#if i had kids i would no longer have a guest room

[walkawaytall]

oh boy I can't wait to read about how my generation "killed" yet another thing due to not being able to afford it.

(I actually do have a guest room, but I fully understand why many people don't.)

(the article, to be fair, does mention cost as the reason. but I still hate the headline.)

[birdyshewrote]

“Birthday Girl”

Wolverine x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Wade Wilson throws you a rink-a-dink birthday party every year, and this year is no exception. But this time, you have a new guest.. and he’s been watching you for a while.

Notes- hi. ive never written a fic before EVER, so pls be nice. this is mainly for me to be able to get my thoughts out of my head because I’ve been thinking about this man for way too long. happy birthday bitches 🫶

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut- 18+ Logan Howlett x Female!Reader, Logan calls reader “Kid”, light smoking and alcohol consumption, Wade being a menace

——————————————————————————

You had caught glances of him a few times in the hall. The scent of smoke, leather and alcohol that belonged to only him drifted in the air behind him for a few seconds even after he had walked into the apartment room across from yours. There had been a few times where you stepped into the elevator and musky cigar smoke had filled the small space. You didn’t complain though, secretly savoring the intoxicating smell, taking more, quicker breaths than you needed too. You couldn’t deny the knot it put in your stomach and the weakness it put in your legs before stepping out of the elevator, down the hall and into your own room.

Eventually, you were tired of the mystery. Two weeks into the seemingly one sided tension, you trapped your long time friend and even longer time across-the-hall neighbor, Wade Wilson, into the elevator with you. Ever since the stranger had moved in with Wade, he had stopped inviting you over. Your birthday was coming up, and so was your annual not-so-surprised birthday party. Once the elevator doors closed, you started,

“Hey, who’s your new roomie?”

Wade scoffed, putting a hand across his heart on his chest, the other gripping a full black trash bag that smelt of blood and for some reason bubblegum scented air fresheners. “THATS how I am greeted nowadays? No, ‘Hello Wade’, ‘Looking good Wade’, ‘Here’s that five bucks I owe you Wade,’

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip stepping away from him. “Okay, first of all, I do not owe you five bucks. You OFFERED to pay for the funeral arrangements after you killed my fish-“

“He looked hungry, who knew fish could be over fed?” He interrupted.

“I told you before I left!” You argue back. “I was only gone two days and you-“ You rub your forehead and shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. Not relevant. Hello Wade, you do look good.” You say, defeated.

Wade giggly adjusted his weight to his heels, to his tippy-toes, then back to his heels again “Thank you.” He said, satisfied, and turned back to the doors.

“You didn’t answer my question. Your roommate? Who is he?” You ask again as the elevator dings and the doors creakily open.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you sideways as the two of you walked down the small lobby. “Uhm, news flash doll face, Blind Al is not new. She’s an OG. Been here a while, silly.”

“Not Al.” Talking to Wade was like trying to a horse with dementia. “You know, ‘Mr Tall and Handsome,’ always sulking, ‘I don’t care about no smoking rules.”

Wade throws his head back, “Ooohhhh, you mean Peanut. What about him?”

“No introduction?” You ask confused, watching Wade as he carried his trash down the hall, holding the entrance door open for you.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess Iuh… I forgot.” He stuttered as he led you down the wet alleyway, towards the dumpsters.

“Last month you called me into your room to show me your new toothbrush. You have a new roommate and you just, ‘forget’ to introduce us?”

Wade shrugs, shifting the thin, plastic bag straps in his hand uncomfortably as he walked.

The truth was, Wade did not forget. The truth was, in fact, that one of the first things Wade had done was mention your existence to Logan before he was even fully settled in the apartment.

“I think you two would hit it off, hardcore. And I mean, HARD.” Wade had said.

“Absolutely not.” Logan grumbled, immediately shutting him down, not even looking up from the blow-up mattress he was unrolling in the living room.

Wade sat on the couch arm rest, looking down at the burly man. “Come on Wolvie, let a girl heal your cold, withered heart. You’re a tough, ‘don’t get too close’ typa guy, she’s an ‘I can fix him’ type of girl, I personally think it’s a perfect match.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you to drop it.” He snapped, glaring up at Wade. “I don’t need you playing Cupid here, you hear me? I swear to God, if I hear you that you’ve even said my name to anyone I’ll get the fuck out of here and never look back. I don’t need to be getting mixed up in any of that shit right now.”

Maybe years ago Logan would have been a flirt, he wasn’t new to women or relationships, but he had been through too much. He had lost too much. He’d never admit it, but the truth was, the infamous Wolverine was scared. Scared of intimacy, scared of getting attached, scared of loss, scared of you. Still, this didn’t change the fact that he had been secretly watching you leave your apartment through the safety of the peephole of his own door. And yeah, maybe if you weren’t so loud coming out of your apartment he wouldn’t know your schedule within a week. Like what time you wake up to leave for work or school, or what time you come home. What days you take your trash out or do your laundry. And when he found one of your sweaters lying around the apartment when he first moved in, what should he have done with it? He was holding onto it for safe keeping. And yeah, he knew it was yours, but only because your sugary perfume clouded his nostrils and made his head feel fuzzy. It was so recognizable, he knew immediately the sweater was yours. Maybe if you wouldn’t drown yourself in the body mist he wouldn’t instinctively know when you were just in the hall, he told himself. It wasn’t his fault he had animalistic smelling.

He couldn’t, however, find an excuse for how he’d hesitate in front of his door, watching for the elevator to stop at your shared floor, wait for the doors to open and inhale the scent of your panties from down the hall once you saw him, then he’d unlock his door and rush in quickly. Sometimes if he was unlucky he’d steal a glance of your full body out of the corner of his eye.

None of this meant anything though. He could contain the animalistic urges he had towards you. Especially when he caught a glimpse of your thigh when you knelt to pick up a dropped grocery. He could handle himself when he heard your thick, sweet laugh through walls when watching a show or movie. But at the same time, what harm would it cause if he touched himself while inhaling the scent of your hair, sweat and perfume through your abandoned sweater late at night? And keeping it locked away in a locked dresser wasn’t creepy, it was just there until you asked Wade to look around for it.

He could handle himself from a distance. He knew this. He knew his limits.

He had been woken up from the couch after a long afternoon of drinking and despair by a loud “SURPRISE!” followed by laughter and clapping. He did not know there was a party going on, let alone a party for you. He was completely blindsided when you were standing within ten feet of him, in his living area, talking to Al and Wade and the others, laughing that sweet laugh

Shit..

Where could he escape? The front door was no longer an option, everyone was clustered in front. Maybe he could make a run for it through the bedroom and out the window? Or maybe take his chances down the escape ladder through the-

“Sleeping beauty has awaken!”

Shit.

Before you could blink, Wade was pulling you through the small cluster of friends to the couch, where a very confused, very hung over, very huge piece of man stood like a deer in headlights. This was your first time seeing him up close, and shit was he alluring. His hair was untamed and messy from his interrupted sleep, his thick brows furrowed. Frown lines prominent as his large muscles twitched under his shirt-

“Hey, his eyes are up there you horn dog.” Wade publicly snapped you back into reality. Immediately flustered, you began trying to save the situation that was doomed from the start.

“I wasn’t looking at- I wasn’t even doing anything, Wade!”

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t. He’s just a moron.” He put an understanding hand up as he spoke. Fuck his voice was so deep and low, almost a growl. It felt rich and threw shivers straight to the back of your throat and straight into the dark jeans you wore. You swallowed. Hard.

After an awkward greeting, Wade had basically pushed a drink into both of your hands and left you to fend for yourself. Logan took a seat on the couch, the worn furniture dipping under his weight. He was clearly uncomfortable. He kept his eyes low, rarely meeting yours. He threw his arm over the head of the couch, spreading his knees. He pulled out a cigar and gestured to it. You couldn’t tell if he was offering you one or asking if you’d mind if he smoked, you shook your head no to both. You politely sat next to him, pulling your legs under yourself next to him.

Unfortunately, this man was not the easiest to speak to.

“So, Logan. You’re new.” You fidget with the cup in your hands.

He lets out a low “Mhm” while taking a puff, then lets smoke pool out of his mouth and drizzle out of his nose, before speaking again. “Yeah. Don’t really know how I ended up here. Just, kind of did.”

You nod, looking around the room. 2016-2018 pop hits played on the pink Hello-Kitty speaker Wade had bought for himself, now sitting on the kitchen table next to the drinks. Various characters lounged around the apartment chatting and eating pizza and drinking.

“Seen you around, y’know.”

You turn to face him again.

“Oh?” You ask, sipping your drink.

He nods in return. “If you need help bringing groceries up to your room or somethin’, you can just let me know. Heard you drop a few things before.” His top lip twitches just the slightest in what you assume is his version of a smile. He puts the cigar back into his mouth and chews.

You furrow your brows at the sarcastic banter. “Oh yeah? Didn’t know I had a stalker.” You bite back, smiling while doing so.

“Not stalking you, kid. Just minding my own business and getting interrupted every two seconds by my noisy neighbor.”

After this, the two of you spoke more fluid. Relating in Wade’s schemes and circumstances became a common interest. You felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with the man’s presence. After your second drink, your leg rested against the rough denim of his thick thigh. He said nothing about it, so you continued to speak to him. You were unaware of what he was thinking or feeling.

He was freaking the fuck out. Especially when you asked him to go outside with him to get some air. He agreed, and the two of you slipped out of your own party. The night was dark as you walked through the city-lit pathway to the side of the building. Logan watches you and takes another puff of his cigar as you stretch in the open air. You sigh, relieved to be out of the stuffy room.

You could feel his eyes on you. The heat and heaviness of his lingering eyesight, watching your every move as if you were his prey. It made you nervous. It made you intrigued. You wanted to be in his sight, and he wanted to keep watching you.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much, shit’s awful for you you know.” You say, leaning on the brick building next to the tall, muscular figure.

He gives you a slow, sharp smirk in return, his canines showing through resting on the cigar.

Your heart begins to thump and he looks deep into your eyes, like he sees through you.

You let out a shaky exhale as your smile fades and take a step closer to him. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and looks down at you, shaking his head.

“You don’t want this, kid.”

You pause, trying to read his face in the dim lighting. “I do, and I think you do too.” You speak low and soft, like if you’re too sudden with your movements he’ll get startled and dash away. You slowly raise a hand and rest it on his hard, warm chest. You feel it rise and lower, he’s heaving now.

You bring your face up, closer to his. He doesn’t move, so you whisper into his own lips, “Logan, it’s okay.”

The light encouragement is what he needed. He looks down at your parted lips, pushes the lit cigar into the brick wall next to you, putting it out and dropping it, before muttering back,

“Well, you are the birthday girl.”

He leans down to give you what you’ve been asking him for, and what he’s been yearning for. He kisses you, slow and respectful at first, stepping in front of you. He puts his large, rough hand in between your head and the jagged building, protecting you as he pushes you against the wall. You bring a soft hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down farther into your space. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, and you couldn’t get enough. The kiss gets sloppier as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. You look at his face through squinted eyes, only to see his brows furrowed in deep concentration and self-discipline as to not overstep. You shut your eyes again as you grab his other hand, dragging it to your waist. He lets out a soft, low groan in response to the contact of your skin. Your waist feels so soft and warm is his heavy grip. He softly paws at your side, then up your loose shirt. He pauses underneath your bra, and you arch your back in response.

He breaks away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you momentarily before breaking. “This okay? You’re sure? I can touch you like this?” He’s almost pleading, even with all of the consent in your body. He looks down at you, eyes half lidded.

“Yes, Logan. Stop asking me.”

He nods, smiling slightly, and slowly shifts his long, thick fingers underneath the garment, and towards your chest. He brings his mouth to yours again, greedily taking and lapping at your mouth. The scent of your arousal intoxicates to him. You clench your legs together, to which Logan uses his thick, sturdy knee to break you open and apart. You feel exposed to him now, resting on his knee. The rough denim rubbing sends jolts to your throbbing core. The kissing is wet, his stubble rubs against your lips as he gently bites your tongue with his canines. His hand gently gropes your breast, while pushing his knee against your dampening soft area. He brings his calloused hand down back to your waist, slowly guiding your hips to rock against his knee. He uses his other hand against your head to gently grip your hair and push your head closer against his mouth.

Logan didn’t get you a birthday present, but he was definitely making up for it.

[steddiealltheway]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays :) This is way longer than I thought it would be, but it's been a while since I've written, so I think I needed it. I hope you all have a wonderful end to your year <3

Steve thought it was fate when he reached into Dustin’s old Santa hat and picked up a crumpled piece of paper with Eddie’s name scribbled on it. He had a gift stored away for Eddie that he bought weeks ago, and he was hoping there would be some way to get it to him without making it a big deal or something. Miraculously, the tiny slip of paper gave him that chance.

Now, two weeks later, Steve feels like his nerves are on fire as everyone gathers around in his living room, waiting to receive their gifts.

He goes off to the guest bedroom where the party had dropped off their gifts under the bed with the promise of not peaking - per Steve's request. Mike complained that the system was a little bit much, and Steve couldn’t argue with him. He just didn’t want to give away that he was Eddie’s secret Santa.

And now that he has pulled all the gifts out from under the bed, his stomach churns and his heart races. He just hopes his gift doesn’t cross a line or bring up unwanted memories, especially since he and Eddie aren’t exactly best friends.

Well, okay, they’re close. Considering the number of times Dustin has insisted they all hang out now that they’ve all been trauma-bonded, Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie. But he hasn’t gotten a lot of alone time with him.

Sure, there have been a few times when Eddie has stopped by work, but Robin was always close by - not that Steve minded at all, except he got tired of the looks she would give him after Eddie left as if she was expecting Steve to say something. He doesn’t know what exactly he would say, but he will admit that it was always sad watching Eddie go. Maybe he should tell Robin he wishes he could stay a little longer, maybe even after hours.

The thought reminds him of the one moment they spent alone that Steve can't help but recall often. Even his present to Eddie is based around that moment which resulted in him purchasing something definitely higher than the price limit, but none of the kids would know that so it’s fine.

There’s a light knock on the door behind him, and Steve turns around. “Hey,” Eddie says with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

Steve smiles back, willing his heartbeat to slow down a bit. “Yeah, just trying to figure out how to get them all at once.”

“Let me help,” Eddie says, already bending over to grab half the stack that Steve had pushed out from under the bed. “You don’t happen to have a Santa suit do you?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “No?”

“Damn. Next year, okay? And I want to be Santa.”

The corner of Steve’s lip quirks up and Eddie's eyes light up, looking awfully proud of himself. The two hold the gaze for a few moments longer than they should, but it’s not like that's new to them.

“Guys! What’s the holdup?!” Dustin yells.

Steve sighs and offers Eddie a now irritated smile before leading the way to the living room, glancing down at the names on each present before handing them out. He and Eddie finish around the same time, and Steve notices there are two clear spots for them in the small circle on either side of Dustin. He almost makes a snarky comment to Dustin, but he holds his tongue, knowing Max and El will shoot them irritated glares if they start bickering.

"El, why don't you go first?" Steve suggests as he sits down, not giving the rest of the kids a chance to argue about it. After all, no one is going to protest after all that El did for them.

El smiles and carefully opens her gift, but Steve spaces out a bit, lost in thought about his gift and questioning if it will be an appropriate thing to bring up in front of the kids. Eddie had shared the moment only with Steve and even hesitated in doing so, so maybe he doesn't want it to be broadcast to the kids. Shit.

Steve snaps back to reality when El knee-scoots over to Dustin, pulling him into a tight hug and thanking him for her present. Dustin flushes an interesting shade of red that Steve is definitely going to bring up later when he himself isn't panicking. For now, he moves the game along. "Alright, Dustin gets to open his gift now since he was the Secret Santa," Steve announces, nervously glancing at Eddie, hoping the excited look doesn't mean the gift is from him. He's not sure if he's ready for Eddie to open his gift yet.

Luckily, the gift is from Lucas, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. But as the game continues and more people unwrap their gifts, Steve finds himself getting a bit impatient as he waits for someone to get their gift from Eddie. It's only when Max is last to open her gift that Steve realizes that he and Eddie are the only two remaining which means...

"No way," Eddie says with a big grin. "We're the only two who got each other."

Steve slowly looks down at the gift in his hand, neatly wrapped with a beautifully done bow that seems so unlike Eddie who always seems to be in a rush, doing everything with an almost frantic energy that Steve kind of adores. He wonders what he must've been like sitting still, carefully folding each curve of newspaper and taping it all together before neatly tying the red ribbon around the box into a beautiful bow. "You did this?" Steve can't help but ask, hoping he didn't just stick his foot in his mouth.

"Yeah," Eddie says somewhat bashfully as he pulls his hair in front of his face. "You do the honors." Eddie gestures to Steve's present and nervously rambles, "It isn't much really..."

Steve carefully undoes each fold, seeing the care Eddie took in wrapping a small box that Steve pulls the lid off of. He stares down at a small metal-looking thing and picks it up off the paper it's on top of. He presses it and startles a bit as it buzzes.

"A hand buzzer," Dustin laughs in disbelief.

"Maybe you two need to hang out more," El suggests innocently.

Eddie clears his throat. "There's a note in there, too, but you don't have to read it out loud in front of the kids or anything."

Steve keeps ahold of the little buzzer and picks up the note, staring at a few numbers in confusion before following an arrow that elaborates 24/7 Walkie Channel - especially at night. Steve flushes a bit red at the joke, but as he reads further, he realizes it's not a joke at all. In fact, he knows exactly what this is referring to.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie walks up to the counter of Family Video and raps his knuckles on the counter. "Now tell me, what exactly is behind that restricted section with the red curtains?"

Steve rubs his temples and gives Eddie an unimpressed look. "You know exactly what's behind there."

"Well, maybe I want to hear it from my favorite employee. After all, you're supposed to help me with all my needs."

"Alright," Robin announces loudly, "I'm taking my break."

Steve hears the break room door shut behind him, and he drops his head in his hands with a slight groan.

"That embarrassed, Harrington? I thought you were like the expert here. Especially since Robin isn't allowed back there, but..." Eddie trails off but suddenly his voice gets much closer yet softer. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I push too far without realizing and-"

Steve cuts him off with a short wave of his hand. "It's not that. You're fine really. Just didn't really sleep last night."

"Company or..." Eddie goes for a joke to lighten the second half of what he's implying.

Steve sighs and glances up at him. "It the 'or' option."

Eddie gives him a sympathetic look and glances around at the empty store before leaning on the counter, right into Steve's space, but it's comforting rather than intrusive. Eddie softly says, "I get it, man. The night terrors are... they're intense. I still see Chrissy when she..." He looks away, swallows hard, and takes a deep breath. "I get it."

Steve glances up and sees a matching haunted look in Eddie's eyes that Steve catches in the mirror from time to time. "It's harder late at night. I get this urge to reach out to everyone and make sure they're okay and..." Steve sighs and lowers his voice, "still alive." He shudders slightly and laughs humorlessly, "But it's not like I can just call everyone's house at night and wake up them and their family. I usually just wait for the urge to pass but it's harder for me with some people." Steve swallows hard, knowing what Eddie will ask next.

"Like who?"

Steve glances up at Eddie and says, "Robin of course because she's my best friend. Max is tough too because of how close she was to dying and you just never know if that thing will come back or not."

"He's gone for good this time. You know what Owens said," Eddie presses gently.

"Yeah, but I've heard it before," Steve argues. But he can't deny that things definitely feel more final now. Like maybe they're finally over. Still, he can't just let his guard down on the off chance that his gut isn't right for once.

Eddie shifts and nudges Steve's elbow with his own. "Anyone else though?"

Steve holds Eddie's gaze for a moment, and he sees the exact moment Eddie knows exactly what he's thinking as the memories of Eddie's lifeless body in Steve's arms flood in his head. "You were... gone there for a little while. And sometimes I wake up, and I think that you didn't make it. That the nightmare I keep having is actually reality."

Eddie gives him a pained look and places his hand over Steve's. "You can call me at any time. Day or night. I'll try my best to answer, especially at night."

"Eddie, I don't want to make you lose sleep any more than you already are."

"But I'm probably already awake. And I don't care if I lose sleep for you, okay?"

Steve glances up at him and flushes a bit as his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. For a moment, he thinks he might understand what Robin's looks mean, but he glances away before he can truly think about it. "That's not the only problem though," Steve confesses quietly.

Eddie just squeezes his hand, waiting for him to elaborate.

With a deep breath, Steve hooks his thumb on top of Eddie's pinky and squeezes back for some support. "I hate speaking in that empty house. My voice seems to echo, and it makes me feel more alone than I already am. And sometimes it feels impossible to speak about things. Like my voice doesn't work or something. I don't know."

"I get it," Eddie says simply, squeezing his hand again. "But really, if you ever need to call or stop by or anything. I'll be there." Steve holds Eddie's gaze, thinking maybe the upcoming night won't be so bad.

Before Steve can really say anything else, the bell on the front door dings loudly and he and Eddie practically jump apart. The customer doesn't even so much as glance at them, but they both still keep their distance, recognizing that the moment is over.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve stares at the little list in the note.

One Buzz: Checking in. I will buzz back so you know I'm okay. Two Buzzes: If you need to hear my voice. I will respond over the walkie and talk for as long as you like. Buzz multiple times, and I'll stop. And trust me, I will talk your ear off, so I won't get offended when you buzz. Three Buzzes: If you need me to call ever. Don't be afraid to use this one. Wayne is still working night shifts, so you're really no bother if you want to call first. But this way, I can be the one calling you so you don't have to worry about waking me up or anything. Really. The buzzes aren't too loud, so they shouldn't wake me up. Let me know if you want to add anything to this list. I have an identical list with my hand buzzer at home that I would be happy to add to at any time. Merry Christmas Love, Your Secret Santa

Steve stares at the note in his hand almost too stunned to speak. He doesn't think he's ever received a more thoughtful gift in his life. He pinches at his nose and tries to shut his emotions down a bit, and Eddie must catch on because he loudly announces, "My turn!"

Steve takes a deep breath, forgetting entirely about the gift he got Eddie. He watches as Eddie tears the wrapping paper off the small box then dramatically and very slowly opens it up with a big smile, knowing he has the kids' impatient attention practically in the palm of his hand. But when he finally sees the gift, his smile and whole act drop as a look of realization crosses over his face.

Steve's heart pounds in his chest.

Eddie slowly removes the little glass bottle filled with brown liquid and silently stares at it.

"What is that? Some type of fancy bourbon?" Max asks with a scoff.

Steve watches Eddie's eyes get slightly glassy, and he's quick to announce, "Something like that. But alright, we have to move on before your families start coming to pick you up. Was a snowball fight next on your cheesy list or something?"

Dustin is quick to defend the list the group came up with, but Steve is quicker in pushing them all toward the front door. "I'll be there in a bit. Eddie and I have to clean up."

The kids all rush to put on their coats and shoes, not wanting to be a part of any type of cleanup. Once they run outside, Steve closes the door and rushes back to the living room where Eddie's still staring at the bottle, a single tear going down his face. "You... you remembered... and you... you got... how?"

"Of course, I remembered," Steve says, thinking of what Eddie told him months ago.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve sighs and stuffs more things into a box from Eddie's closet. Dr. Owen's people had finally given the trailer the all-clear, so they were finally able to get the remainder of Eddie's and Wayne's things out of there. Of course, the kids had spent about an hour helping with the living room before taking a very very long break at Max's place. Steve assumes it will be lasting until the rest of the trailer is cleared out.

"They're great help, aren't they?" Eddie jokes as he brings another box into the room.

"Absolutely. Always willing to lend a hand. That is until they decide that the adults can just slave away for them."

"Someone needs to give them a lecture," Eddie sighs, pulling out a pile of clothes from his closet.

Steve scoots the box over and asks, "And why does that person always seem to be me? Especially when they don't listen to me."

"You're just so motherly," Eddie says with a big smile, dimples on full display.

Steve can't help but smile at the sight. And luckily he's staring his way when Eddie picks up another stack of clothes and suddenly hurdles something Steve's way. And even luckier, Steve's reflexes are quick, so he's able to easily catch the smaller glass bottle.

Eddie's eyes widen and he quickly grabs at the bottle, wrapping his hands around Steve's in the process. "Jesus H. Christ." Eddie's grip tightens as he stares at the bottle and breathes a sigh of relief, dropping his head to Steve's shoulder. "Have I ever told you that I'm so glad you're a jock?"

Steve snorts. "No, but whatever in this bottle must be important enough for you to admit it. So, tell me, what's in it? Alcohol? Some type of weird liquid drug?"

Eddie pulls back and looks away, still cradling the bottle and Steve's hands. "It's nothing. Just, hold it gently while I find another shirt to wrap it in."

Steve gently grasps the bottle and brings it closer, inspecting what it could be when he's hit with a bit of deja vu. He tests his suspicions and carefully removes the cap. "Eddie, why do you have an almost empty bottle of perfume in your closet?"

Eddie turns to him and asks, "Please, don't tell me you sprayed it."

"I didn't. The cap just gave it away."

Eddie quickly takes the bottle from his hand and puts the cap back on. "It's nothing. Like I said." He rolls it carefully in a t-shirt and places it in the box.

Steve slowly approaches and looks down at the box, frowning when he sees it start to blend in with the other pile of clothes in there. "I'll be right back," Steve announces before running out to his car. He opens the trunk and sighs, grabbing a shoe box and carefully placing his emergency date shoes in the corner of the trunk before taking the box inside.

When he gets back to the room, he reaches into the bigger box, fishes the shirt-wrapped perfume out, and places it gently into the shoe box before setting it aside. Steve glances up and notices Eddie staring at him. "Is that the emergency date shoe box?"

Steve is going to give the kids or Robin a lecture later about giving away people's personal information. "Yes," he admits.

"So, where are the shoes?"

"In my trunk," Steve says, moving onto Eddie closet to grab the last of the clothes.

Eddie pauses before asking, "You put your emergency date shoes the kids told me to never touch in your trunk to give me a box for my perfume?"

Steve shrugs. "Yeah." He stuffs everything down and closes the box, pushing it toward the door. But he's stopped by Eddie's hand on his arm.

"Why?" Eddie asks.

Steve straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. "It's clearly important to you, and I wasn't going to let you forget about it and accidentally throw it again when I'm not there to catch it."

Eddie holds his gaze for a few moments and Steve almost breaks the eye contact, not used to having Eddie's attention directly solely at him. But he feels like that will change in the future.

Eddie shifts and places a hand on Steve's back, leading him to where he placed the box. He picks it up and opens it, slowly unraveling the perfume and staring at it as if debating if he wants to share the story with Steve.

Steve just waits, not wanting to pressure him. Instead, he lets the moment play out.

Eddie breathes out, "It was my mom's."

It hits Steve all at once the implication of the phrase.

"She would wear it all the time. I remember she would put it on once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before going to bed. I told her it was silly to do that before bed, but she told me it was only silly if I let it be." Eddie smiles at the memory before growing distant in his expression. "When she got sick, she started forgetting the time more and more. So, I would remind her. And toward the end, I started putting it on her when she felt too weak to spray it."

Steve shifts and lightly rests his hand on Eddie's back as he continues, "I told my dad that she should be buried with it. That she would want to have it with her and wear it all the time." Eddie's voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. "He told me that was silly."

Steve shifts closer to Eddie so their sides are pressing together, trying to give him physical support because he's unsure of what to say.

Eddie shakes his head and smiles sadly. "I kept it since then. And I used to spray it all the time, and god, the guys at school would make fun of me for smelling like girl's perfume, but I didn't care. But maybe I should've listened to them because now I only have this much left." He holds up the bottle to emphasize his point, the perfume so low that it seems to barely cover the bottom of the glass.

"One time, I brought it to a perfume store to ask what brand it was. I thought maybe I could save up and buy another one." Eddie shakes his head again. "But the lady accused me of stealing it. She said there was no way I would've been able to afford it in the first place. That there was no reason for me to even have it unless I was looking for a cheap buck to make."

Steve's grip on Eddie's back presses a little firmer as he feels anger and disgust toward the woman overflood his system. "That's fucked up."

"A bit, yeah," Eddie agrees. He glances at Steve, and Steve realizes how close they are, but he doesn't try to move away. "Do you want to smell it?"

Steve's brows furrow. "Eddie, there's barely any left in there, don't waste it on me."

Eddie smiles somewhat bashfully. "No, it's alright. I haven't used it in a long time, and after everything we went through, I need the reminder."

"If you're sure, then yes. I would love that."

Eddie holds out his wrist and lightly sprays the perfume. He uses his other wrist to rub it in before he holds it up to Steve's nose. Steve takes a deep breath and is suddenly taken back to a vague memory from a Christmas years and years ago when Steve was too young to succumb to the disappointment from his parents who were still around. But it's a happy memory nonetheless.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles softly. "I think your mom had great taste. And it smells really beautiful. I wish I could've met her."

"Me too," Eddie replies softly, staring at the bottle.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"My mom had the same one. Years ago it was gifted to her. I ended up finding the bottle in one of the drawers in her bathroom. It was still in the box, so it wasn't too difficult to find at the store," Steve admits. He holds out his hand and says, "Here. I have to show you something."

Eddie carefully places the perfume back in the box and takes Steve's hand, following him up the stairs and into his room. Steve regrettably lets go of Eddie's hand to pull out a box from under his own bed. He holds it up to Eddie who gasps, "Steve, this must have cost you a fortune."

Steve glances down at the five boxes of perfume and shrugs. "There was a Christmas sale. Plus, I was able to use my Harrington charm a bit."

Eddie grabs the box and carefully sets it on Steve's bed before quickly wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "Thank you. God, this is the best gift I've ever gotten."

Steve squeezes him tight. "Same with yours."

They remain in each other's arms for a few moments, not rushing the embrace or questioning how long they're allowed to linger. Only, when Steve starts pulling away, he starts questioning his next move. Because more than anything he wants to kiss Eddie.

The realization hits him hard. He knows exactly now what Robin's glances mean and what she's been expecting him to say. Of course, deep down he knew, but he just hadn't had to face it head-on yet. But here he is and... "Eddie," Steve says softly, lingering in his space.

"Steve," Eddie replies quietly, eyes flickering down to Steve's lips, already knowing what he means.

Steve takes a deep breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he asks, "Can I?"

"Hell yes," Eddie replies.

They both move together at the same time, meeting each other in a gentle kiss which they linger in. Steve moves away to breathe and shifts to cup Eddie's face with his hands and bring him in again. He kisses him with all he has, filled with the awe of the thoughtful gift he received, joy of the gift well received, and the overwhelming feeling that this is right.

Steve breaks the kiss with a smile and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, Steve," Eddie says breathlessly before kissing him again.

And it really is a merry Christmas.

[janeyseymour]

I Hate You, I Love You- part 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Christmas Eve with your family leads you to have a certain revelation.

WC: ~2.5k

You and your ‘girlfriend’ make it down the steps with your fingers interlaced, and you seriously hate the way that it makes you feel things that you know you shouldn’t be feeling for Melissa. You hate her- or you’re supposed to. No, you do. You have to. You always have, and you always will. 

Still, you walk down the steps with a practiced ease. Nobody is here yet though, so you take a spot on the couch with your dad while Melissa opts to kiss your cheek and let you know that she’s going to see if there’s any last minute jobs in the kitchen. Your eyes once again linger on the red haired woman’s hips as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Your father coughs awkwardly to gain your attention.

“Hm?”

“Kid, you really have it bad for her, don’t you?” your dad chuckles.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” he leans over and wraps an arm around you. You can’t but lean into his embrace. “I haven’t seen anyone look at you like that, and I haven’t seen you look at anyone the way you do Melissa since…”

“Since Todd,” you whisper. Your dad nods silently. You look to him with vulnerable eyes. “She’s… she’s something alright.”

“In the best ways, yes?” your father prompts quietly.

You just nod, and then your ‘girlfriend’ is making her way into the room, yet another glass of wine in hand for you. She settles in next to you on the couch, drapes an arm around you, and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Mom didn’t have anything for you to do in there?” you ask her quietly as you kiss red hair.

“Her and Jo are flying around like chickens with their heads cut off in there. I figured I would be more of a hindrance than a help,” Melissa chuckles softly.

It’s a bit later that your family comes in, and you’re forced to introduce Melissa as your girlfriend to everyone there. She smiles and shakes hands, works her charm, and you can tell that your family is loving having the redhead there. You’re given quite a few impressive hums and thumbs ups as your family makes their way in. The redhead stays close to you as your family members come in. Her hand is always on some part of your body, whether that be on your back, your shoulder, or your hands are entwined. You don’t hate it.

Light conversation is made, just pleasantries and catching up on life at first as everyone makes their way in. You don’t engage much, trying to keep Melissa in the loop with who is who.

But then you settle in for dinner, Melissa on your right, and most eyes turn to you.

“What?” you ask with a raised brow. “Is there something you all know that I don’t?”

Your Uncle Ron laughs. “Kid, I think it’s that you know something the rest of us don’t.” When you give him a blank stare in return, he gestures to Melissa.

“I already introduced you all to her,” you roll your eyes. “This is Melissa, my girlfriend.”

“And?” you Aunt Betty prompts. “How did you meet? When did you realize you two had a thing for each other? How long have the two of you been dating? You know, other stuff like that?”

“Am I being interrogated?” you question with a brow raised, the other furrowed. When your family just continues to look at you with bated breath, you huff out, “You guys are ridiculous.”

Melissa playfully rolls her eyes and sets a gentle hand on your knee. “C’mon, babe. If you won’t tell ‘em, I will.”

Both of your eyebrows creep up your forehead, and you gesture for her to continue. “Be my guest, hun.”

So Melissa takes a breath and begins. “I started workin’ at Abbott a while ago… longer ago than I really care t’admit. An’ I really only had a couple of friends at work. Nobody really seemed worthy of getting to know. Until… Y/N. I usually hate newbies, and I wasn’t willing to make an exception for my new grade level partner, but there was something about her. Something in the way that she stood up for what she thought was right, the way she speaks to the children and holds them to the highest expectations while still providing them with unconditional love and care. Somehow, Y/N wormed her way into my heart- as a professional. And then slowly, as she started to let more of herself shine through, I found myself entranced with her.” Green eyes are trained on you, and you can see the amount of love she has for you- fake love. “I found myself slowly fallin’ for her.”

She presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and you have to cough awkwardly to let out the gasp that your body wants to release. She said those words in such a convincing way that you almost believe her. Unbeknownst to you, her words are genuine. 

“And when did the two of you finally get your heads out of your asses and start dating?” your father asks.

“It took a while, but I broke down her walls, walls I would usually have up myself. But we’ve been dating since almost the beginning of this school year when I finally just made a move, and I haven’t been happier,” Melissa tells your family as she continues to look at you in a lovesick way. “I ain’t lettin’ her go any time soon.”

The blush in your cheeks is clear now. You smile and press a quick kiss to her lips before sighing. “Enough about us though.” And then you turn your attention to your cousin and her new job.

Melissa insists on helping clean up dinner and bring out desserts. Of course she does, because she’s the perfect fake girlfriend. Maybe she isn’t though, because that means that you’re obligated to help. You don’t do much- you never do much to help clean up after a day of cooking. So instead, you keep your arms around your ‘girlfriend’s’ waist and rest your chin on her back. Every so often, you’ll kiss her shoulder blade or detach yourself briefly to take a sip of the sangria she had poured for you.

Before you can even think about going to the dessert table for the two of you, the redhead has taken it upon herself to make you up a plate, and she takes some for herself. She knows that you prefer to have tea with your dessert as opposed to coffee that is normally offered. Melissa saunters over to the teapot and fills it with hot water for you. In no time flat do you have your favorite desserts and a warm mug of chai tea to warm your already soothed soul.

But then everything is cleaned, desserts are handed out to the rest of your family, and you’re settling on the couch again. Melissa sits first, and then she practically tugs you into her lap. It’s warm, it’s cozy. You can’t deny that your bodies fit together well.

She seamlessly places herself into your family, and you hate it. You hate the fact that she knows just what to say and do to win over your family. You hate that she’s warm and loving, and she’s being the exact opposite of the woman you know. You sit quietly with her as she jokes with your cousins, completely lost in thought. There was something about the way that your father told you that you had it bad for the redhead next to you and the looks that she was giving you at dinner. Your whole body tenses as you realize: you just might be falling for this side of Melissa.

“Hun?” the redhead furrows her brow and turns to you, concerned. “You okay?”

Of course she would notice the rigidness in your body. You blink a few times before putting on that practiced easy smile of yours. “Yeah, just got a chill.”

“I can fix that.” Your colleague shifts you off of her slightly before standing and fetching a blanket from the bin. She settles back into the cushions before draping the throw over the two of you. For good measure, she pulls you in close, wrapping her arms around you, and kisses your head. “Can’t have my girl cold, now can I?”

Your favorite cousin just glances at you with a smirk, and then she looks at Melissa and makes a whip noise. Your ‘girlfriend’ scoffs, but she presses another kiss to your head as you rest it on her shoulder.

It’s a long while before you finally decide that you need some sleep. Christmas morning may be a lazy morning in your house, but it’s always an early morning. 

With a soft sigh, you turn to the redhead next to you. “You about ready to head up?”

“Yeah, if you are,” she mumbles into your hair.

The two of you climb the steps, and you’re oddly quiet as you prepare for bed. Once all of your makeup is washed away and you’re changed, Melissa is already in bed with her glasses on the tip of her nose and scrolling through her phone.

You crawl under the covers and sigh deeply.

“Penny for your thoughts?” your colleague asks you softly.

You hum. You can’t tell her that your mind is whirling with thoughts of how you may actually be falling for this side of her- not the real Melissa, but this fake Melissa that she’s come up with for this elaborate lie of yours. “Just tired. Today was a lot.”

“Yeah,” the redhead chuckles. “But your family is real nice, and I think they believe we’re together.”

You just nod and turn on your side facing away from her. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Melissa tells you. You don’t see the way that she looks at you longingly. You don’t see the way that her eyes go soft as she glances at you laying in bed next to her, how her green orbs clearly convey that she wants to wrap her arms around you and hold you tight the way that she has been all night. No, your back is turned to her as your mind goes a mile a minute thinking about what you think you may be feeling.

You feel the redhead shift to lay down in the bed a few minutes later, and the glow of her phone disappears as she sets it on the nightstand. A couple seconds later you hear her glasses being folded and deposited next to her phone.

Melissa lays down in the bed on her side, but she’s facing you. It’s not her fault, that’s just how she’s always slept- on her right side. And it’s not like you know she’s facing you. It takes everything in her to not cozy up behind you and pull you against her. Instead, she closes her eyes and hopes that she doesn’t snore tonight.

When you’re certain the redhead beside you is asleep, breathing evenly, you turn as gently as you can in the bed to face her. She’s… she’s beautiful. She looks so at peace. There’s a lot of things you can say about Melissa Schemmenti, but unattractive is not one of those things. In this moment, you can allow yourself to daydream about what a life with this version of Melissa might be like- she’s treated you like a princess since getting to your parents’ house, a far cry from how she acts around you at Abbott.

As you drift off to sleep, the cliched sugar plum fairies don’t dance around in your head. No, instead you dream of what you think might be an ordinary day with Melissa in your life as your partner, and not just your fake one.

The two of you share a wonderful, homemade breakfast together in her house, she drives you to work, kisses are stolen in the break room and in the classroom. And while she still has the edge to her that Miss Schemmenti has, there’s still that sparkle of the warmth that she’s shown you she has outside of work. You find that when she makes a snarky comment in your dream, you don’t hate it. You don’t even dislike it. You can hear yourself chuckling in your dream. That image blurs into another, and you’re just laying on the couch. A shimmer catches your eye as you lay on her, hand resting on her collarbone. There’s a sparkling ring set on your finger. When you look down, there’s a matching one on her own left hand. You hear a baby crying from just up the way, and you sigh. 

Melissa just buries a kiss in your hair. “I got it if she doesn’t settle in the next five minutes.” When the crying doesn’t stop, your… is she your wife now in this dream? Your wife shimmies you off of her and heads up the steps. A few moments later, she returns with a little girl in her arms, one that is a spitting image of you.

“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for the two year old, at least that’s where you would estimate she is in age.

“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “Never Ma, always Momma, ain’t that right, Sara?”

The little girl just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulders.

You sit upright in the bed as your dream jolts you awake. Your heart is racing. Why were you married to Melissa? Why did you have a child together? What the fuck? The redhead beside you doesn’t so much as stir, still fast asleep. The breath is taken from your lungs as you realize: you’re actually falling for Melissa Schemmenti.

When you wake up for the second time that day, you once again wake with a jolt. Your arms are wound around Melissa’s waist, your face is buried in her chest, your limbs are intertwined with hers. Her arm is slung over your own body.

The woman next to you just groans and pulls you closer. You can’t deny that she’s warm. You can’t deny that you don’t hate waking up like this. It’s comfortable, and you don’t wake up freezing your ass off for once.

“Lis,” you mumble.

“Shut up, and go back to sleep,” she grumbles. She buries a kiss in your hair. Okay, you know she’s still half asleep. She wouldn’t do that if she was fully awake and it was just the two of you. And while her telling you to shut up would normally infuriate you to no end, you don’t seem to mind this time. You settle back into her hold with a soft sigh and allow your eyes to flutter shut again. Christmas morning and presents can wait if it means you'll get some extra time in the warmth of your colleague.

TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @therightdimple

[httpiastri]

hiii! i would like a ❣️ but with voicemails from the drivers hinting that they like you? we have mostly the same favorite drivers so just write for whoever you think would be good 😌

❣️ – send me a prompt and one/a few drivers and i'll tell you how i think they would react!!

(featuring: lando, charles, alex, oscar, ollie, paul, arthur, pepe and clem)

lando norris

"i think you should come visit me in monaco more. you know that the bed in my guest room is always made for you. and i put on those sheets i know you like, and i have those fragrance sticks with the rose scent, you said you liked them last time you visited me. well, i mean, my room and my bed is always ready for you, too. and i'll be in it, so… *chuckle* my mind just keeps wandering off to when you were here a few nights ago, and… i think… honestly? i think you should move in with me. okay, that sounds crazy and impulsive and like i haven't thought this through, but i really have given it a lot of thought. i want you to move in here. don't worry about the expenses, i can take care of it all. and a moving truck to get your stuff, i'll pay for it. just… think about it, will you? don't just laugh it off. i'm serious about this."

charles leclerc

"i just got back to the apartment, and it's... so quiet without you here. i keep thinking about the last time we made dinner together and how you laughed so hard at my terrible cooking that the neighbors came over to complain. i'm still scared of meeting them in the stairwell. maybe next time, you should be the one to take charge and show me how it's done? save me from another disaster? or we could go out, whichever you prefer. i just really want to see you again. and not die from food poisoning."

alex albon

"the other day, you mentioned not having a necklace that fit the new top you bought. and for some reason, i just happened to find myself right outside a jewelry store today. so i went in and bought you something. the lady in the cash register told me that a longer chain with a pendant would fit a v-neck top best, so that's what i got. it's gold, of course, i wouldn't dare buy you anything silver after you lectured me about having a warm skin tone for half an hour... i don't know, i just wanted to tell you this so you don't run around stressing about having to buy a new necklace. i can drop by yours with it if you want me to. or if you want to wear the top tonight, i'll give it to you when i pick you up."

oscar piastri

"hey, i just wanted to check in with you, make sure you're okay. are you? *pause*. what he said tonight, that was... it wasn't right. you don't deserve that. he was wrong, he has no idea what he's talking about. please, call me when you get this."

ollie bearman

"can i come straight to yours from the airport? you don't have to hug me before i shower, i might be full of flight germs, but... i just want to see you. and i'm pretty sure i forgot my favorite sweater at your place last time i went to visit you. you know, the blue one?... i think you know. not that i want it back, you can keep it if you like it. i know you look cute in it... that's beside the point. i'll tell the taxi driver your address, let me know if you don't want me coming over. see you soon."

paul aron

"some kids are building a snow fort down the street. you know, in the park where we had that picnic last summer? one of them has slipped and fallen right onto his butt about ten times now, it's hilarious. i wish you were here to see it, you would've laughed your ass off. *pause*. wish you were here for other reasons, too. but... just one more week, right?"

arthur leclerc

"i may have had a bit too much wine but i needed to call you and tell you what i just realized. you have the prettiest eyes in the world. they are gorgeous. i want to trade eyes, if i have your eyes then i would be able to get any girl – but i still only have eyes for you. haha, get it? because they're your eyes? *pause*. why are you not answering? did you hang up on me? oh, is this voicemail? did you not think i was important enough to pick up the call? even at three in the morning, you should only think about me."

pepe marti

"i know i said i was going to call you tomorrow, but i just realized. i forgot to tell you something. sebastian is throwing a party this weekend- i think it's more of a housewarming-gathering-thing, and i wasn't really feeling like going, but... i would love to introduce you to some of my friends. they're all really nice, i promise you, and if you ever feel even slightly bad, we can leave instantly. i just want to show you off, i guess? everyone would be so jealous- i didn't mean it like that, i made it sound like- i'm sorry. just please, come with me. it would mean the world to me."

clement novalak

"i went by that bookshop i know you like. the cute little one near the subway station, right by the park? and i... i had some time to spare, so i went in. just to look around at first, but then i wanted to ask the woman who works there if they have that book you were talking about. but i just couldn't remember the name of it, so i tried to explain it to her based on what you told me weeks ago, but i was just rambling... but i think she managed to find the right one. hopefully. and when we went to pay, she asked if she should wrap it and i said 'sure', but when she asked who it was to, i froze... so the wrapping has little hearts on it, i hope that's okay. i'll see you tonight, right? can't wait."

[dotdot-is-here]

Heart to Heart pt.1

Hi!! This is a short fic i made inspired by @citricacidprince 's take on the Relativity Falls au. I love their version so much!! This was originally a single fic but i thought it would be better to cut it in half and post both parts separately. The second part is about Stan and Ford and I'll post it in a few days

Summary: On the aftermath of the portal opening for the last time, both sets of twins have some conversations

"look at us, when did we get so old?"

"...that haircut makes you look like mom."

Mabel recoils in mock disgust. "Eesh! Don't say that!" She protests as she hits him lightly on the shoulder. It's a half-lie and he knows it. Even with the grey jacket and short hair, every little accessory on his sister is so undeniably Mabel that it makes something in his chest ache a little. He's seen countless colorful dimensions, but none of them are as colorful as his twin's fashion sense.

They're not the only thing old here, Mason notes. The mirror looks aged. Hell, the entire house looks aged. He briefly wonders how many things have changed just inside these walls. If he were to walk around the halls, would it be the same layout he asked to built more than 30 years ago?-

Mason inhales sharply. The kids should be sleep by now. They need to address the elephant in the room.

"Mabel listen. You can keep pretending to be me until the end of the summer. I know you have a business here and all. We'll... Figure out what to do once the boys are back home."

Mabel nods, but as soon as she looks him in the eyes the world seems to stop for a moment, as if holding its breath. Her eyes start to get watery. Before he knows it, his twin is pulling him into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay.."

Mason freezes, the reality of it all setting in. He's back.

His arms wrap around Mabel in slow motion, as if by pure muscle memory. By the time his chin meets her shoulder, he realizes he's crying too.

The words slip past his lips before he knows it. "I'm glad you're okay too."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"It was an accident, i swear-"

"I know."

I love you

I love you too

(i started to think i would never see you again)

"I missed you Dipper..."

He sniffs, "Mabel- oh hell it's been so long since you've called me that."

They both let out a breathy, bittersweet laugh at that.

"I didn't mean to wrap you up in all of this Mabel, but i just- i-"

"You needed help. It's fine, really."

Was this about a postcard and a 20 hour drive? Was this about 30 years lost in between the mystery of dimensional travel and identity theft? Did either of them know?

They let go, reluctantly, because it's late and Mason can't remember the last time he's slept on a real bed. Mabel forgot completely about preparing the guest room so he gets to watch her flip over the house in search of fresh blankets. Even once the guest room is ready, they stay at the doorframe just a little longer.

"I got you back." Mabel whispers hesitantly, as if checking if he's is still real.

Dipper smiles "yeah, you did."

──⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹──────⊹∆⊹───

Upstairs, the door to the attic that had been just slightly open during the heartwarming conversation closes fully. Eavesdropping is easier through an open door, after all.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

careless whisper by george michael , gojo , angst

WC: 2k

CW: cheating, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader has female pronouns (referred to as madam and birthday girl), alcohol consumption (all characters are of age), swearing

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to the event taglist): @chosolovers @ssetsuka @ichikanu

listen to this while reading

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For one night, one night alone you were going to put all of your suspicions and past hurt aside and enjoy the party. After all, it was your birthday so the night was supposed to be all about you.

Shooting a smile at your boyfriend across the room you can't help but feel your stomach flutter as he shoots you a wink and begins making his way through the crowd towards you. Stopping in front of you he sweeps forward in an exaggerated bow, extending his arm.

“Madam Birthday Girl, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

Laughing at his antics, you relax, reassured by his usual behavior. Of course everything was normal between the two of you. You were just being paranoid. Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to escort you onto the dance floor.

I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

Wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying slowly to the music you rested your face against his chest and enjoyed the peace of the moment. Or, at least you tried to.

As soon as your nose brushed his blue button up your senses were invaded with some sort of expensive oriental perfume, meant to be subtle with rose and jasmine. But judging from the way your nose burned, whoever had been wearing it must have been wearing a whole bottle for the residual left on his clothes to be so strong. Nothing like the one or two spritzes of understated wildflower perfumes you preferred. 

Fighting the urge to gag at the overpowering scent, you looked up over his shoulder in an attempt to get some fresh air. Instead you were confronted by lipstick stains on the edge of his collar. Bright pink lipstick stains, which couldn’t possibly be yours, because you would never wear a color that garish. 

Suddenly you no longer felt like dancing, and as the song’s outro played you decided to give him one more chance to explain himself after the party. If he couldn’t do that, then the two of you were done. Looking up into his eyes you gave him a forced smile, a small part of you screaming that this was going to be the last time the two of you danced like this.

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all its sad good-byes

After the song ended Gojo watched you walk away, unsettled by the finality in your eyes. Had you figured it out? Did you know where he had been before the party? Who was he kidding of course you had. As much as the two of you had danced around the obvious truth for months he knew that you knew. He had fallen in love with your quick wits and intelligence. There was no way you hadn’t put two and two together.

But despite forgotten dates, the nights he came home late or not at all, the perfume that wasn’t yours clinging to his skin, he dared to hope that you would just keep pretending not to know. That things could stay the way they were. If only you weren’t so smart.

Though it's easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool

Walking across the room you mingled with the guests, accepting birthday wishes and engaging in small talk. Heading over to the bar, you got a refill on your drink and leaned against the bar sipping it. You heaved a sigh, wishing the entire thing was over and that you could just go home. A large warm hand placed on your shoulder interrupted your stewing, causing you to turn around.

“Oh! Geto! Hi! I wasn’t expecting you to come. How are you?” You were surprised to see none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Geto Suguru. The large man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly at your surprise.

“Sorry, I was in the area and decided to drop by. I’m doing okay, but actually I’m here to ask you that. I’m really sorry about what Satoru did. It was fucked up. How are you doing with the breakup? I may be his best friend but just know that I’m always here for you-”

“Wait, what? The breakup?” You were confused. You hadn’t even told your best friends about your plans to confront Satoru, seeing as you had only made up your mind a few minutes ago.  “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’ We had a conversation and Satoru promised me-” Realization lit up in his dark eyes. “He didn’t do it, did he? Oh that son of a-” He stops, looking at you guiltily.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. You should hear it from him. I gotta go now.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut.

From across the room, Gojo watched his friend leave, knowing that whatever had just happened between the two of you could not not have been good. Not wanting to obsess over what Suguru could have said, he turned away and jumped into a conversation. Whatever was said had been said already. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Time can never mend

The careless whispers of a good friend

If he had watched a few seconds longer he would have seen you shake yourself then chase after his friend, looking for answers. Darting around guests and avoiding dancing couples you caught up to Geto just outside of the building.

“Wait!” You yelled, hurrying to catch up with him. “You can’t just leave like that! I need to know what you mean.”

Not turning, Geto shook his head. “Trust me on this one. You don’t want to know. Let him tell you. I’ll make sure he does, but you shouldn’t hear this from me.”

“I’m pretty sure I already know.” The words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them. “He’s cheating on me, right? Listen, I need to know. I’m probably going to break up with him tonight. So it doesn’t matter anyways. Just tell me.”

Rubbing his face with one hand he sighed and chuckled without humor. “Of course you know. Jesus this whole situation is so fucked up.” He turned around and looked at you properly.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit. This might take a little while.”

To the heart and mind

Ignorance is kind

Geto had left a couple of minutes ago, leaving you sitting on a sidewalk bench organizing your thoughts. Fighting the urge to cry, you were unsure why the pain in your chest was so sharp. You had been almost positive, he was cheating on you, so why did it hurt so bad to have your suspicions confirmed? It wasn’t like the knowledge was anything new to you.

Maybe it was because you now knew that the woman was the daughter of a wealthy family close to the Gojos. Maybe it was because you knew that it had been going on for months, and when Geto found out he had made Satoru promise to either end things with the other girl or break up with you. Maybe it was knowing that after making that promise Geto had found him with the other woman again, leading him to assume Satoru had broken up with you. 

Whatever it was, it fucking hurt. Letting out a small sob, you clutched your chest feeling your heart break. Unable to stop the tears from spilling over your waterline you opened your phone and texted him that you knew before you could back out.

But as you wiped your face and headed back to the party because you would be damned if you let him ruin your night, a small part of you wished you hadn’t discovered the truth.

There's no comfort in the truth

Pain is all you'll find

After receiving your text, Satoru watched the entrance intensely, waiting for you to return. The second you step through the door he locks eyes with you, gesturing towards the outside, mouthing that he wanted to talk.

Instead of turning around and walking back outside so the two of you could talk like he had expected, you just strolled into the party and joined a group of your friends. Whipping out his phone, he tried to send you a text, only to discover that he had been blocked.

Then the panic set in as he started trying to make his way towards you. But at that moment a popular song came on over the speakers, and the crowd became rowdy, making it impossible for him to get to you. It was like the crowd was against him, pushing him back towards the edge of the dance floor instead of across it to where you were.

Didn’t they understand that he needed to get to you? That he need to explain himself? He wishes the crowd would just disappear. That it was just you and him, with nothing else in the way.

Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

As he continues to scan the crowd for you, he finally catches sight of you dancing with your friends, laughing and singing along to the song. Shouting your name, he waves frantically, but the venom in your eyes when they meet his make his voice die out. 

Maybe it was for the better that the two of you didn’t talk right then. You didn’t seem like you were in a place where you would be able to talk reasonably. Turning, he decided to head out for the night and give you the space you so clearly needed. He would just talk to you tomorrow.

Maybe it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say

The next day when he went to your place to talk, Satoru was greeted by a box of all of his things sitting outside of your apartment and a post-it note declaring that the two of you were over. And despite all of his screaming and pleading and banging on the door, you didn’t come out that day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Now it’s been months, and he’s given up on winning you back. It’s clear you have no interest in hearing him out. And in those three months he had come to realize just how much you had meant to him. You were his better half, the one he truly loved. The other woman he had cheated on you with couldn’t hold a candle to you. 

If only he hadn’t been such an idiot. Maybe if he hadn’t been so conceited and cocky he would have seen the value in what the two of you shared and the two of you would still be together. Maybe the two of you would have spent the rest of your lives in happiness together. But that’s not what happened, and now he was all alone. 

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?

Years had passed, and he was still alone. At first he had tried dating to get over you, but after realizing that the first girl had a similar smile to you, the second had the same shade eyes as you, the third your hair color, he stopped. 

It didn’t matter how hard he subconsciously tried to find girls to replace you. None of them were ever going to be you. And the guilt he harbored over the way he treated you would follow him into the grave. He lost the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no recovering from that.

And I'm never gonna dance again

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Note: to the people who asked to be tagged on the poll, i haven't added you to my event taglist yet, it was just for this fiic dw. however if you would like to be added, let me know!!

[readwritealldayallnight]

Right With You (Part 3)

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 6.7k words

(18+ MDNI) warnings/tags: fluff, mutual pining, tension, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection (use protection kids!!), finishing inside🫣

You might have bitten off more than you could chew this time.

The sound of your heels clicking and clacking against the marble floor are completely drowned out by the din of the many hundreds of party goers mingling throughout the lavish ballroom, glasses clinking together in cheers, uproarious laughter bellowing out between songs being played by the live musicians. The outskirts of the room are difficult to maneuver without bumping into one another, as the centre of the space has been cleared for dancing.

You’ve been inside the target’s home for all of five minutes and you’re already feeling like you’re way in over your head. You know that amongst the elegantly dressed men and women, there are people here on your side, posing as guests but keeping an eye out for your safety. They’re connected to the comms, as are the approaching men of the 141, intent on finding their own way in as well.

You should really only be using your earpiece if you have no other choice, the whole point of this operation being to go as undetected as possible. If a scene can avoid being made altogether, all the better. You know better than anyone that if John the men hear you sounding anything other than confident over the line, they’ll be barging in, stealth be damned. Right now however, you’re almost wishing you could use it if only to get some help in spotting your target amongst all the moving faces.

Before either of you had even had the mansion in sight, John was directed to pull the car into the long queue of vehicles slowly making their way in the direction of the actual driveway. He’d sent you a glance in the rear view mirror, his eyes betraying the gears that were already beginning to turn in his mind. There might be more people in attendance tonight than expected.

“You’re trying to tell me all these people are also fashionably late?” You’d question, eyeing the long line of fancy cars in front of you, another one having already pulled in behind you. You were purposefully showing up several hours after the party began, the more guests there were there the easier you could blend in. And the later the party, the more intoxicated and distracted party goes would be. But this seemed like a lot of people to still be showing up considering the increasingly late hour.

“I think there might be a guest list we don’ know about.” He had gritted out, gripping the steering wheel with more force. “Or they’re lettin’ any fuckin’ muppet walk in-”

“John,” you’d cut him off. “It’s fine, this doesn’t change anything. Might just take me longer to spot him, but we’ll manage.”

“Gonna be harder for ‘em to keep sights on ya.”

“Well then when I need help I’ll be sure to wave a hand up in the air so they can see me.” You had attempted to joke, but you’d spotted the near imperceptible narrowing of his eyes in your direction. “John, they are there as a precaution. I won’t even need ‘em, you’ll see. What? Unless you don’t believe that I can seduce a man?”

Though he had only been moving at a snails pace with the cars still ahead of him, the mansion only then coming into view around the bend, John slammed on the breaks, lurching you forward ever so slightly at the sudden stop.

“Seducing is not your job tonight.” His knuckles had gone white he gripped the steering wheel so tight before he’d released his death grip, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “You are a soldier, that’s the only job you’ll do tonight.”

“My superiors have asked me to sneak into a party, discreetly convince a man to follow me to a room alone together, and gave me this to wear as gear.” You emphasized, waving a hand down at your attire. He didn’t want to take the bait, but while you’re in that dress and close enough he can smell the sweet smell of your perfume, he’s a weaker man then he’d like to admit. He glanced down at your figure, admiring not of the first time tonight how utterly ravishing you appear.

You weren’t trying to complain, you yourself had agreed that the plan made sense, but you also wanted him to be realistic here. The expectation was that you were going to get the target alone, as subtly as possible, whatever means necessary. At the very least you were going to be flirting and flattering your ass off tonight.

Undoing your seatbelt, you’d sat on the edge of your seat, inching closer to John in the driver’s spot, leaning in until your painted lips were mere millimeters from his ear, a soft hand landing on his shoulder.

“Orders are orders, after all.” Your lips barely grazed the shell of his ear as you whispered to him, trying to disperse his worries with your teasing. “I would never want to disobey my Captain.”

He’d let out a long, deep sigh through his flared nostrils, the internal conflict within him raging on. You were right, as odd as the circumstances of this mission were, it was nothing more than exactly that, another mission. They’d each been tasked with a job to do, and he knew that as with everything you set your mind to, you’d blow them all away.

As a Captain, he had full confidence in you as a soldier. But as nothing more than simply a man, who so rarely in his life allowed himself to be selfish and do something for no reason other than his own self centred wishes, a man who could no longer deny the way he was falling madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with a woman, well that man despised tonight’s plan.

The extravagant front entry of the target’s home was now within sight, multiple footmen waiting by to open the doors to arriving vehicles, welcoming guests and taking names. John knew you didn’t have much longer now before he’d have to let you go.

One of his hands snuck up to reach for yours, still laying as a delicately as a butterfly perched on his shoulder. His fingers gave yours a squeeze, thumb gently stroking the soft skin of your inner wrist.

While the thought of anyone other than him having the privilege of seeing you dressed up to the nines, getting to chat you up, putting his hands on you all under the guise of a respectable dance, got his blood boiling, he could never, would never ask you to go against your job.

Not for him, not for anyone. You were more than capable and had earned your position on this team. He wasn’t going to allow his rose tinted glasses to cloud his judgement, not even when the animalistic, testosterone raging, possessive side of him was pleading for the opposite.

“Well then your Captain’s orders, my dear,” he says in a low voice, stretching your hand far enough to plant a kiss onto it, unable to help himself really. “Are to knock ‘em dead. Not literally though, we do have questions for ‘im.”

You offered him a genuine smile, hearing the playfulness returning to his tone. Begrudgingly releasing your hand from his hold, John steered the car directly in front of the door, the heavy tint of the windows concealing him from any prying eyes.

“Sooner I’m in, sooner I’m out.” You reassured him. “Maybe I’ll have time to save you a dance.” You added at the end, catching his eye on final time, returning his nod subtle nod in the mirror just as your door was opened for you. As the footman offered you his hand, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you, John kept is gaze trained on you, not driving away until he saw you disappear through the doors, already counting down the seconds until he had you with him again.

A fake name given at the door, slightly modified version of the guest list having been slipped into the security’s grip earlier that evening, and you were allowed into the party without a second glance. Getting in was never going to be the challenging part of this operation. The challenge now was in spotting your target amongst the crowd.

Having decided the ballroom would likely be the best place to start, seeing as this was where the most people seemed to be gathering, you slowly strolled through the swarms of dresses and suits, wondering to yourself just how many of these people were involved in illegal affairs, and how many were feigning ignorance to their hosts choice of career.

Plucking a drink off the tray of a passing waiter, you brought the glass to your lips, taking the opportunity to more carefully glance through the many unknown faces. You manage to hide your grimace when a scratching noise comes through your earpiece for a moment, before a familiar Manchester accent crackles instead.

“Bravo 7 to Rookie. We’re in.” Ghost informs you. “Second floor. East wing. Guest room by the library.”

“We’ll cover the west side. Aim at taking the office on that end.” You’re less subtle at covering up the small gasp that slips from your mouth at the sound of John’s voice coming through the line. Clearing your throat, you take a small sip of whatever liquid you’ve grabbed, spotting another strolling waiter, sauntering over to her.

“Good, thank you.” You say, returning your still nearly full glass to her, speaking more in response to the men chatting in your ear than to the confused looking woman, who still smiles politely and takes the drink from you.

Knowing that the 141 are inside now, you go over the blueprints again in your mind, picturing where they are, taking a deep breath to steel yourself as you continue your search. Continuously bumping elbows with everyone gathered on the edges on the ballroom, yours and many others heads turn when a large group of gathered men all burst into uproarious laughter. Scanning the faces of the well-dressed guests, you nearly do a double take, eyes landing on the face you’ve spent countless hours memorizing.

Your target is stood there, one arm holding onto his friends shoulder as he continues to laugh in the way only rich men with no problems can. He and his friends are evidently intoxicated, each with a drink in hand, if not two. The man stood directly in front of him is telling the apparently hilarious story, hands waving about as he animatedly gestures, alcohol sloshing out of his glass.

An idea comes to mind, and you see your opportunity present itself before you on a golden platter. Slipping through the crowd, you come around the other side, so that you’re walking in your target’s direction, in his line of sight. You purposefully slow down your gait, running a hand through your hair carelessly, eyes gazing about the room absentmindedly, you even slightly push your chest out, catching the man’s eye just as you come close to walking past his friend.

The drunk man continues to flail his arms and spill his drink carelessly, larger and larger spills landing on the marble floor. It looks purely accidental to anyone watching when you attempt to walk by him, his arm knocking you off balance, and your heeled foot slipping on his spilled alcohol. Luckily, someone catches you before you fall to the ground, a few small gasps ringing out front the people around you who notice your fall.

“You alright ma’am?” You look up at the man who caught you, wearing what appears to be an embarrassed smile when in actually is your attempt to conceal your satisfied smirk, glancing up at none other than your target.

“Oh! Well, suppose I am better now.” You murmur with a small giggle tacked on at the end just for show. Based off the way this man’s eyes have yet to meet your face, gazing down only at your chest, you’re thinking this whole plan is about to be a lot easier than anyone anticipated.

“Sound like she’s made contact.” You hear Soap’s accent ring out through the earpiece.

Oh, right. They get to listen in on your interaction with the target thanks to the open comm line on your end. Good, in the sense that they’ll know which direction you’re headed in and will be ready, not so good, in the sense that John is about to overhear every word of your faux flirting.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” he finally breaks eye contact with your cleavage and pulls you up to stand, noticeably keeping his touch on you. “We were just cutting him off for the night, in fact, but are you sure you’re alright?”

He’s got one hand on your waist, the other is holding onto you elbow to steady you. You open your mouth to politely insist again that you’re okay, when he interrupts.

“Please, allow me to get you a drink. The very least I can do.” He implores, hardly waiting for your reply before he begins to lead you by the arm, in search of said refreshment.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” You say to him, batting your eyelashes at him when he offers you a glance.

“Trust me darling, I would remember meeting someone like you.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he scans you up and down, ogling every bit of skin that your dress reveals, leaving you feeling exposed, though you hide any trace of discomfort behind a flirtatious facade.

“Someone like me?” You question coyly.

Your new friend walks you into an adjoining room where a bartender is mixing drinks for the dozens of people milling about the space. Sliding up to the edge of the bar, he leans against the bar top and signals to the man working.

“Certainly you must know how, appetizing you look this evening.” Your face does not betray the way his words make you groan internally, fighting not to roll your eyes. The bartender approaches, and as your target is distracted for a moment, you glance at the new space, spotting a staircase leading to the second floor not far around the corner. With how easy everything has been thus far, you wonder if you’re pushing your luck by trying to expedite the process even further.

As the target turns his attention back to you, beginning to introduce himself, you bring a hand to your forehead, interrupting him.

“I’m sorry, I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy actually.” You say, shaking your head when he sets the drinks down and goes to pull out a bar stool for you. “You wouldn’t know of anywhere you could help me sit down, would you?” You slowly reach a hand out, to stroke his hand. “Somewhere you could help me lay down, maybe?”

You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly, eyes widening slightly in surprise at your suggestion, before quickly turning to excitement.

“Lucky for you ma’am, I’m good friends with our host tonight.” He snakes an arm around your waist, drinks long forgotten, and you’re relieved when you see he’s leading you towards the very staircase you were hoping he would take. “I know just the place.”

“Are we allowed to go upstairs?” You giggle obnoxiously, letting your men know that you and the target are on the move.

“Copy. Target’s headed for second level.” Ghost acknowledges over the line. As you come to the top of the staircase, blueprints sprawling through your head to picture where your teammates are currently placed, you realize that against your better odds, he doesn’t try to lead you towards either the east or west wing.

“Like I said princess, you’re in good hands.” Instead of leading you towards the 141, your prince charming is supposedly headed towards the washroom at the top of the landing, exactly in the middle ground where your team could not go, due to the handful of security guards patrolling the hallways. You’ve no doubt that in each of the rooms that the men were waiting for you in, there likely lay a few injured guards that had been tasked with watching those unfortunate quarters.

You knew your luck was going to run out eventually, but now you had to think fast and on your feet. Sliding out of the man’s grasp, you took a step away from him, tracing a finger along the bannister in a way you hoped came across as seductive.

“I don’t know. I feel like maybe I’ve been a bit too easy on you.” You wink for added emphasis that you’re trying to toy with him now. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Nor do I know yours.” He tried to challenge, raising a brow at your behaviour, though still slowly stalking towards you, not yet willing to let you go. “We do not need names to be friends, do we?”

“How do I know what kind of man you are, hm?” You question him, continuing your slow walk backwards, eyes scanning the room and you realize you’re slinking towards the west wing. Price and Gaz. They said they would be in the office in the west wing. You just have to get him there.

“I did help you just now, did I not? I believe I am a good man. Let me show you how good I can be.”

“And if I wasn’t looking for a good man? What then, hm?” He halts momentarily in his steps as he continues to follow you in what he believes is a game of playful banter, foreplay if he’s lucky. You’ve spotted a total of three guards so far, though none of them are very near this moment. Making up your mind, you steady yourself as you say, “What if I wanted someone who would chase me?”

Still keeping him in sight, you quicken your pace, hoping that he really will gave chase to you, allowing you to lead him like a fly to a trap.

“Whatever the lady wants.” He humours you, following you when you break into a sprint without hesitation, hoping your memory is doing you justice and the door you’re headed towards is indeed the one concealing one half of the 141. The sound of both your pairs of footsteps echoing down the corridor, you’re gripping the door handle the moment it’s within reach, turning to glance over your shoulder, seeing your target is only a few paces behind you.

You shove the door open with your shoulder, and just as you’d planned in all those briefings, you enter the room, grip never leaving the door, allowing the target to follow you in, and shut the door behind you, revealing the two large men who’d been hiding behind it, now with guns trained on the man before them. Before he even realizes what’s happening, Price has got him knocked out cold, hitting him with the blunt end of his weapon, letting his body crumple to the ground where he falls unconscious on the spot.

You’re thinking up a clever response to say about how easy this mission has been, before either of them can beat you to it, when your earpieces all buzz apiece.

“Alpha 5 to Bravo 6. Over.”

“Go for Bravo.” Price replies, pressing his finger to his ear, stepping over the unconscious target to come closer to you. Gaz has crouched down, examining the target, preparing to restrain him for transport back to base.

“Guards saw a woman get chased by a man on the second floor. They’ve sent someone to check it out, you’ve got one headed your way now. Less than 30 seconds.”

At those words, the three of you are glancing at each other, before Price is already acting.

“Garrick, help me get his jacket off then get him out of sight.” He orders his sergeant, who without question begins assisting the captain in removing the target’s suit jacket, before dragging the unconscious man towards the window they had apparently entered from. To your utter bewilderment, Price’s fingers then begin working speedily at his own tactical vest, pulling it over his head and off of himself, tossing it in Gaz’s direction.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, half wondering if he’s forgotten you can’t actually read his mind. He’s continuing to pull weapons off of himself until there’s nothing left, leaving them with Gaz.

“Guards saw two people walk in here, then two people will walk out.” He says, slipping the man’s jacket on over his shoulders. Price’s shoulders are without a doubt wider and bulkier, the sit being too small, but it’s not so bad that he looks outright odd. “Trust me here, love.” He asks of you, receiving a nod from your part instantly.

All in the blink of an eye, Gaz has tossed the equipment out the open window, and is carrying the unconscious target over his shoulder as he slips out that same window and vanishes out of sight. The door to the room is being tossed open, and John is grabbing you with a force you haven’t personally felt from him before. One of his large hands is in your hair, the other is grabbing the fat of your ass, and he pulls you flush against his own body, sealing his warm lips to yours in a kiss so passionate, so needy, it knocks the breath out of you.

“Oy!” The guard shouts at you two. “Fuck are you twos doing up here?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate.” John breaks the kiss, before he answers apologetically, holding a single hand up in peace, the other keeping its tight grip on your behind. “The missus got a little eager. We’ll get going, don’t mean to be any trouble.”

Playing the part of a couple nearly caught in the act, John takes ahold of your hand and keeps his head ducked as he quickly leads you towards the door. You squeak out your own bashful ‘Sorry!’ as you step past the man, following along with John in your feigned shame at being caught. Your mind was absolutely reeling with all the adrenaline of the last five minutes coursing through your veins, your captain holding you against his muscled body being at the top of your list.

“Now hold on just a minute-” the guard tries to shout after you both, taking notice of John’s unusual appearance compared to the other well dressed men walking about, but the pair of you are hurriedly making your way towards your escape.

“Stay with me now.” Price gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he keeps a steady pace down the hall, headed for the staircase, intent on making a swift exit.

“Bravo 6 to Bravo 7. Slight change o’ plans. Garrick’s got our target. Help ‘em get to the rendezvous point and Rookie and I’ll meet you there.” John hurriedly mumbles under his breath, placing a steadying hand on the small of your back as you begin to descend the steps.

“Copy. Out here.” The Lieutenant replies diligently.

“Nicely done, Rookie. Think that’s record time.” You hear Soap’s playful tone come through the earpiece.

“We’re not clear yet, Sergeant. Stay alert.” Price tells him as you both land back on the bottom step. With the guards now on higher alert, one likely still hot on your heels, you need to blend back in with the crowd before sneaking your way towards the first convenient exit, still keen on avoiding drawing any further attention to yourselves. With all the confidence in the world, your captains steady hand leads you back through the bar and into the still crowded ballroom, musicians instruments playing with an much enthusiasm as they had before.

John’s keen eyes spot the handful of security patrolling the room with their gazes scanning the crowd. Turning to face you now, John brings your clasped hands up higher, placing your free hand on his shoulder before landing his own palm on the small of your waist.

“John, what are we-” Your words are cut off as you recognize he’s placed you both in the familiar position for a waltz, your eyes looking up into his own with questions unspoken.

“Follow my lead.” He whispers to you so softly that you nearly miss it with the sound of the music picking back up. You don’t even need to answer him before your body is instinctually doing just that, following his lead as he begins to softly move to the beat of the song.

Your eyes never break apart from one another, gazes locked in their own private choreographed moment as the captain smoothly dances with you from one end of the room to the other, going unnoticed amongst the swarms of other dancing couples. His hold on you is searing hot, sending sparks shooting though every nerve receptor he touches. He’s feeling just as affected by you, his heart hammering in his chest so strongly he’s certain you must be able to feel it against your own sternum.

Spinning you close enough to the edge of the ballroom that the front entry is once again in sight, John needs only cast a glance to the door for you to understand his message, gripping your clasped hands tighter together. You offer him a small smile and nod in agreement, letting him know that yes, you’ll follow him anywhere.

“You should be sleeping. Sun’ll be up soon.”

You’re holding a steaming cup of tea in hand, one hand on your hip with a look on your face that says ‘Really?’ pointed at your captain who has yet to leave his office since you’d all returned from the mission hours ago. You slowly approach his desk, your feet eternally thankful for the comfort of your boots over the heels you’d ripped off. In the time since you’ve returned to base, the target’s been secured, you were all dismissed for the night as well as the following day, considering it already was the early morning hours of the next day. You’d combed your hair out of his hair sprayed style, wiped all traces of makeup off your face, intent on following your captain’s orders and making your way to bed.

“I won’t even bother telling you the same. Both know you wouldn’t listen.” You set the mug down on his desk for him, your hand lingering along the surface of the wooden top.

“Thank you.” He smiles gratefully up at you from his seat, genuinely appreciative of your thoughtful gesture at this late hour. “Though, think I’ve heard the lads arguin’ once or twice ‘bout how you’re the only one I do listen to.” John’s smile widens as he notices the faint blush creeping along the apples of your cheeks.

“Well,” you playfully rolls your eyes at his comment, coming to step nearer to the broad man, turning slowly to present him with the back of your dress.“Help me out of this thing would you? So I can actually get some sleep.”

The black of your dress is open down to the middle of your back, where a short zipper begins. You don’t need any help with it, you’d been able to put it on without issue before the mission. However as you stood in your room, preparing to take off the garment, you couldn’t erase the image in your mind of John’s eyes landing on your figure as he hungrily took in your appearance. You couldn’t forget the feeling of his wide hands holding you against him, pressing every inch of his muscled physique to yours, lips desperate to chase the taste of your mouth.

Your heated thoughts brought you to the small kitchenette in search of a glass of water to cool yourself down, however as your eyes landed on the kettle, and your thoughts continued to swarm your head, you’d begun heating up your Captain’s tea and walking in direction of his office before you’d been able to convince yourself it wasn’t a good idea.

Now, peering over your shoulder to see John’s face as he takes in the expanse of exposed skin displayed before him, his breath catching in his throat, grip tightening on his pen in hand, you’re certain this was an excellent idea.

Taking a deep steadying breath through his flared nostrils, John’s eyes meet yours, a playful mischief hidden behind his gaze as you recognize that he’s just as well aware you can undo your dress without his help, without his hands to assist you, but still taking the bait you offer him. Part of John’s chest had swelled up with pride when you’d led the target to him and Gaz earlier tonight, even knowing that the odds had been 50/50 depending which direction the target went towards. He’d only been more than happy to oblige when you, the cunning little spider, lead her fly into the trap of her web, and broke the bastard’s nose as if you’d served him up on a platter.

He feels almost similar now, a bug being led into your sticky trap, watching you dangle the enticing bait in front of him that could lead to his ultimate demise, his unavoidable detriment. Though from the look in his eyes, it seems more likely that John is the one intent on devouring you whole tonight. His throat bobs as he swallows, spinning his chair to face you better, hands twitching for a moment before he brings them to trace the edge of the fabric where your dress meets your bare skin.

Your own breath comes out as a soft gasp as the feeling of his digits teasing along your back, the warmth emanating from his touch a thousand times hotter than the blood pooling in your face. You can feel his hot breath fan across your skin, just as his fingers bring themselves to grip your zipper firmly. Achingly slow, dragging the process out as if to torture you, John inches the zipper down at a pace only a hardened military man could maintain when face to face with more and more of your bare body appearing before his eyes.

The both of you are now holding your breaths as he finally drags the last of the zipper open, his fingers now grazing the top of your ass. You hear him let out a deep sigh, before his hands are sliding along the smooth material of your dress, the chair creaking beneath him as he comes to stand behind you. His hands tease along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his digits skim higher and higher up your back until he reaches your shoulders.

You can feel every inch of him pressed up against you from behind, his body emanating heat like a furnace. But more noticeably, you can feel his rock hard member through his slacks pressing up against the swell of your ass.

“You know how proud you made me today, hm?” He asks softly, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You feel hardly in control when your eyes flutter shut, leaning back to put your full weight against him, letting him embrace you like this. He brings his mouth lower to kiss your reddened cheek, your neck, behind your ear. “Had the muppet in the palm of your hand soon as he laid eyes on ya.” His warm breath is fanning across your skin, rolling your neck to the side to allow him better access.

“And who could fuckin’ blame him?” He nearly growls, slipping one of the thin straps of your dress off your shoulder, allowing it to fall down your arm, his palm now coming to land on your exposed, bare waist, fingers spreading wide as he takes in your softness. Your eyes open as you feel a finger stroking your cheek, tilting your face to meet his, his shining blue orbs, glazed over in obvious desire, asking what he dare not speak out loud. You nod all too eagerly, telling him everything he needs to know.

John’s hand is sliding away from your cheek, fingers dancing across your shoulders as he gently tugs at the final strap holding your dress up, the tension that has been building and heating between the two of you for far too long now coming to a head. As the fabric falls from your figure and pools at your feet, leaving you bare before your captain, wearing nothing more but the necklace he’d put on you only so many hours earlier. John wastes no time in pulling your lips to his, curious hands exploring the expanse of your skin as you practically melt into his touch.

His large hands are squeezing your waist, your hips, one hand is reaching to grab ahold of your breast, fingers teasing your sensitive nipple. He hears you try to hold back a small moan, and he thinks you’re the sweetest thing in the world. Believing that you can hold back any of your delicious sounds from him. In the blink of an eye, John is turning you around, clearing everything off his desk in quick swoop of his arm, before lifting you up by your thighs and seating you atop his desk.

“Now, gorgeous,” he says almost sternly, putting on a faux captain voice, though he’s certainly never sounded quite so lustful over comms before. “That’s the first and the last time that I ever want to hear you try and keep a single one of your pretty little noises from me. Understood?”

You’re nearly panting you’re breathing so hard, watching as John pulls his chair up and takes a seat in front of you, his hands coming to pull your legs further apart until his shoulders are between them your thighs, your face going beet red as his own head is merely inches from your bare, completely soaked folds. In reality, you had been dripping down your thighs since you’d walked into his office with nothing underneath your dress.

“Seeing as you did such a good job tonight however,” he adds, fingers massaging the soft skin beneath his touch. “and considering you never even gave the bastard a chance to ask you to dance,” his gaze locks with yours at that, his eyes communicating the sentiment behind his words. “Lettin’ your old captain steal a one from ya,” his mouth comes to plant a kiss on your thigh, then another, and another, working closer to your centre. “Suppose you deserve a reward.”

Your moan would be embarrassing if the feeling of his warm lips sucking your clit wasn’t so heavenly. He spreads you open, tongue working at your sensitive bud with a fervour only a starving man could match. He is starved for you, has been since he’s met you and now that he’s tasting you, he doesn’t know how he’s survived without it. He can’t decide which is sweeter, your taste or the noises you make, so responsive to his touch, as if you were an instrument he’d memorized the most beautiful melodies to.

As his tongue continues to work feverishly at your nub, one of his fingers comes to tease your throbbing hole. His digit slowly slips in until he reaches his knuckle, slipping back out, wasting no time before slipping in a second, earning a lustful gasp from above him. Your hands are threaded in his hair, trying not to rock against him, but quickly losing grip of your self control, as he brings you closer and closer to that peak.

His two fingers begin to curl inside you, searching for that soft, sweet spot that has you seeing stars when he reaches it with his long, skilled digits. Your thighs are beginning to shake, one of his hands coming to steady you, but never dropping his pace, as his tongue and fingers work in tandem to bring you to that crest.

“Come on sweetheart,” he mumbles into you, his voice barely reaching your ears over the sounds of your own pleasure. “Give it to me. I’ve got ya, cum for your captain. Give me a good one.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your wet folds, attacking your clit with renewed vigour.

John clamps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your scream as you cum all over his hand and mouth, soaking his beard with your arousal, his movements never slowing down until you’re pushing his head away from you, unable to take any more of the intense pleasure having you seeing stars. The both of you are panting now, as he slips his hand away from your mouth and around to the back of your neck, standing to his full height before you. He’s memorizing the look on your face at this moment, the glazed expression over your features, eyes gazing longingly into his as though you’re the only two people on this base, maybe the world. Fuck, how he wishes he could give you the world.

He brings his lips to yours, caught up in his undeniable feelings for you, going much, much further than simple attraction. Yet he’s having a hard time thinking very hard about that, or anything at the moment, when you’re kissing him back with the same intensity, one of your hands sneaking down his torso, reaching for the front of his trousers.

John can’t help the deep groan that comes up his throat at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him through the fabric of his pants. All too eagerly, he’s fumbling with the buckle of his belt, never letting your lips separate from his. Practically ripping the belt out of its place, he tosses it aside, feeling your deft fingers quickly pulling at his zipper, glancing up to meet his eyes when your fingers creep along the edge of his boxers underneath.

He gives you a single, confident nod, torn between rolling his head back in pleasure and keeping his eyes locked on your every expression as you tug down his trousers and underwear together, freeing his aching cock. His member springs to life, precum beading at his red, swollen tip.

“John…” you murmur as you size up his cock, excited and equally concerned about his impressive length.

“I know love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll make it fit.”

You spread your thighs wider, arms coming to wrap around John’s shoulders as he lines his cock up with your entrance, already groaning at the feeling of his head touching your warm, wet folds. The both of you gasp as he slips his tip inside you, foreheads pressed together, as one of his hands tenderly holds the back of your head, fingers threaded through your locks while the other wraps around your back to squeeze your hip, holding you close to him.

Inch by inch, John rolls his hips forward and back, taking his sweet, sweet time in discovering the bliss that is being inside of you, wrapped around you, simply being with you, until he’s filled you up entirely to his base, hairs at the base of his groin coming to rub against your already sensitive clit, creating a delicious friction that you know will have you finishing quickly already.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he groans out, rolling his hips back, earning a pleased moan from your lips as he rocks forward again, filling you completely. “Gonna be the death of me.”

You haven’t a single functioning brain cell left to answer him, and he knows it, your continuously flowing arousal seeping down between where the two of you are joined, echoing sinful sounds throughout the small room. As if your moans wouldn’t be evidence enough as to what was happening in Captain Price’s office, should anyone walk by. Keeping a steady pace, the captain fucks you against his desk relentlessly, earning more and more of those very noises from your lips.

“Oh my god, John! Oh fuck! John!” Hearing you, John feels like he’s about to burst. He hasn’t cum in ages, and he’s been so hard for so long now, he doesn’t think he can hold back much longer. Not when he’s hearing you whimpering his name so sweetly, not when you feel as incredible as you do wrapped around him like this, squeezing him so tight. He’s pressing hot, open mouth kisses against your neck, your collarbone, any skin his lips can reach.

“Love,” John grits out through a clenched jaw, holding himself back as best he can as he continues to move with you, bodies rocking back and forth as if in their own choreographed dance. “Where can I- where do you want me to-”

“Inside!” You plead wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Inside John, please! I’m- oh fuck!” You say as he delivers another deep thrust. “On the pill. I’m on the pill.”

John needs no further permission, his cock continuing to hit that sweet, sensitive spot inside of you, that has your eyes rolling back in please. Just as his fingers reach between your two bodies to press against you throbbing clit, you moan out his name, reaching your blissful peak for the second time tonight, all at your Captain’s doing. John groans out, feeling himself begin to burst, holding his hips against yours.

“Fuck!” He shoots thick, hot ropes of his spend deep into you, his member twitching inside. “I got you love.” He talks you through both your cresting orgasms, grinding impossibly further into you, never letting go of the tight hold he has around you. “I’m with you, love. Right with you.”

Later on, as he walks you back to your room, insisting he has to see you make it there safely even though it’s technically become so ‘late’ that some of the early risers are awake by now, John asks:

“You did have panties on under the dress durin’ the mission though, right?”

If you’ve made it to the end of my first ever completed series, then thank you for making it this far!

I felt very bleh about the ‘mission’ part of writing this but hopefully my first ever attempt at legitimate smut made up for it!

This is the end of this little three part series, but I’ve got some more Price fics lined up for sure

I know I said it in the initial disclaimer but seriously y’all, wrap it before you tap it, fan fiction is fiction, pregnancy and STDs are real, use protection! (But like me, read all the filthy, filthy fics your heart desires)

-M 🫶🏻

[reticent-writer]

Hey! Well, actually, I really like the set of stories about Teen!Reader and Alostor where the reader is classified as an assistant, I would like a story that shows how they met and how they get to the point where they consider him an assistant and their confidence to say him dad? Thank you, I'm sorry if the request was very long. (Writing this I remembered the fight Alastor and Lucifer had over Charlie about who she calls Dad, I felt it would still be a good scenario for indignation)

An: I had a storyboard for this exact thing but its messy and if you don't know me you probably wouldn't understand how my mind works but basically i have ocs for this

This took a bit longer because it happens before Alastor and reader dies plus I gave reader a family so...... some basic info

Y/n was born into a family that was picture perfect on the outside

father was a factory worker Mother was a dressmaker

Doll House by Melanie Martinez fits them perfectly

Y/n was the middle child of 5

When Y/n was born the eldest (Atticus boy) was 10, Second eldest 6 (Alma girl), Middle child (y/n)

when y/n turned 4 their parents had twins (Giles boy, Gideon boy)

This is a glimpse into my mind. It might not make sense.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

-1920-

Y/n is 10.

Your parents were perfectionists, especially when it came to the public eye. The L/n family was always the center of attention in your little town, deep in Louisiana.

You and your siblings were constantly dressed in Sunday's best.

"Kids make yourselves look presentable. A client is coming soon." Your mother called out from her 'workspace'. kids aren't allowed in there.

"Can't we just stay in our rooms." Atticus complained from his spot on the couch.

"Get. Dressed."

Atticus groaned as he got up to go to his room. On his way, he knocked on your door before opening it.

"You're supposed to wait for a response, Jackass."

"Next time you curse at me I'm poppin' you." He threatened but you knew he wouldn't do anything, "Mom said get dressed, tell Alma."

He closed the door before you could complain. You heard the shuffling of his feet as he ran to his room.

His room was at the end of the hall. the hall was short with 2 doors on each side. Alma was across from you and the twins were next to her.

Right across from your room is Alma's. She's going into her preteen years and started to spend more time in her room. Your mother says she's adjusting to becoming a woman and needs her time alone. She's also becoming very snappy.

You slowly opened your door to stare at hers. You slowly walk into the hallway and up to her door. You knock three time and wait for a responce. She didn't open the door.

"I heard Atticus." Her voice was horse and strained but you believed what your mother told you.

That was all you needed to get yourself ready.

-------

Your mother made all (except for Alma) of you sit in the living room and wait for the client.

*knock knock knock*

"He's here. You better behave." She says before opening the door with a smile only guests see, "Alastor, It's so good to see you again."

"Good to see you to, my dear and my my look at the children. They all seem to be in good health." He greeted all of you with a smile.

"Hello sir." Atticus spoke for all of you.

"You seem to be missing one." Alastor commented, making your mother chuckle.

"She's been feeling under the weather as of late, come along I need to take your measurements. Atticus, Y/n prepare some tea." She ordered.

Alastor and your mother went to her workspace and she shut the door.

----------

That night went smoothly until your father got home. He didn't like the fact that your mother was in her workspace with a man and the door closed, even if he was a client.

It caused fighting -well more than there normally is anyway- between your mother and father. It's always been easy to make your father mad.

It got worse when Alastor took notice of it he came by more often with the excuse of having gifts for you and your siblings.

He gave you a radio to listen to him when he went on air. Atticus was offered a job at the radio station. Alma got a set of jewelry.

This angered your father more and instead of taking it out on Alastor or your mother he took it out on you and your siblings. Atticus tried to protect all of you.

One day your father and Atticus got into a really bad fight and your brother was shot. He didn't make it.

It was around the same time when a horrid smell started coming from Alma's room. Your parents said she caught a fever and no one noticed but you didn't believe them anymore.

From then on you started distancing yourself from your family and growing closer to Alastor.

--------

When you got older (16) you started working with alastor at the radio station. He taught you how to live life without worry.

He treats you like your a person and not just your parent's child.

Your parents treated you like a decoration. Alastor treated you like a child he didn't know he wanted.

You found out he was a murder by accident. You forgot someone at the station late at night and went back to get it to see blood spattered in the talking booth.

At first you thought it was Alastors so you took a gun that the station had in case of emergencies and followed the trail.

Opening the back door you saw Alastor dragging the body. The two of you made eye contact. Your body moved without hesitation and helped him hide the body.

------

Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

This is long and not what I usually write but it's been stuck in my head for a while.

A/n: I've decided to cut the twins and make y/n the youngest. I had something for them originally but it's better for just Alma, Atticus and Y/n

Art by @ghostly-one

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 8 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): not so much homophobia in this one! not even cigarettes!

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 9

A snowball hit you on the back of the neck. Squealing like a pig and whirling around indignantly, you caught Kylie's eyes across the yard. Softball had made her aim dangerous. Luckily, you had one big advantage.

You lifted your arms above your head, miming a rearing bear, and charged towards her all the while bellowing like a beast. She giggled and began running away, rounding the pool. You gave chase, not even having to pretend to have a hard time since she was ridiculously athletic for her age, but eventually caught her. You hauled her into your arms and into the air, spinning around while cackling maniacally. She laughed and screeched in joy as you shook her around, screaming once you intentionally fell into the snow.

"I won!" She yelled in your face, cheeks rosy from the cold. Her grin was gap-toothed and so carefree.

"No! The snow monster caught you!" You protested playfully.

"Nuh-uh, I threw the last ball an' hit you- hit you square in- in the neck!" You'd heard from Mrs George that Kylie was in speech therapy for the stammer. In your opinion, it just made her cuter.

"The snow monster doesn't agree!" You lowered your voice and made it gruff, putting on the snow monster role, and stood up. She was tiny so there was no issue picking her up whenever you wanted. Holding her by the back of her jacket and knee, you threw her into the nearest snow pile.

"Again!" She stumbled down and out of the pile, back to where you stood, and you picked her up. Spinning around a few times, her legs flailing as you did, you launched her into the air sending the kid off in a great trajectory right back into the snow.

Before she could demand you manhandle her some more, you heard the backdoor slide open.

"Girls!" Mrs George hollered. "Josie and Riley are here!"

Your shoulders slumped in relief. You didn't know what you would've done if it'd been Mr George at the door. Kylie, eager to see her cousin and aunt, sprinted to the door. You lagged back, happy to be alone for a bit.

"Kylie! Kylie, through the garage please!" Mrs George waved her arms like a frazzled traffic guard, desperately not wanting wet floors. Kylie skidded to a stop right before the porch steps and swerved right, headed for the garage door now. You walked at a level pace behind her, knowing full well both the guests' attention would be taken up by the youngest of the Georges for at least the next half hour. Kylie had redecorated since they last visited after all. Priorities.

Your clothes were covered in snow, so due to be soaked pretty soon. You brushed off what you could but hung them up to dry nonetheless. You shot a text to Regina, asking for spare sweatpants 'cause your jeans were not suitable for inside wear. You got back a LOL. You crossed your fingers that meant yes.

"You did not put on that fugly sweater to meet my aunt and cousin." She said once she saw you. You could only shrug helplessly. You liked the sweater.

"I guess I did." You looked at the clothing in her arms. "That for me?"

"Yeah." She handed them over. You stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to either turn around or leave the room. When she didn't, you decided that, hey, she asked for it.

Unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, you revealed a pair of Ironman boxers.

"Do you shop at the kids' section?" Regina sneered at you.

You winked in response. "I know you like 'em."

"Sure. Love 'em."

You pulled the sweatpants on. They were soft and grey and somehow exactly the right size.

"Did you get these from your dad?" You asked dubiously, not too thrilled by the prospect of wearing Mr George's clothes.

"No, they're for you," Regina responded as if it were obvious. "I got some stuff for you when we started talking. Like, it'd be really inconvenient if you had to go back home just to get a toothbrush or something when you were staying over." She expanded, sounding confident but fiddling with her nails. You'd driven her to an appointment a few days ago to get a new autumn set. "But then, y'know, we spent more time at yours so... Hasn't been much use."

"Huh. I should get something like that for you at mine."

"No." She grinned. "I like stealing your clothes."

"Do you use my toothbrush too?" You acted scandalized, hiding how her saying she liked your clothes made you giddy. She couldn't hate your sweaters that much, then.

She rolled her eyes. "No, idiot, I carry one in my purse always."

"Gotta always be prepared." You clicked your tongue and swung your arm in jest. "Did you already say hi to your relatives?"

"Yes, so now we can go hang out in my room until dinner." Regina grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the mudroom. You went pliantly but redirected your path to the living room before she could climb the stairs. You ignored Regina's groan.

Introductions happened swiftly. You were Regina's friend and your family was spending Thanksgiving elsewhere, leaving you in charge of the house. The story wasn't entirely truthful, but neither was it a lie. Riley was a bit younger than Regina but only by a year or two. You could tell she wanted to spend time with her older cousin so bad, but Regina was not enthused.

Luckily, Kylie wanted nothing more than Riley to play Wii with her in the basement. So, off they went. You sat on the couch next to Regina, subtly leaning back and putting your arm on the backrest behind her. You were being totally casual and cool. You weren't even sitting that close so it didn't even look like you had her arm around her. It was totally cool.

Mr George sat in the recliner, eyes trained on the TV. Some sports game was on, but you paid more attention to Mrs George and her sister.

"So, what do y'all wanna do when you get outta high school?" While Mrs George's Southern accent had dulled down over the years to a North-Western one, which meant she sounded like any other Illinois local, the same could not be said for Aunt Josie. Her Texas twang was prominent.

Regina went first. "College." You did so wish she could find it in herself to be a little nicer to her relatives.

"I'll probably take a full-time position at my dad's shop." That'd been the extent of your plans since forever ago.

Regina looked at you oddly, but didn't say anything.

Mrs George and Aunt Josie nodded along, mildly interested, then started talking about college these days and the state of youth in America. You excused yourselves from the conversation and pulled Regina into the kitchen.

"Mom forbids snacks on special days, you know this," Regina grumbled as you dug around in their pantry.

"Does this count as a snack?" You pulled out hot cocoa packets. They were probably ages old, been there since you used to regularly visit the George residence, but you didn't believe in expiration dates anyway. It was just powder.

"We could make real hot chocolate, though." Regina pointed out, eyeing the dusty packets with contempt.

"Well, we could spend some more time in the kitchen making all that and be roped into sitting with them again to drink or we could be quick and tactically retreat upstairs."

"Get the big mugs. We're putting at least two packs in one. And make it with milk."

So, you got to work. You, specifically, while Regina sat on the island and watched. You didn't mind. She looked really pretty. She kind of matched with you, coincidentally enough. Your sweater was a motley of orange and brown patterns and shapes, itchy on bare skin and more so frizzy than fluffy. Regina had a sweater too, and of the same colour scheme, but hers was much more refined, soft to the touch, and had sensible patterns. She had on a black skirt and white legwarmers.

You snuck upstairs with your steaming mugs, tiptoeing so you wouldn't be heard. Once in the safety of Regina's room, you quickly huddled up on the bed.

"Good, right?"

"Swiss chocolate would've been better." She took a sip. "That's really good, though. What is that?"

"I added a little cinnamon."

"It tastes a bit like Christmas," Regina said, looking at you above the rim of her cup as she drank.

"It's right around the corner." You got comfortable on the bed, laying on your side facing Regina.

"Ugh, I hate Christmas. Everybody always comes here, as if Uncle Charlie doesn't have a huge log cabin that he doesn't even use most of the year. If I have to share a bed with Luke this year, I'm quitting."

"He's your oldest cousin, right?"

"Yeah. He's a dick. Last year, he totally-"

As she got into the story, you were lulled into a sense of comfort. Safe in Regina's room, warm hot cocoa cup in your hands, her voice regaling her cousin Luke's douchebaggery, you could almost forget everything else.

You decided you didn't want to think about difficult things during Thanksgiving. Even if the holiday itself hadn't ever been sacred or even fun for you, the fact that you got to spend it at the Georges' made it special.

At one point or another, you felt Regina pluck the mug out of your hands.

"Hey..." You slurred, blinking awake.

"Shh, just go to sleep." She patted your shoulder. You mumbled sleepily and nodded. Somewhere in the distance, she giggled, her hand still warm on your shoulder.

You stirred a couple of times during your nap. At first, you saw Regina next to you reading. Still Catcher in the Rye. She didn't look your way and you fell back asleep.

The second time she was closer. Your eyes met and her hand squeezed yours. She smiled and shuffled closer. Had you not still been halfway to sleep, your heart would've beat right out of your chest.

The third time, her arm was around your waist and knee slotted between yours. It'd been a long time since you'd been held like this. You and Regina used to cuddle in bed for sleepovers, but those were so long ago. She'd always insisted on being the big spoon despite you being bigger. Even now, she had you by your waist while your hands were tucked close to your chest. Wiggling one out, you threw it around her back.

The fourth time was the last. Regina had rolled partly on top of you. Her cheek was pressed to your shoulder, arm secure around your belly, while her leg was bent over your hips. You were firmly held down. There was a gentle knock on the door before it creaked open.

"Sweetie, would you come down to help with dinner?" Mrs George was there, head poked into the room. You nodded with a smile. She eyed you two for a bit, a secretive sort of smile on her lips, before closing the door again.

You took meticulous care to not wake Regina up as you wriggled out of her hold. You replaced your body with a couple of pillows, hoping it'd be enough to keep her asleep a while longer.

After splashing some cold water on your face in the en suite bathroom, you headed downstairs.

"There you are," Mrs George waved you over. "Slice up those mushrooms, would you?"

You washed your hands and got to work. Mrs George and Josie were singing along to some music playing on the radio, chatting occasionally. Kylie and Riley were seated on the island playing on their Nintendo gadgets, at times demanding to taste the contents of the various pots on the stove. The sisters fed them spoonfuls dotingly. Mrs George came up to you a few times too, holding a spoon in one hand while the other was cupped under it, feeding you this and that. The gravy was really good.

The Georges were going all out, going above and beyond in both the taste and sheer amount of food. There were three courses, appetizer, entrée, and dessert. You could only dream of a spread like this and, maybe a little selfishly, you wished Mrs George would pack some of the leftovers for you. It sounded like an utter dream, food for days, good food for days. Mrs George's mac and cheese, buttery mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffed mushrooms, pear salad, heartily roasted vegetables—you could go on.

"Turkey's ready!" Josie called gleefully, clapping her oven mitts together. "Let's get her out, Judie."

Once the turkey was out and placed to the side to wait for dinner, you popped the green bean casserole in. Along with it went the mac and creamed Brussels sprouts. Kylie bemoaned the dish and made a big show of declaring she would not be eating Brussels sprouts in any way, shape or form. You kinda liked them, but it wasn't your favourite.

At some point or another, Regina came down, rubbing sleep dust from her eyes. Still groggy, she didn't even try to bat her mom's hands away when she started smoothing down her bedhead.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," You greeted from your spot at the stove. The job of stirring all the pots had been handed off to you.

"Morning," She yawned. "I'm not gonna get any sleep tonight. You should've woken me up."

"Sorry." You didn't really feel sorry, and she knew that, but that didn't stop you from patting her on the back in consolation. She leaned into you, mind clearly still addled from the nap of the century. She didn't like being touchy-feely in front of other people.

Just under two hours later, you were all ready to sit down for appetizers. You offered to help Mrs George with bringing the dishes back and forth, but she insisted she had it. It made you feel bad since she was the only one who didn't get to sit down and eat in peace. Under the strict eye of Mr George, you didn't dare to go against her wishes. You didn't know what he would take as disrespect or how he'd react to a guest misstepping in his house.

You mirrored Regina the whole time. You ate when she did, took more when she did, and focused on conversation when she did. The tactic was a safe one, but even so the shift in vibrations when around Mr George was palpable.

He didn't talk much. Mostly he just asked his daughters questions about school and their extracurriculars. He only nodded at Regina when she briefed him about the goings-on at school. He indulged Kylie's retelling of her most recent ball game with a subtle smile. He gave his compliments to Mrs George. It made your stomach twist, seeing Kylie beam like she'd won something when she got a smile out of him. Watching Mrs George's nearly full, almost untouched plate sit unattended as she busied herself with the pecan pie in the oven, you quietly wished he wasn't here at all.

Even though the air was soured by Mr George's aloof presence, the food was good. Delicious, immaculate, spectacular. Regina was a much slower eater than you, so you did eventually give up mirroring her because there was no way you were not stuffing yourself full. By the end of it, your stomach was maybe visibly distended and you could taste cranberry sauce at the back of your throat. It was a horrible feeling, but you wouldn't take any of it back.

Mr George went to his recliner, Mrs George and Josie retreated to the sitting room, and you were roped into playing video games with Kylie and Riley. Regina came too, seemingly pained.

The food baby melted away slowly as you watched Regina's younger replicas try their damndest to beat a boss in some game with a raccoon in blue. There was also a pink hippo and a green turtle. Eventually, they pawned the controller to you and told you to beat it. It took you a little bit to figure out the controls, but eventually, you were beating some tiger to the ground as a pink hippo. As you played, you noted that the plot was pretty good for a kids' game. You'd have to see if you could get it for yourself next time you went to GameStop.

With the boss beat, the younger girls took over again. Regina decided that that was enough and bid the two goodbyes, dragging you out with her.

"Not a fan of Sly Cooper?" You teased once she'd deposited you into her room. You walked in further and sat down on the floor, leaning against the frame of her bed.

She was looking at you like she never had before. Or maybe she had, but this was intense. She walked closer, forcing your neck to crane up as she stood above you.

"Reg?" You whispered, confused and a little wary. Had you fucked up somewhere?

"You always ruin the moment with that." She wasn't smiling, or scowling, and there wasn't anything hostile or hurt in her eyes. You couldn't read her. Unexplored territory. She came even closer, stepping so that her feet were on either side of your legs. Your vision blurred as she knelt down, straddling your things. She was soft, her usual perfume faded and mixed with the delectable smells of Thanksgiving dinner, and her hands were coming around your neck.

You swallowed, not daring to move lest you scared her off or something. What was she doing? She couldn't be, just, simply, that was too easy, you were being delusional-

She was soft there too. Glossy, tangy like cranberries, gentle and slow. She kissed you. Regina kissed you. You held your breath for a moment, not even realizing it, and shuddered as it released. She smiled against your mouth.

"C'mon, jorts." She whispered, lips brushing against yours as she talked. Her eyes, so close you couldn't really even look into them, glinted in mirth. "Kiss me back."

Your hands snared around her back, pulling her close to your body, as your lips found hers again. She giggled and you swallowed the sound, feeling it expand in your chest like sunlight.

Even hidden in her bedroom, sharing a kiss you didn't know would mean anything- could mean anything- there was nowhere else you'd rather have been.

Notes: We're still not at the climax. Or, well, we're very close, very much in it, but The Moment is yet to happen. Everybody knows it'll get worse before it gets better. That's just how it goes. So, have this fluff before it's yanked away from you! <3

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared, @yellowwallflowers, @scarlettbitchx, @ayoungexwife, @cyberbonesworld, @syddie-reads, @screechcat

(holy moly there's a lot of you. if you wanna be added to the taglist, say so in the comments!)

[queenie-official]

‘First Kiss’ Modern!Anakin

main masterlist

word count: 2,525

pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x reader

summary: 3 times you kissed Anakin + 1 time he kissed you

a/n: it's been a while since i’ve written but i got inspired so here's a bit of childhood friends to lovers with modern ani and reader

first kisses everyone has them, some later than others. in your case it was a little complicated, on a technical note you’ve had your first kiss- wether or not it really counted was completely debatable. which is exactly what you were doing with Anakin right now.

“That doesn’t count Ani” you huff, crossing your arms as you lean back in Anakin’s desk chair. spinning back and forth slightly to keep your eyes off of his scrunched up face.

“why not?” he pushes, not understanding why you refused to count the moment as your first kiss.

“we were five and didn’t even know the significance of a kiss” you scoff, stopping yourself briefly to look directly at him as if that would help him understand where you were coming from.

he didn’t look convinced however, sitting up from the spot he was laying on in his bed. now leaning his back against the wall, brows furrowed in what you could only assume was confusion.

“we’d just gotten back from a wedding y/n, i’m pretty sure that was enough for our little minds to grasp the significance of a first kiss” he mocked the way you said significance, putting air quotes around the word as he spoke.

Anakin’s uncle’s wedding, it wasn’t a big event yet they’d invited your family. your mom was practically an unspoken family member so that wasn’t a surprise. what was shocking however was that kids were allowed at the wedding ceremony and not just the after party.

why your mom and Shmi thought you’d both have the attention span for such an event was beyond you.

neither one of you sat still at all, thankfully it was a venue where the wedding ceremony took place in the same spot as the after party. which gave you and Anakin lots of room to run off to when your parents finally gave up on trying to get you to stay in your seat.

truth be told you didn’t remember much of what happened that day probably because of how young you both were.

you remembered hiding under the clothed tables and playing hide and seek with Ani. the words from the priest as the ceremony proceeded was nothing but background noise for you. both of your occasional giggles escaping loud enough for all the adults to hear.

At some point you and Anakin just stayed under one table in particular, probably talking about cars and ponies. poking your heads out every once in awhile to see if it was over yet.

it was one of those times you stuck your head out that you saw it, the bride and groom kissing. you knew enough from all the princess movies you’d seen that this was an act of love. that gave little you an idea.

thankfully the ceremony was early in the morning and the party ended in the late afternoon. which meant the second you got home- after insisting to your mother you guys go over to the Skywalker’s house so you could play together longer, you hosted a little wedding of your own.

Anakin didn’t own a lot of teddys but he had enough for it to work in your mind. it took a bit of convincing on Anakin’s end before he agreed to ‘marrying’ you but the promise of you returning one of the car toys you stole from him was good enough of a deal for him.

so the two of you worked together still in the clothes you’d worn to his uncle’s wedding, to push the dining room chairs into a line and place his few teddys in them as the guests.

once you had the fun of ‘walking down the aisle’ you grabbed both of Anakin’s hands in yours and planted a kiss on his lips just like you’d seen at the wedding.

“yea definitely not- we were just copying what we saw at the wedding it one hundred percent does not count” you say matter of factly, staring at him blankly. unwavering in your stance on this matter.

Anakin rolls his eyes “fine but what about that time you kissed me at the park!” he protests, pointing an accusing finger at you. giving you a look that said ‘try and deny this one’ so you did.

“We Were seven!” you throw your hands in the air dramatically. “that’s only two years after the last one” you groan, running a hand over your face. “our frontal lobes were barely developed”

“it’s not like they’re fully developed now either, that doesn’t happen till like twenty-five” he says frustratedly.

of course he’d know that fact, you lean forward in the chair resting your elbow on your thigh as you now lean into your hand. “i said barely not fully” you retort to which he rolls his eyes.

“it counts” he says firmly.

Tag, a game you always hated. Anakin on the other hand loved it- of course he did, he could actually run fast. he was one of the tallest kids in your second grade class, and then there was you. one of the shortest kids in the class, the odds were never in your favor when it came to tag. between being slow and clumsy you never stood a chance, the only reason you were even participating is because Anakin Managed to convince you to play.

it was always like that between you two. no matter what you were doing, even if the other didn’t want to do it you’d somehow always manage to convince each other to join in.

joint at the hip from the moment you’d learned how to walk, both of your parents always said.

how he convinced you after you swore you’d never play tag again was surprisingly easy, ‘i’ll make sure you don’t get caught’ he had said. no promised you. and yet he was nowhere to be found as you hid behind one of the trees at the playground.

the sounds of whoever was it chasing the other kids around as they all screamed with glee and fear of being the next person who was tagged. it spun throughout the air like a summer breeze, for Anakin it was a thrilling sound- for you it was a warning that if they found you hiding you’d be it for sure.

which wouldn’t be a problem in your eyes if only it wasn’t next to impossible to catch up to the other kids and tag them.

at the end of the day it was always Anakin who’d let you tag him, ending your misery of being stuck playing the tagger for the rest of the game. you hated it, not liking stuff being handed to you but it was better then having to run for fifteen minutes straight trying to catch whoever you could.

“Kenobi’s It!” you heard a kid yell from in front of you. oh no… in front of you- in a split second you see the familiar boy with auburn locks run right beside you, a wave a panic runs through you as he lunges forward to tag you.

just as quickly you’re tugged backwards by your hand, Turning to face your savior only to see it was the very boy who promised to keep you from being tagged to begin with.

initially you were mad, after all he’d left you to fend for yourself only to somehow manage to save you last minute. but that anger just melted into relief that you weren’t it.

he tugged you along running to one of the playsets, carefully pulling you to hide under the slide with him.

finally he turned back to you, a bright smile on his face that showed he was proud of himself for getting to you in time.

you’d lunged forward then, kissing him right on his cheek as a thank you.

neither of you had time to react before you heard some kid yell “Padme’s it!” and the familiar sound of feet running straight to your direction. forcing you out of your hiding spot and running alongside each other.

big toothy grins on each of your faces.

“it definitely does not count, i didn’t even kiss you on the lips that time” you say annoyed but sit up proudly thinking you’ve won the argument.

“a kiss is a kiss y/n” you can’t help but laugh at his statement. if that was seriously his only defense for that counting as a first kiss then you really had won.

“anything that happens in Elementary school doesn’t count, half of the boys in our class still thought cooties existed” you continue to push, and Anakin looked just about fed up.

“okay if elementary school not counting is your only requirement then i raise you this” he begins leaving a small gap in the conversation so you could give your input or add any other requirements to the mix, but you don’t.

instead raising a brow waiting for him to continue. “sixth grade. Padme’s Birthday party.” he crosses his arms, now sporting a smug smile of his own.

“that was a dare!” you shout, blushing embarrassed at the memory.

cake had just been served. honestly you’d never seen such a big cake served at a birthday party, perks of being rich you’d guessed.

there weren’t even that many guests, maybe eight people your age and the rest were padme’s family members. which only consisted of her mom, dad, two aunts and cousin.

you weren’t complaining though, the bonus of such a big cake and so little people meant you could help yourself to as many slices as you wanted.

currently you were on your third slice, well past being full and heading into food coma territory but this was the best cake you’d ever tasted and you’d be damned if you didn’t consume as much as you physically could without vomiting.

Anakin was well into his fourth or fifth slice himself, between the two of you Padme’s birthday cake would be gone within the hour.

“i don’t think i’ve even seen you guys breathe in between slices” Padme's soft voice pulled you and Anakin’s attention almost immediately.

“i thought you said we could have as much as we want?” Anakin spoke through a mouth full of cake, the hard consonants coming out more as f sounds making it hard to understand him. well you understood him just fine, but judging from Padme's confused and disgusted face expression it was safe to say you were the only one.

she turns to you for an explanation but you just shrug. “it’s good cake” you say simply as if that’s answer enough. finishing the last bite of your slice before she tugged you along with her to join the others leaving Anakin to finish his slice by himself.

“look who’s finally joining us” a boy with blonde hair said, he looked familiar but you couldn’t remember his name. maybe he was in one of your classes? either way you just rolled your eyes not caring enough to give his subtle jab any real attention.

“we were going to play truth or dare you want in?” one of the other girls your age asked you, she had long brown hair. you had absolutely no clue as to who she was.

Padme was friends with a lot of people you didn’t know, Anakin and Obi-Wan being your only mutual friends. of course Obi-Wan wasn’t able to make it to this party, so it was just you and Anakin.

“sure why not” you said with a shrug. but by the shared look they all had, you began to think you might regret that decision.

the second the dare left the mouth of the brown haired girl you now knew as Armani you were about ready to strangle Padme who looked proud of her for asking you to do it. this was definitely a set up- you knew you should have picked truth.

“come on y/n, you scared?” the blonde boy- jacob, teased.

oh it was on. normally you’d find a way to wiggle your way out of the situation but you were not about to be called chicken by some boy who didn’t even know you.

so you spun right on your heel, and marched right up to Anakin.

the poor boy looked extremely confused and almost scared? like he was afraid you were about to tell him off for something- which in his defense your determined face did come off as an Angry one at times, plus you were also annoyed.

leaning down you planted a kiss right on his frosting covered lips.

it actually hurt quite a bit since you did it so quickly, you smashed your head against his in the process. but hey you did the dare.

you groan in embarrassment, rubbing the same spot on your forehead where you’d smashed into his years ago. you did your very best to forget about that memory and up until now you’d done a good job at it.

“uh uh you said the only requirement was that it couldn’t happen in elementary school. and that was middle school” he countered your previous comment.

“you said it yourself that was sixth grade- we were fresh out of elementary school, that’s practically still being in it” you glare and he scoots forward now sitting on the edge of his bed. your knees brushing against his.

“it was almost the end of sixth grade, so actually it was basically seventh grade. if we’re going by that logic” he runs a hand through his hair as he recalls the memory.

“regardless, it doesn’t count.” you huff once more, wanting this to be the end of the conversation.

his brows furrow in annoyance. “why are you so insistent on all those kisses not counting” he says exhaustedly.

“why are you so insistent on them being counted!” you throw the question back at him.

“because i count them” he says it so casually but with full sincerity all you can do is blink a few times, processing his confession.

he counts them.

to Anakin Skywalker his first kiss was when you were five and pretended to get married. His second kiss was when you were seven and thanked him for saving you from getting tagged. his third kiss was when you were 11 and smashed your face into his after he finished his last slice of cake.

now here you both were at 18 years old, fresh out of high school and on a technicality the only person you’d ever kissed was the very boy in front of you.

“but we were just kids?” it came out as a question, your voice a bit airy as you were still wrapping your head around the revelation.

“oh for crying out loud” the next thing you knew Anakin’s mouth was on yours.

he’d leaned forward from his seat on the edge of his bed, hands now resting on your thighs as he kissed into you.

your eyes fluttered close almost instantly.

“did that count?” he asks smugly once you both pull away. a big smile made its way onto your face as you looked at him now.

wether you liked it or not Anakin was going to be considered your first kiss and he insured that.

hey huns 🤭 have you missed me? i’ve missed you guys! i’m taking a bit of a break from writing my bridgerton au ani fic solely because the burnout was getting real 😭 so any new fics that go out are probably gonna be one shots i’ve been holding off on writing 😗 anyway hope you all enjoyed 💋💋

[ghost-1-y]

Nightmare

Incubus!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, dubcon, stalking, yandere themes, infidelity/cheating, manipulation, possessiveness, sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), aphrodisiac, blood sucking, using horns as handles, symptoms of sleep paralysis, feelings of insecurity (reader), mentions of voyeurism (gojo), dacryphilia, degradation, corruption k!nk, gojo feeds off of reader's life force, mentions of potential exhibitionism (reader’s husband might hear them going at it), breeding k!nk, mentions of impregnation, creamp!e, no aftercare, reader's husband is nanami-coded, please let me know if I missed anything!!

Summary: It’s been weeks since your husband had touched you in the way that you wished, and you’ve started to grow tired of his constant flirting with other women at work. Completely fed up with both him and the never-ending dry spell you’ve been going through, you retire to the guest room’s bed to fall asleep without your husband, unaware of a shadow that’s been lurking in your home each night, waiting for the right moment to prey on its new victim.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: Sorry this is an hour late!! I had a super busy week and didn't get to edit/revise at all until today, but I hope it's worth the wait!

Y/N’s POV

You were tired.

Not in the normal sense – you didn’t feel a need to sleep. On the contrary, you found it quite challenging to do so recently due to the never-ending thoughts of your unhappy marriage, as you wondered how exactly it reached this point in the first place. At first, your marriage was beautiful – you were in love, and everything in life was tinted in rose. Your husband treated you as his one and only, his everything, his soulmate.

When are you having kids?

You two look so cute together. 

I wish my marriage was as happy as yours!

Your friends and family would always compliment you and ask you for the latest details of what you and your husband were up to. You were soaring, so happy that you found someone to share your life with. 

But then, he started working overtime at his job, started taking on more shifts, and you’d go to sleep on an empty bed and wake up to his side being cold the next morning – nothing indicating that he was there other than the disheveled sheets that he didn’t bother to fix before heading out again. Your mornings were lonely, and your nights were quiet. You started making dinner for one, rather than wasting food on a meal that wouldn’t be eaten. You tried to be understanding of your husband’s absence, knowing that his job required a lot of him, so you never told him how much it bothered you, thinking it would only add more to his never-ending pile of worries.

It truly felt as though a ghost lived in your home, only ever seeing remnants of life from the half-empty coffee mug or the folded-up newspaper that was left discarded on the dining table. The fridge would be left ajar and the front door unlocked as though he was in such a rush to get to work that he couldn’t be bothered about simple things – relegating those tasks to you, his good little housewife.

Sometimes, whenever a door closed on its own, or you thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye, you’d jokingly call out to your husband in the emptiness of your house. Of course, you’d get no response, and you’d almost laugh at your antics if it weren’t for how your life was slowly turning gray – the rose tint slowly fading the longer you were alone.

However, one night, in your darkened bedroom, you heard a car drive up to your house. You slowly got out of bed, clinging to your sleep robes as you walked towards the window, and you saw your husband get out of the car. Warmth filled your veins as you gazed down at your husband for what seemed to be the first time in weeks, happy that you’d be able to welcome him back home. However, that warming comfort quickly dissipated as the driver also exited the car – a woman, presumably a coworker you hadn’t met – and walked over to him. As you peeked through the blinds, you saw your husband meet the woman halfway, the headlights of the car illuminating the two figures, and his hands sought her face as he kissed her.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel your heart shatter as one might think – you had your suspicions already that he was seeing someone else, and this only confirmed your thoughts as you closed the blinds and left your shared bedroom, deciding to retire to the one meant for guests who stayed over.

Maybe that’s all I am at this point, you thought as the front door opened, only wishing to sink into the mattress and cover yourself in its sheets as you closed the guest room door behind you and removed your robe. The mattress was stiff and unused, and you stared up at the ceiling as you heard your husband’s heavy footsteps padding their way up to his room, as you became more and more of a stranger in your own home.

You tossed and turned as you walked the line between sleep and wakefulness, your thoughts racing just a bit too much to allow you to seek the comfort of dreams that you knew would never come true, or to notice the slightest creak coming from your bedroom door.

What seemed to be a hand ghosted over your hip, fingers dragging along your sides as you slowly became aware of the strange feeling grazing over your body. You squirmed, thinking it was some strange breeze that came in from the window – before you noticed the heavy weight that was pressing into your chest, rendering you nearly immobile.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…” a voice drawled, and you opened your eyes – fearing that someone had trespassed into your home, only to find nothing out of the ordinary inside your little guest room. You sighed, thinking that you must’ve been hallucinating – sleep paralysis was a possible explanation, after all.

The voice, however, returned, chuckling in response to your eyes frantically searching for the source. “Oh, sweetie, your eyes can’t see me!” it exclaimed, as though it were obvious, “but I can see you, pretty, I’ve seen all of you.”

Gojo’s POV

You were sweet.

Like candy – if he were able to taste it, anyway. You had an aura about you that lit up any room you were in, one that he’d gaze upon from afar in the shadowy corners of your house, something he couldn’t touch, lest he burn from the light that was your smile. 

He loved watching you – seeing you get dressed (he loved the curves of your body), how you’d cook and clean and make everything look so pretty for a husband who didn’t appreciate it…

He especially loved watching you from one of the shadows of your bedroom as your husband fucked you – his cock throbbing as he watched you being used like the cute little cumdumpster you are, always wondering how tight your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

He would observe each and every single action because it was you who performed them.

And you looked delicious.

But he couldn’t feast upon you – not yet, at least. Your light was still too radiant, it shined upon everyone and everything and was nearly all-consuming.

So he left – just for a little while, of course. He’d be back for you, you just needed to give him some time.

He interrupted the dreams of one of your husband’s coworkers, filling her mind with lewd images and thoughts of railing your husband to the point where she just couldn’t bear it. So, eventually, she approached him at work – and he initially denied her advances, acting like the good husband he should be – but that just wouldn’t do for the plan Satoru had in mind. 

So he did the same with your husband, and provided him with dreams of fucking that same coworker, how wet and tight and good it would feel to have his filthy cock inside someone else’s pussy. Satoru knew it would hurt you, but it wasn’t completely his fault – you see, it was your husband’s choice to act on his desires, and his coworker’s choice to reciprocate despite knowing he was a married man.

And so your husband started coming home late, but not from work like you’d thought, no. He was arriving home after laying in the bed of another, engaging in an illicit affair that he excused as simply working overtime at the office. You initially believed your husband, but eventually, you developed your suspicions, and your light dulled – which pleased Satoru – because he could get closer to you. He would sometimes even try to alert you to his presence, but that never went according to plan – you’d always call out your husband’s name in response. You were loyal, and that annoyed him to no end because he already decided that you were his. 

He just had to be patient.

Until tonight – he had been watching you from the corner of your room. You couldn’t see him, of course, he was nothing more than a shadow to you. But that fated car had shown up, and as you peeked out the window, the last bits of your light finally blinked out like a dying star, and Satoru damn near rejoiced.

He soon followed you to the guest room, smirking to himself as he opened the door to see you tossing and turning, restless and alone – just how he wanted you.

Because you were his – to claim, to ruin, to feast upon.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…”

Y/N’s POV

“Who are you?” you asked the darkness, eyes still darting about as you covered your top half with blankets as though that’d protect you from whoever– whatever this was.

“Hmm? Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me! Although I guess I can’t blame you – our bond isn’t quite strong enough for you to see the real me…” he considered, “you’ve called out to me many times before though, sweetie, even if it was by the wrong name – which was annoying, to say the least.” 

If you could see this…thing, you would’ve been able to discern the very obvious pout on its features. But, as its words sunk into you, a chill ran up your spine and every artery, vein, and capillary became doused in fear – realizing that this entire time you’d been joking to yourself about a ghost living in your home, it had been true. 

“My name is Satoru Gojo, sweets, so next time you call out – please use that name instead of the one owned by that disgraceful husband of yours,” the voice insisted, tracing its fingers along your side – a movement nearly invisible if it weren’t for the fabric that moved ever so slightly in response to his hand. 

“How– how do you know about my husband?” you asked, and he laughed.

“Oh, sweetie, you should realize that I know everything about you by now! I know how you take your coffee, how you perform chores around the house,” his voice dropped to a whisper, breathing directly into your ear, “how that husband of yours is unable to fuck you the way you want.”

You shuddered, unable to deny the slightest spark of arousal that nestled deep within your gut, but it did little to quell your fears of this…thing. You didn’t want to admit that he was right about your husband – not even to yourself – but the way he held that woman…

“Oh c’mon, relax. I can smell your fear, y’know – but I’m not gonna kill you!” Not yet. “I want to help.” The lies dripped like honey off of his tongue, sickly sweet as you drank them in. “Close your eyes for me, will ya? I promise I won’t bite,” he smirked.

Hesitantly, you obeyed and closed your eyes, and you felt the softest, sinful touch of his lips against yours – it was dizzying how they caressed you before he slowly entered his tongue into your mouth, causing a burning feeling to slip down your throat – as sharp as alcohol and as saccharine as sugar. Your mind relaxed, with the blood in your veins heating up before that warmth sunk down into your stomach and then lower. Your fear had been eradicated by lust, and as you finally opened your eyes, the being in front of you was one you’d never seen before – a tall, white-haired male, with eyes that deceivingly matched the heavens, who was adorned with wings and horns colored in a dark charcoal. 

“Now you see me, don’t ya, pretty?” he smirked, “I’m gonna take such good care of you – you’ll let me, won’t ya?”

You nodded without hesitation, only desiring more of the euphoric feeling that he seemed so keen on providing you with. 

“Need your words, baby, or else I can’t do anything,” he growled softly, and you squirmed underneath his weight as you forced your mouth open.

“Please,” you begged.

“Please what?”

“Please– please fuck me!”

You felt a sudden rush of cold as the bedsheets flew off of your body, leaving you stark naked on the mattress below you. Still, the cold was quickly replaced by the scorching hot yet featherlight touches of his hands tracing along your body – moving along your sides and then up towards your breasts, which he fondled before kissing you again with those syrupy lips, allowing more of that warmth to spread down your throat and into your skin. The weight on your chest was unrelenting yet pleasant as his tongue slipped into your mouth once again.

His hands toyed with your nipples, pinching and rolling them in between his fingers, pulling a gasp from you as he parted from your mouth in favor of sucking on your neck, licking a long stripe up toward your jaw before biting down just enough to draw blood with his fangs – he needed to feed off your life force somehow – you moaned as a heat spread from where he bit you all throughout your neck and shoulder, a pleasurable feeling which allowed him to drink in more of you before moving on to your tits, sinking his teeth into your nipples as well as he drinks freely from you, lapping up the blood with the flat of his tongue. You cradled his head as he sucked at your breast, encouraging him to keep going as a breathy moan escaped you – because it never felt this good before when your husband would do it. 

“Mmh, yeah? You like it when I play with your tits like this, baby?” he asked, voice muffled against your soft skin. You whined, eyes closed as you arched your back, the euphoric flow of pleasure coursing through you. He could tell you were slowly becoming obsessed with the way he was treating you – he just needed to wait a little bit longer.

“Fuck, so good– never…never felt this good before,” you moaned, and Satoru smirked as he sucked just a little bit more on your tits before traveling down towards your needy cunt.

“That so? Your husband doesn’t know how to fuck you, does he?”

You shook your head, unable to voice an answer as his breath fanned across your sopping pussy. 

“It’s okay, pretty, don’t worry – I’m here now.” 

He delved a single finger into your glistening cunt, gathering up your slick and bringing it up to his mouth to taste you. He groaned as he gathered more of it, forcing his fingers into your mouth, and your tongue immediately lapped at them like a puppy with its owner.

“You taste so good, pretty. So fuckin’ wet for me – such a good slut,” he smirked. He removed his fingers from your mouth before going back down and licking a fat stripe up your cunt, causing your legs to jolt at the touch. He snickered, “bet your husband didn’t know how to please you, bet he never even went down on you, the sick bastard.” You whined in response, causing him to chuckle. 

“Thought so.”

He buried his face into your messy cunt, his nose nudging against your swollen clit as he delved his tongue inside of your hole, licking up all of your juices into his awaiting mouth. You moaned, bucking your hips up into his face before he pinned them down, eating you out like you’re his favorite meal and he’s a man starved. It’s messy as he groaned into your heat, working his jaw as he savored your sweetness. He moved his mouth slightly up to your clit, pursing his lips around it and sucking hard as he probed two fingers into your needy hole, curling them inside of your sloppy heat. Your hands clasped around his horns and you arched your back, trying to push him deeper between your legs, obsessed with the way his fingers and tongue felt while pleasing you.

He pulled moan after moan out of your pretty little mouth, and he laughed to himself as his plan was going oh so well – to make you drunk on the pleasure he gave you until you became fully addicted and obsessed with him, becoming his little cock slut that he can breed and fill with his cum whenever he wanted.

Eventually, the tension building up in your lower abdomen snapped, and a sense of euphoria rushed through you, causing your legs to shake and clench around his head. He groaned, drinking up all of the juices that flowed out of you. Satoru looked up at you as he fed upon your cunt, and grinned as he watched your soul slowly but surely fade through his eyes. 

“I was right to choose you,” he groaned before slurping up the rest of your juices, overstimulating you as your grip on his horns tightened, pleading with him to let up on his ministrations. 

“Feeding me so well, pretty.” He nipped at your inner thigh once before sitting up and grabbing his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up with your sopping hole. He rubbed the bulbous head along your pussy, “tell me, how much do you want this cock, baby? You wanna get fucked by a demon like me?” 

You nodded, and if you were any less delirious you might have questioned what he meant by ‘demon’, but you were too far gone to care, simply nodding and begging “please” over and over again.

He slowly pushed his cock into you, grunting with how tight you were wrapping around him. “Shit, pretty–” he sighed, sinking into you until his balls were flush against your ass. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up so your ankles reached over his shoulders before slowly pulling out and plunging back in. His grip tightened on the flesh of your thighs as he started moving faster, his balls slapping against your ass with the force of his thrusts. Your mouth parted and tears fell down your cheeks, only being able to take what he gave you as his dick filled you up to the brim while pounding into your sopping cunt.

“You cryin’, baby?” he chuckled, and you could only whine in response.

“Good.”

He soon flipped you over and got you on all fours, slamming his cock back into you. You wailed as he kept forcing his fat cock into your greedy little cunt – the intensity only building upon itself as you felt your orgasm approaching once more. 

“‘M close…’m close,” you babbled, encouraging him to fuck you harder. Satoru reached around to rub your clit, and you gasped as you fell apart once more, gushing around his cock. Your legs trembled and you fell forward, unable to hold up your weight any longer as pleasure coursed through your veins. Satoru took this opportunity to trap you under him, with his torso flush against your back as he continued fucking into your tight pussy, not caring for how overstimulated you were becoming. 

“Fuck pretty, you love this dick, huh? Cumming all over me like that,” he grinned, his dick throbbing as he continued pounding into you. You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough for him, so he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. “Uh-uh, tell me how much you love this cock, baby.” 

“Uh– fuck! Love– love it! Hah– need…need more–!” you babbled, tears flowing down your cheeks. He placed his hand around your mouth, and your moans became muffled as he dragged his cock inside your messy cunt.

“Shh, pretty, don’t want your husband to hear you getting fucked, right?” he grinned devilishly, “though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already heard us – he’s probably stroking his dick to your sweet sounds, the cuck.”

You whined, oddly enjoying the idea that your shitty husband might be able to hear you – you took pride in the fact that he might know that you’re getting fucked better than he ever did with you. You started fucking yourself back onto Satoru’s cock, and he grinned widely – satisfied with how he’s turned you into his little cock slut. 

“Shit, baby– ‘m not gonna last much longer,” he admitted, his thrusts progressively getting sloppier and sloppier as he rutted his cock into you.

“Hah– you want me to cum inside you, baby? Want to get filled with my cum? I’ll fucking get you pregnant, breed you with my seed and turn you into my cumslut – you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck– say it baby, say you want me to cum inside you” he groaned, his dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his end, and you nodded your head.

“Please, please Sa- Satoru–! Cum inside me! Wan’ to be your cumslut! Please!” you begged.

“Shit– ‘m gonna cum, pretty, fuck–” He pushed deep inside you, hips flush against yours as he released his hot seed into your womb, thick ropes of his cum filling you up until it started leaking out of your abused cunt. As he pulled out of you, causing you to whine at the feeling of emptiness that it created within you.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll be back for you. I’ll visit you every night if you wish, just so you can get your fill of my cock,” and so I can get my fill of your delicious soul, he thought, grinning to himself.

Suddenly, the weight lifted off of your chest, and once you opened your eyes – he was gone, leaving you a mess with his cum leaking onto the bed sheets. You sat up and hobbled your way over to the shower to clean yourself off, trusting in his promise to come back each night.

You’d be waiting for him, not realizing that was his plan all along.

Taglist: @o-oreo , @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @perfect-again, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @crazycatlddy, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @223princess (if your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you enjoyed!!

[huskersbooze]

Part 3 to Who's In Control?

Better Than This

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3(here!) |

Summary : After the fight and spending time apart, you and Alastor finally come to realise your mutual feelings for one another, but before that, a more important matter needs to be discussed.. will Alastor finally tell the truth?

Warnings : This is where we go off track and not all of this is canon, swearing/cuss words, Angel jokes about sex(?)

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)

Additional Tags : Lore, world building kinda, angst, fluff, Alastor learns to talk about feelings

Ib : Better Than This by Set It Off

Word count : 1.4k

Wide awake on the couch, you stare up at the ceiling of the hotel.

“I’m closing for the night, kid. You gonna be alright?” Husk asks from the bar.

“I’ll manage. Goodnight, Husk.”

“Night, kid.” He heads towards the staircase, but just before leaving for good, he turns to face you one last time. “Take care. And don’t stay up too late.”

“Mhm. You too.”

After a while, it was quiet. Just an empty hotel with the dim hallway lights and nothing else.

You weren’t really sure why you were here. You could’ve gone back to your room after Husk left, or before, for that matter. Maybe your heart just has desires you couldn’t avoid.

“Shit, stop thinking about him! C’mon, brain! Stop it, now.” You aggressively started to blink, trying to find anything else to distract your mind, but everything seemed to be tied to his existence.

There was no denying you missed him.

“What the hell is happening.. I’m supposed to be mad and angry, not missing him..” You sigh.

Poor Alastor, though.. Maybe I should hear him out? No. Fuck, no! He lied to you! No way.

You groan and cover your eyes with the back of your hand. There was this uneasy churn in your stomach.

Am I.. am I in love with Alastor?

-----

“Alastor, you can’t keep this up forever. You need to fix this.” Rosie sighs, walking Alastor back to the Hotel. 

“What use is there, dear, Rosie?” Alastor’s voice is audibly tired-out, though his smile still etched high and proud. “I was so close.”

“You need to tell the poor thing and let her fend for herself.”

“She wouldn’t listen.”

“Alastor, please. This is no longer about your silly little crush.” Rosie stops in her tracks, catching sight of the Hotel a few streets away. “It’s about her soul.”

“Crush?” Alastor asks, oblivious.

“A crush, someone you have feelings for and want to be with.”

“Ridiculous, Rosie. I don’t do.. Feelings.” It pains him to utter such word.

“Whatever ya’ say. Just.. think about what I said, alright?”

Alastor nods, parting ways with Rosie.

Feelings..? Did he have feelings? Feelings for you?

-----

The door creeks, making you turn your head.

Who would be here this late at night? Was it a guest? No, why would a guest come in at 1am?

But then who would it be..?

You got off the couch and eyed the corner which led to the main entrance. A threat, perhaps.

You simply stayed put, saw a glimpse of a shadow, pounced and tackled whatever had made itself welcome in the hotel until the two of you tumbled onto the ground.

Prepared for the worst, you were surprised to hear.. Radio static?

“Alastor..?” You ask.

The Demon looks up at you, his neck wrapped tightly around your hand.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I thought you were an intruder.” You immediately let go and backed up, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?” He questions, sitting on the floor opposite of you.

“It's 1am.”

Alastor tilts his head.

“I wouldn't expect you to be out at 1am.”

“You know I don't sleep, dear.” He says, wincing at the fact he's repeated this multiple times in the past.

“Doesn’t mean you’d be out at 1am.” You mutter.

“Valid point.” He says, the tension in the air starting to grow thick.

“So.. uh.” You trail, “Why exactly are you out at 1am, exactly?”

“Ah, just simply visiting Rosie is all.”

“Oh, I see.”

Alastor looks away, his gaze glued to the hotel floors.

“And you, darling?”

“Huh?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Oh. I was helping Husk with the bar.” You tell him, which, ultimately, was a lie. Husk was doing all the work while you were drinking away your feelings. But you weren’t about to admit that to Alastor.

“Yes, I see. How nice.”

“Yep.” Damn, this was so awkward.

You got up from the floor, turning your back, “Well, uh.. Goodnight, then.. Alastor.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

You start hesitantly walking towards the staircase leading to the staff rooms, feeling Alastor watching your back as you left.

“Darling.”

You stop in your tracks. Actually, no, you freeze. Though you made it evident you had no intention in facing him.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Alastor.”

“You don’t understand, dear. I fear I may regret keeping this from you any sooner in the future.”

“Uh huh..?”

“You’re aware of overlords, I assume?”

“Yes, but what does tha-” Before you could continue, you catch sight of Husk by the top of the stairs.

“Hey, you said you’d sleep, kid-” He tries to joke, but realises you’re not alone. “Oh. Hey, boss.”

“Husker.” He acknowledges. 

“Uh.. am I interruptin’ something?”

“Well, actually-”

“No, of course not.” Alastor cuts you off, passing by and giving you a small pat on the head.

God you missed those.

“We’ll discuss this another time, darling. You need your rest.” Alastor gives the small of your back a little push forward, urging you to go to bed. “I hope to see you tomorrow morning?”

“Y-Yeah.. Sure.” You reply, stepping forward, already missing the contact from Alastor’s hand. “Goodnight.”

“Indeed. Sleep well, my dear.”

You reach the top of the steps and Husk accompanies you back to your room, leaving Alastor still in the lobby by himself.

He returns to his broadcasting studios, a gut feeling in his chest telling him to just be honest with you about the contract. He hums a tune as he returns back.

He’ll fix this. He has to.

-----

“Good morning, Al.” You reached the table where everyone was gathered, and was somewhat pleased to find Alastor already sitting in his normal seat.

“How was sleep, my dear?”

“Good. Did you have your daily dose of venison yet?”

“Not quite. You don’t seem to have your breakfast either.”

“Gotta have my priorities.” You shrug. “Shall we discuss this somewhere else?”

“Let’s.”

You leave alongside Alastor, and the rest of the crew can only stare at each other in shock.

“Did I miss something?” Charlie is first to speak up.

Husk smiles, Sir pentious shrugs, Vaggie asks the same thing.

“Who thinks they’re fuckin’?”

“Angel!”

“Joking, jeez!”

-----

“You wanted to say something?” You take a seat on the floor next to Alastor’s chair.

“By all means, you’re welcome to sit on the chair.”

“I’m good. Your broadcasting panel scares me. You sit.”

“If you insist.” He takes a seat, ruffling your hair. “You’re familiar with overlords, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever heard of Azrael?”

“The Legend of the Dark Arts Overlord?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.”

“Well, dear, he’s not a legend. He was the most powerful overlord of us all.”

You weren’t sure what reaction to be giving so you nodded along, waiting for him to continue.

“7 years ago, us overlords were experimenting with power and magic. Azrael formed an experiment, inheriting part of his magic to a human.” He says, meanwhile you still had no idea what this had to do with you.

“This human would be protected, and would only die when Azrael himself gets killed, thus sending the experiment to hell, whether they deserved it or not. 7 years ago, some of us overlords had ‘matters’ to attend to and Azrael had died in the process during the last 2 years.” Alastor proceeds to drop multiple history facts on you at 9 in the morning.

“2 years ago,” He states. “The human was sent to hell with locked up dark magic they weren’t aware of. The overlords are now gambling for this soul as whoever owns the soul owns the power and magic, but on one condition.”

“One condition?”

“Yes, my dear. You see, to own the soul is one thing, but to own the magic.. The soul has to be killed.”

“That’s terrible! And complete bullshit.”

“Exactly, darling. And I own this very soul.” He sighs. “As long as I can own her soul for long enough and find a backdoor, her soul won’t be gambled any longer by the current overlords. But you see, dear, I’m on a time limit here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Who’s soul is it?” You desperately question, completely forgetting you were supposed to be still mad at Alastor.

Alastor sighs, looking at you with compassionate eyes as a hand comes to cup your cheek.“2 years ago, this soul entered hell. 2 years ago, another soul that entered hell.. was you.”

———/ TBC. /———

Taglist : @musicalsundrop @for-hearthand-home @saeran-g @smoky000 @otherthoughtsofbu @letmebeagreekstatueyoumotherfuck @hudiexiaoying @prettyboychoso @thonethatflies620 @imaptiencepersistonthinstring @speaker15 @zq13 @starr11111 @fokrilove @aloraaaxcrystalzx @simps-for-to-many-people @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @ohdarlingohdeer @sophiasrant @soyobi-wankenobi @karolinda007-blog @alastorsgirl48 @memymay @perrynina @john-kramer-0807 @preciousbabypeter @sugxryratz @polytheatrix @maksdust @96jnie @spirit-of-the-hollow @chirimeimei @itsukiestia @sky2lar @centuriantalevevo @cryptidabduction911 @bubblsteaa @sirens-and-moonflowers @readergirlstuff @capri-sun00 @simpingsohard @manicjk @wen01203 @hellkaisersangel @kitty-kei @spookieroz @bontensbabygirl @sakuraluna2468 @hunnybee11626 @chanty-loves-turtles @the-sharpened-pencil

If you want to be on this fics taglist leave a comment! Please specify you want to be tagged or else I won't tag blogs that ask for another part cuz it doesn't seem polite- Thanks in advance <3

[stevesbipanic]

Inspired by this post by @liightsnow

Steve had always been quick to open his home to his friends.

It began of course with allowing Tommy to throw big parties at his house since Steve’s parents were away, later he would open his home to the kids to have a safe place to just be kids. Steve enjoyed having his friends around and it helped fill the silence of his usually empty house. So it was no surprise that when Eddie needed a new location for Hellfire, Steve was the first to volunteer.

He and Eddie had gotten close as Eddie recovered in hospital, he was fun to be around, loud and bright in a way that pushed away the thoughts as to how Eddie ended up in the bed in the first place. Wayne was appreciative of Steve keeping his nephew company while he was at work and Steve always reassured him that it was no trouble, most of the time Steve stayed even when Wayne was there.

There was one issue with hosting Hellfire however, the Hellfire boys. Jeff, Gareth and Grant had visited Eddie a few times after school, all their parents keeping them at home when they could after the “earthquake”, Steve always excused himself allowing Eddie to have time with his friends. Steve couldn’t blame the wary looks that they’d send him, he knew who he was in high school, even Eddie had assumed the same.

This lead Steve to now as he opened the door to the three boys, who were last to arrive. They all nodded politely at Steve before heading straight to where Eddie was calling them in the dining room. At first Steve tried to make himself seem friendly and approachable to them, demonstrating that he had changed since his years of being King of Hawkins High. He set out snacks and got people drinks, even remembering which drinks Eddie had told them were their favourites, but all he got were polite smiles and glances towards Eddie. After receiving similar treatment when he brought them lunch, Steve gave up his attempts and retreated to his bedroom to wait out the rest of the game.

Steve curled into a ball on his bed, knees tucked tightly under his chin as he wrapped his arms around is legs. He got an eerie sense of déjà vu to when he was a child and his mother would send him up to his room once he’d been “showed off” to the guests. His purpose complete and he was no longer needed, Hellfire had what they needed to finish their game without them.

Steve heard joyous cries downstairs and wished for a moment he would’ve been able to stay and watch. Everyone always sounded so happy when the game concluded, and he knew Eddie told the best stories. He knew he couldn’t though, he didn’t want to ruin it for anyone, especially Eddie’s friends.

He was getting ready to go downstairs and clean up, another thing similar to his mother’s parties, when there was a knock at his door.

“Stevie? You ok in there?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, Eds, I’m fine, game finished then?” Steve replied as Eddie entered the room.

“Yeah, it was great, you should’ve stayed to watch Gareth made the best final attack, you have a headache or something, why are you hiding up here?”

“Oh, um,” Steve looked down at his hands, “Thought I’d just be in the way down there, didn’t want to spoil the fun.”

Eddie made a face at this, “Spoil the fun? Sweetheart, everyone would’ve loved you to stay and watch, might get Dustin off your back about playing.”

Steve shook his head, “Your friends don’t really like me much, which I get, it’s fine, glad you guys had a place to play though.”

“Steve why did you offer up your place if you didn’t want to watch? And the guys think you’re fine what’re you talking about, did one of them say something?”

“You guys needed a place to play and I have an empty house, need to be useful someway now that there’s no monsters to fight and my parents cut me off, and no, no one said anything but they always act weird around me.”

“Fuck Stevie, you’re more than just someone useful you know that right? I’d want you around just because I like you around, sweetheart, you don’t have to earn that by offering your house.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure, wasn’t getting better in Casa Harrington, was I? Got better cause I had my favourite jock beside me.” Steve blushed at that. “And as for my friends, I think I know the reason they’re acting weird around you,” Eddie said guiltily.

“Why?”

“Might’ve told them not to embarrass me in front of you,” Eddie said sheepishly.

“Why wouldn’t you want them to- oh,” Steve smiled softly, “Eddie Munson did you want to look cool in front of me because you like me?”

“Would it be bad to say yes?”

Steve lent over and kissed Eddie’s cheek softly, “Not at all.”

When the boys returned downstairs holding hands to find the others cleaning up, Jeff let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fuck you got your shit together Eddie, Harrington can you make those sandwiches again next time, I don’t know what you put in them but Gare ate like 5.”

“Hey, you would’ve eaten just as many if there were any left!”

Steve laughed, “Sure, will make them a Hellfire staple every week.”

The following week Steve was met by wide grins when he opened the door, and celebrated with the party when they defeated Eddie’s villain. Sitting on Eddie’s lap to watch the campaign was a good new perk too.

[russellsppttemplates]

What if you and the kids gang up on me? (Pierre Gasly)

Pierre is doing what he can to makes sure his children are raised knowing their roots

Note: english is not my first language. As you maybe know by now, talking about these subjects is a big responsibility for me, but I always hope that I have treated them properly. Also, these are some traditions that I remembered and that I know about!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Did you find what you were looking for?", you asked your husband when he found you in the living room. Because Alexandre had been a little bit fussy the night before and you still had some things to prepare and sort out for the big night tomorrow, you ended up staying with your little boy at home while Pierre went out to get something he needed.

"Yes, they fit well, too. I just put them in the washing machine. And how's this little guy, hm? Is he feeling better?", he pointed to your son. He had been attached to you the whole day, so he had ended up falling asleep on top of you, "he's feeling a bit sorry for himself still, but he's sleeping now, so I guess that's a good thing", you chuckled, remembering the past night where you and Pierre almost slept in shifts since your little boy kept needing your full attention.

The next day, Pierre's parents arrived after lunch, making it the perfect timing to get the kitchen and the dining room ready for the New Year's Eve celebration. Because of how young your son was, you opted to stay inside and have dinner with your in-laws, making the situation a lot more flexible.

"Are you not going to put on the dress you bought?", Pierre asked, taking Alexandre from your arms, "I don't know if it fits me all that well", you admitted, "I'm sure it will, amour, you look gorgeous in everything", he ushered you up the stairs.

While you got ready, Pierre softly knocked on the door of the guest room his parents were staying in, "are you guys ready?", he asked, seeing his parents dressed according to the request he made. Moving to the nursery, he laid his son on the changing mat, grabbing the white shirt and soft pants from the wardrobe before pulling his own trousers he had hid in the room, "let's surprise mama, yes? I bet she'll be so happy to see you. You look like the most handsome boy ever", he kissed his cheek, changing himself as well and walking back to your bedroom to surprise you.

"Me and Alexandre need you to close your eyes", Pierre said after he knocked, "my eyes are closer then", you said, hearing footsteps approach you when you heard your husband's command, "you can open them now".

Opening your eyes, you saw both of your boyd in all white outfits, matching your own, "I know you always wear white because of the traditions you have, so I thought it would be a good one to start now that we have this little one", he smiled, handing Alexandre back to you when you opened and closed your hands and encouraged him to do so.

"This is amazing, amour", you thanked, kissing his lips before taking a good look at both of them, "look at you, meu amor", you kissed your son's cheeks, earning a little giggle from him, "you look so handsome, although I think your outfit won't be this clean for much longer", you tapped his nose.

"Knowing you, yours won't either", your husband teased you, "you look amazing, mon ange", he kissed your forehead, "breathtaking as usual", he smiled, "C'mon, my mother also needed help with her dress and my father was having some trouble with the zipper, and you might be the only one to be able to fiddle with it".

.

"Papa, I want something sweet to eat", Alexandre said, looking for a snack in the cupboard, "do you know how to make those chocolaty balls mama makes? The brigadeiros", the boy struggled with the last words, the letter R still a challenge for him to bend, "Oh, those are so good, papa, please make them!", Louis said.

Pierre had seen you make them what felt like a thousand times before, but now he was doubting himself, "How about we do them together?", he suggested, thinking that if the recipe tasted different, he could also blame it on the fact his children helped him do it and that's why it tasted off and not because of his baking skills.

"First, ingredients!", Pierre announced, moving to the cupboard where you kept the sweet ingredients, "we need this can here, which is called leite condensado, and some cocoa powder", he helped them reach the shelves and grab what they needed, "we also need margarina", he showed them the block of margarine he got from the fridge, "Oh, the word is very similar to the French one", the oldest boy said, "that's right, a lot of the words are similar", he smiled, grabbing the measuring spoons and the pot they needed.

"It makes it easier to learn, even if I'm not that good at it", Alexandre admitted, pouting slightly, "the other day I asked mama to speak to me in Portuguese and I got her request messed up, she wanted her hairbrush and I got her a hair tie", he confessed.

Helping Louis up on the wooden tower so he could be at the level of the counter, Pierre spoke to Alexandre, "you know learning a new language is hard, you're still getting used to it, right? And you're doing a good job, buddy! The first time mama asked me for something in Portuguese, she said it was in the bathroom and I went to the kitchen", he nudged him, seeing his smile creep up.

"So, we have to heat this up, and we have to be careful because we can't have bubbles, alright boys?", Pierre pointed the spoon, "so we just keep stirring the chocolate in now?", Louis wondered, "yes, carefully for a good while".

Despite their usual excitement and rush because they were just kids, the boys actually held up to the request and waited patiently until the bowl had cooled down from the fridge enough so they could roll up the balls, "mama usually makes different toppings, like coconut, and cocoa powder too", Pierre added, "so it's really up to you what you do with yours".

"Can we leave these ones for mama?", Alexandre asked, setting a small tupperware box on the side with some of his and his brother's creations, "yes, I'll put them in the fridge for when she gets back from work, I bet she'll love them".

.

"Come here", your husband whispered, seeing you finish rubbing the cream on your arms, "I want to talk to my little girl", he urged you, helping you sit on the bed so he could scoot down and face your bump. Because this was your third pregnancy, your bump was growing at a much faster pace, making it more prominent and, therefore, a place where you would usually find Pierre's hand whenever he was near you, and tonight was no different.

"Olá, meu amor", he began, "hoje deste um dia complicado à mãe, hm? Mas é um bom sinal, porque significa que estás a crescer e que estamos cada vez mais perto de te conhecer e de te ter nos nossos braços", he smiled, kissing your soft skin. Hello, my love (...) today you gave mama a hard day, hm? Bur that's a good sign, it means you're growing and that we are closer to meeting you and to have you in our arms

"I'll never get over you speaking my mother tongue", you brushed your husband's hair by running your fingers through, "you speak mine, and I have to know, too. I mean, what if one day you and the kids gang up on me?".

[enkvyu]

5:22pm — gojo satoru ;

there's a kind of urgency in your steps that parts the crowd of onlooking guests, and they split in half to avoid the trailing hot path you leave in your wake. cold, hard shock twists your stomach and wrings it out, heaving about the wine and finger foods you had consumed when you were still ignorant.

the clicking of your heels echos in the silent ballroom, the bottom of your gown sweeping up the marble floors and the frantic clacks only enhances your horror. if only someone could talk and shatter the silence so you no longer had to be suffocated in your own traitorous thoughts, if only someone could laugh away the situation, though you're sure you'll forever see this scene illuminated on the back of your eyelids for weeks to come.

"let the celebrations resume," a voice answers your prayers, but it is the person who says it that causes you to clamp a hand over your mouth.

even now, you can hear the beginning whispers of small talk and chatter, gossip spreading through the lavish room. it trails after you like a pungent smell, and you're certain the morning news tomorrow will have your name lined in big, bold letters on its front page.

footsteps chase after you, and you curse your gown for slowing your pace. it's inevitable that he catches up to you, just as you exit the grand hall into the balcony, and his hand closes around your arm, pulling you back.

loose strands of your hair whips across your face as you're forced to turn to your pursuer. "gojo." you swallow hard as the foreign syllables leave your mouth. "what do you want?"

the crown prince has grown over the last few years, you think. there's an aura of arrogance he lacked when he was younger, a certainty that straightens his back and the kind of confidence that allows him to chase an older lover out into the night.

gojo's eyes are haunted when he looks at you, really looks at the person you've become in his absence. the hand holding your arm trembles and falls. "why aren't you happy to see me?"

you bark out a cruel laugh. out of all the things he could ever say to you, after the raw anguish that you've never been able to express, after all the silent midnights, interlocked hands pressed tight together praying to the moon that his death was all a big, cruel joke, that was all he could say?

"do you seriously believe i would feel happy seeing you, after all this time?" it's hilarious, and you don't hesitate to let your laugh show it.

"all i could think about was you." he confesses but it's too late, years far too late.

"why didn't you tell me?" you ask instead. "did you think i could see you again and forgive you? on the spot, after leaving me in the dark for so long?"

gojo is still frowning, and you hate that he can't ever see the errors of his ways. perhaps that was the single thing that remained the same. "i couldn't put you in that kind of danger."

"gojo, i thought you were dead!" you finally explode, and the relief it feels to finally tell someone overwhelms you. you choke on the raw emotion, balling your hands by your side. "you still are to me. what did you think i would feel? i finally, finally, got over you, i finally accepted that you were gone and now you're back? now, of all times? i was going to get married, gojo! i was going to have a family, and kids, and finally live my life again. why did you have to show up?"

"your husband is a gambling addict." he says drily. "i wasn't going to let you marry some bastard like him."

"well, thanks." you say, voice flat. typical of him to only hear what he wants to hear, what he can find a response to. "thanks, gojo, is that what you want me to say?"

gojo clenches his jaw and when he grabs a hold of you again, it hurts a whole lot more. "listen to me, i didn't have a choice."

and again, you shake it off. "fuck you, gojo."

"i came back as soon as i could. i prepared all of this for you!" his voice raises and raises, and it's such a contrast to the sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear when you were only two secret lovers hiding in the stables. “you were the only thing that kept me going and this is what you have to say now that i’m back?”

"and i would throw it all away if it would mean you had told me you were still alive."

"i didn't have a choice." he says again. "if i did you know i would have come back for you."

"do i know that?" the wind picks up and you shiver. "i waited for you. for months i thought this was just another scheme. you would find your way back to me again, because you always did. you always survived, no matter what."

"i did survive."

"but i didn't know, gojo, don't you see?" was it really so hard to understand? had it ever been so hard to convey your feelings to him like it was now, two strangers seeing a different image before them?

there's a creeping sense of foreboding that starts in your stomach and overcomes your mind, a sense that things will never be the same again. even if you were to meticulously piece back a broken faith, even if you were to abandon all sense and throw yourself into a deceitful love, the memories you crave will never be re-experienced, you will never know the pure love of gojo again.

too much has changed.

you shiver and it isn't the cold that shakes you.

gojo takes off his coat at the sight, throwing it over your shoulders and holding it tight in front of your throat. once, your heart might have leapt out at the warm gesture, but now it feels like a noose around your neck.

"i don't need your coat." you say, past all the memories. "what would your wife think?"

gojo groans, brushing back his hair as the wind rustles it in front of his eyes. "is that what it is? me being married?"

you flare up and the cold no longer seems an issue. "of course not! god, gojo, you would be the only one who would think as shallowly as that. you were dead! i saw your corpse tonight at the ball and you have me to believe that all my tears, all those sleepless nights, was because i was jealous?"

gojo breaks away, exhaling deeply. he shoves his hand into his pant pocket and shakes his head. "sorry. i just, you didn't seem happy to see me."

"you sound like a broken record." you remark. with his hands away from the coat, the sleeves flap away in the wind and it's less suffocating, but also less warm.

“i came back for you tonight.”

you were already shaking your head before the last of his words leaves his mouth. “it’s too late.”

“you don’t get to tell me that.” he growls and it’s the second time in one night that he has shown you this feral, aggressive side. “i won’t let you let me go.”

you want to cry. how long had you wanted, needed even, to hear those words? words you were sure would heal the wounds of your heart, words that would fix the world as you know it and lunge you back into the joy of past memories.

those memories are dead now, a part of you whispers, mockingly. you can’t seriously trust him again. can’t you see how he’s aged into a person you no longer know?

you curl your fingers into your dress and pierce your thigh through the fabric. “why did you chase after me?”

maybe gojo senses his chance because he answers the question without another thought. “i needed to talk to you. i needed to see you again and have you see me back.”

“well, we’re both here now. don’t miss your chance.”

gojo takes a step forward. "i'm here to tell you i'm alive. that i've been alive for the past ten years."

"i know."

"and that i'm the crown prince now."

"i know."

"i'm also married now."

"god, you're really bad at apologies." you sniffle, taking a hold of the coat and pulling it tighter. it's because the wind was getting to you, you reason. "but, i know."

"do you, do you have someone you like?" gojo coughs out, feigning indifference. your jaw drops at the topic of conversation.

"gojo, i haven't even forgiven you yet."

"i just wanted to know! the man you were meant to marry tonight, do you...?"

"no."

"okay." gojo says, and exhales. "okay."

"is that everything?" you ask, and you painfully wish that it isn't. you want him to chase after you, to hold onto your hand and keep you there by his side, to want you again. because god knows all you've ever wanted was him.

gojo raises his head at your words, searching your eyes for permission. there's a hard tint to his face you don't recognise and the blue you've once called your sanctuary is duller, lacking light. an aged scar runs across his neck, and a shoot of bitterness surges through you as you realise it had healed in the time that he was without you.

still, you let him take a step closer. closer, you can see everything that has changed at the hand of time. it makes his unfamiliar, different, your old lover wearing a stranger's skin, but it's still the gojo you know.

you have to believe that.

so when he reaches up to caress your cheek, running a thumb over a falling tear, you subdue the shiver that runs its course through you.

you bite your lip and it draws blood. gojo sees it, tracks it with his eyes and even when your tongue has swiped across and licked it away, his gaze still lingers.

"i really did miss you." he whispers and you feel his breath against your wet lips. "you were all i could think about."

"me too." you confess and his eyes flicker up to yours.

"does that mean you forgive me?" and though he smiles, there's a nervous quirk to it that you're sure only you would recognise. this was a side of him that only you saw, only you were allowed to bask in.

"what about your wife?"

"i'll divorce her. i was already planning to, we never married out of love. you know you're the only one for me."

“i know.” you lie. what did you even know about him?

“i love you.” he says and you nod, not trusting your voice to answer. “god, i love you so much.”

when he dips to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, you fight the urge to push him away when he no longer taste like how you remember.

i know you guys want that part two of the gojo imagine but listen to me, 2.5k is a lot to edit when there are tears in your eyes from chem 😮‍💨 i promise i'm not ignoring you guys i js have a lot of studying to do so !! i wrote this quick thing as a filler