#i love him in a terribly strong way . . . just wanna whisk him away from all the fighting and let him nap in my bed ‘cause he deserves it

[pinkmirth]

(slight AoT final episode spoilers below) — i know that everyone’s fighting for their lives and stuff, but reiner looked so yummy during the battle of heaven and earth . . .

[star-spangledstud]

Webcam

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (female!)reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish

Summary: You and Bucky try something you’ve never tried before. 

A/N: Based on the song ‘Cyber Sex’ by Doja Cat. (I’M OBSESSED WITH HER RIGHT NOW, OKAY?!” also my first smut so be gentle ;)

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (don’t read if you’re a minor mmkay?); masturbation; cursing

For the fourth time in half an hour, you looked at yourself in the mirror. With one finger, you cleaned up your lip gloss, removing it from the edge of your lower lip before tousling your hair to give it more volume. You straightened out your dress next, blushing to yourself when you thought of what you wore underneath. Bucky had no idea what was coming to him, you were sure of it. After all, you’d never had cybersex before. The guy hardly knew how to work an iPhone 4.

“Can you see me yet?” 

You chuckled, adjusting your camera so he would be able to see you better. Staring back at you was a black screen with three dots in the center and a small cutout square in the corner in which you could see yourself waving your hand in front of the webcam. You wiggled in your seat and squeezed your thighs together, anticipation bubbling in your lower belly at the thought of what you were about to do. 

“No,” he muttered, “how the hell does this work again? Hang on, baby, the computer hates me.”

He pressed several buttons, thick fingers jamming the keyboard in quick motions. You doubted he had any clue what he was doing. Technology had never been Bucky’s strong suit. 

You rolled your eyes and snorted, “James, we went over this. You have to press the camera button and make your own screen smaller with the little arrows so you can see me.”

A picture suddenly replaced the blackness, causing your cheeks to heat up and your heart to skip. There he was, your man, staring at his screen with a deep frown on his forehead and his tongue sticking out of his mouth; his concentration face. He was still dressed in his tactile suit, streaks of dirt evident on his chiseled cheekbones. 

“I see you now,” he said, smiling at you, “can you see me?” 

You nodded and waved again, smiling wide when he returned the gesture. You’d never get tired of seeing that face, not in a million years. He’d always give you butterflies.

“Where’s Steve?” You asked to be safe, peering into the motel room behind him.

“Got his own room for the night,” he commented, “I wanted to be alone with my best girl.”

He got up, placing the gun that had been lying on the desk in front of his computer on the nightstand of his double bed. The entire room seemed to entirely be clad in 80s decor, from the wallpaper to the sheets and even the TV behind him. You watched as he took another weapon from his waistband and placed it beside the other one. Then a knife, which he collected from his right boot, ended up on the table as well. 

“How long have you been in?” You asked. 

“We just got back ten minutes ago,” he smiled, “I couldn’t wait to see your face. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” you said, “come sit down, big guy.” 

He did as told and took a seat after taking his jacket off and hanging it up over the back of the chair. His finger went out to touch the screen but recoiled when he realized it was silly. He really did miss you, it had been too damn long since he was able to touch you. 

Bucky and Steve left nearly two months ago. He knew it would be a long mission with endless stakeouts and not a lot of action, which made the time pass by even slower. Every day he’d sit in various hiding spots for hours, underneath bushes, behind trees and sometimes even high up inside them with weapons at the ready but nobody to shoot. HYDRA employees seemed to live in the underground facility he and Steve had been staking out for weeks now because neither of them had seen anyone go in our out so far and it was starting to become frustrating. 

“We’re thinking we might call it quits in a few days,” he said, rubbing his arms, “we haven’t seen shit and we both doubt things will change anytime soon. It looks like they’re laying low for now. All the cameras are almost set up anyway, so we can watch ‘em remotely.” 

You nodded happily, excited at the prospect of seeing your boyfriend again soon. You missed him terribly, missed having him by your side every day and in your bed every night. You missed pulling at his hair while his hands were on your hips, fingertips pushing into your bare skin as he drew profanities from your lips. Fuck, you missed him terribly.

“Speaking of cameras,” you grinned, “do you like my new dress? Haven’t had a chance to show you yet.” You asked, getting up from your chair. 

You pushed it back so your whole body could get in the frame, your hands slowly running down the length of the pastel gingham dress that made your skin tone stand out beautifully. You could see Bucky closing in on his computer screen to see better, lower lip between his teeth when you twirled for him, making the skirt lift to expose more of your skin. He looked down at the white knee socks that clad your legs and the black Mary-Jane pumps on your feet and his lip turned red from the biting. 

“I love it,” he said breathlessly, “really makin’ me miss you right now.”

“I’ve so been lonely without you,” you purred.

To say you’d planned how this would go be a lie. You’d never undressed on camera before and weren’t exactly confident in your abilities to sensually strip for a man, but it was Bucky who you were doing it for and just knowing that made you feel more at ease. Nevertheless, your heart thumped in your chest while your fingers went to the hem of the dress, which ended just above your knees. Bucky frowned as you began to lift the piece of fabric slowly over your thighs, his breath hitching when you looked up into the webcam.

“What’re you doing?” He asked breathlessly, “baby...” 

He knew damn well what you were doing, he could see what you were doing with his icy blues, but he was afraid, terrified to think they were deceiving him or that it was all a terribly wonderful dream. Either way, he didn’t want to wake up before having the chance to see it all unfold. Being away from you for so long was starting to remind him of going to war. To make matters worse, he couldn’t just easily jerk off with Steve’s supersoldier hearing. Bucky was itching for release.

“Wanna show you how much I miss you, James,” you cooed, “cause I miss you real bad.” 

Your hands left the hem for a moment, fabric dropping to just above your knees again. Then, they found the underside of your breasts, your sternum, your stomach, and your hips. You caressed yourself, flicking your own nipples and fiddling with the cotton straps slowly before you finally lifted the dress up again, further this time. He’d soon be able to see your new underwear, pretty, soft, and pink just like your pussy. 

As soon as the fabric of the dress exposed the line of your panties, Bucky was gripping the table in front of him like his life depended on it. He’d never in his life thought about using modern communication devices for, well, sexual purposes, but the growing pressure inside his tactile pants had him suppressing a groan he could hardly keep inside his hot mouth and he had to stop himself from bucking his hips forward in an attempt to create deliciously painful friction against his pants.

Your bra, brand new and the same shade of baby pink with red lace around the wire, his favorite color on you, came into view and he was like a puddle at your feet. You tossed the dress on your bed, allowing your hands to slide up and down your body while he watched you in silence, the only sound being soft jazz music that played through your surround-sound system. Just the thought of his eyes on you getting naked in your bedroom made wetness pool between your legs.

You sauntered back towards the camera, using your hands to lean against the desk so your breasts were pushed together. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of him, had been ever since he was roughly whisked away from you two months ago and Jesus Christ you needed him so bad. It was a fucking sin to be away from him for so long. How the hell did you survive before you met him? How did you get off without his dick?

“Is that new too? Did you buy that for me as well?” He asked, voice gruff and dangerously low. 

You nodded, showing off the fabric by coming even closer to the camera. Then, you turned around again, slightly shaking your ass when you showed him the back of your panties up close. Your thumbs hooked under the band on your hips and they smacked against your skin when you let it go again. 

“I can’t wait to see you in that in-person, baby. All the things I’m gonna do to you while you’re wearing it. Gonna rip it right off you.”

“Yeah?” you taunted, licking your lips while cupping your bra with both hands.

“You doubtin’ me?” he asked darkly. 

“Seeing is believing, Sarge.”

“You’ll see it,” he smirked, “feel it too, when I shove my fucking cock down your throat.” 

You sat back down in the chair, squeezing your legs together to stop the ache between them as you shivered. How bad you wished he would come barging into the room right then and there to make you his, how much you needed his hand around your throat while he fucked you mercilessly into the desk, the thoughts were driving you up the fucking wall. You inhaled deeply, a deep breath enough to suck in the courage for what you were about to say. 

“I’m so wet for you, James.” 

You could hear the sharp intake of breath through the microphone of your laptop. He remained silent for a moment, contemplating what to say. He’d never done this before, but he wanted to make you happy in any way he could. He’d do anything for you, even being thousands of miles away from you. 

“Are you now?” he huffed, “guess that since I can’t be there to help you, you’re gonna have to listen to what I tell you to do. Can you do that for me, baby? Be so good for me.” 

You nodded quickly, taking your index finger in your mouth and biting the skin in anticipation. He had you writhing in your chair without even touching you. You didn’t know what it was about him, but everything about him turned you on, from the way his jawline was covered in dark scruff to his metal arm, which gleamed beautifully in the artificial motel room light. Everything about him oozed masculinity. 

“Show me how wet you are,” he told you, “come on angel.” 

You did as told by placing both heels on either side of the desk. He could already see the wet patch in the center of your panties begin to form and this time, Bucky couldn’t help but to let out a throaty groan when memories of him fucking you harshly and relentlessly into the mattress behind you clouded his vision. 

“I’ve been so lonely without you, Bucky,” you said, rubbing your fingers across your inner thighs teasingly, “It’s just not the same when I do it.”

He palmed his cock through his pants en began to rub it slowly at the sight of you; one hand moving over your clothed pussy and the other disappearing inside the cup of your bra. You adored way his dark, long hair was tied in a messy bun and wished you could reach through the screen to touch it. You wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips trailing down between your breasts, along your stomach and to the place where you needed him most. 

“Take it off,” he grumbled as he undid the button and unzipped his pants, “all of it. Take it off right now.”

He didn’t have to tell you again. Your bra was on the floor in seconds, exposing your perked nipples to the cold air of your room and his wanting gaze. You wiggled out of your panties, dropping them on the ground in front of you. Then, your legs resumed their previous position, one on the left side of your laptop and the other on the right, heels clicking against the wood in anticipation. 

You swore you could hear him curse underneath his breath when he caught a view of your naked pussy, glistening with slick and pretty pink contrasted by dark tan lines. He pulled his straining cock free from his boxers at last. It’s hard and thick, so fucking thick it made you want to cry out in desperation. There was no way you could’ve waited another day without at least seeing him, it was downright torture.

“So pretty, baby,” he groaned into his microphone, “touch yourself for me.”

You did as told, placing a finger on your most sensitive place, “Like this?” 

You began to rub circles over your clit, finally allowing a moan to escape your lips while Bucky slowly rubbed his throbbing cock. 

“Jesus, I want you to come sit on my dick,” his eyes screwed shut, “fuck you ‘til you can’t breathe.” 

“Come home then,” you tease, licking your finger before placing it back on your nub, “I’ll sit on your dick all day long.” 

“All day? You sure you can handle that?” He asked, eyes opening again just in time to see you plunge your middle finger inside yourself. 

You were so hot, burning to the touch and your back arched involuntarily when you dipped your finger in and out of your glistening pussy, “I’ll sit on your dick and your face, Bucky. You’re my favorite seat.” 

He chuckled, his grip on his cock tightening in an attempt to mimic the way you felt clenching around him. He envisioned it, your pussy over his mouth, nose pushed against your public bone as his tongue dove in and out of you. He’d grip your ass and smack it red with his metal one while groping your tits with his flesh one, drinking you up as you came in his mouth, driven to near madness from the feeling of his scruff against your most sensitive area.

You couldn’t wait for him to be with you again so he could be the one whose fingers were inside you instead of your own, ready to cave under the pressure of his muscular body on top of you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, plunging another digit in so your middle finger wouldn’t cramp up, “wish you could cum in my mouth.” 

“Jesus Christ, I will,” the velvet murmur of his voice reminded you to look up at the camera instead of down at yourself, “soon as I get back to you I’ll cum wherever you want.”

You began to pump faster, rubbing your clit in smaller and more intense circles than before. You could see him do the same, increasing the speed with which he jerked himself off. His face was red and gleaming with sweat, running along his temple and down his neck. Your moans echoed through his speakers and through your room, filling his ears with a sound so delicious it nearly drove him insane.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urged, “I wanna see you make yourself cum like my good girl.” 

Pleasure overtook you when his words rang in your ears on repeat, eyes screwing shut when you continued to plunge your fingers inside you at a fast pace. Your hips rolled inside the chair, desperate for as much friction as you could possibly get. It creaked under your jerky movements, but you didn’t pay it any attention when Bucky’s voice filled the room through the speakers. 

You tossed your head back in bliss, pressure building so fast and deep inside of you that you knew you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Keep going,” he urged, “don’t you dare stop, baby.” 

“James, fuck” you moaned loudly, “I’m gonna..” 

Before you could finish your sentence, you were cumming so hard you saw stars clouding your vision. Your walls clenched around your fingers while you continued to rub circles over your oversensitized clit in an attempt to ride out your orgasm as long as you could. The coil of pleasure inside your lower belly finally snapped, sending sparks before your eyes and your mind blanked. 

You shuddered and opened your eyes, watching Bucky stroke himself from tip to base, hair beginning to fall from the bun atop his head the more he tilted his head back. 

With a harsh pant, he came all over his stomach, coating the black tactile vest in glossy white spurts of hot cum. He’d have to clean it before tomorrow because his other one had ripped when trying to climb a tree, but right now, all he could think about was how good it felt.

He fell back inside his chair, hands falling limply to his sides while he watched you remove your fingers from inside you. 

“We should’ve done this two months ago,” he panted, “could’ve saved me a lot of lonely nights.” 

You smiled blissfully, wiping a strand of sticky hair from your forehead.

Still, you couldn’t wait to have him with you for real. 

[angst-king]

Misery love Company pt 5

(mention of vomit, and ablelist behavior

It  had been a week and a half since Katsuki had eaten a proper meal, or felt normal. His entire body had felt like it was burning but that wasn’t because he had a fever, oh no he was cold to the bone but his bones were hurting so bad. Moving hurt so much, moving also made him incredibly dizzy to the point where he collapsed once or twice. These dizzy spells were accompanied by nausea, chest pain, his heart feeling like it would explode from his chest, feeling very hot and then suddenly he’d drop. 

Today had been the last straw or well tonight was the last straw. Katsuki was miserable, laying in his bed unable to be comfortable at all with how sick he was. A trash can next to the side of his bed in case he got sick but. Even just moving to get sick into the trash can made Katsuki feel very faint. Like now, Massaru was helping Katsuki who was busy getting sick into the trash can for what felt like the millionth time this week which made Massaru wanna take Katsuki to the ER but. Katsuki had been brainwashed by Mitsuki into the idea that he just needed to sleep it off but. This time Mitsuki wasn’t home and Massaru was too anxious to care especially when he heard Katsuki gasping for breath, clutching his chest, and whimpering to the point of tears running down his flushed red, and pale pink face. Massaru had to hold Katsuki up when the other’s eyes went back and he went limp, he knew the other had fainted again but this time he listened to his gut. He quickly grabbed everything he needed, and pulled Katsuki out of bed and into his car, and left for the emergency room.

When he got there he carried Katsuki in and allowed them to whisk his son away. Of course they had to ask the usual questions as well as some other ones but other than that Massaru was left in the waiting room. That lonely sickeningly white walled waiting room. Massaru knew he needed to call Mitsuki even if he didn’t want to know how his wife would most likely react though a piece of him hoped she would have a shred of selflessness to get off of work to come and see him.  

Ever since Katsuki’s condition began to make an appearance Mitsuki hadn’t been reacting to this well. She’d been rather dismissive about Katsuki’s complaints of pain, and rather passive aggressive with her replies. Then when Katsuki started getting sicker and sicker she wouldn’t even be bothered to help him. It was as if that was a job completely beneath her. Telling Katsuki to stop being weak or lazy and that he could do it himself.. The frequent fainting spells weren’t helping, making it even more difficult for Katsuki to try and help himself. It finally got to the point where Katsuki could hardly sit up without needing to immediately lay back down because he was gonna pass out.  Mitsuki ignored everything and passed it off as puberty, being a wimp, growing, needing to take care of himself. All her words were laced with a coldness that made Katsuki feel so weak.

Making the decision, Massaru called his wife and told her what had happened and, to put it frankly, her response wasn’t very empathetic or motherly. “Ugh what the hell! I told you not to Massaru!” “i-I know dear but come on, the kid fainted again and he hasn’t been keeping down almost anything but gatorade, and he’s in pain.” “Katsuki is just weak Massaru, he just wants attention and is playing it up to get it!” Massaru was getting fed up with his wife’s protests and replied in an annoyed tone.“Mitsuki, our son couldn’t even sit up on his own without blacking out. I don’t care if you think he’s faking, if you truly loved and cared then you’d come over here.” He hung up before she could reply as he didn’t want to hear another word from her at the moment. Still alone in this waiting room, waiting for any information on his son’s condition was making the man anxious. It felt like hours, upon hours, but it had only been one hour but. Time in here seemed to feel like forever, it went by so slowly yet too quick at the same time.

Finally, a doctor walked over to him smiling. “Mr Bakugou?” Looking up he sees the woman coming over to him and he gives a sigh. “Yes?” He says as he stands up, the woman approaches him and starts. “We’ve got your son Katsuki, stabilized the best we could here. We did some testing after learning his symptoms and well, the results aren’t great…” The way the woman spoke, Massaru had a bad feeling from the start, but said nothing allowing the woman to go on. “Mr Massaru, let's sit.” She says, now he’s feeling more and more anxious about the possible news. Nodding he sits down in the chair he started in while she sat beside him turning to face him. “Your son could’ve died tonight if you didn’t bring him. He was that sick.” That made Massaru want to be sick himself, the feeling that if he waited a day or two longer, Katsuki could’ve died. Still Massaru didn’t know how the boy could’ve gotten so bad or what was wrong with him, so he asked. “Wh-what’s wrong with Katsuki?” His voice wasn’t very strong, it was strained with concern and fear. “Well your son is sick, and I don’t mean that he has the flu, he’s chronically ill.” It hadn’t hit him completely but hearing that his son was chronically hit him but. How could his son just suddenly fall ill like this though? Even with a chronic illness, shouldn’t this have appeared when he was younger? So he asked what he was thinking “shouldn’t this appear when he was younger?”  “Well some things probably did but they never manifested like this or he did and the doctors just dismissed it as something else.” Massaru couldn’t help but feel guilty, his son could’ve been suffering for years and this is how he finds out. Twiddling his thumbs unconsciously and asking “So what does he have?”

“Katsuki has H.E.D.S which is called Hypermobility Ehlers Danlos syndrome. This is a connective tissue disorder that allows your son to be very flexible and have very elastic yet very thin skin. Due to him being very flexible and having lots of collagen his joints are very loose which means he can easily dislocate things and have horrible body pain from it.” Taking this information Massaru had more questions. “How could this condition almost kill Katsuki? Or is there more to this than just horrible body pain?” “Well I’m glad you’re asking these questions because, yes there is more to this disorder. How I explain this is I call this the H.E.D.S expansion back because this disorder has the possibility to contain multiple other disorders and problems and. For Katsuki those other disorders seem to be POTS and Gastroparesis. Though gastroparesis is a theory I’m not totally solid on that one but it's a good possibility that he has it.” This was so much information coming at him at once but he wanted to know how these conditions would have ended Katsuki’s life. So Massaru asked for the doctor to explain the second ailment. “POTS stands for postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Which is a heart condition in which standing or sitting up can cause the blood flow to pool away from Katsuki’s head and make him faint. It can also cause lightheaded-ness, chest pain, shortness of breath, anxiety, fast heart rate, tremors, nausea and vomiting. These symptoms can become very exaggerated during a flare up, which explains why his heart rate was so high but his blood pressure was low.” Massaru silently let everything sink in until he asked1

“so your theory about Gastroparesis? What is that exactly and why do you have a theory for this?” “Well Gastroparesis is a fancy word for stomach paralysis. It's when the nerve that controls the stomach’s contractions that move food from your stomach to your small intestine has stopped functioning or maybe the sphincter of his stomach to his small intestine won't open properly. So his body is digesting things way too slow which can cause lots of pain, bloating, nausea, the feeling of being constantly full or not hungry. SInce his body isn’t digesting his food correctly that means that he’s not absorbing any nutrients through what he eats by mouth….so if he does have gastroparesis they may have to find another way to provide him nutrition.” All of this was a lot for Massaru to grasp but he could also do his research but. Then he had another question. “So how are you guys going to treat my son, what are the plans?” “Well Mr Bakugou, I suggest that your son be transferred to a long stay facility because his condition is not good and we can’t do what a pediatric long stay hospital can do.”

That’s when he knew Katsuki’s world had officially turned upside down. Massaru couldn’t help but feel terrible. If he had waited any longer, if he’d listened to his wife, they may not have woken up the next morning to see Katsuki with a pulse. If he hadn’t listened to his own instincts Massaru would have never forgiven himself. Now his son was gonna have to be transferred to a long stay hospital and he knew Katsuki wasn’t gonna take this well at all. Still he wanted to see Katsuki and knew this information would be accepted better than it would coming from him than the doctor. “We can admit him, but can I see my son please?” “Sure, he should be waking up. He did faint on us when we had to get blood drawn and hooked him up to some IVs. Your son definitely has anxiety around needles, I can tell you that for sure.” She chuckles a little while standing up from her seat, Massaru follows suit and is led down the hallways to find Katsuki.

[nnatasha]

don't blame me for falling, i

tom holland x reader

 he comes back to town after years and years, and the press are just eating it up, and you're falling too hard and too fast

a/n; mentions of alcohol and drugs, sex. my version of beer pong is in here and the basic rules are that like if u and ur partner both miss a shot consecutively, you lose the game and have to drink the rest of the alcohol on the table loll (also shoot me an ask or smthn if u wanna be on my tag list)

you were wildly late for the party and, as you hurried around the small corner shop you had stopped to get some food at (because of course you didn't know that you were supposed to provide food) , you weren't really watching where you were going. maybe it was your fault, or maybe it was his, or maybe it was the gaggle of girls and boys alike crowding him that made you drop the bottle of wine.

as the dark red liquid seeped into the linoleum cracks in the floor all you could think about was how it was the dumb fucking rich boy that had got in your way. it wasn't your fault. it was not your fault and the both of you knew it. hell, god almighty knew it and he never even paid attention to you.

"shit," the voice was quiet amongst the loud murmurs of the small crowd ," are you okay, love?"

a very tentative hand against your back and all your problems were buffed out. you let out a shaky laugh, nodding. it was just a bottle of wine and you would not cry in the middle of the supermarket, you would not because you could not and so you would not.

the tears spilled over your cheeks of their own accord and you laughed again at the sudden very high pitched ramblings of whoever it was. "are you okay? I swear im so sorry I'll pay for it and oh god are you crying I'm so sorry?"

and then tom was there and you felt like crying even harder. little tommy who taught you how to ride a bike, who stole your first kiss and your first everything, and who had upped and left the moment he garnered a little bit of fame.

and then there was a pair of strong, familiar arms around you, pulling you close. not so familiar, you thought. he'd buffed out over the years, all muscles and hard edges. gone were the days where you could beat tom in a wrestling match and gone were the days when you, him and harrison would bum joints off your neighbour and sit on the garages until god knows when, thoroughly waved and young.

"hey tommo." you sniffled into his shirt and then you realised that it wasn't cotton but in fact a dress shirt that was probably more than a weeks worth of your wages and then you were pulling away, willing yourself so furiously not to let a single tear escape you as you stared up at tom.

an overjoyed look overcame tom and his teeth shouldn't of made you as happy as they did but they did and that snaggly tooth of his would be forever imprinted upon your soul. "y/n!" he exclaimed excitedly. the hesitation that was on his face was one you rarely saw and then his eyes were off yours and then so were his hands and his warmth and you were back to being you. "I'll pay for your wine ma'am, I'm terribly sorry."

"I'm not an old lady, you prat." you said, a smile on your face, tears a thing of a past life.

but then a flash went off and you flinched. of course, in that moment where the entire world was watching you were an old lady. he wasn't the tom you knew and you weren't the old friend he knew. just two strangers passing in the night, one a top-earning actor and one a girl who couldn't brave leaving her hometown.

and so you separated ways, with no wine and no food to bring to the party because you definitely weren't going to that anymore. only when harrison texted you the day after did you know how much you could've had: tom went, even if you didn't.

the bakery at the end of your street was owned by your mother. it couldn't host big parties and was so incredibly crammed and it barely made enough money to scrape by on when you were younger, but it was good in the long run. maybe you were incredibly biased, but it was the perfect place to work. it was not, however, the perfect place to run into your childhood best friend.

"can I have a- oh hey!" the familiar voice made you freeze and you looked up to a grin that could sink a thousand ships (and break a million hearts). all smiles, all dimples and you were ready to hand over your heart and soul in that very moment, right there with a cup of hot chocolate in your hand.

"tom." you squeaked out, heart caught up in your throat but also at the bottom of your gut and then just pounding so loudly, too loudly in the centre of your being.

a nod and then words that couldn't possibly be said through a grin oh so big, "sorry about the other day. sorry it ended up everywhere."

everywhere meaning almost every tabloid in england: spiderman got one caught in his web? or tom holland has a raunchy reunion with childhood lover or love in the air for budding actor? were all that seemed to follow you after saturday. you had learnt that tom was back in his hometown indefinitely for a 'well-needed and deserved' hiatus. (who's to say if you'd been reading the papers recently.)

even worse were the fangirls, with their hate posts and their posts telling people not to hate on you and then the few fics and edits you had read online before shutting down your laptop. it was all too overwhelming and too much and so you had taken a day off work to look at it all; being in the tabloids was a once in a lifetime experience, after all.

"fine. it's just fine." you managed a small smile. "so, mr holland, what would you like from ye old sweet shop?"

tom laughed, a familiar thing that lit a flame in you. "don't call it that! it was a bloody joke."

your grinned matched tom's as you remembered what your mum had called her quaint shop after a night of too much wine. to her dismay, it had stuck with you and the boys for too many years for it to be truly funny, but in that funny way of inside jokes it was still ,well, funny.

"what can I get you?" you asked after handing the hot chocolate you were holding to a sweet teenage girl.

tom furrowed his brows slightly, even though you both knew what he was going to order. "one mocha with, um, half  teaspoon of coffee ,please. actually make it two."                                                       

a chuckle got caught in your throat. "two?" jealousy was a true evil and it seeped into your skin, into your bones, into your soul.

"wait, do you wanna join me and haz cause we're supposed to go to a party later and I think it'd be cool if you came." a jumble of words fought away the monster as you exhaled in relief. no secret girl to worry your heart over.

"yeah, I get off in about twenty minutes if you two can wait?"   

and so your night began, with two idiots thinking that mochas were the pre-game pre-game pick me up

  the party was already in full swing by the time you arrived, with people milling about the front garden. "just like old times, boys." you grinned, swinging your arms around tom and harrison's shoulders. "whoever pukes first has to make pancakes in the morning."

"you're on, mate." harrison agreed readily, with tom making an absent grunt beside you.

and so it began, a group of girls you knew pulling you away from tom and harrison the moment you stepped into the door. the squeals about tom being back in town and how you were going to , like, get it filled your ears and you couldn't help but laugh. stacey, your childhood friend, pushed you down onto a large sofa in the lounge of the house. "tequila?" she offered, stumbling slightly as she procured a plastic cup from her bag. stacey, you couldn't help but notice, looked like a goddess in a neon pink dress that hugged her body tightly, ending very, very high up on her dark thighs. she was already drunk and you couldn't help but wonder how much time you had wasted with tom and harrison getting ready and having shots in your flat.

"tequila!" stacey shoved the cup in your hands before plopping herself down next to you, her legs going on for miles until they reached the coffee table (you couldn't help but chuckle at the socks and heels combo stacey was wearing, staying true to her weird phobia of feet).

you nodded with a tipsy grin, saying "tequila!"

and the night moved on from you and stacey, to the hoards of other people drinking, fucking, whatever, to you and tom playing beer pong hours later against harrison and harry.

"are you even old enough to drink yet?" you shouted at harry over the loud music. you had ditched your shoes god knows where eons ago, and were leaning against the hard, hard thing that was tom holland. his heat seeped into your skin, through your bones and into your soul as you threw a ping pong ball in the direction of the boys opposite you.

"should you even be up this late, old lady?" harry shouted back, cheering when you missed your shot. you childishly stuck your tongue out at him, drifting until you banged into the dining table you were playing on.

"oopsie daisy." you murmured as tom placed a hand on your back, drunken gaze searching you. you were so close, so close, too close to him and you flinched away from him just as harrison got a ball in a cup and you groaned.

the shot slid down your throat like water and you shut your eyes. you were either really, really very much too drunk to be going to work tomorrow, or the party had run out of alcohol. tom missed his shot and banged into you, the two of you laughing like hyenas as harry and harrison cheered over their easy win.

as per tradition, you and tom made slow, clumsy work of drinking all the leftover alcohol on the table, stomach flipping as you moved too quickly, bumping into tom at the halfway point. "'ello matey." you slurred at him, his eyes the most beautiful kaleidoscope of colours that made your head spin and your heart flip.

and then stacey was whisking you away to the garden or maybe it was the bathroom or maybe just an empty pitcher, but you were doomed to make pancakes in the morning and tom was doomed with the task of taking you home.

  the pictures of you and tom were splashed on almost every media outlet you could think of the next morning. you and tom in the bakery, leaving together and smiling like you were two birds born out the same flame. blurry, dark photos of you arriving at the party obviously already waved, you taking shots with your arm intertwined with tom's, you and him playing beer pong, you leaning up against him, the almost kiss that definitely was not an almost kiss it was just a fleeting drunken moment that wasn't, and then you puking in the kitchen, stacey wobbling on her too high heels next to you. a video of you and tom stumbling in the front garden, your bodies banging and clanging against each other in a symphony that dropped your heart to your stomach and then his arm weaved it's way around your waist and there your heads were too close, so close it should've been illegal and then there was you, puking down tom's back, the sickly green of it fading into yellow and then all the colours of the rainbow as you watched the video over and over and over again.

every frame burned into your eyes as you rushed to the bathroom, knees slamming against the floor in a way that would've, should've been painful except you were so numb and so, so hungover.

tom had dropped you off home and left without a trace. sure, his keys were on the side glinting at you dangerously in the harsh yellow rays of the blinding sun, but there was nothing else to even hint at last night.

you had known tom for years and years, memory upon memory of you and him, him and you, stacked away in your brain. little tommy, who taught you how to ride a bike and who stole your first kiss, your first everything-

and suddenly you were fifteen years old again, with your thin eyebrows and damaged lungs and your two best friends, tom and harrison. and tom was on top of you, underneath you, inside you, warming you from the inside out, seeping in through your skin, your bones and your soul.

  then tom moved back to london because millionaires can just do that, despite his hiatus and the stories of the two of you sewn into the ground of your hometown, staining the floor of ye old- your mum's bakery.

and you were right back where you started; no tom, rushing to a party you were wildly late to.

[mostfacinorous]

young Warlock wants to bake a surprise birthday cake for his mom, but he's too young to be in the kitchen without supervision, so Nanny helps him out

My askbox is open to drabble prompts!

“Nanny,” Warlock hissed from his place in the doorway, and Crowley blinked awake in moments, not yet adjusted to where he– she was. Or the body she was currently in. It caught up a moment later, though, and she slid her glasses into place before flicking on the bedside light. 

“Nightmares, dear?” She asked softly, sliding into a seated position with her covers demurely in place, despite the perfectly demure nightgown she slept in. She patted the bed, and Warlock came running, bouncing up and onto the foot of it. 

“Nope. Just too excited to sleep. Tomorrow’s mom’s birthday!” 

Nanny held her breath to suppress the sigh.Birthdays were one of the few times that Warlock’s little family was all together. Or they were meant to be; Thaddeus was on a flight to the other side of the world at present, at the bidding of his bosses. And Harriet had been up late drinking, and was no doubt going to wake up with a terrible headache as a result. 

“Warlock, dear, you know your father is a very busy man…” She began gently, but Warlock just shook his head.

“I don’t care that he’s not coming.” He said, a little too loudly and a little too angrily to be convincing. “More cake for us. Only, there’s no cake in the fridge, I checked.” 

“Ah.” Nanny said quietly. “And where did you propose to get the cake from? You want me to help you sneak off– without your guards– and purchase one? I doubt any bakeries are open at this hour.” 

Warlock shook his head, bouncing excitedly, and pulled out his mobile. “I found a recipe and we have everything we need right here, actually.”

“The cook has gone home for the night, but we can ask him about it tomorrow morning, if you like.” She cajoled, though she knew that expression, and had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Nope.” He said, popping his P the way she did when she was being particularly insubordinate. “I want to wake mom up with cake for breakfast. It’s the best way to get your birthday started.” 

She sighed. Sweet, well intentioned little terror that he was, he had no idea what he was asking.

“So you want to bake a cake. Us. Tonight.” It was already past midnight– she had no idea how long this endeavor was meant to take, but whatever it was, she was sure they could double it, due to mishaps born of inexperience. 

But she brightened up a little as a thought occurred to her.

“I’m not especially good at cooking, but you know who might be of some help? Brother Francis.” 

Warlock clapped delightedly.

“You mean we’re gonna do it?” 

Nanny let a wicked smile spread across her face.“Oh yes. We just have to wake up the gardener first.” 

—

Half an hour later, the three of them were assembled in the kitchen, a recipe up on Warlock’s phone, and the necessary ingredients spread out across the counter haphazardly. 

“Alright young master Warlock,” Aziraphale said, with his ridiculous accent and teeth and overbearing kindness. “How’s about you start sifting the flour, while Nanny measures out the liquids, and I get the oven preheating?” 

“‘Kay!” Warlock answered, using both of his small hands to work the sifter with its metal handle that made an awful noise until it noticed Aziraphale’s glare and reconsidered. 

Liquids measured, dry goods sifted, and oven working on coming up to temperature, the actual mixing of the batter went easier than expected. Especially with Brother Francis’s strong arms and broad shoulders put to work with the whisk, along with, Nanny was sure, a small miracle or two to rid it of lumps.

Once it was poured into two round tins, and placed carefully into the oven, it became a game of waiting. 

“Why don’t you take a little nap while it cooks, young Master?” Aziraphale as Francis suggested. 

“No! We still gotta decorate it.” He protested, ruining the argument with a yawn. 

“Oh, sure we do, but it’s going to take twenty or more minutes to cook, and then it has to cool before we can ice it– and Nanny and Brother Francis should probably do the dishes, so that poor Harold doesn’t come in and find a mess in the morning.” Nanny gestured towards the little padded window seat, which in the daylight was a lovely place to take tea and look out into the garden. But for now, it would serve as a perfectly good camp cot for a small boy. 

“Fine. But only if you promise to wake me up for the icing. I wanna make sure it’s perfect.”

“Of course we will young Warlock. But no need for you to be yawning into the frosting, hmm?” Brother Francis swept the child off of the stool he’d been perching on to reach the counter, and settled him on the window seat, pulling a blanket that surely hadn’t been there before from behind the throw pillow, and settling Warlock in. 

The late hour and the exhaustion that followed youthful excitement, coupled with the warmth of the kitchen, pulled Warlock quickly into his nap. 

“He’s becoming such a sweet boy,” Aziraphale said, affectation dropped. 

“Hm.” Nanny answered, keeping hers. “This is a spite cake, since his father won’t be home to celebrate. Not purely sweet.” 

Aziraphale glanced sideways at her, then sighed.“Poor Harriet. I suppose this was not what she wanted out of her marriage, when she agreed to it.”

“Or out of her life, really. But what can you do?” Nanny paused. “I think I might decorate her first slice with those chocolates with liquor in. Hair of the dog and all that.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but just peered over at her with that same fond look on his face that he’d directed at Warlock when he’d proposed they bake the cake in the first place. She shifted uncomfortably. 

“Don’t let the alarm wake him.” She said, perhaps sharper than intended. 

Aziraphale just laughed quietly and took up the comical chicken shaped timer as if it were his most important assignment. 

“You know that decorating is going to be incredibly messy, don’t you?” He asked, and Nanny cleared away all of the batter mess and dishes in a quick gesture. 

“We’re occult and celestial beings. How bad could it be?” 

Later, when Nanny was giving Warlock a three am bath to get the chocolate out of his hair, she got her answer. 

[crowkingwrites]

Ducky

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader // Words:1663 // Ao3 Link

Ramsay arrived home with the highest honors, more than three job offers, and his father’s approval. Military academy made him into a better man. Not in the sense where a man stopped his terrible behaviors, but better at hiding them. A particular professor almost kicked him out due to his bladed threat, but what could Ramsay do? The professor was a dick. He deserved it.

Bethany Ryswell, the closest thing Ramsay had to a mother, had planned a welcome home dinner party for her favorite boy. She welcomed him home with a warm hug and a kiss on his forehead. He may be in his early twenties, but he was still her little boy. 

Ramsay looked to his childhood friends and studied their faces. Some had grown to be tall, others fat and round. Some had noble coats and others had the same military coats Ramsay worn. None of his friends were married, in love, or even had a chance for a lady’s hand.

“I see Paris has been good to you,” Ben said. He ran a hand through his growing hair. “Roose has been talking about you all day like you battled the filthy rebels themselves.”

“Fucking peasants,” Ramsay shook his head. “If it were me, I would blast them all.”

“With cannons?” Alyn said. “You’d be considered mad.”

“I don’t think it would matter if I delivered results. The sooner the drunks stop filling the streets with their garbage, the sooner our lives will go back to normal. And what’s this I hear of your family immigrating to America? Is your family mad?” Ramsay responded. Damon handed him a glass of a sweet red wine. Ramsay’s lips touched the rim of the glass, tasting the sweet nectar.

Then he saw her. Someone who looked too familiar.

“My family is not like yours, Ramsay. You and your father come from a long line of assholes. Your father is an asshole. Your grandfather was an asshole. Your great-grandfather would have killed you by now if he had known you existed. My family is filled with a bunch of sugar-boned, fat pockets, drunk artists who can’t punch for shit,” Damon laughed out loud.

Ramsay’s eyes followed her across the ballroom. She was more beautiful than all of the girls in the room. Her makeup glowed. Her dress was pink and red, his family’s colors. Who was she? Why did Ramsay have the feeling he knew her?

“My father is begging us all to go. It’s gotten bad for the lower nobles, you know,” Damon finished his wine. “Rotten. This is all so—

“Shut up,” Ramsay rolled his eyes. “Who is that?” He pointed in her direction. Ben made an interesting sound. “Oh, you don’t remember, do you?” Ben smiled. “You’ve missed so much.” The boys started laughing. Ramsay rolled his eyes and took his glass with him. He knew this girl from somewhere. It itched the back of his brain. She was speaking with friends until they noticed Ramsay behind her.

Once she turned around, Ramsay knew exactly who it was.

“Y/N?” Ramsay studied her face over and over again. The last time he saw her, they were children. Ugly was a kind word for her. She often played with Ramsay and his friends despite them not wanting her around. Ramsay called her ‘Ducky’. Short for Ugly Duckling.

“Welcome home,” her voice was warm and inviting. Unlike her shrill voice as a child. “I heard you earned high honors, Mr. Bolton.” She played with the pink ribbons on the front of her dress. Ramsay’s eyes floated down to her chest. He didn’t remember her having such a voluptuous bosom or at least she never dressed this way.

“Y-yes I have. You know of my activities during our time apart. What of you? What have you been up to exactly?” Ramsay’s eyes flitted back and forth from her face to her other body parts.

“Finishing school,” Y/N answered. “After the mess I made with you and your friends, my Lord father wanted me to be a proper lady.”

“Proper?” Ramsay swallowed. How was she this pretty to look at? Her curls looked soft to the touch. He inhaled the air around her. He caught heavy hints of perfume. Her makeup brightened her eyes. Her nails looked perfect.

“Oh yes, you couldn’t have expected me to stay a tomboy with you forever, could you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Are you alright?” Y/N asked. Her smile hid something sinister underneath. Was she aware of the power she had?

“What?” Ramsay reacted.

“As I remember, you always had something awful to say to me.”

“You didn’t look like this when we were younger.”

Y/N laughed and it sounded like a song. Ramsay felt his cheeks warm up and he took a few steps back. Y/N reached out for his hand, but she caught his military sword instead. Both of their faces were inches from each other. Ramsay’s red cheeks warmed to her touch. She caressed his smooth face.

“Oh dear,” she giggled. “I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” Y/N whisked Ramsay away from everyone else. They sped through the hallways and ducked under servants. Ramsay’s fingers itched to touch her more. His mind wandered back to when they were children.

How was she this attractive? It didn’t make sense. Covered in dirt, scratches on her arms and legs, her shrill voice still burned at the back of his mind. The girl he knew then and the young woman whose fingers brushed over his crotch could not be the same person.

“What happened to you?” he chuckled, trying to figure her out as if she was some puzzle.

“I like to imagine I grew up. Why? Did something happen to your eyes?” Y/N’s fingers pressed him against a wall. “Do you think you’re going blind?”

“No, I think I’m falling in love,” Ramsay laughed. He shook his head. Why would he say something like that? Men like him didn’t fall for anything. Y/N pushed them both into a bedroom. Her hands already exposed his chest.

“Is this your first time?”

Ramsay stood silent. He would certainly not admit that this was his first time. Not to her. His back became stiff like a board. Her lips brushed against his, and moved them along with hers but nothing warm was there. Her hand tucked into his pants and she grabbed him.

“Oh, you don’t like me,” she frowned.

“No! No. It’s-it’s not that,” Ramsay continued to kiss her face. His hands buried themselves in her curls. He pulled out pins and the pretty ribbons in her hair. He smelled the strong perfume and wanted to bury himself in her chest. He pushed her body into the bed while his mouth left trails of kisses that led to her corset. He pulled violently at the ribbons. It tightened and loosened her clothes and she laughed.

“This is your first time—

“No!” Ramsay yelled. “I’ve done this before!”

“Have you now?” she said as she helped loosen her corset. Ramsay’s mouth pleasured her nipples first. He sucked at them needlessly. Soon, Ramsay caught sight of his new military jacket, shirt, and shoes all over the ground. He smiled and felt her hands bring his face back to hers. He kissed her and she tasted like the peaches he always craved at the military academy.

His felt his member getting harder. He wanted more. He took one look down at her messy clothing and felt his throat tightening. Ramsay didn’t know where to put it.

She lifted her skirts and revealed the treasure between her legs. His blue eyes studied her parts and he remembered only one passing conversation about it.

“I kissed her down there,” Ramsay remembered Jon Snow told his brother. “I didn’t know why. I just wanted to. She really, really liked it.”

To cover up his ignorance, Ramsay’s tongue went to town on her parts. She moaned and cried out his name a few times. His tongue penetrated her folds and sucked at whatever skin his lips touched. She was drenched when he finally slipped himself inside. Her folds were soaking for him and he obliged her.

His cock slid in and out of her body and he never felt something so good before. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Ramsay’s face buried into her neck once again. She felt so damn soft. His hands intertwined with hers as he increased his speed.

“Ramsay,” she breathed.

Oh, it was his turn now. He had power over her. He got high off the dominance he had in the military academy. He loved undermining his professors and captains. He enjoyed watching their faces fall whenever he would have a better strategy or a better idea. But this? His dick was inside of a childhood friend. This was a different kind of power.

Every time he would fuck her deeper, she would sweetly respond with her nectar-like voice. It made him grow bigger and tighter inside of her. Her walls closed in, grabbing onto his member. He brought his face to hers once more. He let her kiss him deeply. Before he could tell her that he was about to finish, Y/N pulled his ear close to her mouth.

“I want you inside of me. I want your seed,” she breathed. Shocked, Ramsay came inside of her. He filled her holes with a flood of his cum. His seed leaked out of her and Ramsay marveled at the sight of what he had done.

Y/N laid there with a sinister smile on her face. She was also proud of what they had done. Her form rose to meet Ramsay’s. Her chest was still bare. Her hair was in wonderful tangles. Her hands moved across Ramsay’s slowing chest.

“Am I wrong to assume that a new friendship has started here?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ramsay said, kissing her forehead. “You’re still Ducky to me.”

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[paechwrites]

A mega gift fic I did for @caruleanfox as a writing exercise and because I just wanted to lol. Enjoy ʕ•ﻌ•ʔ

---

It was the third time in the row that Dave came by to his sister's house, the first visit Rose assumed he needed something, eggs or milk maybe; it wasn't odd for him to swing over to Rose and Kanaya's house, showing up on their doorstep at least once a week or so and asking if they wanted to join him in whatever social activities he had planned. 

But instead, Dave casually offered to watch over their son, Jasper, with a solemn expression. The first time, Rose gladly handed him over without a second thought, needing a night out for just her and Kanaya without maternal duties. The second run happened two days after, three movie tickets in his hand and inquiring if Jasper wanted to go with him and Karkat to the theatres. The movie, in question, was a kids film, particularly for children under the age of five. Jasper, what Dave shrugged off as a coincidence, happened to be under the age of five - two, to be specific. 

Rose smirked at this, commenting slyly on the matter. "Did you really go and buy tickets at the box office for a mind-numbing children's film, even if my answer if Jasper could come was no? Are you regressing due to your blemished childhood? I hope Karkat hasn't reacted so negatively to this development."

Dave frowned, shaking his head and insisting he just wanted to spend quality time with his nephew. Nonetheless, Rose complied, taking a moment to bathe him while Kanaya proceeded to dress him. Once Dave dropped off Jasper back to his home, their son had been the most hyper he'd ever been, after consuming popcorn and a probable gratuitous amount of candy without monitors. 

Perhaps Dave was merely trying to win Jasper's love, bigger than he adored his mothers. Kanaya, admittedly, felt a twinge of jealousy creep up her shoulder.

And the third time, Dave took him for a day out at Chuckie E. Cheese and insisted Rose and Kanaya join along, to which Jasper wasted no time getting tuckered out; Dave had to fit himself into the kiddy playhouse entrance and climb up obstacles in order to fetch him from the highest ground. When Dave brought him down, his face had been greased with specks of pizza sauce and only a handful of tickets clutched in his little hand. 

Dave went ahead and used a napkin from a nearby empty table to rub away the sauce, fixing the strands of bleach hair then asking him gently if he wanted to cash in the the tickets before they left the establishment. That moment, Rose had never seen once, a fatherly aura practically radiating from the display, not to mention once Dave set him down and reached for his hand. 

Rose and Kanaya had never certainly seen that side of him, Dave moreso acting as Jasper's fun, no-limit uncle that helped him to get food smattered on his face and clothes with spoilt treats added. Mainly because he didn't have kids of his own so repercussions weren't always present in his mind than just having simple fun. The change was drastic, not even Karkat had an answer to it when questioned about it.

Then it hit them. Rose and Kanaya shared knowing, curious looks as they walked back to the car while Dave carried Jasper on his shoulders.

~~~~

"Is there something you've been pondering about, Dave?" Rose asked, criss-crossed on the couch on an afternoon with Dave sitting inches away from her on the couch.

Dave shot his head up from his phone, a reflection of Rose staining his shades.

"Ponderin' about what brand of shoes I should buy? Fuck yeah, I've been, I only have like one pair of shoes like as if I'm a bum on the street with tissue boxes for shoes and shaking that mug as rhythmically as I can, except instead of pennies, it says coochie because matters of the heart come first." Dave spouted, checking his phone when it buzzed in his palm. Rose gave him a mellow look, fixing her posture on the cushions.

"I think Nike's would look good," Rose mused out loud, thuds suddenly resonating out in the hall until her purple eyes landed on Jasper; who beamed at the sight of his uncle.

"But you and I both know that wasn't what I was referring to."

Dave raised both his brows above his shades, watching as Jasper toddled over to Rose and stabled his hands on her lap.

"I don't know what the hell you're getting at, but I genuinely thought you were invested with me about choosing what sick shoe wear I should buy. I'm hurt, Rose." Dave put an exaggerated hand to his chest, earning Rose to roll her eyes.

"I'll humor you later on that, if you'd like, but I called you over for important matters." Rose stated, resting a soothing hand on Jasper's stark white hair. Dave shrugged lightly in response.

"Nothing important really going on."

"Matters as in, family matters. Or alternatively, why you keep whisking away my son."

Dave froze, lowering down his phone as his thumbs hovered above the keyboards.

Rose looked at him attentively, her posture fitted into as if she was a therapist handling one of her usual patients.

"Well, uh," he cleared his throat, turning off his phone and glancing up at Rose with his shades mirroring a view of herself. Rose suddenly placed both her hands against one knee, perking it up a bit on the couch and making Dave groan.

"I feel like I'm being interviewed for a babysitting job here." Dave said, slackening his shoulders.

"I mean technically, you've been babysitting these past days."

"Those are classic uncle bro bonding days, not boring ol' hours of making sure the kid doesn't get into any trouble around the house."

"Jasper rarely gets into trouble, mind you."

"Yeah but that ain't the point though."

Rose piqued an eyebrow, scanning him over suspiciously with deep purple eyes.

"You know, I've never really pegged you as one to have baby fever," Rose said, causing Dave to choke up and grasp a hold onto his pants.

"Baby fever? There's no baby fever or any sort of fever flaring up in here." Dave deadpanned, as hard as he could manage, what with his voice raising high pitched in the middle of his sentence. Rose pursed her lips in amusement.

"Are you and Karkat, perhaps, leaning in a family-way now?" Rose smirked, Dave immediately waving her off before dropping his hand flat. He emitted a loud sigh, his cheeks flushing and feeling more vulnerable than he's ever been. She'll prattle on about this if he doesn't come clean.

"Okay," Dave started. "Okay, okay. This is really fuckin' dumb, it happened in a really-"

"Dave." Rose cut in a little sharply, gesturing towards Jasper with a nod of her head.

"I mean, uh, this is really kinda unfortunate and dumb that I have really strong feelings for, and it happened in a very uncharacteristic cool kid way." he rambled, Rose humming responsively.

"Go on."

Dave let out a huff.

~

"Dude, make sure you know how to handle those kids," Dave advised, not looking up from his phone as he slung his arm over the bench and bubbly giggles poured into his ear, Karkat's more deeper, scratchier laughter roaring above them. "I don't wanna deal with angry lusii or something. Whoever the hell is in charge of those kids."

"I'm wrangling them just fine, thanks for asking." Came Karkat's gruff, along with grub chirrups. Dave nodded mindlessly, scrolling through his new messages. For awhile, Karkat's laughter intermingled with practically chipmunk-squeaked voices were all Dave could hear, eventually growing fond of the sound with a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip. The growing generation of young trolls loved Karkat astoundingly, just as much as they did Kanaya; it was quite comedic to see a grub latch onto his pant leg as he started trekking back home.

"Hey Dave!!"

At this, Dave lifted his head up and away from his screen, a low sounding 'yeah?' under his breath. The view of Karkat being used as a jungle gym obstacle for the young trolls met his shaded gaze, a bronze grub tucked to his chest and pressing its head affectionately into him, a wide toothy grin plastered on Karkat's face as a rust climbed and perched onto his shoulder.

"These little bastards think I'm cooler than you!" Karkat boasted. He never was one for censoring himself around delicate, impressionable ears - that is, unless Rose and Kanaya were around. They'd lecture him more than once when a profanity would slip off his gray tongue with innocent Jasper only inches away.

Dave couldn't help but emit a giggle, warmth vibrating throughout his chest. His small smile transpired to a full, fleshed smile, just the imagery of Karkat doting on children set a sudden flame.

It wasn't seconds long until the thought rushed into his head; the thought of a tiny being that shared Karkat's gray skin, but looked like Dave and had his unnaturally burgundy pupils, right there in the commotion with the wrigglers and Karkat. He swallowed.

~

Dave buried his face into his palms, shades pushed up against his forehead. Rose, this time, looked at him with a soft smile, shifting a little closer to him and placing a hand on his knee. Jasper stood onto his tippy toes, reaching for the slowly sliding-off shades, to which Rose made a disapproving noise of and probed him to quickly snatch away the shades.

Rose playfully shook her head, then reverted her attention back on Dave.

"Well, there is certainly nothing wrong with developing a paternal need.." Rose started, Dave squeaking into his palms. Oh, jesus, it was a terrible idea to converse with Rose about this. But what other choice did he have? Karkat was off the table immediately (for now) and Kanaya would undoubtedly take the same route Rose is doing now, the others he just didn't feel too confident to bring it up. His ears felt hot, feeling as if every eyes in the room were glued onto him; except for perhaps one little boy too transfixed with Dave's shades behind the couch.

"Oh my god, Rose, no."

"I think you'd make an excellent father, and Karkat definitely fits the role quite nicely from what Kanaya has told me."

"Rose, don't infect me with your family disease-"

"I think it's about time Jasper gets a cousin anyway, he spends a little too much time with adults rather than other children his own age range, don't you agree?"

Dave issued another throaty noise, a bright red blush painting his face behind his hands. He'd have to talk to Karkat about the idea tonight, instead of harboring it any longer.

***

Karkat tapped his spoon against the rim of the bowl, watching the dices of chopped carrots swimming in the broth, mixed with pieces of chicken and optional trollian toppings. Dave still wasn't up for trying Alternia cuisines, much to Karkat's annoyance, so he made sure to store a separate pot for himself that were filled to the brim of what Dave would gag at and compare it to the most vulgar of things.

Karkat hummed thoughtfully, dipping his spoon back into the soup and bringing it into his mouth. Where was Dave anyway? Dinner had been prepared half an hour ago and the last time Karkat heard of him was when he was at Rose and Kanaya's house.

As if on que, sounds of the living room door creaking open echoed throughout the house, signaling of Dave's arrival.

Karkat perked his posture up a little. Dave walked into the kitchen, shuffling with something in his pocket. It took a minute for Dave to lift his head, a small smile tugging at his lip.

"Yo, Karkat, sorry if I took long." Dave greeted, placing his phone on the table and then heading to the fridge.

"You do know there's freshly cooked dinner to your side, right?" Karkat questioned. Dave shrugged, patting his stomach as he pulled out a basket of strawberries.

"Already ate at Rose and Kanaya's house." he replied, taking a seat across Karkat with the full basket and plucking one out.

All around, dinner was unusually quiet - Dave was unusually quiet, and this set Karkat off a bit. On an ordinary night, Dave would be flapping his mouth away, making all sorts of gestures and going from topic-to-topic. Maybe Dave just wasn't feeling talkative tonight.

But then.

"Hey, so Karkat, you remember that thing like a week ago?"

Karkat looked up from his plate, eyebrow arched. That was unspecified.

"A thing? From a week ago?" Karkat repeated, confused. Dave nodded his head, coughing into his arm as he seemingly choked on a strawberry stem.

"Yeah, y'know, when we were like....uh, at the park?" Dave recounted, a blank expression embedding Karkat's face until he hummed responsively.

"With the lovable little shits? Yeah, I remember that." Karkat said, taking a swig of his drink. Dave stared at his husband through his shades, lips thinned. How in the world was he supposed to go about this without his face looking like a tomato and his hands distractingly fidgety.

Dave let out a drawn string of 'uh's, resting his elbow on the table. Dave never wished for anything more than for Karkat to magically read his racing thoughts, chewing the inside of his cheek as a tic.

Karkat had always been a paternal type, as much as he wouldn't admit and only respond with an roll eye; Dave studied how his expression seemed to soften at the immediate moment a small chubby hand slapped against his chin.

Come on, Dave, the blond thought to himself.

Straightening his stature, Dave pursed his lips. "I could've confused you for a jungle gym obstacle that day, all the grubs and wrigglers just crawlin' over you like you're the Ronald McDonald statue out in the play area. Or wait, were actually any Ronald McDonald statues? Back on my old Earth, I mean, because I swear I have this fuzzy memory of a commercial coming onscreen where other little kids were thrashing and circling around a plastic Ronald McDonald statue like it was the holy man himself, McDonald's being the most devout of all restaurants."

Karkat simply rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you think those kids ever been to Earth C's McDonald's before?" Dave piped up, Karkat only shrugging his arms.

"I don't know, Dave, I'm not even those wrigglers' guardian so it's not like I see them everyday and know what they've been doing or where they've been, let alone digested." Karkat said. A surprising grin mounted itself on Dave's face, startling Karkat just a little.

"Aw sweet, I bet the grubs don't even know what the hell a McDonald's is and the non-grubby ones probably love the shit out of it, McDonald's is practically every kid's paradise to dine out at, I've only gone like three or four times when I was a kid, but that place was an absolute heaven to me, being able to sip on apple jay and eating probably-processed cheeseburgers and greasy as fuck fries-"

Karkat cut into his husband's overtly exciting rambling without hesitation. "Dave, we're most likely not gonna see that gang of ankle biters again."

Dave immediately deflated. Oh, no.

"What?"

"Half those kids belonged to parents and lusii already present at the park, remember?"

"Yeah, but, didn't you say they were from the brooding caverns?" Dave questioned, tilting his head a little.

"The grubs were from the brooding caverns, but Kanaya's already cleared out the already-hatched grubs from the caverns two days ago, ready for the Mother Grub to deposit more eggs." Karkat explained, watching Dave slumped in his seat with a look of realization and thin lipped upsetness. Karkat chewed on his lip lightly.

It was quiet for a short moment, Dave looking plainly at the table cloth before choking out an 'oh'. Possibly finding the sudden silence just as awkward and unwelcomed the mutant troll found it.

Dave bit his tongue, tips of his fingers burning as he ached to spit out his offer already. He gulped heavily.

"Hey, uh, Karkat, Karlkat, kitkats, Karks," Dave fumbled, leaning more into the elbow laid on the table. "I don't think I've ever used those nicknames before, except for probably kitkat because I mean c'mon, your name practically sets itself up for that pun like it's got no business, I think I actually have a paper with a laundry load of written idea nicknames I can give you, hold on let me go get it-"

"Dave!" Karkat snapped, making the man pause midway of lifting off his seat.

Dave quickly plopped back down, clearing his throat to refresh their conversation. He stabled his feet to the ground, staring directly at Karkat through his shades. Are his shades even appropriate right now? Should he take him off so Karkat could take him seriously?

His fingers moved up a tad, almost wanting to act on just that.

"Karkat, I was kind of thinking, like a lot on this," Dave started, brushing his hand over the black ledges of his shades. His voice almost cracked, nerves jumbling and surging through him. "Those kids from the park, uh, really made me consider something. Of how it would feel like, and be like, to have a lil' tike running around...here too."

Karkat shifted an eyebrow up at him, his face flying into a curious look, and a bit wary. Dave took that as a sign to continue, attempting his hardest not to get caught up in his rambles.

"I've actually sometimes wondered what adorable abomination we could make, like how red their eyes would be, your bright pigment or mine, or if they'd have bleach white strilonde hair, horns or hell, no horns at all."

Karkat slowly released his spoon from his grasp, mouth slightly open. Dave laughed nervously, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.

"What would we name it anyways? Jayden Broseph Karkat The Second Strider-Vantas? Or just Strider?" Dave itched at the back of his palm. "And, y'know, I think it'd be cool to have a family with you - we're already at that age and married, so it's not like we're speeding through this like a goddamn Mario game, have myself a best dad in the world cup while you get the kid ready for school. Rose and Kanaya have been waiting on our asses anyways to get Jasper some new playmate, so..."

Dave removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose, white and red staring keenly at Karkat.

"What....do you think?" he asked aloud.

Karkat blanched. His pointed ears turnt down, hesitating what to say, as a low blush crept on his face and spread.

"Okay. Um, wow," Karkat coughed out, eyes wide. "Are you - you sure?"

"Absolutely, man."

"With me?"

"Who else would I do this with, Gamzee?"

Karkat's eyes traced back to his bowl, shoulders tightening with a grand decision hanging over them. His food might've gone cold by now. He couldn't remember the last time he touched it, actually.

"Alright."

--

John gaped at them, looking Dave and Karkat up and down before a big grin painted his face.

"So, will you help?" Dave asked once more, returning back the same excited smile as Karkat shuffled behind him.

"Absolutely!" John yelled. "Oh, this is so exciting!"

"I know bro."

The moments in the ectolabs seemed like a blur to Karkat, everything happening so quickly as he stood before the platform and peered down at it intensely, boldly. Waiting for the bundle to just zap and appear, his heart thrumming.

Dave choked beside him, already breaking out into a sweat. "God, I'm so nervous."

"Dave, it's a little late for nervous." Karkat grumbled back, but swallowing thickly with anticipation.

In a flash, what took a swift second but the mutant couldn't tell as he screwed his eyes shut, messy bleach hair suddenly appeared and caught his eye instantly. Two new big and red eyes casted open, six talons clacking against the platform as the red grub emitted a yawn into the air.

"Holy shit its got my hair." Was the first thing Dave voiced. She looked at the two confused, switching her head from the human to the troll. Karkat felt his gaze permanently glued to the new grub, unable to tear his eyes from the mix of red and pale gray and white fluff of hair.

"She."

"What?" Dave looked over at him.

"She has your hair....and my blood color." he corrected slowly, while Dave contorted into a surprised expression.

Karkat swallowed again, staring in disbelief at the small thing in front of him. Dave nudged him gently.

"Pick her up." Dave murmured, causing the mutant troll to nod lightly before carefully moving into hold his daughter up, for the first time. This way, Karkat and Dave got a better look at her. She wriggled a bit in Karkat's hands, giving another yawn that showcased her tiny sharp teeth.

"Fuck she's tiny." Dave observed, leaning into Karkat and shifting his shades up a little.

"She's a grub," Karkat said plainly, his tone leaning defensive. "Grubs are naturally tiny."

"I know, though she's not all troll." Dave reminded him, a defeated agreement coming from the troll. He never made so much extra precaution before of holding his grub, making sure to not squeeze her too tight in case his claws pricked her but not too loose where he'd accidentally and regretfully drop her. She reopened her bright red eyes soon enough, staring at him mindlessly.

"Yeah, she's gonna be a weird as fuck kid." Karkat stated, quite affectionately while he softly rubbed a thumb over her chubby cheek. She suddenly glared furiously at him, puffing her cheeks up into a ball. Dave reeled his head back, pretending to feel intimidated by the adorably grumpy, fierce expression his grub gave him.

"Oh jeez, look at that scowl, looks like she doesn't like being called weird." Dave whistled, cracking into a smile. "She looks like you."

Karkat furrowed his caterpillar brows, simultaneously with their new daughter. Dave emitted an amused sound, planting a hand on Karkat's shoulder as he weaved his other through her hair.

A surprised expression struck his face suddenly, pausing his hand for a moment before pushing aside her hair, revealing nubby horns, mirroring her troll dad's but just a tad nubbier, beneath the mountain of white hair.

"She even has your horns." Dave said gleefully, shifting his weight more onto Karkat and wrapping his entire arm around his neck. Karkat grinned, proceeding to cradle his kid closer to his chest, the grub hooking her talons on his turtleneck and keeping a steady gaze on Karkat, responsive small chirrups spilling out from her then nuzzled her grouchy chubby face into his chest when he laid a small kiss to her silky hair.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

A series of short, connected one-shots about Riku learning he's in love with Naminé. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. And, yes: there is a plot.

The first four chapters

Chapter One

Riku accidentally knocked Naminé into a wall—and oh, how her hair escaped its ponytail this way and all the art supplies she'd been trying to gather from shelves fell to the floor—and while it was the worst and most awkward thing in the world when it happened, it ended up being for the best.

"…Riku, why am I a mail pusher here—just because I'm desperate to have a job, and this place accepted me—away from where I really want to be? Here, where these art supplies are that Zara wanted me to grab for her… Surely I could find a way to have a job with these, and be happy that way."

Ever the realist, Riku was about to tell Naminé that it was probably because the economy sucked, that she'd chosen what she had… And that one had to take what they could get. Especially when they were young…

But then Riku thought about it, and realized Naminé would probably want to start a daycare and teach art that way: And there was a cry for it, in the new part of town that had been built so that the Island could learn and enjoy Scrooge McDuck's technology there.

So fully embracing this idea now—Riku had never wanted Naminé to become a slave of the system to support herself, anyway: that was even why he'd come by to whisk her away to a great lunch—Riku told Naminé it was "a grand idea. And that if he had to talk to gossip Selphie to get the ball rolling, he would."

And hand-in-hand, they walked out of the building.

Chapter Two

It was while the two of them were out on said lunch "date"—and oh, how the use of that last word made Riku feel a bit awkward—that he wondered just why he was doing all of this.

Riku had always liked Naminé as a friend—how could he not, after everything she'd done for them?—and after Sora, Kairi, and Mickey, she was probably the person he’d say he was the closest to. And now with his recent... interest in her, and need to save her from a terrible fate, Riku needed to figure out if he'd fallen in love with her. He supposed it was definitely possible: The last time he'd had romantic feelings for anyone, or even considered eros, was when he'd had desires for Kairi’s heart when he was fourteen. And if Riku was being honest with himself, he thought what he was now experiencing with Naminé was close to that... if not more. And man, was he now nervous because of it! Naminé, seeming to see this, laughed as she pointed at an item on Riku's menu. "You should try the citrus salmon, if you're unsure what to order here. It's delicious. And it being so colorful matches the discussion we're having about art?"

Really not knowing what else to order, in this really strange environment—a date! Riku still couldn’t believe he was really on a date with Naminé, of all things—Riku flagged down the waiter, and told him they’d just have two citrus salmons, like his friend had suggested. Because in this situation, Riku wouldn’t have been able to read the menu if he’d tried.

Riku quickly tried to calm down, though—reminding himself that this had been his idea, and he’d spent plenty of time in comfortable contact with Naminé when they’d been working together to restore Sora’s memories. So why should this be any different?

Besides, rescuing Naminé from her terrible career—where they didn’t even pay her minimum wage—was worth any pain, right?

“Riku…” Naminé started now. And he could tell by the trace of heartbreak in her voice, that she was about to try and let him go the way that she had Sora—thinking it was a necessity—and how Riku hated himself for it. “You know this doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. Right? Furthermore… I know your Replica felt certain things for me, and entrusted those memories to you, but that doesn’t mean that you have t- “

And here it was: her speech about how they were all their own people, and just because Riku Replica had loved Naminé didn’t mean he himself reached those feelings at all: Riku had heard this same thing when Roxas and Naminé had realized they didn’t love each other, after all: So Riku got why Naminé was kindly trying to reassure him about this now.

…But the thing was that she was wrong.

While Riku may have tried to argue some of his Replica’s last words, if he really wanted to—to assure him that he really had been his own person, and nothing at all of his personality had come from him—the fact was he knew it wasn’t true:  

And Riku Replica had known that most of all, when he’d sacrificed himself for Naminé in knowing that she would be in good hands.

It was… true that Riku had inherited some of the man’s memories—and somehow, the idea of Naminé making him her own lucky charm, the way Kairi had for Sora, felt right to him—but even beyond that… the real Riku’s feelings for Naminé had always been strong… He’d just never realized it: Why else would he have emoted more for hearing Kairi talk about Naminé, than for Kairi herself lately?

Feeling the need to stop Naminé’s words before she took another love away from herself, Riku caught the blonde’s hands in his own and decided to talk to her with as much heart as he had been with Sora lately.

“Naminé, you really don’t have to do that to yourself… the belittling thing, I mean. It’s weird for me to think about, because I have no experience in this stuff… I once might have tried to, but I gave it up on that to make amends to Sora—and even Kairi—and to live for the world.

“But Naminé… I guess what I’m saying, is that I think my heart is telling me stuff about you. And I’d be okay with seeing where that road takes us, if you are…

“…Starting with you telling me why you’ve decided to work as a minor, anyway. Why not just have Kairi’s family completely support you?”

And to say that Naminé shone like the sun at Riku’s confession and acceptance of her, would have been an understatement: It made Riku think back to a saying he’d heard, about those who were hurt the most smiled the brightest. And damn, if that wasn’t true in Naminé’s case… And he wondered if it was in his own.

“Well, Riku, you might expect it’s more of me trying to earn my way, in thinking I don’t deserve anything. But to be honest? I’m realizing I’m as much of a busy-body as Kairi can be… Sitting still just doesn’t work for me. So even while I’m going to school and adjusting to a new life, I find I don’t mind working part-time.”

Running a thumb over Naminé’s hands that he still held in his own, Riku figured he could see that: He was much the same way, after all: Wasn’t that why he was still going on some adventures with the King, despite finally being home—in a mostly safe multiverse—with Sora and Kairi, like he’d always wanted?

“Well, what do you say to helping me with my job, as I help you with yours? I’ll go talk to Selphie for you right now, Naminé. And could you make a new keychain for my Keyblade?”

The white witch didn’t have to be told twice: She pulled out her sketchbook instantly and began drawing.

And Riku couldn’t help pondering if this keychain she created could have special properties, like when she’d transfigured Kairi’s lucky charm—apparently—and if it might make him even more powerful that way.

The duo finished their meal while keeping up a comfortable conversation, as Naminé designed and Riku tried to figure out who the best contractor for Selphie to talk to would be…

And when Riku drove Naminé home, he was a bit of a mess in not knowing what to do now.

But Naminé, as always, seemed to have all the answers, as she just gently slipped the keychain she’d made into his hand: that was a drawing of someone sleeping, that instantly pulled him into the Sleeping Worlds before Riku got his wits about him and come back.

Huh. Naminé had just found a way to streamline his change into his Dream Eater self, even in the real world. Riku thought he could find a way to use that for combat, for sure.

He was going to turn around and thank Naminé for her hard work—and promise her the same—but she’d already disappeared.

But Riku still felt the ghost of her grip in his hand.

She was playing hard to get, it would seem. But Riku had no issues with that at all…

So long as she always came back to him, the way that Kairi did for Sora.

And Riku smiled, knowing that she would.

Chapter Three

While Riku was speaking with Selphie, he couldn’t get the word “Keyblade” to disappear from his mind.

And this was worrying for three reasons: One, because people weren’t supposed to be able to think two thoughts at once. So Riku had to wonder if he was maybe going a little ADD. But he supposed if he was, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Sora handled it well, after all.

Two, Riku also knew that this was what happened in your heart when a Keyblade had finally chosen you and appeared in your hand. And as Riku already had one, so this made him fear that he was somehow getting Xehanort’s one…

And thirdly… maybe Riku was realizing he had no intention to be on the Islands at all, and never really wanted to be.

So, would he break all of his promises to Naminé, then?

But Riku tried to push all of that aside, as he conversed with Selphie.

“Sure, Riku,” Selphie agreed, as she put her hands in her pockets and quickly took them back out… Riku got the sense that it was because Selphie was becoming more of a runner, and had realized that standing like the former before taking off, wouldn’t do her any favors. “I can talk to people about what Naminé wants to do. I mean, anywhere you go you need connections. And the only way to get them here is through talk, since we don’t have boards or anything… I’ll see what I can do. But why do ya wanna help her, anyway?”

And Selphie had adopted that voice now: the one she’d used for Sora and Kairi when teasing them about each other—Riku knew this, because he’d used to spy on his clueless, lovestruck friends, too—and even for him, back when he’d had a crush on Kairi.

In fact, Selphie was so close to Riku now—as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in, to see his face better—that he almost thought that she was trying to start a relationship with him here and now, but he knew better.

“Because…” Riku started, now putting his hands in his own pockets and wondering when he’d become so honest—as the two of them stood against the waves—“she’s… how should I put it? The light to my soul. And before you start gushing, Selph, I don’t necessarily mean that in a soulmate or romantic kind of way. Because you can have soul siblings, and whatnot… But have you ever just met someone, who changed you and your life for the better?”

Selphie grinned widely—and oh, how it reminded Riku of their best friend Kairi. And he had to smile for it. He understood how Selphie saw Kairi as her older sister—and then said surprisingly shyly, “Of course. That’s how I felt about you, Sora, and Kairi, as I watched your plans of grandeur.” And if Riku had never felt like a dick before, he certainly did now… He felt badabout how they’d left Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka out of their plans back then. And Riku was about to apologize for it.

But Selphie, apparently seeing the larger point—that if Riku had fit someone else into his original group now, it must mean something—just took his hands in hers and reassured him with, “I’ll ask around for the kind of position Naminé wants. But if I get this for her, you should make sure you don’t leave her for something even more… ‘grander’ than her.”

…

Riku’s conversation with Selphie had made him feel awful about himself… something he was certain she had planned on, in the end, to get him to rethink some of his choices.

And rethink some of them he needed to do, he decided—as he nearly tore out his own sketch book from his pocket and began drawing himself.

…If he was really in love with Naminé—liked he’d let himself believe when they’d just been out to eat together—then he couldn’t lead her on, when really he still wanted to travel all over: If this was real, he’d have to settle down the way Sora had with Kairi.

But was it that? Upon now summoning his Keyblade into his hand over the sketchbook, as he walked home, Riku started to have his doubts. Despite his own selfishness here, Riku wanted to believe Nami and himself had that kind of bond.

But he’d thought they had had something for each other, maybe, in Castle Oblivion and at the Old Mansion. And Naminé had left him for Roxas then. So, who wasn’t to say he wasn’t just her rebound boy for Roxas, his Replica, or hell even Sora? And hell, Riku knew that he wasn’t exactly guiltless in this situation, either.

First, he’d loved Kairi… and then he thought he had Naminé, after she saved him from the Light… And somewhere down the line, if Riku was being honest with himself, he’d had a crush on Sora… And maybe Xion was even in there somewhere…

So, who was to say that he and Naminé were really romantic with each other, and not just trying to find whatever “it” was with just anyone? These were the hard and heavy questions Riku had to deal with now. But they weren’t the first ones he’d encountered when returning home.

No, those ones came from his mother… who, while proud of what he’d done for the worlds after his fall, was disappointed that he’d fallen to begin with and had had a lot of questions for him.

Riku had been unable to answer them all... He didn’t even want to.

And more than anything, he avoided them and her… But Riku somehow now figured that if he was going to understand the latter situation with Naminé, then he would have to get the former as well.

And that’s how Riku found himself standing outside his own door, knocking on it, and asking right away when he saw his mom face—before he could take her in, and regret this— “…I know what you think of me now, Mom. But do you think I was oncecapable of love? When you think back to how I jealously chased Kairi around like a love-sick puppy, and all?”

To her credit, the light brunet woman—his mother, Riku reminded himself—didn’t scrunch up her face at him like he’d expected she was. There might have even been some sympathy on her face, when she answered: “Riku… I don’t think you’re evil. Really, I’m just afraid your nature reflects the bad side of your lesbian mother. I don’t know… and I’m sorry.”

Talk of how Riku’s mother had learned she was a lesbian, after she’d married a husband and had him—and what it had done to their family—was always a sore topic for Riku.

So, it took everything he had not to lash out at her… or—Gods help him—to not think of hitting her.

As she’d just said, she put some of her own failures onto him… which Riku now understood wasn’t fair.

But moreover… she did make Riku think his entire problem was that he’d realized he was gay and nearly destroyed the world for it—because apparently bisexuals or homosexuals could never be sane in her world.

But the thing was… Riku wasn’t even sure he felt that way for Sora. He was confused… So, no matter what, knew she was just putting bad thoughts into his head.

But since they were reconciling now, or trying to (all because of himself and not her, Riku thought miserably) Riku found he wanted her opinion above anyone else’s.

She was still his mother…

So that’s why Riku had to know, as he toed the threshold to his home the way a just turned vampire would: “If I don’t want to even step foot on the Island, isn’t that proof I should spare Naminé the pain and let her go?”

Riku’s mom opened her mouth once, twice, three times before deciding the best thing to say… apparently.

And to Riku, it was like sunlight on a rainy day: She seemed to give the kind of answer that she once upon a time hadn’t been able to give herself.

“Then take her with you.”

Chapter Four

Naminé's PoV

Naminé didn’t care much for Riku’s mother.

She knew this was unfair, since she had actually never met her. She only knew her from Riku’s memories… but Naminé had somehow known that she would convince Riku he could travel the worlds while keeping his promise to her. And Naminé supposed he could… but she didn’t want it.

Furthermore, Naminé figured that if she ever met the woman, she’d try and tell her that she had feelings for Xion… Ugh.

Plus, the way Naminé had treated Riku was just unforgivable to her. But perhaps she was trying to change.

But all of this was why Naminé had a sour expression on her face, when Riku came up to her and said: “Naminé, why don’t you come with me on my world travels? You can set up some temporary art schools on each world you attend to, and live your dream that way… unless you don’t want to?”

She didn’t want to—that was the thing—and in her opinion, Riku should have realized he was being selfish (and running away from love) and done this one thing for her.

But as always Naminé was too selfless and she readily agreed, with a slight nod of her head.

“Okay, Riku. I have to pack… but I’ll meet you here in the morning.”

And she did.

…

The ride in the gummi ship was pretty uneventful.

While Naminé longed to converse with Riku—because they’d been falling in love… and while Riku was fighting it, she sensed it was a good thing and wanted to help it along—she found that the words wouldn’t come.

Naminé tried to enjoy the beautiful view outside her window and focus on only that. Maybe if she did, this would turn into the romantic moment it had been for Sora and Kairi when he’d taken her from Hollow Bastion to Traverse Town, but at the same time… Naminé found she was too angry for it to be.

“Naminé, did I do something wrong?” Riku asked, as he came up behind her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Thankfully, he had thought to put the ship on autopilot, so the rocket didn’t crash and burn for Riku’s suddenly focusing on her… something Naminé tried not to blush at.

“I mean… A lot of the worlds aren’t as advanced as the ones Scrooge McDuck helps along, so I thought you’d maybe want to help those ones getting an art program going along…”

It was a beautiful dream that Riku was painting for her—so maybe Riku had given this more thought than she’d imagined—but he didn’t get to continue on with it.

For that moment, a giant Heartless appeared in the Other Sky—in the shape of an “X”—and got the ship in its grasp, and tried to eat it.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened at all (Naminé might have not physically been there for it, but she’d witnessed the moment because of Kairi): On the way to the Keyblade Graveyard, much worse things had tried to destroy them.

And yet Naminé could tell that Riku was panicking all the same: Shown in how Riku was trying to get out of the plane to fight the threat with a Keyblade, before he even went for the lasers.

Naminé went for the lasers, though—firing at it here and there, as it wriggled away and took them with it—but she had to be careful not to hit Riku.

Frustrated, and giving up herself for the moment, Naminé went to the exit and kneeled over Riku: he was half-in and half-out right now: And looking to get swallowed or bleed to death, from where she’d gotten a few times and hadn’t meant to.

“Riku, why don’t you come back in and try to fight this thing by ramming into it, or? You’re going to- Ahh!”

Naminé couldn’t finish the sentence, because at that exact moment one of the Heartless’ arms crashed through the window and just missed dissecting her head from her shoulders with its movement.

“Because I’ve dealt with them before, Nami! Once they get a ship in their hold, it’s near impossible to get out. The best way is to fight them the normal way!”

And before Naminé could try and protest, Riku was diving towards the monster’s core—where it was preparing a blast to come their way—summoned his Combined Keyblade to hand, and summersaulted into the explosion with a loud “Arrraggghh!”

…It probably would have killed Riku—and tears were already sliding down Naminé’s eyes at the thought of it—but fortunately, since that Keyblade had been part Sora’s… it had the power of Crystal Snow, and had frozen the fire before Riku got to it.

And before Naminé could blink, he was flying back into the craft like an angel out of heaven… His hand was even on Naminé’s shoulder again.

“Well, what do you say we continue onto the New World now?”

Breath coming to Naminé in hollow gasps… she had to realize that maybe she hadn’t been the only one not able to grasp the weight of their love. And that she should sacrifice for Riku, too.

…

The world the pair touched down on was full of greenery—it reminded Naminé a lot of the outside of the Mysterious Tower—but there was also a lot of sand or dirt on the ground, as well.

Naminé took a lot of it into her hands—thinking that it was much like clay. And that, perhaps, this would be a good place to work on her hope, after all…

But then things went to hell in a hand basket much faster than they even had with the Heartless in the ocean between worlds.

Someone had appeared above Naminé—moving in a way that even Riku had noticed him—knocked her down, and sliced an “X” onto her face before she could fight them off.

She screamed, in a delayed reaction as the pain finally hit her and blood fell down her face.

The white witch got to her feet as soon as her body would let her—pushing off her boyfriend’s concern, as she turned around and around and around, trying to locate the man as Riku did the same—but he was gone.

Author’s Note: Sorry that so much happened in this chapter, but I needed it to to get the plot going. Hopefully the next one will be less intense. But they are in the Pocahontas world now, so that’s not a total promise…

And it’s not a native of the world who attacked Naminé…

And I, for once, didn’t proofread this. So sorry if there are any mistakes. I swear I will next time.

[saccharii]

You Call Me Strong, You Call Me Weak

Chapter Four: Selfish

Other Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11

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Adrinette May April, Day 9: Jealousy

Summary: Marinette’s friends will always be there for her, no matter what.

AO3 Link

@adrinetteapril

Me: Okay, let’s try to keep these chapters short, like under 1k words. 

Me, after writing the chapter: Did I say under 1k? I meant under 3k, hahahaha.

Here’s a fun drinking game for this chapter: whenever someone smiles, nods, or blushes, take a shot.

“You know, this is kinda creepy,” Marinette said.

“What?” Adrien said, putting his hand on his chest in mock offense. “Blindfolding someone, shoving them in the back of your car, and whisking them away to places unknown is creepy?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely getting some serial killer vibes here,” she joked. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“You’ll see in a second; we’re almost there.”

The limo slowed to a stop at the side of the road, and Adrien got out and jogged around to Marinette’s side. At the sound of the door opening, Marinette reached her hand out and groped blindly about. Adrien caught it in his and pulled her from the car.

He waved at the Gorilla. “We’ll be back in about two hours or so.”

The man grunted and settled into his seat. Adrien wondered what he did while he waited for him. Did he read? Sleep? Play flappy bird on his phone?

“Hmm... the smell of gasoline in the air... the sound of water slapping against wood... are we at the Couffaine’s houseboat?”

Dammit.

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t.”

Marinette smirked.

Adrien led her along the gangplank, walking backwards with both of his hands holding hers.

She tripped when she reached the end, falling into Adrien’s arms. She grasped his shoulders to steady herself, and smiled up at him, still blindfolded. Adrien could feel his face turning red.

“SURPRISE!”

Marinette jumped out of his arms and ripped her blindfold off, blinking the sun out of her eyes.

“Wha- but, it’s not my birthday?”

“It’s a ‘just because’ surprise party,” Alya said.

Every member of their class, except Lila and including Chloe, were there. Honestly, Adrien was worried about the boat’s weight limit.

(When Alya had pulled Adrien aside to explain her plan to cheer Marinette up, Adrien had responded enthusiastically. He quickly volunteered to be the one to get Marinette to the party. Alya had thought that was a great idea.

“Don’t give her a choice,” she’d said. “Just tell her you’re taking her somewhere.”)

Marinette’s face split into a smile, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.

“I- wow. This is- Thank you, everyone.” She wiped at her face.

Adrien squeezed her shoulders in a side-hug. Someone in the crowd of students whooped.

“Alright, mateys!” Anarka said, hands on her hips. “Now that the girl of the hour is here, let’s take sail before the vultures start circlin’.”

She and Ivan pulled the gangplank in, then she started up the boat’s motor. The ship lurched into motion and headed down the Seine. There was still a chance that someone would recognize Marinette from the shore, but at least the privacy laws protected them from the worst of the tabloids. Not that the laws would have much power over a person with a cell phone and a twitter account.

“Finally!” Alix crowed. “Let’s eat!”

The pink haired girl made a bee line for the sunroom/sitting room combo.

Someone had set up a white folding table covered with all sorts of sweets and snacks. People ambled over to it, patting Marinette on the shoulder and greeting her as they passed by. Marinette shot them all a shy smile.

Nino came up beside Adrien and Marinette and chuckled. “Alix’s been complaining that she wanted to eat the entire time she’s been here, and she was one of the first to arrive.”

He glanced at Adrien’s arm still around Marinette’s shoulders and shot him a wink and a discreet thumbs up. Adrien flushed and pulled his arm back.

“Marinette, did you see? There’s a ping-pong table on the upper deck. Wanna play with me?” Alya asked.

Marinette laughed. “Sure. But I’m terrible at it.”

“Me too. It’ll be great. Let’s go.”

Alya pulled Marinette through the crowd towards the back of the boat. Adrien’s lips turned up into a fond smile. Alya was such a good friend.

“It’s good to see her smile again,” he said.

Nino nodded. “That’s for sure. I’ve never seen her that down before. Not even back in sixieme when her best friend moved away.”

“‘Your greatest secret has been revealed and now you are in the middle of a massive media storm and also your family is in danger’ isn’t quite on the same scale as ‘your childhood friend moved away.’”

Nino gave a rueful laugh. “True.”

The two watched the girls play ping-pong in a companionable silence.

Alya served and Marinette missed the return. She scrambled across the deck to retrieve the ball. Marinette served and Alya missed the return. They kept up like this, occasionally hitting the ball back to their own surprise.

“You’d think that Ladybug would be better at stuff like that, wouldn’t you?” Nino said.

Adrien hummed thoughtfully. Ever since he found out that Ladybug was Marinette, he’d noticed something. It wasn’t that Marinette was better put together as Ladybug, (well, she was, but that wasn’t the point) but rather  that whenever Marinette really needed to step up to the plate she was always confident and sure footed, even when she was out of the mask.

Marinette stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, her face scrunched up in concentration, and slammed the ball into Alya’s side of the table, sending it flying past her and over the side of the boat.

The two girls ran over to the railing and peered over the side in shock. Then they both burst into laughter, Marinette shining as brightly as she ever did.

“Soo... How goes it with Marinette?” Nino elbowed Adrien in the side and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What do you mean?”

Nino snorted. “Don’t give me that. I’ve seen all the ladybugs you doodle on the side of your notes, and the way you blushed whenever Ladybug was around. And don’t forget all the lovesick sighs whenever someone mentioned her. You’ve been super tight with Marinette ever since everything went down. You’re always standing near her or touching her.”

“It’s not like that. I think she likes someone else.”

“Dude,” Nino said flatly.

“Hey guys!” Marinette said brightly from behind them. Her face was flushed a delightful pink and her eyes shone.

Adrien started. He hoped she hadn’t heard what they were talking about. He didn’t know if he could handle getting shot down by the same girl twice.

“We kind of lost our ball.”

“We saw,” Nino said.

“Oh, Marikins~”

Chloe latched onto Marinette from behind with no warning. She held out her phone at arms length and snapped a selfie. She withdrew her arms and began tapping away at her phone.

“Everyone is going to be so jealous. ‘Hanging out... with my bff... Ladybug.’”

“Don’t post that until after the party is over,” Adrien warned.

Chloe stopped typing and pursed her lips.

“I guess you’re right. We don’t want anyone to interrupt our time together, right Marikins? Tomorrow let’s hang out and go get manicures! You can come too Adrikins. Then we-” Her phone ringing cut her off. “Hello? What do you mean they’re out of stock?”

Chloe stomped off, haranguing the poor soul on the other side of the phone, and Marinette heaved a sigh of relief.

Over Marinette’s head, Alya and Nino seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation made up of quirked eyebrows, significant looks, and nods. Or rather, Alya was trying to have a silent conversation with Nino, who just scrunched up his face in confusion and shook his head. Finally, Alya rolled her eyes and dragged Nino away.

“We’re going to go get some food. You two have fun,” she said.

Marinette blushed, and she shyly looked up at Adrien.

“Do you want to, um.” She gestured towards the railing.

“Sure.”

Behind Marinette Ivan gave him a thumbs up and Mylene nodded encouragingly. Did everyone know about Adrien’s crush? At least they were all cheering for him.

Adrien and Marinette went over to the side of the boat and leaned against the railing, looking out at the plants and buildings that lined the river.

“I love the view along the Seine. Everything is a mixture of the old and new. There’s so much history and so much potential. It reminds me of why I fight to save Paris.” She had a faraway look in her eye and a wistful smile.

“Yeah, it’s really beautiful,” he said, not looking away from her face.

They stood there in silence for a little while, their arms touching. Wind ran gentle fingers through their hair, and the occasional cloud passing overhead gave welcome shade from the unseasonably hot October sun.

“Look! Look! Mommy, it’s Ladybug!”

A little girl in a pink dress on the walkway nearby was pointing at them. Her hair was pulled back in pigtails and she had a ladybug plush clutched in one arm.

Marinette smiled and waved at her.

Murmurs of ‘Ladybug?’ and ‘Is that really her?’ came from the other pedestrians. Soon the walkway was crowded with people calling out for Ladybug and waving their hands back and forth.

Marinette’s smile became fixed; her wave, hesitant. Before all this she’d never shrunk away from the admiring crowd. But now... Adrien hated that such a thing was ruined for her.

“We should go down below before any more people get here,” Adrien suggested gently.

She nodded and he hesitantly placed his hand on the small of her back. When she didn’t draw away, he pressed more firmly and she let him lead her across the deck and through the sunroom to the stairs.

Several of their classmates scowled at the shouting people with no effect. Alix made a rude gesture and Adrien winced. He was not looking forward to seeing that on the internet later.

The wooden stairs thudded reassuringly under their feet as they descended. Adrien had been below deck on yachts before, but that was nothing like the cosy combined kitchen and living room they found themselves in. It was small and a bit cluttered. Guitar music floated through the air. It felt more like a home than Adrien’s actual house.

Marinette breathed deeply in the way Adrien now knew meant she was holding back her emotions. She sat down on a low, yellow couch and Adrien took both of Marinette’s hands in his and squeezed them.

“I’m going to get you something to drink. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He jogged back up the stairs and headed to the snack table.

“Water, water, where’d they put the water?” he mumbled under his breath.

“Here,” said a voice from behind him. They nudged his arm with a cool plastic water bottle. “They’re in a cooler under the table.”

Adrien turned and took the bottle from Nathanael.

“Thanks.”

Nathanael shrugged. “How’s she doing?”

He picked at the label on his own water bottle and refused to meet Adrien’s eyes. Adrien knew the other boy still harbored feelings for Marinette, but surprisingly it didn’t bother him.

“She’s... alright. She’s strong, she’ll pull through. She’s just been shaken by everything that’s happened, and this kind of brought it back?”

Nathanael nodded, and they lapsed into an awkward silence.

“You should probably go back below... She needs- well, you’re good for her.”

Adrien bid a stilted farewell and headed back to the stairs, careful not to make eye contact with anyone else.

At the bottom he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Marinette sitting next to a black and blue haired boy, her body pointed towards him. She giggled uncontrollably into her hands, her shoulders shaking with mirth, and the boy (Luka, Juleka’s brother from the music festival, Adrien remembered) smiled warmly back at her.

Adrien couldn’t see the expression on Marinette’s face, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“So then she says, completely deadpan, ‘I’m a pretty princess.’” said Luka.

Marinette burst into a fresh round of giggles. “I’m sure you’ve never let her live that down.”

“Definitely not. Every time I catch her doing her makeup I ask her if she’s a pretty princess.”

Adrien plastered a smile on his face, strode over to the couch, and handed her the water bottle, making a point to look at Marinette and only Marinette.

“Here you are.”

Marinette beamed brightly up at him, the events of several minutes ago forgotten.

“Thank you, Adrien.”

Adrien sat down on the couch next to her, as close as he could without pressing his body up against hers. Marinette turned so she was facing straight ahead, not towards either Luka or Adrien. He was counting that as a win.

“Luka was just telling me about the time Juleka got into her mother’s makeup case back when she was in ecole maternelle.”

Adrien’s smile became a little bit sharper as he turned to nod at Luka. He couldn’t ignore the other boy anymore without being unbelievably rude.

“Oh?”

Luka nodded. “And thus started a makeup experimental stage that’s lasted the last ten years. Mom loves it. She bought her a huge makeup kit with all sorts of colors.”

Marinette smiled wider at the both of them, and Adrien felt the jealousy gripping his heart soften.

“Hey Adrien, I saw that you were in that class photo reshoot you guys took for Juleka last year. I just wanna thank you for that. I know my sister doesn’t always show her emotions well, but it really meant a lot to her.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome? I don’t think I did anything special...”

“Yeah you did. You’re a good guy, Adrien.”

Why did Luka have to be so nice? If he was a jerk, Adrien could get in between him and Marinette with no guilt. But no, Luka had to have everything. He lived a carefree life on a houseboat with an easygoing mother. He played in concerts and could come and go as he pleased. If he dated Marinette, he’d never have to cancel because his father scheduled a last minute photoshoot or because he was grounded because he hit the wrong note while playing the piano.

(Adrien honestly had no idea how his father would react to the idea of him dating Marinette. He didn’t think his father would be open to Adrien dating anyone at all, let alone letting him be exposed to the danger that would come along with being Ladybug’s boyfriend.)

If... if Marinette chose Luka, Adrien would step aside. Her happiness was the most important thing to him, and even if it hurt like hell, he’d support her. But he was selfish. As long as he had a chance he’d hold onto it. Luka and Marinette weren’t dating yet; he still had time to win her over.

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Risotto x Reader: “I’m All Yours”

It seemed to be early in the morning. At least, that’s what your body told you, as you tossed and turned, searching for those last few minutes of peaceful slumber. Yet you couldn’t remain still for very long; something didn’t feel right. You didn’t sense the birds chirping outside the window, the bright morning sunlight penetrating through your eyelids. Slowly, you blinked. You gasped as you took in your surroundings.

It was a dim and dank cellar. Barrels of food or wine or something of the sort were strewn against the walls, and at the very center stood a wooden ladder. You scrambled to your feet, your first instinct being to approach the exit. But you gasped as you heard a metallic clang, the pain of a tight restraint boring into your wrists. Your hands were shackled behind your back, and you tugged frantically at the chain attached to the floor. Then your memories came flooding back.

You were just walking down the street: nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. It was late at night, and you were heading home after work as you normally did. Suddenly, a cry split through the air. Though fear permeated your thoughts, your curiosity still drove you to the source of the sound, a dark alleyway just a block down. You peered past the corner.

A pool of crimson blood, slowly expanding, underneath a mangled figure of a woman. A dark form stood over her body, a sharp knife glinting in his hand. Your breaths grew rapid as adrenaline surged through your body. You quickly reached for your phone, and then, a sound. Your keys dangled against your purse, giving off a soft metallic clink. Your blood ran cold.

The tall dark man who had been looming over the body flashed his eyes towards you, and you gasped. The whites of his eyes… They weren't white. They were a deep, shining, obsidian black. His bright red irises pierced through your very soul as you squirmed under his scrutiny. Should you run? Should you fight? Before you could even react, you felt a burning sensation in your core. A faint, shimmering mist cut through the air. Your muscles grew rigid, and you couldn’t breathe. A shining figure appeared before your eyes. It was an ethereal being, larger than a mere human, glinting in the dim moonlight as it lunged for the figure before you.

However, its reach was blocked as a sharp blade emerged from the pool of blood on the cobblestone ground beneath you. Your head felt dizzy and your knees week as he smirked and began to approach you. The glowing form that had been protecting you continued to strike, to struggle. You would fight your way out of this situation. That was your only hope.

But then, a wet cloth covering your mouth from behind. A foul smell. Darkness.

And now, you were here.

You heard the faint click of a latch, a figure descended the ladder. The pace of your heart quickened as he jumped, catlike, from the second to last step, and you saw his eyes. Those same piercing crimson eyes. Even looking at them made you tear up. He glowered over you, noticing your frail and defeated form underneath him.

“So you're awake,” You snarled, rising to your feet against the chains that tied you to the ground. You knew it had to be a gang, and you knew you had to fight back. It wasn't the smartest course of action, but your instincts to you that you simply couldn't remain quiet.

“Yes,” You sneered, “I’m awake. So, if you would kindly let me be on my way.” You inched as close to his face as you could, trying your best not to tear up from just looking into those terrifying eyes. “I saw nothing,” you conceded. “I have no affiliation with whoever you’re after, no information to give you. Let. Me. Go.” You punctuated each work by yanking your arms against the restraints, though it came to not avail. Your wrists merely ended up sore and bruised. Then, you gasped, as he tilted your chin up, inspecting your face with his blood red orbs. You grew hot with rage as he spoke.

“If you had just been an innocent bystander, we would have killed you on the spot,” You grunted as he shoved your chained body to the floor, his muscular frame still looking down on you with disdain and… curiosity. “No,” he chuckled “You're far more interesting.” Your mind flooded with only one thought: attack. You sprang at him, though he leapt back just out of reach of your restraints.

But then, it reappeared. That same shimmering figure, lunging for his throat. Your head felt dizzy again, and the form faltered. What… what was this thing? You collapsed to your knees in shock and awe, never before had you seen anything like this: nothing paranormal or supernatural. How could you know it wasn't just a hallucination?

“There it is,” The man’s voice was full of intrigue as the being mirrored your own actions, falling to its knees. “It’s beautiful, powerful.” He inspected the spirit with a hungry glare, circling it slowly. You felt uncomfortable under the gaze, as if he were inspecting your own body, and you had a sudden urge to hide yourself. However, his eyes soon snapped back on you. His strong steps echoed through the cellar as he strode to your side. His hand gripped your shoulder, harshly, and you winced as he pulled you to standing. His stare bored into your eyes, and you had trouble maintaining eye contact under his intimidation.

“You have two choices: die, or kill.”

As much as you detested the mafia, the situation wasn't terrible. You were permitted to come and leave as you pleased, visit your home even if you wished. But you were still the willing slave of the La Squadra assassination squad. You were given your own housing with the gang, and were encouraged to get to know the other members, as you would be working with them “till the day you died”. The man with the red eyes was the leader of the company, Risotto Nero was his name. Whenever he had a mission for you, he would suddenly materialise to whisk you away. Whether you were walking through the streets of Venice, lounging on the couch at headquarters, or even sleeping quietly in your bed, he would slink out of the darkness with a commanding urgency as he ordered you to follow him.

He hated it when you talked back, but you always questioned him about your supposed victim. You were not one to let your sense of justice slide so easily, and you were determined to keep a firm grip on your own freedom. Yet he still called you upon for the more dangerous assassinations. He scowled at your temper but didn't punish you for it. You even grew fond of this dynamic between you two, enjoying the missions you took on together.

You sat in the large and comfortable armchair, reading a book. It was late evening, just after dinner, and much of the gang was playing poker at the table in the corner.

“Come on, (y/n)!” Ghiaccio whined at you. “Don't you wanna join us?” You rolled your eyes, knowing he just wanted some more money in the pile.

“No thank you,” You drawled. “I am perfectly content where I am.” You shook your head as several of the men groaned in annoying.

“Of course you are,” Formaggio chuckled. “Because you're (y/n)! And you're so perfect and beautiful,” His tone was sarcastic and mocking as you faced flushed.

“W-What? I’m not like that!” He laughed at your denial, and you snapped back, “Shut up cheese head!” The entire group snickered at the retort, but Ghiaccio continued what he had started.

“Oh, look at me,” He put on a high and girlish voice, twirling his hair and acting like an oblivious idiot. “I’m (y/n), and I’m so wonderful and pretty, and my stand is so powerful!” You clenched your fist at his terrible impression of you. “And the boss is so in love with me! He takes me on all his missions like his little pet–”

“Wait, stop! What?!” You stammered out. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and your head felt light at his silly comments. He dropped the act as he leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “That’s not... He even doesn't like me. We’re a good team together but–”

“You're so cute, (y/n).” You gritted your teeth at Prosciutto’s teasing words. “It's obvious how interested in you he is. I haven't had a job in at least a week because he gives everything to you.” Your eyebrows raised in confusion. He certainly was impressed by your abilities, you stand was admittedly incredible, but Risotto wasn't… He didn't have feelings for you… did he?

You arose from the chair and stormed to the table, slamming your hands firmly on its surface to end their stupid little poker game.

“Wait, you didn't know?” Formaggio feigned surprise as he continued to taunt you. Something about their insolence was making your blood boil. Maybe because they had managed to uncover some of your own true feelings for Risotto. But the comments continued to swirl through your brain as the boys joked around the table.

“I thought they had already gotten together.”

“Nah, but (y/n) totally digs him,”

“Don't deny it!”

“It’s obvious how he feels–”

“Aww, look at her blush,”

“–he gets rock hard whenever you walk in the room!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” the commotion abruptly silenced at your harsh yell as you flung your arms in the air out of exasperation. You could hear your pulse muffled in your ears as you took a deep breath, struggling to calm yourself, to deal with the situation in a rational manner. Then, a soft voice from behind you.

“(Y/n)–”

“Shut the hell up or I swear to god I will–” You gasped, your words halting and your jaw hanging open as you spun around to see those bright red eyes. You heard Ghiaccio’s giggle at your side, and you promptly dug your heel into his foot. You feigned a calm composure as he stifled a cry of pain, though adrenaline still surged through your veins, as you stammered.

“Y-Yes boss,” He looked down his nose at you, and everyone else in the room, with disapproval. It seemed he hadn’t heard the discussion, but he sensed the frivolity of the conversation.

“I’ve located the target. We’re leaving tonight. Get in the car” You nodded as he turned and left the room. That was how the missions always began. But as soon as you left the room, you heard Formaggio’s voice.

“Go get it (y/n)!”

“Drop dead, cheesehead.”

He was standing by the door, waiting for you once you had grabbed your necessary weapons and gear. But you froze.

“What is it this time?” he sighed, rolling his eyes. You were at a loss for words. You wanted to act like you had always acted around him: stubborn, haughty, mocking in the slightest. However, you just couldn’t…

“Risotto,” He lifted his eyebrow as you began to speak. “I was thinking,” Your thoughts swirled between confidence, doubt, annoyance. You sighed in defeat. “You don’t have time for relationships, do you?” You didn’t believe that was what had come out of your mouth, but it was the truth. Risotto was focused on the goal more than anything else in his life. He was in love with La Squadra. Not you.

“(Y/n),” You shivered as he spoke your name, but tried hardest to maintain your calm outward composure as he approached you. “What are you talking about?” Your face flushed  as he drew nearer, his terrifying eyes giving off that same sinister glare. But over the months you had spent with him, you had learned to appreciate something else his intimidating stare. His eyes were… beautiful. They sparkled like rubies in the fitting that was his black sclera. But you quickly drew your focus away from his features, as you struggled to answer his question.

“I mean,” You took a deep breath. You knew you were going to sound like an idiot, but there was no other way to put it. “You’re not in a position to pursue romance.” Your eye contact immediately broke from his on the last word, as you were far too nervous to gauge his reaction. “Are you?” His feet stayed firmly planted, however. In fact, he took a step closer towards you. Your fists clenched out of nervousness. You backed away almost instinctively, not realising you had hit the wall.

Suddenly, his hand slammed beside your face. You gasped, looking up into his eyes. You couldn’t quite tell what lay beyond those red orbs, whether it was anger or disappointment or something else entirely. You flinched as he brought his palm to your cheek, cupping it gently as he inspected your expression. Your body almost melted against the wall behind you.

He could very easily kill you. It was a thought that rarely came to your mind, but it was true nonetheless. You joked with him and teased him, but you never went too far for fear of what he could do to you. And you felt that same fear again as he took one final step towards you. You could feel his breath on your lips, and you held back a shudder as his body caged you to the wall.

But then, he leaned in. You gasped as his lips met yours and his torso pressed against your chest. The shock left you rigid and trembling at first, however, gradually, your hands raised to his chest. You swear you heard him emit a low groan as you placed your palms on his bare breast. His lips were soft, but his touch was rough as commanding as he firmly bucked his hips into yours. You didn’t expect this audacity, and suck in a shallow breath as you let out a small whimper. But you could feel Risotto smirk into the kiss, as he teasingly bit your lip. You tried your best not to moan in pleasure as he trailed his hand down your waist, your hip, your thigh. You couldn’t help but drag your own palms across his chest, groping and squeezing in the rhythm of the kiss. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, pleading entrance.

As you slowly began to part your lips, he shoved you to the wall once again, taking advantage of your gasp to run his tongue along the inside of your mouth. At this point, both his hands grasped your hips, migrating up and down along your curves, leaving no area untouched. His knee rested itself in between your thighs, and you shivered with the strange sensation of vulnerability.

Eventually, you had to break away, both of you panting as he stared into your eyes. You were mesmerised. You would have flushed in embarrassment and looked away, if it weren’t for those sparkling rubies. His hands continued to rub up and down your lower back as he took a shuddering breath.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” If it was possibly for your heart to race even faster, it did as you heard those words. “Since I saw you, your stand,” Risotto had never opened up like this before, not to you, not to any of the members of La Squadra.

He stopped his words, and instead, gently pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth, trailing kisses down your jaw. He proceeded to suck at your neck, and your hands subconsciously slithered to clasp his own hips, forcing them closer as he gasped. His tender lips continued to the top of your breast as you bit your lip, holding in a groan of pleasure. To your dismay, his hands left your hips, but your eyes widened in shock as he threw his jacket to the floor, never breaking his lips away from your flesh. Your hands continued to explore every inch of his muscular frame as he gently bit your collarbone. You gasped as you felt him squeeze your rear, and arched back against the wall as he licked your neck, returning back to your lips.

However, he merely placed a small peck on them before breaking away from you. You whimpered in frustration as he turned to grab his coat. You could see his face was heated, his hands trembling, and he was altogether unsettled as he dressed himself. But he whipped around to face you once again.

“Just one more mission,” he panted, his voice low and sultry. “One more assassination, and after that.” He pulled your lips firmly to his as he grasped your ass. “I’m all yours.”

[stormlit]

warwidowed.

      julia might have had her doubts at the beginning, but any she might have had left were completely gone now. this was all she had wanted in the end. she wanted to move on with her life and stop lingering in the shadows of the one she could have lived. julia’s life never would have been like this had she not lost michael. and while she had always longed to know what her life would have been like if he was still alive, she couldn’t anymore. because now she was going to be a mother, she was going to be a wife again, and she was getting her shot at a life she had dreamed of since she was a teenager. being a good mother and a devoted wife was all she wanted. it only helped that she was getting the stardom along with it. she had never imagined that being in a band of all veterans and telling their stories would be a part of that. she would go to the ends of the earth for those boys.

      ❝ my ma would never forgive you. ❞ that much, she was sure of. her ma would probably never speak to donny again if he took her daughter, ran off to some courthouse or church, and married her without so much as her knowing they were even engaged. they owed it to her to do this right. and they owed it to themselves. julia had to admit that it was going to feel great to be known as donny’s wife. ❝ i’m nowhere close to bein’ a genius. ❞ julia laughs, rolling her eyes a bit at his statement. ❝ but, y’know, maybe if it does they could be a writer! ❞ she knows she would never pressure their child to be something they’re not, but she also knows that with all the music and art they’ll be subjected to, it would be impossible for them not to be talented in one way or another. but she can see it now. donny teaching their kid to play piano when they’re old enough. their songwriting could become a family endeavor. heaven knew julia was already dripping with muse for new poems. ❝ i’ve been thinkin’ about names, too. i thought maybe we could have a few ready for when the baby comes. just in case if when we actually get to meet him or her, the name we decide on doesn’t really fit. ❞

        for the first time in...he doesn’t know how long, donny doesn’t feel as though there are ghosts on his back. that feeling’s not gonna last, of course, donny knows that (he’s not lucky enough to be rid of them forever; all he asks is a little respite), but for now, every breath he takes isn’t echoed by his fallen buddies, every action isn’t made in the shadow of michael. for now, he’s not thinking about him at all; donny loves michael, and he’ll always be a part of both of their lives, but he’s the past. the future is there for donny and julia, and there’s no place in their marriage for a third party. especially not one who’s dead. terrible things happen, and donny doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive himself enough for the guilt to fade away entirely, but all he can do is keep moving forward. julia is a life-raft; she stops him from drowning, and god, donny can’t think of anyone else he’d rather move forward with.

        ❝ believe me, i don’t wanna get on her bad side. ❞ donny likes julia’s ma; it feels like home when he’s in this house, when they’re fussing to make sure he eats breakfast, or she brings him some coffee with one of those sympathetic looks when he’s pulling another all-nighter.she’s funny, and strong, and he’s not about to lose her respect by whisking her daughter away in the dead of night. donny wants her there. he wants the whole band there; they’re his family now. getting married is something you do with your family.  ❝ eh, you’re smarter than me. yeah, yeah, maybe. they could be anything. ❞ a musician, though. donny wants a musician. he can’t imagine anything else. getting to teach his kid piano---that’s what he wants. he rests his head on her shoulder, but the smile lingers still; he’ll be beaming so bright that he’ll blind someone, just because he’s so happy.  ❝ oh, jeez, i hadn’t even thought of names. ❞ julia’s had longer to think about it than he has, though. maybe something will come to him.  ❝ uh-huh. what were you thinking? ❞