MC. I love you with everything I am and could ever be.” 

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

Ominis sighed as he walked back to his dorm alone. Why didn’t you just talk to them? Tell them what’s going on, you know they would understand and want to help. But that’s precisely why you didn’t. Sighing again, he dropped his bag on the floor, pulling the latest owl from his mother out of his pocket before flopping onto his inviting bed. He unfolded the letter, pressing his wand to it, torturing himself as he read it for the fifteenth time.  

Ominis, She is a lovely girl. You will spend the summer courting her and you will marry her after you graduate. It has all been arranged and your father won’t hear another word on the matter. Mother 

Crumpling up the paper, he let out an angry huff. How am I going to get out of this? Rolling over he quickly fell asleep, hoping his dreams would yield an answer. 

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

Sebastian woke up on the floor, the fire burnt out, MC pressed against his back, her slow breathing soothing him. Gently rolling over, he watched her sleep for a few minutes before standing and scooping her into his arms. Bare feet padding across the stone floor of the Undercroft, he placed her in the big bed, throwing the covers over her before climbing in on the other side, pulling her close. He ran his fingers through her hair as she stirred, whispering to her. “I’m here, love, go back to sleep.” 

I could sleep next to her like this forever.

He tried to go back to sleep, thinking it would be easy, snuggled up with her, but his mind kept wandering back to Ominis. He knew something was up with his friend, something related to his family, but Ominis wouldn’t confide in him. It hurt to think his best friend didn’t trust him after everything he trusted Ominis with. I share my girl and my bed with him, along with everything else, why won’t he talk to me? He turned his head to look behind him in the bed, wishing Ominis was with them tonight, his larger body curled around him. I’m going to get to the bottom of this one way or another, Ominis, just you watch. His eyelids feeling heavy once again he held MC tighter, matching his breathing with hers until he fell asleep. 

----------------------------- 

When Ominis received a letter at breakfast two weeks later, you watched as Sebastian snatched it from his hands, jumping up from the table, running around the Great Hall, ripping it open and doing his best to read it as Ominis chased him. Both boys crashed to the ground when Sebastian stopped suddenly, Ominis running into him. 

“What the actual fuck, Sebastian! How dare you read my mail, give it back!” 

“Ominis, why didn’t you tell me about your engagement?” His voice was cold, full of hurt, his tone accusatory. 

“Can we not talk about this here? Where’s MC? Get her and meet me in the Undercroft.” He stood up, his face a deep scarlet color, angrier than you had ever seen him. 

Sebastian got up, watching Ominis stalk out of the Great Hall, before calmly making his way to you, sitting down to finish his breakfast. He didn’t say a word, one hand in a fist, the other shaking as he stabbed at his food. When he cleared his plate, he turned to you, speaking in a quiet voice. “Ominis would like us to meet him in the Undercroft. Apparently he is betrothed.” Your jaw dropped as he stood and reached out to take your hand, pulling you to your feet. 

“Wait, Sebastian, what do you mean he’s betrothed? To whom? When did this happen? Why didn’t he tell us? Sebastian?” You promptly shut your mouth as he shot you an annoyed look. You quietly made the trek to the Undercroft, watching Sebastian get angrier with each step. You threw your hands out to stop him before you entered the secret room, knowing he was far too upset to talk about things rationally right now. “Sebastian, love, please take a moment to breathe. You look like you’re ready to kill him. You can’t go down there and talk to him like this, it will only end badly.” He sighed heavily, stumbling back into the wall, sliding down to the floor. You sat down next to him, scooching in close, lifting his arm to put around your shoulders. He pulled you closer, taking a few deep breaths of the comforting smell of your perfume. You sat there as people started to file into The Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower around you, the first lessons of the day starting soon, and as the halls emptied, only a few late students running up the stairs behind you. You stayed long enough that your butt went numb, rising to your feet and pacing in front of Sebastian. As the halls filled with students again, he sighed, rising to his feet, and disappearing through the clock face entrance before anything could stop him. By the time you made it through the gate at the bottom of the stairs, Sebastians loud voice was filling the room. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this was going on, Ominis?! I thought we were best friends! I share everything with you!” Sebastian had his arms in the air, waving frantically as he spoke even though he knew Ominis couldn’t see them, his face beet red, fighting to keep himself under control. 

“I didn’t think it would get this far. I didn’t want to worry you.” Ominis looked as though he might throw up, his usual fair skin a little gray. 

“Oh, bullshit! That’s a horrible lie, Ominis!” He turned on his heel, facing you. “Ah, MC, maybe you can get the truth out of him since he clearly doesn’t trust me anymore.” He grabbed your hand, dragging you to stand in front of Ominis. You reach out, taking Ominis by the hand, silently leading him over to the sofa. “Sit down, Omi, let’s talk this out. Will you please start from the beginning? No sense hiding anything now, right?” You did your best to speak in a calm, even tone, hoping to diffuse the anger stifling the room. You sat rubbing your thumbs over Ominis’ hands, waiting for him to be ready to talk. 

After a few minutes and many deep breaths, he was. “I think you know when it started, that damn night I was so rough with you. Mother sent me a letter that day, casually informing me that I was all but engaged to a pureblood girl two years older than us. It was her usual coldness about the matter that made me so angry. She’s been planning my wedding since I was five years old, but we hadn’t spoken of it in a few years. I suppose, Little Dove, after meeting you I had secretly begun to let myself believe it would never be talked of again. That was foolish of me though. I’ve now received four letters, each reminding me that I have no choice in the matter, that I will marry this girl.” He pulled his hands from yours, standing suddenly, pacing in front of the sofa. You took the moment to look around for Sebastian, finding him sitting on the floor resting against the column closest to you. He shot you a look, his eyes sad, and you reached out your hand, motioning him over. He sank down next to you, sighing as you shifted around kicking your shoes off before throwing your legs across his lap, his hands automatically coming up to rest on your thighs. 

“Do you want to marry her?” Sebastian's voice held nothing but doubt, knowing his friend the way he did. 

“Of course I don’t, you know I want nothing to do with any girl my family deems worthy. But how do I get out of this?” He sighed as he too sank down on the sofa, just barely missing your toes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Telling you would have made it real. I could ignore it well enough around you two until now.” 

“Ominis, is that why you haven’t wanted to be with us recently? It’s been almost a month since you’ve joined us.” You kept your voice soft, trying to hide the hurt you’d begun to feel as he rejected invitation after invitation. 

“No, that wasn’t entirely it, Little Dove.” He sighed loudly. “This is hard to talk about, hard to admit, really. You don’t know as much about my relationship with my family as Sebastian does, and you have a lovely relationship with your own parents, it may be hard to understand.” 

“Let me try, Omi.” 

He sighed again, taking his time finding the right words to attempt to explain his feelings. “To put it simply, my parents never really showed me the love that yours do. I wasn’t so much a son as an heir. Someone to pass on their twisted ideals and prejudice to. Someone to help improve their social standing. Someone who is supposed to keep his mouth shut and do whatever they ask of me, my own thoughts and feelings not important to them. I’ve spent a lot of my life hating them, MC, but at the same time they are still my family and a small part of me wants their approval. I hate that part of myself. It’s twisted and ugly, it’s where all my darkest thoughts reside.” He took a deep breath, his emotions beginning to overwhelm him. “It’s the part of me that hates myself, all of myself. It’s the part of me that makes me think I’m a failure, unworthy of love. I’m ashamed to admit that I let those thoughts fill my mind these last few weeks. I pulled away from you because…I felt unworthy of you, of your time, of your friendship, of…of your love.” His voice broke on the last word, tears streaming down his face as he hung his head. 

You immediately jump to your feet, pulling him up from the sofa, wrapping your arms around him. You let him cry on your shoulder as Sebastian stands, coming around behind you to squeeze you both into him. You hold him until his tears slow and he tries to break away. You lock your arms around him, not letting him get away, Sebastian doing the same, chuckling softly. “I think you’re stuck with us, mate.” 

Through his sniffles, Ominis’ raspy voice is soft. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with than the two of you.” He manages a small chuckle of his own. “I’m sorry for my silliness, and how it affected you, my dears.” 

“Ominis you don’t need to apologize, we both understand how negative thoughts can take over and make you do crazy things. We’re your friends and we love you, nothing will ever change that. Next time you feel those things, come to us and let us remind you how wrong they are.” You press kisses to his jaw, Sebastians body keeping you from reaching his lips. 

“Thank you, Little Dove. I can’t tell you what that means to me.” He presses his own kisses to the top of your head. 

“Starting to feel left out now guys.” Sebastian dips his head to press a kiss to your cheek before stretching to do the same to Ominis. “Now that that’s settled, shall we come up with a plan to get you out of this marriage, Ominis?” 

“Gods, yes.” ------------------ It took three hours, a lot of pacing, and a snack break, but you finally had a decent plan you thought stood a good chance of working. Sebastian stood up from the floor, stretching, kicking the crumpled parchment he had been scribbling notes and ideas on, letting out a large groan as his back cracked. Ceasing your pacing, you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your forehead between his shoulder blades. Beside you Ominis lounged upside down on the bed, an arm thrown over his face. You drag Sebastian over to him, sitting down, relaxing against Ominis’ legs. He sighed happily when he felt your weight on him, bringing his hand out, searching for your face. You pressed a kiss to his palm as he caressed your cheek before leaning forward to kiss him. Sebastian crawled over to Ominis’ other side, laying down next to him as you snuggled into his chest. You lay together for a few minutes before Ominis spoke softly, his voice full of hesitation. 

“Dears, what if this doesn’t work?” 

“Then we’ll try something else. We’ll keep trying until it does, Darling. Our plan is good, and I believe it will work, but if it doesn’t, remember that you’re our family Ominis, and we’ll fight for you.” Sebastian took the other boy's hand in his, bringing it to his mouth, kissing it. “I promise you that.” 

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

Two weeks later you sat in The Hogshead, the plan in motion. It had been easy to convince the rest of your friends to help, and seeing them inconspicuously sitting around the room boosted your confidence. The only part of the plan you didn’t like was Sebastian not being able to be here. You had staged a big fight in the middle of the square a week ago, pretending to break up. It had been a difficult week of glaring at each other, not speaking, and forcing yourselves not to touch in public, the extremely passionate nights you two had spent together in the Undercroft all week the only thing making this part of the plan bearable. Thinking of him sitting in a dark corner of The Three Broomsticks drowning his fake sorrows at this very moment made your heart ache, but if word of Ominis’ steamy relationship with the less-than-desirable, muggle-born, Hero of Hogwarts was to reach his, and more importantly his future wife's family, this was a small price to pay. 

Shaking your head to clear it of all thoughts except this crucial mission, you took a deep breath, smiling as Ominis crossed the room, his wand aloft, two mugs in his hand. Reaching the table, setting the mugs down, he slid in next to you, pressing his body against yours, an arm slipping around your shoulders. Turning your head you leaned in, whispering to him.

“Are you ready for this? Kiss me, deeply.” You hadn’t kissed like this since his mothers first letter had arrived, six weeks ago and you sighed, melting into him as his eager lips met yours. Your hand came up, cupping his cheek as he deepened the kiss, moaning softly as his tongue darted out, swiping across your bottom lip, begging for entrance, his lust rising to the surface. His hand slipped under your skirt, making its way up your thigh, making you moan again. Oh how you’d longed for his touch. He took the sound as an okay, poking his tongue into your mouth, swirling it with yours, his fingers moving the same way as they found their destination. You clamped your thighs together denying him further access, slowly pulling away from his kiss.

“Ominis stop.”

But he pulled you back, kissing down your neck. “I’ve missed you so much, Little Dove.” 

Your hand snaked up to grip his neck, keeping his ear close to your lips. “Ominis, if you don’t stop right now, I won’t be able to stop at all. You’ll have to take me out back and fuck me the way we both want you to. But that won’t get you out of your arranged marriage.” Sex had quickly been discarded as a viable option during your planning, knowing that a rumor of Ominis getting his cock wet with a muggle-born, even one as well known and hated in his family’s circles, as The Hero of Hogwarts, wouldn’t be enough to stop the marriage. 

He sighed as he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re right, I’m sorry. When this is all over though Little Dove, nothing will stop me from having you.”  You whimper as he swirls his fingers on you one last time before quickly pulling his hands away, grabbing his drink. 

Taking  a deep breath you forced yourself to casually look around the room, trying not to react when you noticed Natty and Imelda sitting in the opposite corner as planned, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open, not as planned. Letting out a small huff you laid your arm on the table. “Shall we move this along, we have a lot to do today.” As Ominis nodded, setting his mug down on the edge of the table, you drummed your fingers, looking back at him, smiling as Everett stumbled his way over. He’d been here for two hours, secretly vanishing the contents of his many mugs of ale, even talking to himself when you’d walked in, just to sell it. You squeezed Ominis’ hand under the table as Everett bumped into it hard, knocking Ominis’ drink into his lap, the liquid splashing you. Ominis leapt to his feet, his face beet red, grabbing Everett by the shirt, lifting him off the floor. 

“Do you have any idea WHO I AM? YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT.” Every head in the room turned to stare at them, Everett whimpering out broken apologies, swearing he didn’t know, his words slurring perfectly. You tried to hide your smile as Ominis dropped him to the floor, watching him scamper away. You worked hard to ensure it was a cold smile instead of one showing the giddiness you felt inside, three days of practicing Everett’s reactions having paid off, as Ominis reached for you, huffing and wiping at his pants, grumbling about revenge. Taking his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, kissing his cheek as he possessively wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get out of here, MC, this establishment is a disappointment.” 

Moving through the door you smiled to yourself as you heard Natty loudly whisper with Imelda, “Is that Ominis Gaunt with The Hero of Hogwarts?” “Shame she’s a muggle-born. I heard she dumped the Sallow kid for him. I bet his parents hate that their son is here with her instead of a pureblood girl.” You hoped it was enough. 

Stepping into the bright sunshine, squinting as you pull him closer, you walk slowly through the streets of Hogsmeade, stopping to browse in shops, talk with vendors, and kiss each other, knowing you had to be seen. When you made it to the square you had the freedom to ask how he thought it was going. “Do you think the scene in the Hogshead worked?” 

He continued walking, turning his head towards you. “I’m hopeful it did. I heard the voice of one of my fathers goons while I was at the bar. I know they report to my mother sometimes, giving her information about me.” He stopped walking, standing in the middle of the square, leaning in close. “But just in case, I think we should kiss out here where more people can witness it. May I?” 

“As long as you don’t overdo it like earlier.” You teased him, bringing your hands up to his face and neck, gently pulling him to you. As your lips meet his long fingers tangle in your hair, and tighten around your waist, pulling your bodies flush together. After a few moments he tries to pull away, but you stop him, your lips chasing him. “Come back.” You whisper into the space between your lips, begging him to give you more, not just here and not just kisses, but the rest of him at night in the Undercroft. “I miss you.” You barely get the words out before he is pulling you in again, kissing you much deeper than you expected, and this time you gladly open your mouth to let his tongue in, clinging to him tightly. 

Around you people stare, muttering their disapproval at such a public display, but it isn’t until someone clears their throat as they walk past that he pulls away, his face flushed a deep scarlet red, embarrassed he let his feelings slip out of control, here of all places. 

“Shall we continue on, Little Dove?” He takes your arm leading you over to his favorite shop, Honeydukes. Smiling as the bell over the door chimes, he takes a deep breath of the sugary air. “Let’s get a little treat, shall we? I think we deserve it after everything we’ve accomplished today.” You let him lead you through the shop, thinking the only treat you really wanted was him, happy and laughing with you again, a little more carefree than he is now. “We should get something for Sebastian too, I know he’s hating this as much as you are, MC. Let’s hope today's actions will bring about the end of this horrible situation.” He kisses the top of your head, giving your hand a squeeze before turning back to the sweets.

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

Two weeks passed, with no substantial news from Ominis, good or bad. His mother had written once, three days after you executed the plan, to say she was informed of an unsavory relationship he appeared to be in, but nothing more. It seemed your plan hadn’t worked after all. 

“Have you seen Ominis since classes ended? I thought he would be here.” You and Sebastian weren’t on speaking terms yet, or so everyone thought, but you hadn’t heard from Ominis since breakfast, when he received a letter, much longer than the last and returned to his dorm to read it privately. 

Sebastian looked up at you, his fork halfway to his mouth, practically melting into his chair at the sight of you standing before him. You knew he missed you, missed being able to pull you close no matter where you were. You missed it too, spending everyday counting the hours until you could feel his embrace in the privacy of the Undercroft later. 

“No I haven’t, I was going to check the dorm after I finished eating. Want to sit down?” He ran his eyes over you, desperately drinking you in, silently begging you to stay with him. 

Your eyes glued to his lips, you drop your voice to a whisper, summoning your strength. “More than anything…but I shouldn’t.” You watch his face fall, your heart going with it. You flash him a small smile, wondering how much more of this you both could take, about to turn away when Imelda sat down next to him. 

“MC, come and sit with me, you look awful, eat something.” 

“Imelda, I sho-”

“Sit.”

Making your way around the table you sat next to her, casually looking past her at Sebastian as she spoke. 

“Ominis asked me to give you these.” She slid a small piece of folded parchment to each of you. “He said to make sure you ate first, something about it being a long night.” You quickly opened the paper. 

Meet me at our spot Ominis

Your head shot up to find Sebastian already looking at you. He gave you a nervous look before turning back to his food. Eating as hastily as you could, you thanked Imelda for being a great friend through all of this and got up to leave a few minutes after Sebastian. You found him waiting for you outside the great hall. He took your hand, confident that the castle would be empty, everyone eagerly enjoying their warm dinners on this cold rainy night. Sighing happily at his touch you quickly make your way to the Undercroft, skipping through the secret entrance before pulling him into a deep kiss and tight hug. “I’ve wanted to do that all fucking day, Sebastian. I hope this farce can end soon. I miss you.” He presses you against the wall of the staircase desperate for more, groaning, knowing he can’t yet have it. 

“I miss you too Princess, you have no idea how much. If Ominis weren’t waiting for us, I’d already be inside you. Let’s go see what he wants and then maybe we can stay and sneak in a few extra hours together tonight.” He kissed you again, lips trailing down your neck and back up to your cheek, making you giggle. “Whatever he says, let's try to be positive, yeah? He needs that from us.” Stepping back he takes your hand again, leading you down the steps. As you push through the gate you stop in your tracks, noticing Ominis. He’s sitting on the sofa, waiting for you. Completely naked. 

“Ah, finally, I thought you two were going to stand up there making out all night.” He stood, taking a few steps towards you. “Hopefully from my appearance you can tell I have good news. Come here, we’re going to celebrate and I have plans for how we’ll do it. Take your clothes off.” 

Already out of his tie, shoes, and half his shirt unbuttoned, Sebastian turns to you, giving you an excited look. “You heard him Princess, get those clothes off.” He gave your ass a small slap as he walked to Ominis, his shirt hitting the floor. You raced to catch up, hastily kicking off your shoes and pulling your tie over your head, undoing as many buttons as you could with one hand, coming over to stand next to Sebastian. Ominis moved to you, kissing you deeply, moaning into your mouth as you shrugged out of your shirt, hands fumbling between his skin and the fastenings on your skirt. He moved to an already naked Sebastian as you finished undressing, chuckling as you mumbled about having more layers than them, more complicated layers. You watched them kiss passionately, Ominis’ hands roaming Sebastian's body, listening to him moan as his hand wrapped around Sebastian's cock, stroking it as their tongues danced together. When they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, Sebastian looked over at you. “You need some help, Princess?” 

“This is a lot easier when you boys help me, but I got it.” Almost falling over as you ripped your final stocking off, you made your way to them. Sebastian wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you close, his hand kneading your ass. 

“Tell us your plans for us Ominis. How can we pleasure you tonight, Darling?”

Ominis groaned as Sebatian used the pet name he’s taken to calling him when they were alone like this. “They’re both new things for me. When I tell you, will you guide us into making them happen, Dearest?” 

“Of course I will.” Sebastian leaned in, kissing him again. “I’ll do anything if it means you’ll keep calling me that. I’ve been longing to hear you use it again.” 

You quietly cleared your throat, reminding them you were still there. Ominis turned to you, reaching for you. “Let’s move this to the bed, shall we, Little Dove? I can’t wait to have you.” You linked your arm with his, leading him to the bed. His other hand never left Sebastian's cock, instead tugging on it gently, leading Sebatian to the bed by it. By the time you made it, Sebastian's eyes were narrowed in bliss, his mouth open, tongue hanging out, and he was panting like a dog. You made a mental note to try that move on him yourself later. Ominis crawled to the center of the bed, flopping onto his back. “Sebastian, will you suck my cock? It feels so good when you do.” Your face fell into a frown, wondering why he didn’t want you to help. Somehow sensing this Ominis spoke. “Don’t be sad, Little Dove, it feels good when you suck me too, but I have other plans for you. I want to devour your pussy. Sebastian, I believe you referred to it as ‘face sitting’? I want you to sit on my face, MC.” 

Sebastian let out a chuckle as he climbed over Ominis legs. “Good choice, Omi! She loves to suffocate with her pussy, as you well know. How do you want her? I personally love when shes looking down watching my eyes roll back at her delicious taste, her hand in my hair - fuck I need to stop talking about this or I’m going to get jealous.”

“I want her facing you. I want you to watch each other, enjoy the looks on each other's faces since I can’t.” 

“That’s sweet and devious of you, Ominis. I like it.” You crawl over to him, giving him a few kisses before throwing a leg over his head, getting into position. “You ready?”

“Wait, Sebastian, got any tips for me?” 

“Always be moving your tongue. If she starts to move her hips, just relax and go with it. Bury your face in her, pull her down to you, don’t let her get away until you absolutely have to in order to remain conscious. Run your hands over her thighs and ass, squeeze them a little, bring your hands up to squeeze her breasts too, she likes that. Most importantly, don’t be afraid to die under her, it’s the best way either of us could hope to go, let’s be honest. Have no regard for your own life, only her pleasure and you’ll do great.” 

Ominis didn’t respond, instead wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you down to him, flicking his tongue over your folds. You let out a high moan of his name followed by a string of curses, hands splayed on his chest. Looking up at Sebastian watching you, you let out a giggle, blushing at the way he was biting his lip. He doesn’t usually get this good a view of your face while Ominis pleasures you with his mouth. You can tell it's driving him crazy watching your eyes roll back, watching you grind your hips, and squeeze at your own breasts, the wet sounds of Ominis’ tongue lapping like mad at your core amplified in the stone room. Letting go of Ominis’ cock he moves to you, crashing his lips down on yours, kissing you roughly, passionately, desperately. Every second he had missed out on in the last two weeks hit him and he clung to you, swallowing your moans, shooing your hands away from your breasts so he could touch them. Pressing his forehead to yours when your moans got uncontrollable, he spoke to you softly, asking how Ominis was doing, knowing the only answers you could give him were little whimpers. 

“Is he doing a good job eating your pretty pussy, Baby? Yeah, you want him to keep going? Of course you do. Fuck, you make the prettiest sounds, Princess. Isn’t that right, Ominis?” You moaned loudly as a muffled “Mmmhmmm” came from Ominis, the vibrations rippling through you. “What’s he doing right now, where’s his tongue, right this second?” 

Struggling to find the words and get them out between your moans, all you could manage to say was a breathy “‘nside.” 

Sebastian let out a groan. “Fuck, do you know how badly I wish it was my tongue inside you right now? Merlin, I’ve missed being close to you, Princess.” 

Ominis moaned again as he sucked your folds, a wonderful slurping sound emanating from below you. It felt incredible and you let out a high scream as your legs began to shake. Clinging to Sebastian as your orgasm rocked through you, Ominis’ hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you in place as he kept working his tongue, lapping up your juices until you couldn’t stand the pressure any longer. “Ominis, give me a minute, love.” He stopped moving his tongue over you, instead pressing gentle kisses to your thighs for a few minutes before you had to climb off him. “I’ve got to lie down, my legs won't stop shaking, Ominis that was amazing.” You collapsed on the bed next to him, sighing happily. 

“Come rest your head on my chest, Little Dove. I still want you to watch Sebastian finally suck my cock.” 

“Oh shit, sorry, Darling. She is so distractingly beautiful when you pleasure her, I couldn't help myself.”  Sebastian chuckled as you both shuffled around on the bed, trying to find the best positions for your bodies, even pulling you close and kissing you at one point before you settled on opposite sides of Ominis. Your head finally resting on his chest, you looked up at him.  

“Did you like it, Ominis? Should we do it again in the future?” 

He ran his fingers through your hair, smiling. “I loved it, Little Dove, and I’m going to have to demand we do it again in the future. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of tasting you, it’s quite addictive. Much like the rest of you.” He pressed a kiss to your head, moaning loudly as Sebastian finally went to work on him. 

You watched Sebastian lick his shaft, swirl his tongue around his pink head, then slip his lips over him, taking as much as he could into his mouth, bobbing his head like an expert. You wondered, not for the first time, how he got so good at this. It was strange seeing your boyfriend moaning because he had another man's cock in his mouth, but it was also mesmerizing, you couldn't look away. The sounds were quite pleasurable too, slurping and gagging sounds floating in the air, mixing with the stereo of their moans. You reached out, running your fingers through Sebastians hair and he looked up at you, giving you a wink before sinking further down on Ominis’ cock, his tongue sticking out to swipe at Ominis’ balls. 

Ominis let out a deep groan of Sebastian’s name, arching his back, beginning to lose control. “How does he look, Little Dove? Do you like watching him do this to me?” 

“He…he looks…gorgeous.” It felt like a silly thing to say and you giggled as you ran your fingers through his hair again. You’d seen him suck Ominis a few times before, but this felt different. His eyes only flicked up to your face, never Ominis’, like he was doing this for your enjoyment more than either of theirs, needing to know you were watching him. You stare at him, slowly running your fingers through his hair over and over. “Does he feel good in your mouth, Sebby?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Ominis brings his hands down to push Sebastian’s head further onto him, grunting nonstop, as his cum shoots into Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian looks directly at you as he swallows it down, slurping his way off Ominis’ cock before collapsing on top of you both, pressing his lips to yours. As he kisses you passionately you feel his cock start to harden, and he shifts, leaning against ominis for leverage as he gently thrust his hips, rubbing himself against your thigh. His mouth is open, his heavy breaths floating across your skin as he sighs out silent, desperate moans. 

“Princess.” He lets out a needy whimper of his favorite name for you. “I need to be inside you.” His movements stop as he groans, raising his head to look at Ominis. “Ominis, what are your other plans for us? Please tell me they involve my cock inside her pussy, I’m not sure I can wait for you to go first tonight.” 

“Lucky for you, Dearest, it does. I thought we could try both being inside her tonight. At the same time.” 

Sebastian’s mouth dropped open. “Fuck, Ominis, you want to double penetrate her? Oh fuck yes! I’ve been waiting for this day. Wait, you said this involves me in her…Ominis you cheeky boy! You finally want to fuck my girl in the ass. I knew if I kept telling you how amazing it feels you would come around.” Sebastian let out a hearty laugh, his excitement palpable. 

“I am feeling rather naughty today, having thwarted my family’s attempts to control my life. Yes, I want to experience it, right now, if that’s okay with you Little Dove.” He turned his head towards your body, waiting for your response, a large, hopeful grin on his face. 

“It’s fine with me love, I’ve been hoping you would want to do this, I can’t wait to feel your cock in my ass. I think you’re going to love it, Omi.” You turn your head to kiss him, dropping your voice to a whisper. “I want to do this with you Ominis, I really do.” You gave him a deep kiss, before pulling Sebastian up to your lips, whispering against them. “But first I want you in my mouth, Sebby. You need some attention, handsome.” You crush your lips to his, tongue slipping into his waiting mouth, moaning as he resumes his slow thrust against your leg. You slip a hand between your bodies, taking his cock in it, stroking him for a few minutes before he pulls away, making his way off the bed, a determined look in his eyes. 

“Get up, Princess. Omi, Darling, you’ve got some work to do before you can fit inside her, you’re going to have to stretch her out. Get on your knees, both of you. MC, move back closer to him, put your ass in the air for me. Mmm you’re such a good girl for me.” He gave your butt a little smack before moving to Ominis. “Okay, Ominis, you’re going to do the same thing you do to her pussy, just slower, you want to end up with two fingers in her. Go ahead and put one in, see how it feels.”

You let out a soft moan as his long, slender finger slips inside you, the feeling always a bit of a surprise. He began to move it slowly, inserting it all the way in. 

“Gods, she’s so tight around my finger!”

Sebastian chuckled, biting his lip at the sight of your ass taking his finger, desperately wishing we would be able to see your tight hole take Ominis’ cock. “Imagine how tight she’ll be around your cock. Speaking of cocks, you ready to take mine down your throat, Princess?” He moved back to head of the bed, crawling in front of you, settling himself around you, his cock right in front of your face. 

“Do you really even need to ask that? I’m always ready to gag on your cock, Sebastian.” Dipping your head, you stick your tongue out swirling it around his head, lapping up the few drops of precum already dripping from it. Moaning as Ominis pumps his fingers into you, you wrap your lips around Sebastain, taking every inch of him in your mouth, bobbing your head quickly, sinful gagging sounds coming from you. Sebastian laced his fingers through your hair, pushing you further down on him, all your thoughts evaporating as he did so. You loved when he took control and used you for his pleasure. You happily let him buck his hips, fucking your mouth, moaning around him, enjoying the growing desperation for oxygen, your lungs screaming. After only a few more minutes you feel the telltale stutter of his movements, his breath hitching in his throat before he lets out a delicious grunt, strings of his cum shooting down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop, sucking on him hard, milking him for everything he could give you.  

“Fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking amazing. Have I told you that lately? I love the way you go mindless when I fuck your cute little mouth. My sweet cock-drunk slut.” He bent to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips, running his tongue over them shamelessly, biting and sucking at them before pulling away. “Ominis, think she’s about ready?” 

Ominis slowed his movements inside you, groaning out his response. “Gods yes, she feels incredible, I can’t wait to have my cock inside you, Little Dove.”

Sebastian reached over to the table by the bed, grabbing for the small bottle of magical lubricant he kept there. It was his favorite, scented of cherries, the magic making a single drop perfectly coat his cock and stick to it, not a drop wasted. He stretched to reach Ominis over you, uncorking the vial, dripping two drops onto his cock. “Okay, Darling, give me a minute to get situated first before you start. Princess, come here, wrap your perfect pussy around me.” 

Crawling up to him, you climbed onto his lap, lowering yourself onto him, letting out a satisfied moan as you reached his hilt. He gave you a few hard thrust, unable to help himself, before pulling your body down on top of him, wrapping his arms around you. “Ominis come closer, between my legs, perfect. You feel her hole? Slowly, very slowly, push into her. Remember to give her time to adjust when you get all the way in, and don’t move until she tells you she’s ready. When she is ready, you start, find the pace you want and I’ll match it. Good?” 

You already felt Ominis lining himself up as he answered. “Got it. You ready Little Dove?” You let out a groan as he pushed into you, barely waiting for an answer. After a few minutes, pausing a few times to be sure you were okay and comment about how good it already felt, he was fully enveloped in you. 

Below you Sebatian was groaning quietly, impatient to get moving, quickly getting lost in his urges, the feel of Ominis’ cock rubbing against his, separated by only a thin layer of skin, driving him wild with lust. You kissed at his chest, lacing your fingers with his, pulling him back to you. He looked at you, eyes clearing for a split second before Ominis asked if you were ready. His eyes rolled back, closing tight, as you responded and Ominis began moving, setting a slow pace. Your moans mixed with Ominis’ deeper groans, echoing around the stone room, and you lay your head on Sebastains chest, begging him to move. His eyes sprung open as he did, staring into yours as he lifted your chin, desperate to see your pleasure as he matched Ominis’ pace. You clutched at Sebastian’s chest, whimpering like you were going insane, your mouth hanging open. 

“You look so pretty all fucked out like this Princess, and we’ve only just begun. You love being a little slut for us, don’t you?” All you could do was groan in response and you felt both cocks twitch inside you. They were loving this just as much as you.

“Little Dove, your whimpers and the wet squelching sounds of our fucking are driving me insane. Let’s speed up, Sebastian, I need to go harder.” He didn’t wait for Sebastian to respond, increasing his pace, hips bucking wildly, his thighs slapping against you. 

“Oh, god, Ominis…yes…fuck, keep going just like that.” You practically yelled as he thrust into you, dropping your head onto Sebastian’s chest again, kissing at his skin, loud whines escaping your lips. 

Sebastian increased his pace, his tip hitting the perfect spot with every quick thrust. “Oh, fuck, Sebastian…right there…it’s perf-“ The rest of your words were cut off as he crushed his lips against yours, your moans slipping into each others mouths. You chuckled against his lips as Ominis let out another loud groan. “I think this is the loudest he’s ever been with us.” 

“Can you blame him, Princess, he is experiencing two incredible first at once.” He raised his voice, “How are you doing back there, Omi?” 

“I’m so close, it feels so good. I’m not going to last much longer - Ahh, fuck.” His thrust slowed as his cum sputtered into you, his warmth filling you, a sinful little scream coming from you. “F-fuck, Little Dove, gods, yes, you feel so good.” Groaning as he rode out his orgasm, stilling for a few moments, he bent to run his hands over your back, praising you for taking his load. “Can we go again?” 

Sebastian laughed, his own thrust almost imperceptible, but never stopping. “I never stopped. Keep going, we’ve got to make our lady cum.” He waited for Ominis to get back up to speed before returning to railing you, he was desperate to bring about your release, both of you knowing the tightening of your walls around him would bring his own. It didn’t take long, ten minutes of hard thrusting from both boys and you were screaming some twisted combination of their names and every curse word you knew, riding out your orgasm to the wonderful sounds of Sebastian's deep grunting as his seed shot into you, thick ropes painting your walls. You collapsed your full weight on Sebastian, both of you panting heavily, chests heaving as Ominis continued to softly thrust into you. You stretched your arm out behind you, pressing your palm against his chest. “Ominis, I need to stop. Come sit next to us for a few minutes and I’ll ride you to another orgasm.” He stopped, pulling out, both of you groaning at the loss as he flopped down on the bed next to you. 

“That’s okay, Little Dove, I’m happy with the two I’ve had. You and Sebastian should spend the rest of the night together, I know you need the closeness after everything you’ve gone through for me. I might selfishly ask for a few kisses, though.” He chuckled as you climbed into his lap, Sebastian using his wand to clean him up. Sitting up to meet you, he gently pressed his lips to yours, giving you sweet, caring kisses, hands roaming your sides and face. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay, Darling? We’re happy to have you here, you know that.” Sebastian sat up, resting his chin on Ominis shoulder as he asked. 

“I’m sure. According to the letter I got today, we have a long time to spend together before anything else threatens this thing we have. We can stretch it out for now.” He turned his head to kiss Sebastian’s forehead, smiling softly. 

“What else did the letter say, Ominis? Why did you stay in your room all day after you got it?” You spoke softly, running fingers across his scalp, enjoying his little sighs. 

“Oh, it’s purely magnificent, my dears. Turns out our plan worked so well that no family with an eligible daughter wants anything to do with me! Mother has convinced father to wait five years until I’m ‘more mature’, thinking that will change my attitude. I don’t look forward to dealing with this again, but five years is a long time to spend with the two of you, if you’ll have me. Even if you’ll only have me until we graduate, I’d feel blessed. I can’t thank you enough for helping me, truly, I owe you both so much.” His voice grew heavy as he began to get emotional. You pulled him closer, hugging him to you, your own emotions threatening to bubble over as Sebastian wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“You don’t owe us anything, Ominis. I told you we’re a family, and I meant it.” 

“Either way I won't forget this, not ever. Unfortunately it’s not entirely over yet. Little Dove and I still have to have a public falling out so you two can have a public makeup.” 

“Oh yeah. How should we play that?” After the events of the past few hours you had forgotten you still couldn’t walk out of here holding Sebastian’s hand. 

“Can’t we just say things didn’t work out with you and MC because she still loves me?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, smirking at you. “You do still love me, don’t you, Princess?” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him, slapping his arm. “Fuck off, you know I do, idiot.” He rubbed his arm, a pretend look of shock on his handsome face.

Ominis laughed with you, but his face was serious. “It has to look natural, and be public in case word gets back to my parents. Let’s take a week to drift apart, have a fake fight and breakup, then you two can spend the next week growing close again and have a very public ‘I’m an idiot, I can’t live without you’ moment.” 

Sebastian groaned, his thoughts echoing your own. “Two more weeks? Ugh, fine, only for you, Omi. But, now I agree, you’ve had enough time with her tonight, and I’m politely asking you to leave so I can ravish her.” He attacked your skin with kisses, making little growling sounds, tickling you as he pulled you into his lap, making you giggle. 

Beside you, Ominis chuckled happily. “I’ve missed hearing you two be happy together. I’ve missed you both. I’m sorry I needed so long to figure my shit out, I won’t leave you out of my madness again. Now, I hate to interrupt this love fest further, but can I ask you to walk me to the door tonight for goodnight kisses. I think my wand is still on the sofa.” 

You all got up, led him to the sofa, intimately helping him get dressed, and giving him a few long kisses before bidding him goodnight. 

“Oh, one more thing, Ominis!” Sebastian stepped close, pressing his body flush against Ominis’ back, wrapping an arm around his waist. “When are you going to let me fuck you in the ass?” His voice was deep, almost a growl, desire dripping from every syllable. 

Ominis chuckled, his face flushing a deep red. “I'm coming around to the idea, that’s all I can say for now. Goodnight, Dearest.” Squirming his way out of Sebastian's grip, he smiled and walked through the gate, leaving you alone. 

Sebastian turned to you, a predatory smile on his face as he picked you up, growling as he carried you across the room. “Now that we’re alone, Princess, I’m going to make you scream my name, and I expect it to come out clearly this time. Give me something to remember when I’m fighting every urge to touch you during the next two weeks.” 

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

A week later you stood in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower after class, having another fake fight, screaming at Ominis, getting insanely turned on as he screamed back at you. You had to storm off earlier than planned to keep yourself from attacking him with desire. 

But it worked, and over the next four days you and Sebastian had real tender moments in full view of the entire year, rumors already spreading that you would get back together. The afternoon of the fifth day, two days before schedule, Sebastian jumped up when you strode into the Great Hall for lunch. He ran to you, practically tackling you, pulling you off your feet, spinning you around, kissing you eagerly. Around you the room went quiet, then filled with loud whispers and even a few cheers. When he set you down you were both blushing, breathless, and glowing with happiness. Pressing his forehead to yours he laughed, kissing you again. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait anymore, Princess. I love you so much, let’s never fake a breakup again.” Wrapping an arm around you, he led you to his table, and you sat between him and Imelda. 

While Sebastian was distracted getting your food, she leaned over and whispered to you, a disgruntled look on her face. “MC, are you sure everything that happened with Ominis was a lie? I saw you two kiss in The Hogshead, it seemed there were very real feelings behind it. It was an intense kiss.” 

Damn she knew you too well. “Yeah, maybe I enjoyed it, it was kind of thrilling to kiss someone new, but that doesn’t mean I have feelings for Ominis. I was helping my best friend out of a horrible situation. That’s all there was to it.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again as Sebastian set your plate in front of you, kissing your cheek, smiling at you both. “What are we talking about, ladies?” You knew this wouldn’t be the end of the discussion but at least you had time to figure out how to keep lying to her, and everyone else, about the real relationship you had with Ominis. 

[m1dnyt3-w0lf]

Writing this mini series for my friend @crocs-blogs :D hope you all enjoy!

Good Puppy Part 1:

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: You ask Miguel a favor without being ready of what would come from it

   "This is my boyfriend, Miguel." You said with a smile on your face, though your grip tightened in your entwined hands. A grip reciprocated by Miguel. You weren't dating him, but after finding out you were the last of your family to not have a partner, you practically begged him to help you out.

"Not a chance." He said after his shock wore off from your question.

"Miguel, please! Do you know what this means for me?!"

"Not a clue and, frankly, I don't care." He said bluntly, taking a bite of a fry.

"This means my entire family is going to be after me now!" You told him, ignoring his remarks. "They're going to get any guy they can get their grubby hands on and try to pair me up with him!"

"And that's a bad thing, why?" He questioned, still not interested in your familial matters.

"They get handsy." You told him, and just as you predicted, he stopped. His eyes bore into yours, flashing red for a moment before turning back into his usual silky brown. You could see the gears turning in his head, never once breaking eye contact. His jaw worked as he grinded his teeth a bit before finally sighing and breaking his eye contact, leaning back into the booth.

"Fine."

"Than-"

"But!" He started. "If someone finds us out, I'm not sticking around."

You scoffed.

"Such a knight in shining armor."

   "Oh, Miguel! It's so nice to finally meet you!" Your mother squealed out, bringing you back to the present. Miguel's hand was torn out of you as your mother pulled him into a hug.

   "Hrk!" Miguel gasped out, squished under your mother's arms.

"Mom!" You snickered out, easing her arms so Miguel could breathe. He shot you a look of betrayal, surely salty you didn't warn him beforehand.

   "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm just excited that our little Junebug finally found someone!" She said with a smile and teary eyes. You didn't meet Miguel's eyes as he looked at you. You could've sworn he let out a soft chuckle.

   "Mom…" you whined in embarrassment.

   "Come now, Abby, leave the two lovebirds alone." Came your father's voice from the living room, surely watching the game.

   "Oh shush and come say hi, Jimmy." Your mother called back to him, allowing you and Miguel to enter. Miguel's hand found its way back into yours and held tightly but gently. You smiled back at him as you heard your father stand from his chair and walk into the hallway.

   "There's my favorite kid." He said with a smile, pulling you into a hug. It was awkward since Miguel still refused to let go of your hand.

   "You say that to all of us." You said with a giggle. Your father chuckled and pulled away.

   "Yeah but I mean it with you."

   "You say that too!" You exclaim, making your father laugh.

   "Alright, you caught me!" He turned to Miguel then, clearing his throat. You didn't expect your father to be a couple inches shorter than Miguel. Miguel put on a kind smile and extended his hand out to your father for a handshake.

   "Hello, sir, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said. You couldn't help your eyebrows shooting up. Mr. Tough and Sarcastic was over here being polite to your father? You wondered what else you could catch him doing. Your teasing list was itching for some new material. Your dad gave him a long, hard look as he took him in.

   "Treating my kid well?"

   "Yes, sir."

   "Keeping them out of trouble?"

   "Absolutely, sir."

   "Don't plan on hurting them?"

   "Dad-"

   "It's alright, Love." Miguel reassured, shooting you a loving smile. His tone and pet name immediately shut you up, making your eyes wide and your cheeks to dust in pink. Miguel met your father's eyes, seeming unaware of your reaction as his features showed determination.

   "I would rather tear my eyes out myself than see them hurt." They both stood there for a moment before your father broke into a big smile and took Miguel's hand in his, giving a firm but welcoming shake.

   "It's good to meet you, Miguel."

   "Pleasure is all mine, sir." Your mother came up between the two and started leading your father away.

   "Play nice boys, we're still waiting for the rest!" Your mother scolded. You tried to give Miguel a look, as if expecting him to explain what happened, but he kept his eyes on your parents. So, instead, you leaned in and whispered into his ear.

   "What was that?" His hand twitched in yours. He turned his head and whispered back.

   "Playing the part like you asked." His eyes met yours before looking away and turning back toward the door.

   "I'll get our things." He said loud enough for your parents to hear. You rolled your eyes as he left and left to the living room where your dad sat again, watching the game. Your mother most likely went back into the kitchen to watch the food.

   "So the others haven't arrived yet?" You asked him, taking a seat on the sofa. Your father shook his head.

   "Not yet, but you know them. Maggie is having some trouble with the twins, and Thomas had to make a detour because of traffic."

   "And Sammy?"

   "Sammy said she wouldn't be here until late and to not wait for her."

   "Late?" You asked in surprise, hearing Miguel come back in. You started to think about helping him, but your mother beat you to it. Hearing him respond, he had it.

   "Yeah, unfortunately, her boyfriend had a last-minute gig with his band, so they're going to be late." Your dad informed you.

   "Down the hall and last door on the left, dear." You both heard your mom say.

   "Thank you, ma'am." Miguel replied. Then, you and your father watched as Miguel carried all four bags past the living room door and disappeared down the hall. Your father chuckled, regaining your attention.

   "He's a strong man." He simply said before going back to the game. You felt as though your father was expecting you to say something, but his attention on the game made you think otherwise. You debated for a moment before standing.

   "I'm gonna go help him unpack." You tell your father. He only nods and lifts his drink towards you, your father's way of excusing someone. You nod and hurried down the hall. You turn the corner to see Miguel with a hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. He was annoyed, you knew this. You walked in and gently shut the door behind yourself, making Miguel look up at you.

   "What's wrong?"

   "Wrong? Nothing's wrong! ¿Por qué preguntas?" His mouth was in a thin line, and his eyebrows furrowed deeper. You raised a brow and crossed your arms.

   "Miguel O'Hara, don't you dare lie to me. I've known you for how many years now?" He rolled his eyes and planted his hands on his hips firmly.

   "There's only one bed." His jaw worked as he spoke, eyes boring into yours. You tore your eyes from his to see the queen-sized bed you had when you were a teen. You didn't realize you were in your old room.

   "Oh, um…" You trailed off, thinking. "I can maybe see if we have a spare room?"

   "That would be great." He didn't meet your eye now, and you didn't try to meet his. You nod and head back out.

   "I'll be right back." As you walked down the hall and into the kitchen, you realized you felt sad. Why? He wanted his own room. So what?

   "Honey, is something wrong?"

   "Huh?" You look up to see your mother's face etched with worry and standing in front of you.

   "Oh, yeah, no, I'm good. I wanted to ask if the spare room was available?" Your mother looked confused but answered.

   "No, the kids are taking that room to give your sister and brother some peace." Her worry etched deeper. "Is everything alright between you and Miguel?"

   Shit! You thought. Abort, abort, abort!

   "Yeah, of course we are! We just weren't sure if my old bed was big enough for both of us." You chuckled, relieved to see her face relax. "You know, he's a bit on the bulkier muscle side."

   "Oh, trust me. I know." She snickered. "Your father was the same once upon a time, you know.

   "Oh, mom, stop!" You hid your face, feeling heat spread to your cheeks. She laughed and shook her head.

   "You'll both be fine. You'll both just have to squeeze a little tighter."

   "What did she say?" Miguel asked as you returned to the room. You shut the door and refused to meet his eye.

   "We're, uh, stuck with one bed."

   "You've gotta be kidding me."

   "Maybe it won't be so bad?"

   "I signed up to pretend! Not to be in bed with you." His voice was in a strained whisper, worried your parents would hear him.

   "Well, we don't have much choice!" You whisper-shouted back, moving closer to ensure only he heard you. "My mom already thought we had a fight because I asked about the spare room!"

   Miguel groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose again, softly whispering, "no puedo mas con esto."

   "Miguel, I don't like it as much as you do, but it's only for a couple of nights. And if you're that much bothered with sharing a bed with me, then you can just sleep on the couch!" The hurt seeped into your voice. You've been friends with Miguel for what felt like forever and to hear him so bothered by the fact of sharing a bed hurt…for some reason. Miguel froze and looked at you. Within moments, his hands were on your arms, thumbs caressing them as he gazed into your eyes.

   "I'm not bothered. Not in the way you're thinking, and don't you dare lie to me either." He said as you opened your mouth to speak. "I'm worried you'll be uncomfortable."

   "Me?"

   "Yes, you. You've never allowed someone in your bed, much less your room. I don't want to disrespect that." His voice was a low, soothing rumble. It calmed you.

   "I don't mind it if it's you." You tell him, gazing up at him. You felt his thumbs stop their caress. Something in his eyes shifted, but you couldn't tell what. Nor did you have time to as you heard your mother yell out in delight. It allowed Miguel time to pull away, and you turned to the door.

   "That must be my sister."

   "How do you know?" Miguel acted as if nothing that happened had just happened. Suddenly, screams of children shouted out as little feet ran around the house.

   "That's how." You say with a chuckle. You walk out of your room, Miguel right behind your heels. Somehow, his hand found its way back into yours as you both walked down the hall to the entrance. You didn't even know you were nervous until the warmth started to calm you.

   "Auncle!" A little boy came running at you and jumped, forcing you to let go of Miguel's hand to catch the boy. You grunted before lifting him up to perch on you comfortably.

   "Cameron, you can't jump on me like that, you silly boy!" You playfully scolded him, giving him a tickle and making him giggle.

   "Sorry!" You chuckled and gave his cheek a kiss. "Who's that?"

   "Oh, um," you started as you turned around to face Miguel. You hesitated, wondering how the children would affect him but was quickly reassured upon seeing his warm smile and bright eyes.

   "Hello," Miguel said, voice gentle and kind. "I'm Miguel, your auncle's friend."

   "Mom said you're their spicy dip." Cameron said without even blinking an eye. Miguel's eyes widened in shock as your face bloomed in red.

   "Cameron! What have I said about repeating mommy's words?!" Your sister shouted from behind you. Cameron sighed.

   "To not to."

   "And yet you still do! Leave these two alone and go give Grandpa a hug!"

   "Yes, Mom." Cameron sighed again. You set him down, and he ran off. You looked at your sister with your hands on your hips and a look of deep disapproval on your face.

   "Haha, kids, right?" Maggie chuckled nervously as her husband stepped up, the poor soul unaware of the situation.

   "Oh hey, it's nice to see you again!" He greeted you happily, stopping short as he saw your expression. You saw his eyes flick behind you and then back to you before he turned around and headed back outside. Your mother also decided it was time to leave.

   "Oh, is that the pot boiling?" She asked herself before quickly rushing to the kitchen. Maggie was increasingly getting nervous.

   "Maggie, why would you say that in front of the kids?" You scolded.

   "I didn't mean to! It just slipped out when I saw mom's picture!" She gasped and covered her mouth. You slowly blinked and stood stock still.

   "What picture?" You asked slowly. You could feel Miguel's energy shift behind you. Maggie's eyes shifted between you to Miguel, somehow relaxing slightly. She took out her phone and showed you. It was a picture taken of you and Miguel from inside the house. The picture showed the moment Miguel helped you out of his car, your hand was in his while his other hand held the car door open for you.

   You were both smiling.

   It took you off guard how happy and loving you both look. Hell, you were nearly convinced you were an actual couple.

   Nearly.

   "We look perfect." Miguel's deep drawl came from right beside your ear as you felt his hands slowly snake onto your hips and pull your back flush against his chest as a soft kiss landed on your cheek. The very act made goosebumps ripple along your arms, and a deep blush crawl over your cheeks. You couldn't help the smile from your lips as a giggle escaped you.

   Focus! Play up the part! You screamed in your head. You turned your head towards him, your lips almost touching.

   "Mi Amor, we're always perfect." You drawled back to him. Of course, you'd learn how to say two simple words in Spanish. You needed to be convincing. His eyes flashed red, from what you didn't know, and his breath hitched. Did you imagine that? The smile he gave you seemed…dangerous. So dangerous you were able to see a sliver of those fangs of his, a rare sight even to you. You couldn't help but glance down at that smile before meeting his eyes again.

   "Ew, gross! I don't want to see my own sibling making googly eyes at their man!" Maggie said suddenly, tearing you and Miguel apart. You blushed from embarrassment now.

   "Sorry, sorry." You let out a nervous chuckle. Miguel, however, kept his hands on your hips but wasn't as close to you as he was before. The brush his thumb gave your hip would've had you melting in his grasp-

   Wait, what? No…no, no, no, stop that! He's just playing the part! But the thunder in your heart made you doubt your thoughts. Was he always this affectionate? Did he enjoy physical touch this much? You've never known him to be so…touchy.

   "Forgive me, I could never control myself around mi corazón." Miguel said. His voice was playful but held enough smoothness to make you melt into his hold.

   "M-Miguel! Not in front of my family!" You playfully say, pushing him away gently. However, your eyes read differently as you met his own, hinting to back off. He read them perfectly and backed off, opting to keep his hand on the small of your back.

   Dear gods above and below, give me strength. You pleaded in your thoughts.

   "You guys are just the cutest. Reminds me a lot when Pete and I were younger." Maggie said with a nostalgic sigh.

   "Maggie, that was barely over five years ago. I think the only people able to say that are mom and dad." You say with a chuckle. Maggie swatted your arm playfully.

   "Oh shush, why wouldn't I say a thing like that to my little sibling?" She chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

   "Okay, okay, fine." You chuckle.

   "I think I'll go help Pete." Miguel said quietly, hurrying out past Maggie to help a struggling Pete with the luggage.

   "Where's Cassie?" You ask Maggie as you both watched the men.

   "Oh, she's around here somewhere with Cameron. You know how the twins are." Then she smirked and nudged you with her elbow. "What I wanna know is what salsa pot did you pull him out of?"

   "M-Maggie!" You scolded as your cheeks burned red.

   "What?! He's practically the perfect man! He's handsome, buff, and his ass is tighter than a rubber band! MMM!" She grunted out.

   "And he's so nice! Men like him don't pop up often anymore." Your mother added in from behind you both. You jumped and looked at her.

   "Maggie, Mom, stop it." You warned, feeling flustered. You didn't know how to feel about Miguel being spoken like this behind his back.

   "How are you gonna sit there and not tell us about him?!" Maggie huffed out. You knew this was going to happen, and you were prepared.

   "We prefer to keep things private." You tell her.

"What are we going to do when your family starts asking questions?" Miguel asked, shifting his gaze from the road to you for a moment.

"We'll just say we like to keep private." You say with a shrug. Miguel frowned, unconvinced.

"We have to have some kind of story. At least how we met." He pressed. You rolled your eyes.

"Alright, Mr. I-don't-want-to-do-this, what do you suggest?" You teased.

   "The suspense is killing us, Junebug!" Your mother explained as both your sister and her led you into the kitchen and sat you down. You chuckled, playing it off.

   "Alright, fine, fine." You took one of their hands in each of your own. "So, I had just been hired at Alchemax-"

    "-and they had been placed within my team. Now, at first glance, I thought they didn't belong." Miguel admitted to Pete, handing him one of the suitcases. "However, they then went on to impress the team as they quickly solved a problem we had been stuck on for three days. It was…phenomenal."

   "It?" Pete asked.

   "The way their brain worked was like no other I'd ever seen. They saw the world differently than everyone else. I saw that and wanted to see more." Miguel admitted, a small smile playing at his lips as he remembered that day. You had peaked his interest within moments of your arrival, but it was then that you had his full attention. He snapped himself out of it, quickly grabbing another bag and handing it to Pete, who then nearly went down with the extremely heavy bag.

   "So, because my smarts were enough to rival Miguel's, I was placed under his wing." You told your mother and sister.

   "More like under his muscles!" Maggie said, making both her and your mother giggle. You rolled your eyes.

   "Oh shush, both of you! Do you want the story or not?" They silenced quickly, waiting eagerly. "That's what I thought. So, I shadowed him for a few days and watched him do his tasks. He didn't talk much, actually, he didn't talk at all. He was all silent and broody. But, when the time came for me to take over and show what I learned, he suddenly became chatty."

   "They did everything wrong! I had to correct them on everything! Their reports were left unfinished, and they mislabeled some of the vials." Miguel couldn't help the growl, catching Pete off guard.

   "Did…did you just…" Pete tried to ask. Miguel waved him off.

   "A habit from too many cartoons." He brushed off. Miguel needed to be careful. He didn't want to scare your family after just meeting them.

   "Eventually, they had enough of my 'bickering' to call me out on it. We had a…massive argument that led to insults and, somehow-"

   "-we laughed. We started laughing over how stupid it all was. I was a new scientist, and he was an old timer, although he's not really that old." You chuckled, shaking your head at the memory. "His laugh rang like church bells, and his smile beamed like it was just charged with a million volts."

   You sighed dreamily, smiling fondly at the memory. You had made it your mission since then to make sure he always laughed and smiled that way. You went as far as shooting him with terrible dad jokes and puns. The dad jokes worked, the puns not so much.

   "Since then, we just sort of clicked, and the rest is history." You smile.

   "That's it?" Your mother and Maggie gasped out, eyes wide and jaws dropped.

   "¿Como que 'that's it?' Of course, that's it." Miguel told Pete, helping him grab the last of the luggage.

   "You didn't even talk about the moment you fell for them or when you finally asked them out." Pete said. Carrying as many bags as he could, which was three. Miguel picked up several more than Pete and sighed.

   "Would it not be easier to hear it from both of us in front of the rest of the family?" Miguel tried. Pete shrugged.

   "I suppose so." Pete looked up at Miguel. He was only a couple inches shorter than the man, but it felt like a big difference. "I'm glad they found you."

   "Sorry?" Miguel asked, caught off guard.

   "We don't talk much, but it was clear being surrounded by so many couples took a toll on them, even seeing the children." Pete continued, waddling slowly from the weight of the bags. Miguel followed his pace, just in case Pete couldn't carry the bags.

   "It did?"

   "It did. I can tell you guys love each other a lot. They're absolutely smitten with you." Pete says, recalling the pic your mother took. "And as far as I can tell, you're just as smitten with them as they are with you."

   Miguel felt his heart hammer in his chest. It felt like the same rush from when he lept off that building to test his newfound powers for the first time.

   "You think so?" He asked, trying not to sound hopeful but rather honored.

   "Think so? I know so." Pete chuckled, adjusting his hold on the luggage. "I was the same way with Maggie, absolutely smitten. Though, it took her some time to come around."

   "That so?" Miguel questioned, taking one of the suitcases from Pete.

   "Thanks. Yeah, she was more stubborn than a mule, and it didn't help that she was absolutely head over heels for another guy." Pete sighed dreamily. "After the guy wronged her, she had no one to turn to and there I was, handing her some food and asking if she was alright. She talked for hours and I sat and listened. We joke that she bled my ear off that night. We decided to finally be friends and, like you said, the rest is history."

   "That's…quite the story." Miguel mumbled as they reached the house finally. Pete put the suitcases down with a huff.

   "Yep." He was out of breath.

   "May I?" Miguel suggested.

   "Knock yourself out."

   You heard the door open and strained your neck to look over into the hall. There you saw Pete struggling to carry two suitcases into the house meanwhile Miguel was carrying five at once with no trouble whatsoever. You felt your cheeks heat up at the small display of strength.

   "Bet you wished for him to throw you against the wall, huh?" Your sister teased behind you. You gasped loudly and quickly pulled back into the kitchen, smacking her arm. The gasp making Miguel and Pete look over in confusion

   "Stop it!" You hissed at her as she laughed.

   "Is something wrong?" Came Miguel's voice from behind you, concern etched into his tone. Your cheeks flared up more as your back stiffened.

   "Nothing!" You quickly say. However, your sister had a devilish look in her eye.

   "My dear sibling was simply telling us how they'd just love to have you push them against a wall." Your jaw dropped at your sister's words.

   "Maggie! Shut up!" You shouted at her, face going red as a tomato. She simply laughed, eyes darting behind you. Suddenly, you felt Miguel's breath against your cheek as a breathy chuckle hit your ear, causing goosebumps to ripple your skin.

   Dear gods…

   "That so?" Oh no. You recognized that tone in his voice. It was worse than his usual teasing tone. He was never going to let you live this down. "¿Que pasó with 'not in front of your family,' Love?"

    You gulped thickly as his deep voice got impossibly deeper at the whispered question. You couldn't help your breath hitching. Miguel gave another breathy chuckle as he pulled away. Oh, the embarrassment that made your cheeks flush deeply. You heard his footsteps walk away with Pete's following behind him. It was then, and only then, you allowed yourself to let out a loud gasp and cover your flush face. Maggie was laughing at your reaction while your mother attempted to comfort your embarrassed form.

   "Shut it, Maggie! How dare you do such a thing to them like that?!" Your mother scolded Maggie, shutting her up quickly.

   "Sorry, mom. It was just a joke." She mumbled as your mother sat you back down and hurriedly went to fetch you a glass of water. You kept your face hidden until you were sure the blush had left your cheeks. You removed your hands with a deep breath.

   You are so going to get it, Miguel! You thought to yourself angrily, accepting the glass of water your mother gave you with a smile.

    "¡Soy un pinche idiota! ¿Como voy a hacer algo estupido como eso?" Miguel growled under his breath, pacing the room Pete and Maggie were to share. Pete watched him pace, trying to open his mouth and cut into Miguel's Spanish rant. Miguel simply continued to wave his hands around and rant angrily, movements quick and swift with muscles drawn tight and ready to release like a cannon. Still, Pete tried.

   "Uh…hey, uh…Miguel?" Pete tried quietly. At the sound of his name, Miguel turned to Pete with an angry snarl.

   "What?!" He hissed through gritted teeth. Pete jumped.

   "I-I was just gonna say to apologize to them…" his words trailed off under Miguel's infuriated gaze. Miguel took a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

   "You're right. You're right." He released his breath and looked at Pete with kinder eyes. "Sorry for yelling at you."

   "Ah, don't mention it." Pete waved him off. "But seriously, apologize."

   "Yeah, I got it." He huffed, annoyed. How could he let himself lose control like that? The last thing he needed was for you to find out he actually did like you. Fake dating you was already hell for him trying to pretend he liked you while liking you. He let out a small growl, frustration seeping into his brain. He needed to relieve it soon.

   "Where's the bathroom?" Miguel asked Pete.

   "Last door on the right."

   "Thanks."

Part 2

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