#if none of those are convincing i at least had a good time looking back! (:

[tonycries]

FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 

You notice - of course, you do. 

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 

Mom? 

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM. 

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five. 

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck- 

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh. 

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[alohajix]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞

Description: you used to write “Mrs. Y/N Styles” in pink gel pen, convinced you’d marry your celebrity crush one day. It was harmless, teenage daydreaming—until it wasn’t. Years later, standing across from Harry Styles on your wedding day, you find out he’s known about that childhood fantasy all along. And somehow, he saved a piece of it for this moment.

Warnings: none

Word count: 4.5K

author note: based on this request. I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy this babes 🫶🏻 don’t forget about the tagline if you want to be notified when I post something!

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

You always thought you’d be a mess on your wedding day; crying, pacing, maybe even throwing up from nerves. But instead, you’re calm—too calm.

You sit cross-legged on a velvet stool in the bridal suite, wrapped in a white robe, sipping a mimosa and watching your reflection in the mirror like you’re waiting for the panic to kick in. Your hair is done, your makeup is soft and glowy, and your dress hangs nearby, untouched for now, floating like a dream against the pale blue wall.

Downstairs, Harry’s probably pacing barefoot, pretending to be chill while chewing on his bottom lip the way he always does when he’s trying to hide nerves. You can almost picture him adjusting his tie ten times in a row before giving up and just asking someone to do it for him.

“You good?” your best friend calls from the doorway. She’s holding a mimosa in one hand and her phone in the other, already filming like this is part of a behind-the-scenes documentary.

You glance at her through the mirror and nod. “Yep. Just casually waiting to marry Harry Styles; a totally normal Saturday.”

She snorts and walks in. “You sound way too calm. Shouldn’t you be crying or shaking or something?”

You shrug. “I got that out of the way last night. Cried into a bowl of Frosted Flakes at like midnight.”

Her eyes widen. “Frosted Flakes? That serious?”

“Tony the Tiger witnessed a full breakdown.”

She hands you your drink, laughing. “Well, at least you saved your lashes.”

The suite is filled with soft light from the windows, the scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air. There’s a playlist humming quietly from a speaker in the corner—something mellow and acoustic. Everything feels peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” you say after a moment. “Like… actually happening. Him, me. Today.”

She smiles as she leans against the vanity. “He loves you, you know.”

You glance up at her. “I know.”

“No, like—he really loves you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before. It’s like you’re his whole world.”

That makes your chest tighten in the best way. You bite your bottom lip, trying not to smile too hard.

“It still feels fake sometimes,” you admit. “Like I accidentally stepped into someone else’s life.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You manifested this. Remember when you used to write ‘Y/N Styles’ all over your notebooks?”

Your stomach drops. “Wait—how do you know about that?”

She grins like she’s been waiting years for this. “You don’t think I noticed? You folded those little scraps of paper like they were top-secret files. You had a whole stack of ‘Mrs. Styles’ signatures in that glittery pink diary.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands. “I thought I burned those.”

“I rescued one. For evidence.”

You peek through your fingers, cheeks hot. “That was supposed to be a private moment between me and my delusional tween heart.”

She laughs. “Well, guess what? You’re about to marry your delusional tween heart’s dream man. You win.”

You set your mimosa down and look back at the mirror. Your heart is beating a little faster now. It’s wild, how something you once daydreamed about in the back of your algebra class is now real, tangible. Right in front of you. Harry Styles isn’t a poster on your bedroom wall anymore. He’s the man who texts you pictures of ugly mushrooms at the grocery store, who wears your socks when he can’t find his, who once accidentally dyed all your towels pink and left a Post-it note that said, “I’m sorry. Also, you’re welcome.” And today, he’s going to be your husband.

You blink hard, your eyes suddenly feeling a little too watery. “Okay,” you say, clearing your throat and standing. “Help me get into that dress before I lose it again.”

As she walks over and begins unzipping the garment bag, you take one last glance at yourself in the mirror; this version of you—older, wiser, maybe still a little ridiculous—is about to live out the one thing younger-you always hoped for but never thought could actually happen.

***

You met him on a Thursday—which already felt unfair. Thursdays weren’t meant for life-altering moments; they were for laundry and leftovers and forgetting what day it was. But then again, nothing about meeting Harry Styles had ever felt normal.

You were working a temporary job at a media company—nothing glamorous. Just hours in a freezing office staring at your screen and trying not to spill coffee on anything important.

It was your second week when your manager popped her head into your cubicle. “Hey, Styles is coming in. Do me a favor and bring these upstairs?” She dropped a folder and an iced coffee on your desk like it was no big deal.

“Styles?” you repeated, your voice a little higher than intended.

“Yeah. Harry. He’s doing that podcast thing. Don’t make it weird.” And then she was gone.

You stared at the items in front of you. Your heart was already racing. You hadn’t even seen him yet and your brain was short-circuiting.

Okay, you told yourself. You are not fifteen. You are an adult. A calm, capable, non-squealing adult. You took the coffee and folder, stepped into the elevator, and started praying. Not even about seeing him, just that you wouldn’t trip. When the doors opened, he was already there. Sitting in a chair near the glass wall of the studio, looking at his phone, wearing a brown beanie and a soft white tee that made your brain immediately delete all functions except LOOK.

He looked up when he heard the door, and that was it: game over. He smiled at you.

“Hiya.”

His voice was just as deep and warm as you remembered from years of listening to it in headphones. Except this time, it wasn’t coming through a screen. It was directed at you, in real-time, from about eight feet away.

You blinked. “Hi. Uh—here. For you.”

You held out the coffee and folder, your hand embarrassingly shaky.

“Thanks, love.” He stood up to take them, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You tried not to freeze, but your whole body buzzed. He glanced at the name on the cup and smiled wider. “They spelled it right. That’s rare.”

“I told them how to spell it,” you said quickly, then winced. “I mean—I didn’t go to the coffee shop, obviously. I just wrote it on the post-it.” You were rambling.

But he laughed. “Very impressive. What’s your name?”

You hesitated. “Y/N.”

His brows lifted, like he recognized it. You panicked; what if, somehow, he’d seen one of those old tweets? The ones where you used to live-blog his every move? The Pinterest board titled Wedding Plans If Harry Ever Notices Me? The Tumblr post from 2013 where you boldly declared, “One day I will be Mrs. Styles. Mark my words.”

He probably hadn’t, but your cheeks were burning all the same.

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was saving it. “Pretty.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Thanks. Yours is… you know. Famous.”

He laughed again. “Fair enough.”

There was a short pause. He was looking at you in that curious, slightly tilted-head way, like he was trying to figure something out. You looked down at your shoes.

“Well,” you blurted, backing toward the door. “I’ll just let you… be famous and mysterious in peace.”

His smile widened. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

You nodded too fast. “You too.”

You escaped before you could say anything worse. The moment the elevator doors closed, you leaned your head against the wall and let out a groan; because of course that was how you’d meet him: slightly sweaty, nervous, and mentally spiraling.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that Harry didn’t forget you after that.

***

You didn’t see him again for three weeks, which was fine. You’d told yourself that the moment passed—your one chance to meet your teenage crush, and you hadn’t died or fainted; that was a win. But then he came back and this time, he remembered you.

“Y/N, right?” he said as soon as he stepped into the studio, that crooked little smile already tugging at his mouth.

You blinked, stunned. “Yeah.”

He pointed at the iced coffee someone else had left on the counter. “You didn’t bring this one, did you?” You shook your head.

“Shame. You spell names better than most people,” he said, like it was a fact. Like he hadn’t been thinking about it at all, even though you knew he had.

That was the beginning; little things, friendly greetings, casual conversations—like the day he leaned against the wall next to your desk, sipping his tea, and said casually, “You look like the kind of person who talks to their plants.”

You turned slowly. “I do not.”

He raised one eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Okay, fine. Pets, then.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Maybe.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You tried to brush it off, but the way he looked at you—like he was gently unraveling all your little secrets—left you flustered for the rest of the day.

The thing was, Harry didn’t act like someone famous—not around you. He was relaxed, sweet, a little awkward sometimes in a way that made him feel human; hee sent you memes, he remembered your coffee order, he asked questions and listened when you answered. You kept waiting for the catch, for him to ghost you or get bored, or wake up and remember he was Harry freaking Styles and you were just some regular girl with too many embarrassing internet footprints. But it never happened.

Instead, he texted you after long days, called you when he was on the road, and once flew home early just to surprise you on your birthday—even though you told him not to make a big deal out of it. He didn’t make a big deal out of it; he made pancakes in your kitchen, wore a ridiculous paper party hat, and sang “Happy Birthday” to you.

And slowly, somewhere between the midnight phone calls and sleepy mornings tangled in bedsheets, you realized something important: you weren’t just in love with the version of him you grew up watching on a screen; you were in love with the man who left his shoes in the hallway, who had a weird obsession with fancy candles, who once tried to fix your wobbly chair and ended up making it worse.

He wasn’t your celebrity crush anymore, he was yours.

***

The ceremony is quiet: soft music, soft light, soft smiles. Everything feels slow, like the world decided to pause just for you and him. You can feel your heart pounding, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold the bouquet close to your chest.

Harry’s already at the end of the aisle when the doors open. He turns the second you appear, and the look on his face nearly knocks the breath out of you, because of the way he’s looking at you; like the rest of the world disappeared the second he saw you.

You meet his eyes the whole walk down, and he doesn’t look away once; not when you reach him, nor when your fingers slide into his, or when the officiant clears his throat and starts to speak. It’s all a blur. A dreamy, floating blur until that moment comes—vows. He clears his throat, still holding your hand, eyes locked on yours like he’s afraid he’ll miss something if he blinks.

He smiles, nervous but glowing. “I wrote this a hundred different ways,” he says softly, and the guests let out quiet chuckles. “But nothing felt quite right because I still can’t believe I get to stand here and say any of it out loud.” You swallow hard, blinking fast. “I’ve loved a lot of things in my life,” he continues. “Music, travel, but nothing has compared to loving you. You’re my calm when everything feels loud, you’re my home, you’re my best friend.”

Your grip tightens in his.

He pauses, just for a second.“And you’re also the girl who once wrote ‘Mrs. Y/N Styles’ in big bubble letters on a sheet of notebook paper.” Your breath catches. He smiles wider now, eyes sparkling with something playful and proud. “Thought you might recognize this.”

From his jacket pocket, he pulls out a folded piece of paper. Worn, creased, edges slightly faded.

Your hand flies to your mouth. “Oh my God.”

He opens it gently and holds it up. There it is—your old handwriting: pink gel pen, a few hearts, and the words: “Mrs. Y/N Styles” written over and over.

You can’t speak. Your face is on fire, your chest tight in the best possible way.

“Found it by accident,” he says. “Someone who loves you gave it to me. Thought it was sweet, I thought—” He shakes his head, laughing softly. “Honestly, I thought it was the most you thing in the world.” Your vision blurs. “So I kept it,” he adds simply. “I kept it because even before you ever said yes to a first date, before we even really knew each other, I think a part of me hoped this would be where we ended up.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t even try to stop it.

Harry folds the paper back up and tucks it into your joined hands. “So here it is,” he says. “Full circle. You loved me before you knew me. And now I get to spend forever showing you that I’ve loved you since the moment I did.”

You laugh through a quiet sob, squeezing his hand, completely overwhelmed and floating and so in love you think your heart might actually burst. The guests are sniffling, a few straight-up crying. You’re barely holding it together yourself.

When it’s your turn, you manage a soft, shaky laugh. “Um… well, now I feel like I should’ve brought props.” Everyone laughs gently, and even Harry lets out a relieved little smile like thank God you’re still breathing. “I wrote you a letter once,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I was thirteen, I said I was going to marry you someday. I never sent it, only because I never thought I’d even meet you.”

You pause, looking down at the paper between you.

“But somehow the universe heard me and you found me, and now I get to marry not the version of you I made up in my head, but the real you. The funny, soft, kind, chaotic, always-late Harry.” He laughs, eyes glassy. “And I’m so glad it’s you,” you say, voice cracking. “It’s always been you.”

The officiant says something after that, but you barely hear it because Harry’s reaching for you, hands cradling your cheeks, eyes shining.

“You ready?” he whispers.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life, and maybe he has.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk199o @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore

[vonlycaonwife]

Seth, Lighter, and Harumasa w/ Crush Accidentally Confessing Hcs

Wanted to do these with the other boyos

Warnings: none

And here's another thiren who absolutely did hear you no matter what, and also not subtle about it. It's obvious from the way his tail stops and his ears perk up.

Though luckily for you he's also one of the boys who won't give chase, or at least give up easily once he realizes what he's doing.

Though don't think he will let you avoid him after that, but you can thankfully calm down since he seems to act nonchalant about what happened.

Oh how absolutely wrong you are, after heading home this poor poor flustered feline was blushing like a tomato. He could not get your words out of his head, even if it was just a simple accidental confession.

So he made a promise to himself to showcase his feelings to you back, though more subtly until he himself worked up the nerve to confess. Luckily knowing it's reciprocated does give him a small confidence boost.

Though he'll definitely be teased to hell and back by his colleagues if anyone saw (they did, they all bet on who would confess first).

Honestly if you did this you don't have to worry about Lighter's reaction, it's the rest of the biker gang you have to watch out for.

As if one (Ceasar or Lucy) hear you then all the girls are crowding around you for clarification.

Even if you tried to run you're getting chased by them and they will catch up no matter what. Lighter almost feels bad as he sees this happen before you all disappear from his sight.

They will corner you and demand for more details. They most definitely already knew about Lighter's feelings for you, so once they find out about your shared love those girls will drag you back to repeat the confession.

Though that's mainly Caesar and Burnice, Lucy and Piper are easier to convince to let you do it when you're ready and pretend nothing happened.

As for Lighter himself, after the girls return with you in tow he's most likely already calmed himself down by then. Though trust me he would have a hard time looking you in the eyes without blushing crazy.

But I can see him subtly sneaking you two into a more private area to gently ask you to repeat your confession. If you wish to pretend it didn't happen still, he's hesitant to go along, but he wants you to be comfortable.

If you do repeat it, then he's gonna be blushing even more! And also awkwardly cough into his fist to try and pretend he isn't. But! He's gonna reciprocate the confession, though not as cooly as he wished he could've done it. 

Lord help you because Haru will freeze in place very obviously. Like any teasing he was doing is just stopped and most likely would have everyone worry about his heart suddenly stopping.

His entire face will turn red as his brain quickly processes what just happened.

If you had run away while this was happening he's giving chase. Good luck because he will catch you!

I mean you do have the advantage since besides strength from using his bow, stamina wise he's last within Section 6.

But he has the home advantage of knowing every hiding spot within HSO headquarters. So you'll be in for a shock as he just barges into the space and leans his face dangerously close to yours.

And he's not backing away until he can hear you say it all over again, and maybe asking you to repeat several more times. 

He'll let out a chuckled apology once you berate him for it, but ask you to repeat it one more time. This last time he'll interrupt you with a kiss.

[zorobff]

dress up. (toji fushiguro x f!reader)

synopsis: in an attempt to make some memories, you come up with the idea of a family costume for this year’s halloween. toji and megumi might need a little convincing, though…

a/n: first fic in like a year and first time writing for my babygirl toji :3

word count: 1.1k

toji carelessly lets himself fall next to you, his sheer body weight causing the couch to jolt slightly. he nods at your phone. “whatcha looking at?”

“just some costumes. halloween’s coming up and—”

a smile creeps up on toji’s face before you can get another word out. “you shoulda asked me first, baby. i got a few good ideas. patient and nurse could work, i love a woman in uniform—my woman in uniform. cop and prisoner, too. would give us a good excuse to finally buy some handcuffs.” he winks.

“sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” you tease. “but unfortunately, none of those are gonna work.”

toji’s face falls ever so slightly and you have to hold back a laugh at seeing a grown man pout.

“had you let me finish, you’d know i want to do a family costume.”

“baby, c’mon,” he groans, rubbing his face. “i never go all out f��� halloween, you know that.”

you arch a brow. “you seemed eager a few seconds ago.”

he huffs. “that was different.”

“mhm, sure,” you reply, sarcastically. “i don’t mind suggestions, just a little more family friendly and less… porn-y.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he deadpans.

you smack his bicep. “save the roleplaying for later. i mean, just look at how cute these are.”

you hand him your phone and he reluctantly takes it. he’s seen this app before; pinterest, he believes it’s called. his eyes roam over the page for a moment, seeing various families of three dressed in an array of costumes. rock, paper and scissors. ketchup, mustard and a hot dog. fork, knife, and spoon.

he hands you back your phone when he decides he’s seen enough. “baby, those are humiliating.”

“no they’re not! they’re fun.” you snatch the device back, furiously scrolling. “besides, we’re making memories for megumi to look back on when he’s older.”

“have you met the little twerp? he’s practically a 70 year old man in the body of a second grader.” toji shakes his head with a smile. “you sure he’d even wanna do this?”

“we should at least ask him. then he can’t say we never tried.”

toji’s eyes soften; you really were giving this your all. your dedication to making megumi’s childhood a happy and healthy one was something that tugged at his heart strings; especially since toji had never received that kind of affection in his youth. and yet, here was a beautiful woman he was privileged to call his wife trying her best to break that generational curse. he truly was a lucky man.

“megumi!” shouts toji, suddenly determined to make this family costume work. “get in here!”

megumi’s little voice comes back muffled from his upstairs bedroom. “wait, i’m almost done with this level!”

“tch, he’s glued to that damn thing. what’s it called? a switch?” toji shakes his head and mumbles, “should’ve never let you buy it f’ him.”

“don’t be jealous,” you tease. “if you’re good, i’ll get you one for christmas too.”

toji smirks. “actually, i wanted to ask for a special gift this year.”

“oh yeah? what’s that?”

“y’know how megumi’s been askin’ for a sibling—”

you shove his shoulder and he laughs.

toji takes that as his cue to leave and talk to megumi, standing from the couch with an exaggerated groan. (you always made fun of him for it, claiming that it was such an old man thing to do. he always refuted that you knew what you were getting into when you married someone his age.)

he heads upstairs, delivering a firm knock when he reaches megumi’s door. “get out here, kiddo. need to talk to ya real quick.”

he hears a groan then the shuffling of feet. the door swings open and there stands his son, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned. clearly, he wasn’t thrilled about having to pause his game.

“sheesh, kid,” toji huffs. “don’t make that face, starting to look like your old man.”

“what is it, dad?” he sighs in exasperation.

“we’re dressing up for halloween this year. as a family.”

that catches the eight year old off guard. “what? why?”

“for the memories or somethin’.”

“i don’t really wanna…” megumi trails off.

toji scratches the back of his head. “i hear ya. but it’ll make your mom real happy so we’re doin’ it.”

megumi purses his lips. “what’s the costume?”

“i dunno. we can’t seem t’ decide. got any ideas?”

“hmmm… i kinda wanted to be michael meyers this year.”

“it’s a group costume, megumi, ya can’t just— hang on, michael meyers? how the hell do you know about him?”

megumi shrugs as if he doesn’t see the issue. “i saw the movie at uncle shiu’s house once.”

toji makes a mental note to never shiu babysit megumi again. or at the very least, go over what movies a second grader is allowed to watch.

toji clears his throat. “well, forget you ever saw it. and don’t tell your mother, got it?”

megumi nods.

“good. erm… any other ideas?”

there’s a silence between the two.

“c’mon, kid, think of something. if not, your mom’s gonna make us dress up as condiments or silverware or somethin’ stupid.”

megumi groans, clearly fed up with the conversation. “can i just go back to playing super mario bros?”

it’s as if a lightbulb goes off in toji’s mind. “you like those guys?”

megumi nods slowly. “yeah… why?”

“you wanna be one of ‘em for halloween?”

megumi’s face lights up. “really? can i be luigi?”

toji grins, satisfied with his reaction. “don’t see why not.”

“cool! does that mean you’ll be mario?”

his dad chuckles. “guess so.”

“ooh and mom could be princess peach!”

“that’s the, uh… pink one, right?”

megumi giggles at his father’s obliviousness, nodding.

“works out then. i’ll go tell your mama.” he ruffles his son’s tar black hair. “thanks, megs. gonna make her day.”

megumi flashes a toothy grin then retreats back into his room.

when toji returns to the living room with a smug smile and pep in his step, you take notice.

“what’s with you?” you inquire.

“oh, nothin’. just got megumi to agree on a family costume, that’s all.”

you eye your husband with interest. “oh really?”

“you’re welcome, princess. speaking of which, you’re gonna need a pink dress and crown.”

“well, now i’m really curious.”

“you know that little game he likes? the one with the plumber brothers—” before he can even finish, you shoot up from your comfortable position.

“how didn’t i think of that sooner? it’s perfect!”

“megs seemed pretty excited about it too. knew exactly which character he wanted to be and everythin’.”

you nearly melt. “that’s all i wanted. i’ll order the costumes right away.” you lean over to pepper his face in kisses. “thank you so much, toji.”

he grunts, though he’s smiling so hard his scar tilts upwards. “yeah, yeah. how about you thank me with that christmas present i was talkin’ about earlier?”

you pull away from him and grin. “nice try.”

[imtherain]

Don't Call Me Daddy

Heyo

Have a Reacher (from the Amazon show) fic. It's about 3k words and it's smut.

Reacher x plus sized!reader

Warnings: use of daddy (but as a joke), p in v, oral (fem receiving), mild teasing from the team, drinking, idk it's smut, nothing crazy.

Anywho

“Come on, spill,” David goaded before taking another swig of his beer. The others were chuckling along, but not pressing as hard. “Tell us how the big guy treats you,” 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” You tell him, which is only partly a lie. Truth was you hadn’t kissed Reacher yet, so there was nothing to tell.

“I’m not buying it,” David said. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” 

“It’s just professional,” You pressed. 

“Good, I don’t really want to think about what the boss looks like naked,” Neagly shuddered at the idea.

“I mean, you see the shirts he wears, it’s not like you couldn’t figure it out,” You teased her. She shook her head, mock disgust, and took a long drink of her beer. 

“You’re the worst,” Neagly told you, but there was no venom in it.

“What’s got you all so chatty,” Reacher asked, joining the table after his phone call outside. 

The group was in between moments in a case. Just waiting for a shoe to drop or a lead to pan out. Naturally, that meant hanging out at the pub across the street from the little motel they’d camped out in. 

Or, if you were Dixon, taking a nap to stave off a headache. But she had been avoiding hanging out too much, so you wondered if there was something else going on there.

“OD was trying to convince Y/N to tell us what you’re like in bed,” Neagly tattled instantly. Reacher’s eyebrows went up.

“Oh really?” He asked.

“I told him I don’t kiss and tell, but he’s insistent that I spill the beans,” You look up at him, hoping your want of him wasn’t as obvious to him as it felt. You knew the group was getting good at reading you though. You hadn’t worked with them long, not compared to the history the others all shared, but it felt a lot like you’d never been anywhere else. And they acted like you were one of them, which was nice except for the teasing.

“That’s not a bad policy,” Reacher took the seat next to you and picked up his beer. Casually, he put his arm across the back of your chair, acting as though it was just because it was more comfortable to be spread out in such a way.

“At least tell us if he’s good or not,” David said.

“Why do you care?” Reacher frowned.

“Gotta be sure you’re taking care of our new girl,” David dismissed Reacher’s annoyance easily.

“Sure,” Reacher rolled his eyes. “I think it’s time to change the subject,” 

“I bet she calls you “Daddy”,” David snorted. When you blushed scarlet David pointed at you while swallowing his latest swig of beer. “See! See!” 

“Fine, you caught us, we have nasty, nasty sex, and I call him “Daddy”,” You told David flatly, trying not to die from embarrassment. “Can we drop it now?” 

Your blush only deepened when Reacher’s fingers stroked your back carefully. You glanced up at him and he seemed to be asking if you were alright. He obviously knew the two of you had not had sex, so he was worried David’s teasing had hurt you in some way. God, you wished you could make him yours, but you knew better. 

Reacher liked women like Dixon. Tall, wicked smart, good at fighting, and drop dead beautiful. Long hair and perfect skin…

Thin.

You were none of those things except maybe tall, though next to Reacher you looked short. Most people looked short next to the mountain of a man, to be fair. But you were also wide, all hips and soft flesh, broad shoulders. You did have some skill with a gun, but not nearly as much as Neagly with her sniper skills. You wondered sometimes why they kept you around.

“Yeah,” David seemed to have finally read the room and let it drop.

About an hour later David was about to pass out and Neagly had to practically drag him back to his room for the night. 

“I’ll hang out with him, make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep or whatever,” Neagly said, giving Reacher a look you didn’t understand. “So you two have a nice night,” 

“Night Neals,” You said.

“Goodnight Neagly,” Reacher echoed. 

“So,” Reacher turned to you, his arm still on the back of your chair. “Want another round, or should I walk you back?” 

“What were you thinking?” You asked, trying not to dwell too much on how you’d be sharing a room with him soon. You were professional, but everyone has their limits. You just hoped there would be two beds.

The thought of his warmth beside you under the sheets made your thighs clench.

“I’m thinking I’d like to walk you back,” Reacher finished his beer in one final swig and stood. You finished your drink and followed him outside.

The hotel was just across the parking lot and the cool night air did wonders for the warmth on your face.

“Why didn’t you tell them we hadn’t had sex yet?” Reacher asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

You ignored the ‘yet’.

“David was drunk and I knew he wouldn’t give it up, so I just let him believe what he wanted to,” You shrugged. The silence drew on a bit too long while he mulled that over.

“Should we do it, prove him right?” Reacher finally asked as he opened the door to the motel room. It was one of those rooms that never quite looked clean, but it would do for the couple of nights you and the team were staying there.

“Excuse me?” You stumbled on your tongue at the forwardness of his question.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Reacher asked, turning to look down at you. You found yourself looking at his shoes.

“I mean…” You stammered. “Sure, who wouldn’t? But you don’t have to…” His hand on your chin made the backpedal die on your tongue as he pulled your face up to look at him.

“I want to,” 

“Why would you want to?” There was no malice in the ask, just curiosity and about a million years of thinking you weren’t good enough. Of thinking no one wanted you like that.

Especially not someone like him.

Reacher had the audacity to shrug.

“Because I like you… you’ve been extremely helpful to the case, you’re funny, and I can’t stop staring at your ass in those jeans,” something hot flashed through you at his words.

“Oh,” Your face was hot again.

“I need a yes or a no,” Reacher said carefully. He moved to take a bit of your hair between his fingers to play with it for a moment.

You thought about all the reasons to run from him, to run from the situation. To hide behind old insecurities and all the reasons other men before him had given you, telling you exactly why you weren’t worth it.

“Please sweetheart, I need an answer,” Reacher’s other hand made its way to your hip and the pet name hit you square in the chest, knocking the debate right on its ass.

“Yes,” You answered finally. “Please Reacher,” You looked into his face as a grin spread across it.

Then he leaned in and kissed you.

At first it was gentle, a test, a tease. Then he got hungry and his hands got greedy, the one on your face digging into your hair and the one on your hip pulling you flush with his broad chest. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you at the feel of him.

“Just don’t call me “Daddy”,” Reacher said with a smirk.

“Aww, why not?” You teased back.

“Not my thing,” He said before reaching for the hem of your shirt. It came off easily over your head and before you could feel self conscious about the swells of your stomach, he leaned down to kiss you, moving easily to your neck to leave open mouth kisses along your shoulders. Your hands bunched up in his tshirt, pulling him closer as the sensations of his mouth rocked through you.

Reacher paused again, long enough to drop his jacket and pull his tshirt off. He kicked off his boot as his hands made short work of his pants and boxers.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you at him being so eager to be naked.

“What?” Reacher asked, standing there as though his dick wasn’t out.

“You’re very naked,” You said, face red again. He was even more gorgeous than you’d imagined he’d be. All perfect planes of muscle and golden skin. 

The kind of man people wrote stories about.

“And you’re not,” Reacher reached for your pants next, watching your face from the corner of his eye to make sure you were still ok with all this. “Let’s fix that.” 

Off came your pants and suddenly Reacher had you lifted into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist to keep balance as he carried you to the bed.

“I knew you were strong, but who knew you were this strong?” You giggled. You hadn’t been picked up in years, and not without a lot of grunting and straining. It was nice to be manhandled without the commentary. He fell forward with you onto the bed, careful not to bury you under his own weight. 

“What? Like you’re heavy?” Reacher teased, connecting his lips to the skin along your collarbones. He made his way between the valley of your breasts until he remembered he could take your bra off.

“Well, I’m not exactly small,” 

“Neither am I,” He agreed. “So what?” 

“You’re something else,” You sighed, smirking at him while he tried to remove your bra while you were still laying on it. You adjusted so he could get to the hooks and he descended on you as soon as the fabric came free. You gasped, back arching, at the sensation of his mouth sucking hard on your nipple.

You felt Reacher chuckle against you as your hand buried itself in his hair.

“Fuck, that feels good,” You murmured as he moved to the other one. “I knew you’d be good with that mouth, Daddy,” You weren’t sure what possessed you to tease him like that, especially considering you finally had him where you wanted him, but it slipped out anyway.

Reacher pulled back to look at you, incredulous.

“Don’t call me that,” He said, serious, but no bite.

“But Daddy,” You teased again, enjoying the unimpressed look on his face. 

“I can stop,” He warned. You giggled a little but shook your head at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just funny,” You told him, tugging at the hair at the base of his skull.

“If you say so,” Reacher rolled his eyes but leaned back in to kiss you. You held onto him while he moved his hips against your still clothed core, teasing a whine from your throat that he swallowed.

Reacher kissed his way down your neck and moved himself off the end of the bed.

“Where you going?” You asked, confused until he grabbed your ankles and pulled you flush with the end of the bed, casually shouldering his way under and between your legs.

“I want a taste of you,” Reacher said, reaching up to tease you through your thoroughly ruined panties. His strong fingers stroked you a few times before he pulled the offending fabric down, exposing you to him completely. 

If you weren’t lost to the sensations of Reacher kissing your inner thighs, you might have had the thought to be embarrassed by the growl he let loose when he finally got to the apex of your thighs.

You knew Reacher was good with his mouth, but damn it all if he didn’t keep proving it.

Your thighs constricted around his shoulders as his tongue mercilessly played with your clit. Just when you were about to ask him to slow down, he moved slightly so that he could lick a stripe through your folds, over and over, like a dog with his favorite bone.

“God, Reacher, I’m gonna… I’m gonna,” You tried to hold off, wanting this to last longer, but he was too dead set on pulling your first orgasm from you. He didn’t seem to notice how tightly your legs pressed in on him as your orgasm tore through you.

You tried to pull him off, fist in his hair, but he kept licking until you shuddered from the aftermath of his attentions.

“God damn, Reacher, that was… amazing,” You heaved as he finally gave you a break from his tongue. He kissed the plush of your hip, then the excess of your stomach, landing finally at the valley between your breasts, where he licked a long stripe, simply because he could.

“Want another?” Reacher asked with a lopsided grin. His hands were feeling you, rubbing up and down your hips and thighs, keeping you alight and pliant for him. 

You nodded at him, caressing his face as he nibbled on the skin closest to his mouth, making you squirm. 

“Fingers or are you ready for more?” He asked. You wanted to be surprised by his question, but it really wasn’t a surprise that he wanted to go at your pace. He’d often slowed himself down for others when the moment called for it, and you were thankful he didn’t run head first into sex with you. You weren’t sure you’d have survived it.

“Don’t make me choose,” You whined. 

“Tell me what you want,” 

“You, I want you,” You told him and he chuckled before covering your mouth with his once more. You could still taste the tang of your own release on his lips and somehow it only made you hotter.

“Yeah?” Reacher asked, sounding cocky. You nodded, kissing him again. 

Always more of a man of action, Reacher moved to flip you both so that you were on top of him. You braced yourself on his impressively toned chest, before adjusting, trying not to put too much pressure on him. He didn’t seem to notice nor care about the added weight.

Reacher had his hands on your hips, moving you against his length, teasing you both. When you moaned and began to move on your own, he lifted your hips to line himself up with your waiting heat. 

“Reacher,” you gasped out his name as he filled you all at once. Impossibly deep. He cursed under you, caught in the sensation with you.

You moved your hips again, sliding up and down the length of him without letting him escape your slick warmth. Now Reacher was a moaning mess just as much as you were, his hands tight and grasping at your hips as you squeezed around him. 

You wondered how much he could take. 

So you leaned forward enough to kiss his chest, trailing your tongue along the muscles and smooth skin. He shuddered under you but didn't protest. You kissed your way up to his neck and couldn't resist the urge to sink your teeth into him, just a little bit.

Part of you hoped it wouldn't leave a mark, since the team would surely comment, but part of you hoped it would. If it left a mark you would cherish it. 

“I'm not going to last long if you keep that up,” Reacher’s voice was thick and needy. You rocked your hips against his again and he jerked his up to meet you. 

“I think that's the point, love,” you chuckled, feeling his hot length twitch inside you at the pet name. 

“Call me that again,” he begged. You grinned. So he didn't go for “daddy” but “love” got him?

“Anything for you, love,” you purred against his throat. He groaned loudly, trying to hold himself together and failing. 

“Fuck,” he cursed again and in one easy motion had you flipped on your back again, your legs hoisted over his hips so that he had the leverage he craved to drill into you. It was your turn to groan as he pushed himself impossibly deeper, hitting parts of you that you didn't even know liked being hit. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “I'm gonna cum again,” 

“Good,” 

Your brain cells tried to scatter but you wrangled them enough to form one last coherent thought. 

“Cum for me first, love,” you begged him and with a final groan Reacher spilled himself inside you, filling you to the brim with everything he had to give as you found your release around him.

In the high of your release you didn't realize your fingers had clawed their way across his back, landing in the meat of his arms. When you finally relaxed you felt a little bad at how deep your nails had dug. Those certainly would leave marks.

“Amazing,” Reacher mumbled as he rolled to the side, slipping from your abused center. You whined at the overstimulation but cuddled closer when he reached for you. 

“Not bad yourself, love,” you whispered back. His face broke into a dopey grin. 

“I like how that sounds,” he murmured. You reached out to caress his face as his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Better than "daddy "?” You teased. He grunted as he fought sleep. 

“Much better,” he told you. 

“Ok, “love” it is then,” you moved to kiss him gently and he returned the kiss without asking for more. 

Though you'd have given him more, given him anything, should he have asked.

[Masterlist]

[twstfanblog]

👉👈 Ngl kinda nervous to ask this because I don't see it quite often and it's also not really a good thing so it make sense that no one ask for it but I kinda wonder for a Yuu or just in general an S/O in the beginning was actually an alcoholic in their previous world, not like a violent raging kind but like the I'm depressed so this numb the pain kind. So when they got to TWST, none of the boys would really be able to suspect that til down the line later on that they gotten their hands to TWST version and gone back to their own habits, kinda wanna know how would the boys react to such.

Second Years React to Alcoholic Reader

Second Years x Reader

A/N: Mentions of alchol

Riddle

The very idea of being an alcoholic before you even become of age is wild to him. Like he wouldn't believe it if he wasn't seeing you drunk out of your mind and laying face down on the floor.

First off, you're going to the hospital/the infirmary because he will just assume you have alcohol poisoning and insist you need your stomach pumped.

Yells. By the SEVEN, he yells. Doesn't understand why you'd drink or why drinking was even an option. His mother's claims of sugar being poison aside, alcohol is just literal poison.

Becomes your personal AA sponsor via the most adorable homicidal pout if he smells even the inkling of alcohol near you. Very firm on making you quit cold turkey, but very supportive when the negative feelings become too much. Convinces you to join him for a bit in the equestrian club to spend time with Vorpal.

Ruggie

He's had a few drinks himself, but he's not on the level of an alcoholic. When he first found you drinking he managed to sweet talk his way into sharing the bottle with you.

Then you got properly drunk and all of the feelings started coming out and he realized 'Oh shit, you're like one of those drinkers..' He's had his fair share of run-ins with drunks in his time, and he's firm on the worst ones being the sad ones.

Even buzzed, he manages some sleight of hand to switch the alcohol with water. And if you notice, no you don't, you're drunk anyway. Hey, he's hungry let's go get some snacks from Sam's.

Unless it turns life-threatening, I don't think he'd ever try to curb the behavior. He's used to it and you couldn't make me believe he's never taken care of a drunk Leona more times he can count. He can at least cuddle with you once he's got you hydrated and tucked into bed.

Azul

Didn't know what was wrong with you at first. But once he smells the alcohol, he connects the dots easily. Is confused on how to proceed before going 'Wait, I can use this'.

Congrats! You've become a taste tester for the lounge's selection of alcohol. You now meet with him in his office to sample new liquors and give feedback. Getting to drink is now your job.

It's rough going at the start because you start off doing what you always did, drinking to numb the pain. Getting so drunk that you can't do the questionnaires that Azul asks you to fill out for each booze you try. And he guilts you about that, showing your drunk self that little pout and pitiful face saying he guesses he will find help elsewhere if this task is too much. He's sorry, he should have known better.

You slowly start to drink less. Because one, Azul buys very high-end things for the lounge, the common beers and vodkas you were able to get alone won't compare to the brands he stocks. And two, now every time you drink, you take notice of the notes, or every little flavor profile and it makes you slow down.

Jade

He'd play bartender so fast it's almost insulting. He manages to corral your drunk self into the lounge and toward the bar so he can dazzle you with all of the tricks he and Floyd have been learning for fun.

Jade would find you drunk fascinating. Like he isn't at all times looking at people like they're in a petri dish. Half the time he's just listening to you ramble with his little smile and cleaning the same glass for 40 minutes.

Realizing why you drink does sour the event for him. He cares, he does. Having you drink only in moments of despair isn't as fun to watch as he was hoping. So his bartending angle takes on a more caring side to it. Another who will start slipping you water and snacks when he thinks you've had enough.

He'd condition you to come to him for drinks. Making you the best cocktail you've ever had to the point that straight alcohol is unpleasant now. If he controls the amount of alcohol and when you get it, you slowly start to drink less. It also helps that you do talk to him while he plays bartender.

Floyd

In my heart, Floyd greatly dislikes alcohol. Hates the smell, hates the taste, he has no idea why anyone would drink it. It's just a completely awful experience all around. So him finding out you're a drunk is complicated.

He smells it before he even finds you. Caught your scent and noticed the alcohol smell second. When he found you in a puddle of your own saddness it kind of ticked him off a little. But he'd gather you up, leaving the bottle behind and now you two are gonna spend the day together.

He is sad when he learns you drink to numb the pain. But he also just can't fathom liking the taste of alcohol, and if you don't, why are you drinking it?

Another who makes you quit cold turkey but not on purpose. Floyd will just remove the alcohol from your presence if he smells it because it puts him in such a bad mood. Is actually really good at finding ways to ease your impulse to drink by spending time with him.

Kalim

He's a little lightweight and a social drinker. So if he found you drunk, he'd sit and have a drink with you. Now he's had a single glass, and he's off his ass drunk with you.

He gets even more talkative when drunk, which gets you talking, and now you're drunk rambling about how everything is hopeless and how you feel so alone and that nothing will ever get better-

He's crying, bawling, his empathy is turned up to 20. Kalim instantly gathers you up in his arms in an effort to protect you from all of the dark thoughts. It's honestly so moving that you start crying too. And that's how Jamil finds you both.

Kalim always wants to share a drink with you. He believes you won't be so sad if you drink with someone you care about, no matter the reason you're drinking. This actually manages to curb your drinking, if only to help Kalim not die of liver failure.

Jamil

If Jamil found you drunk, may the lord have mercy on you. He's pretty quiet, but that's the worst part. He instantly can tell the type of alcoholic you are and he gives no verbal judgment. but they way he's LOOKING.

He'd take the bottle from you instantly and start getting you prepped for bed. Makes you drink a glass of water, eat a sleeve of crackers with cheese. Tucks you into bed on your side and a waste basket right at the edge of the bed.

Now that he knows, he really starts watching you and can even learn the triggers that drive you to drink. If he can't stop you in time and he finds you halfway through a bottle, he'll gather you up and take you to Scarabia.

Honestly, I do feel like he could shame you into not drinking. It'd just be the look he gets once he finds you a mess and surrounded by bottles. You know how hard he has it, why are you adding to his load by being another mess he has to take care of? Jokes on you though. While he hates the fact you drink, he doesn't mind making sure you're safe and tucked into a bed before he goes to sleep himself.

Silver

He is Fae-raised, he's been drinking wine since he was a child and it's just juice to him now. So when he saw you drinking hard liquor for humans, he just assumed it was something similar from where you came from. Only he realizes it's not when he finds you drunk and sobbing into the bottle.

So soft and gentle, takes the bottle out of your hands and makes you drink water instead. Sits and talks with you fighting sleep the whole time. He wants to know why you drink so he can help find a solution. Drinking so heavily is not good for your health.

Starts hanging around more often, trying to keep anything that could trigger your need to drink at bay or offer other options. Has the brilliant idea of letting you try heavily diluted Fae wine honestly. It knocks you on your ass, one little sip and you are passed out.

You now carry a bottle of water with a teaspoon of Fae wine mixed into it. The alcoholism is not fixed but at the very least you no longer have to worry about liver or kidney failure. You and Silver now sit in the woods, him snoozing lightly and you're buzzed off of two sips of fruit-flavored water.

[toruro]

— ✧ crazy stupid love

pairing. kwon soonyoung x reader

description. your best friend, turned fuck buddy, seems a little too upset about your latest instagram post ...

tags. smut (18+), fwb to lovers, some angst, fluff, confessions, mean dom → switch hoshi, jealousy, arguments (dw there is resolution), angry sex, biting, dacryphilia, degrading (+ discussion of degradation), use of safeword, slightly inspired by crazy stupid love

w/c. 3.6k

a/n. happy birthday hoshi! ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months but i figured i should wrap it up and post it today :3

"who's this?" soonyoung asks, holding his phone up to your face. on the screen is a picture that you posted on your story last night, your friend with an arm around your shoulder.

"huh, that's dongwoo," you say, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows. the back of your head is leaning against his shoulder as your legs are propped up on the other end of the sofa. soonyoung came over to watch the harry potter marathon with you a few hours ago, but with the showing break going on right now, you're both taking some time to catch up on your phones.

"who's that?" soonyoung says flatly, not looking at your face as he pulls his phone back, squinting at the photo. his gaze feels oddly scrutinizing, but you don't say anything about it just yet.

sitting up from your position, soonyoung frowns as you lift yourself off of him to sit across from him on the couch. "you don't remember dongwoo? he went to high school with us?" soonyoung gives you a blank stare. "jeong dongwoo? doesn't the name ring a bell?"

the name does ring a bell, but soonyoung only shrugs and replies, "uh, no i can't say it does."

"no way! we had chem with him! he was really nice and good at labs too," you go on, reminiscing about your memories from your teen years.

"that's weird, i don't remember him." that's a lie—soonyoung definitely remembers dongwoo, but he doesn't remember him ever being as smitten with you as he looks on your post.

"well whatever," you brush off, leaning back onto soonyoung's arm. "he was in town and dmed me asking if i wanted to catch up over dinner."

"a date?" soonyoung asks shamelessly.

you scoff. "no. not a date. just two friends meeting up for dinner."

"a guy and a girl don't meet up for dinner and not call it a date," your friend argues, and then you lift yourself off of him again. soonyoung is slightly annoyed you aren't curled up by his side anymore, but he's even more annoyed by dongwoo's stupid smile on his stupid face with his stupid arm around you.

"what are you talking about? we go out for dinner all the time! those aren't dates," you tell him as a matter of factly, frowning slightly as you do.

"yeah," soonyoung murmurs with a humorless laugh. "and we usually fuck afterwards, so our case is obviously different."

heat courses through your body as the words leave his lips. it's not like he's wrong, but the shamelessness of it all is a little more than you're used to. you're used to the deafening silence and the unspoken words that fill the gaps every time soonyoung leaves you breathless, every time he leaves your brain empty, every time he fucks you.

after he says that, there's that thick, ugly silence wedging itself between you and soonyoung again. you don't like it, not one bit.

"whatever," you finally huff out, not sure if you should lay back down on him or continue sitting up, sensing that soonyoung might want to make a bigger deal out of this than is good for him. "it wasn't a date, i don't know what else to tell you."

neither of you know why you're trying to convince him of this. it shouldn't matter if it was a date or if it wasn't, if dongwoo had an arm around your shoulder, if his touch lingered more, fingers ghosting down your body, up your thigh—

that's what soonyoung tries to tell himself—that it doesn't matter, that none of it matters, that you don't matter to him—at least not like that. too bad he can't control himself. soonyoung can never control himself when it comes to you, and he's starting to wonder if that's a blessing or a curse.

he scoffs, "you're being a real brat right now."

your eyes narrow at him and while this would usually put you in one of those moods—the mood where you want to yank your pants off, have soonyoung's hand in your panties—you're slightly annoyed right now. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask accusingly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

it's a thoughtless gesture but your tits bunch up together and the curve peeks over the collar of your loose shirt. soonyoung stares for a moment and then thinks about if dongwoo looked at you like this. like he wanted to grab your tits, tweak your pretty nipples between his fingers, drink in your moans while he licks into your mouth.

the thought has red flashing through his vision and before you can even think, there's a pair of hot, wet lips on yours and soonyoung is kissing you like he'll die if he doesn't. teeth gnashing against each other as one of his hands wraps around your torso, the other goes up to grab one of your tits, massaging the flesh with his palm.

yeah, you said you were annoyed, but yeah soonyoung is a great kisser and your mind is throttling, going back and forth as you try to decide if you should give in or attempt to hold your own. "soonyoung," you pant as you break away to take a breath, but his lips are on yours again too quickly for you to form a reply.

you find your resolve running thin as you thread your finger into his hair, bringing his face closer as he shifts on the couch above you, knees on either side of you, caging you in. his mouth his pressing kisses to the side of your lips now, peppering your cheeks, and then he's on your neck.

your lips aren't occupied but any words of protest have effectively died in your throat as you squirm under soonyoung when he sinks his teeth into your skin, whining out his name. your hips buck into his for some much needed tension and you can feel soonyoung chuckled against your skin as he licks over the reddening mark.

you feel dizzy when he pulls away and admires the way he's quite literally marked his territory on you. scoffing out loud, soonyoung gives you mean look. "wonder what dongwoo will think about this ..." your mind races at the words—what soonyoung means by that is still a bit of a mystery to you, but the fact that he's so hell bent on keeping you to himself is ... it's turning you on like crazy.

and soonyoung doesn't stop there as he pulls off his shirt and you try to shimmy out of your pants. "what'll he think, huh? his cute little crush ..." he murmurs, looking down at you after your pants are off and thrown to the side, leaving you in just your soiled panties. "his dream high school sweetheart with her legs open, pussy dripping, for a guy who isn't even her fuckin' boyfriend ... like a fuckin' slut."

you gasp when he brings up a thumb to toy with your clit through the fabric, hips jerking up at the contact. "w-what are you—" you're cut off by your own moan when soonyoung pushes the cloth to the side, slipping one finger into your aching cunt without warning. you really want to ask soonyoung what he means by all this, but it just feels so good—too good, and you can't help it at all—your body seems to always give into him.

his finger is already hitting that one spot that he knows has you seeing stars, and your jaw goes slack at how quickly the pleasure is all hitting you. usually, soonyoung likes to work you up to it; starts by playing with your clit for a few hot minutes 'til you're begging for just some fingers inside and then he toys with you for another good while before he finally gives you his cock and fucks you dumb. something tells you today is a bit different.

today is very different, but you have a strong feeling that you won't mind. because all it takes is a few more quick flicks of his wrist and you're crying out his name, saying, "'m gonna cum—soon-soonyoung, 'm cumming!"

you thrash around on the cushions as your orgasm hits you, and soonyoung buries his head into your neck and biting down even harder than before. the slight sting has your senses heightening and your cunt throbs around his fat fingers as he fucks you through the high, not relenting until your neck is littered with hot red marks and you're quivering beneath him.

a content sigh escapes your lips when he slips out of you, allowing yourself a moment to breathe as you start to sit up when soonyoung narrows his eyes at you, unbuckling his jeans in the process.

"don't move," he warns and although you furrow your brows, you comply nonetheless, letting your head fall back against the couch as you watch him shove down his pants and boxers in one go. soonyoung's fat length springs out, hitting against his abdomen as he shuffles his way in between your legs.

pressing his lips together, he asks, "color?" and when the word green is slipping softly from his mouth, he finds it hard to hold back. "fuck, how are you this needy already," he groans when he catches the look on your face—your bottom lip jutted out as you look up at him with shining eyes.

soonyoung grabs your cheek with one hand roughly, shoving a thumb into your mouth as he positions his cock between your folds. you're quick to wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking hard and swirling your tongue in hopes that it'll egg him on to just stick it in already, but instead he just slides his length up and down your folds.

you pout around his thumb but don't stop sucking, letting the drool run down your chin as tears well up in your waterline, and soonyoung chuckles at the look. "go on baby, go on. know you want it," he coos mockingly, continuing to cover his length in your slick but not actually giving you what you want.

"soonyoungie," you whimper when you can't take it anymore, trying to lift your hips yourself so he'll get the message but then he's pressing down on your stomach and holding you in your place.

"be patient slut," he demands, and your eyes press closed when he does, walls clenching around nothing as the word slips from his mouth. "you just came—are you really that insatiable?"

you nod dumbly as he slips his thumb out of your mouth, using the same, wet hand to tightly squish your cheeks together. soonyoung thinks you look so cute like this—puffy lips and lashes thick with tears—and he doesn't give you even a moment's warning when he snaps his cock inside of you in one go.

his balls are pressed against your ass, and soonyoung holds himself there for just a moment before he's pulling back and thrusting back into you. "god fuck—perfect pussy," he groans, thrust after thrust as you throttle against the couch with the increasing force.

you can feel your ass and thighs burn from the way his skin slaps against yours every single time, the sensation only adding fuel to the fire as you cry out his name.

"bet dongwoo thought about this," soonyoung moans as he starts jamming his cock into you less methodically and more sloppy, more hard, more fierce. "thought 'bout having you moaning his name like the pretty whore you are."

you try to mewl something along the lines of, "we're just friends," but it comes out as nothing but a high pitched moan as your second orgasm creeps up on you.

and it's fucking mind-numbing, and you don't think you've ever cum so hard and so fast but soonyoung is grinning down at you as you arch your back and squeeze around his cock so tight it almost pushes him off the edge but no—he's determined to keep going until you can't take it anymore.

"keep goin' baby, i know you can take it." he hardly gives you a second to rest, thrusts slowing only for a few moments as he watches you cream his cock before letting his hands roam all over you.

in your overstimulated haze, you hardly realize when soonyoung flips you over, cock still buried deep inside your hot cunt as you try to stabilize yourself on your knees. his hand is on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the cushions so hard it muffles your moans as his cock batters your buzzing pussy.

he's ramming into you so hard now and all you can feel is white hot pleasure ripping through your body, soonyoung whispering about how you're his filthy little slut, taking everything he's giving you. gripping onto the side of the couch, you try to hold yourself together, you really, really do, but it's too much all at the same time and the word slips from your lips before you even have to think about using it.

"r-red." it's so quiet and hoarse the first time that you aren't even sure if he can hear you so you cry out again, "red, s-soonyoung, red."

it's all a haze when soonyoung slips out of you slowly, giving you both a few moment to adjust as you finally catch your breath over the hiccups of your soft whimpers.

now soonyoung likes seeing you cry, but not when it's like this. he likes seeing you whine and tear up when you're under him and writhing from pleasure, but what he doesn't like is the way your eyebrows are furrowed like this. 'cause when he looks at you now, he sobers up and the anger that fogged his mind just moments ago is clearing up.

"s-shit, i'm sorry," he says quickly as you curl up against the cushions, limbs still quivering from all the pleasure and stimulation. soonyoung wants to reach out, wants to touch you—hold you—and ask you what wen wrong, promise you that he didn't meant to go too far, promise you that he didn't even realize it, but he's not sure if he should.

because right now you won't meet his gaze and he's wondering if he's somehow royally fucked up what's likely the best thing he's got going on his life.

soonyoung's lost for a few moments before senses are snapping into him and he thinks he should get you some water, a towel—do anything except sit here dumbly like he is right now. but when he shuffles away from you and is about to step of the couch he feels a familiar touch around his wrist and he gapes down at you.

"wait," you mumble, finally looked up at him once the tears have stopped flowing. soonyoung stills for a moment, and he's not sure if he should take that as in invitation to move closer or just stay put, but then you're tugging him softly and he can't help but cave. "can y-you lay on top of me?" you ask timidly, and soonyoung gives you a weird look as if to ask, are you sure? "i, uh, i think it'd help me. please?"

that's all takes for him to drape his whole body over you, arms pressed against your side and hands stroke your shoulders. your bare chests are pressed against you and soonyoung swears your rapid heartbeats sync up on the spot as you breaths start to relax.

when all finally feels calm, soonyoung takes a moment to finally ask you the question that's been bothering him this whole time. lifting his head, he finds you looking right back at him. "are you okay? what went wrong?"

"i—yes, i'm okay."

"a-are you sure? you can tell me anything you know—i won't judge, i won't care—i mean obviously i'll care but you know what i mean and—" he starts to ramble, and your lips almost twitch up into a smile, "—and i'm sorry this isn't about me but i'm worried i did something and might have majorly fucked things up and—"

"soonyoung," you say, voice all breathy and light. "slow down, i'm okay."

"are you?" he asks, and his voice is so shaky you frown.

"yes, i promise. i'm, well, i think i just got overwhelmed. it was a lot and happened really quickly and it was a bit more intense than i'm used to," you admit. "not that i didn't like it ... i just wasn't expecting it."

soonyoung watches you carefully as you speak, sitting up and pulling you up in the process too. "i'm sorry—i didn't realize," he confesses. "i was—" he inhales sharply wondering if he should admit his jealousy, "— a bit lost in my own head. i shouldn't have taken it out on you like that. do you want me to get you water?"

you nod and he stands up, heading to the kitchen to grab you a glass. when he sits back down, next to you, soonyoung is relieved when you curl up by his side, gulping down the drink before questioning him. "um, can i ask what you mean by, uh, lost in your head? wait actually—before you answer that—" you pause, "—do you really think i'm a slut?"

soonyoung's eyes widen. "no—fuck, god no. i just—you know, we usually—you know—degrade. if you don't like it i'll stop and—"

"no no, soonyoung, like, i meant outside of sex. do you think i was—i dunno—messing around with dongwoo?"

dongwoo? "no—i don't think you're a slut for that. shit, i'm sorry—i don't even know what the fuck got into me. i just—i don't even know. okay fuck. fuck. okay. i was jealous."

"of dongwoo? we didn't even fu—"

"i know. i know—it shouldn't even matter because we're not exclusively fucking or whatever but i got jealous okay? i don't know—i fucking love you so i saw him with his stupid hand around you and i wanted to punch him in the fuckin' face."

your eyes snap wide at that. "what? you—fuck—what?"

soonyoung hardly even realizes he's confessed until you're looking up at him with those wide eyes and he wonders how he's managed to dig himself deeper into this hole. shit, there's really no getting out of this now. he might as well crawl down further and sit there for the rest of his life and—

"i, uh—i didn't know you felt the same way."

"what? what do you mean the same way—"

"are you stupid, soonyoung?"

"um, kind of."

you laugh and kiss him hard for a second. suddenly you're pressing his shoulders and swinging a leg over his thighs so you can straddle his laps.

"wait hold on," he murmurs, but continues to wrap his arms around your waist as you lift your hips to align yourself over his still hard cock. "a-are you sure? are you okay?"

"yeah," you mutter, kissing him again as you wrap your arms around his neck. "can we take it a little easier from here though?"

soonyoung doesn't hesitate to say, "yes, of course—" but the last word gets cut off by a hitch of his breath when you sink down on him, the two of you moaning in unison at the feeling. his hands are gripping your waist and holding you down as he relaxes, leaning back into the seat as he casually says, "i am never calling you a slut again. or anything degrading for that matter." it's half a joke, half not, and you can tell he's still on edge.

"i like it," you admit as you adjust yourself on his lap, not really moving yet though. "just—i was a bit worried today. i thought you— i dunno. didn't know you liked me too and i didn't know what to think."

soonyoung furrows his brows but can't find the right words to say, so he kisses you instead, pulling you up so his cock drags out of halfway before gently letting you fall back down, tip hitting your walls slowly but deep.

"fuck," you moan into his mouth, holding his head closer to yours. absentmindedly, you lift your hips up again and then grind down methodically, causing both of you to break away from the kiss and look down at the sloppy wet mess where you connect.

and as you both get lost in the moment, fingers grappling at each other's burning skin, letting your bodies melt together, it dawns on you that you and soonyoung have fucked a countless amount of times but this is the first (of many) that you two have made love.

it's an entirely new experience, dreamy eyes and wet, passionate kisses with whispers of love confessions under your breaths and the smooth and damn good thrusts that slowly but surely bring you to the edge.

"feels so good," soonyoung moans, thrusting up into you gently to meet your bounces as you steady him with your arms around his shoulders.

"g'na cum, soonyoungie?" you try to coo, but it comes out as a whimper of your own as you feel that knot in your belly threaten to snap. and when he's nodding into your neck and sucking on the skin, you both fall apart in each other's arms.

cries and grunts mix together in a beautiful song and when you and soonyoung look at each other, sweating, flushed, teary eyed, and so fucking in love, you know that whatever happens with the two of you after this, it will work.

a/n. hope u enjoyed it!

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[nessheartnat]

Lay me in the palm of your hand

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, dom!natasha x sub!reader

words: 3.8K

summary: It was supposed to be a simple bar gig, but the night turned out to be a lot longer than you had anticipated.

warnings: swearing, suggestive language, (legal) age gap (Nat is 38, reader is 22), dom/sub undertones, dirty talk but no actions (yet), slightly possessive Nat…? mommy kink…?

men & minors DNI

notes: please correct any spelling mistakes! English is not my first language.

____

You were a young, upcoming musician, and you had just finished a gig at a small local bar. You were honestly surprised to see a plethora of people watching your gig, as you weren’t that famous after all. Despite the crowd being extensive, there was one face you couldn’t get out of your head. Those sharp, green eyes, red hair cascading down over her shoulders, a hand on her chin, her elbow resting against the table. Her gaze had been analyzing, almost calculating, but you could see through that. The way she had been staring at you, the way she couldn’t take her eyes off of you even for a second. You knew what it meant, or at least you truly hoped you were right. Cause god, she was too gorgeous for her own good. Or for your sanity…

To be fair, you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her either. She was absolutely stunning, definitely older than you, and she had such confident aura surrounding her. You knew you wanted her, so bad. Hell, you needed her.

-

After your gig, you had packed up your acoustic guitar, and sat down in a booth in the corner of the bar. You didn’t want to leave yet, when that gorgeous woman was still out there. You knew you wanted to talk to her, but you couldn’t gather up enough confidence to be bold and go up to her. Thus, you just sat there in your booth, a juicy cocktail in your hand, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. 

You ran your fingers through your hair, and tugged down your short black top a bit. You were wearing a quite bold outfit; a pair of grey, baggy, low waisted jeans, and those combined with the top left a few inches of your waist and stomach showing. You weren’t necessarily regretting that outfit, but it wasn’t one you felt the most confident in. You twirled locks of your hair between your fingers - a habit you found yourself doing often - and occasionally glanced towards the direction of where the woman was sitting. But as you directed your gaze to her, you found out that she wasn’t sitting there anymore. No, she was walking straight towards you.

“I really enjoyed your gig there,” she spoke with a voice slightly lower than you would have guessed. “You’re really talented, you know.”

You had to swallow once, as you tried to gather yourself. This wasn’t the right time for panicking, you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not today, not with her.

“Oh, thank you so much.. I’m glad you liked it,” you said, managing to sound somewhat normal. You took a sip of your cocktail, almost forgetting its existence. She looked at you with those green eyes, with a small, subtle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What’s your name?” she asked, that smile never leaving her face.

“Y/n,” you answered simply, setting your drink back down. “And what is yours?”

Her smile got slightly wider. “That’s a pretty name… Suits you well. I’m Natasha,” she answered back to you. You could see her eyes subtly trailing all over you, but you still weren’t convinced if it was real, or just your imagination. She sat down in the booth next to you, keeping a respectful distance. Her eyes searched yours for signs of discomfort, but found none. 

“Can I ask how old you are?” she questioned, and you could almost see her smile turning into a subtle smirk. Now this could be the moment that ruins everything…

“I’m twenty two,” you answered, scratching the back of your neck almost awkwardly. However, her tiny smirk didn’t seem to fade one bit.

“Twenty two, huh?” Natasha stated. She moved an inch closer to you, still keeping a respectful distance, but making her attraction clearer. “That makes you younger than me by quite a bit then…”

You resisted the urge to swallow again. She didn’t seem to mind your age too much… But you still didn’t know just how much older she was than you. Not that you wouldn’t mind her being older, you had always had a thing for older women after all.

“How old are you then?” you asked, wrapping your fingers around your cocktail glass again, but never bringing it up to your lips, as you were too focused on her.

“I’m thirty eight honey,” she answered with that small smirk still on her lips. Your heart almost skipped a beat at the nickname, and you didn’t know if it was an accident, or a totally purposeful move.

“So um… You were what, sixteen when I was born?” you blurted out before you could think of something better to say. Natasha let out a small laugh before nodding. She turned her gaze back to you.

“Yes, yes I was. I was near graduating high school as you were born,” she responded. That smirk on her pretty lips never faded.

You turned your gaze down, a small blush creeping up on your cheeks. “Oh my god, now that you say it like that it sounds…”

“A little weird? A bit inappropriate?” she finished your sentence with a small chuckle. You could notice her setting her hand down on the bench you were both sitting on, right beside your thigh, but not close enough to touch.

“Maybe,” you chuckled, and managed to gather yourself enough to turn your eyes back up to meet hers.

Natasha’s smile turned somewhat softer as her green eyes met yours. She leaned slightly closer. “Maybe, but you don’t seem to mind all that much.”

Finally growing bold enough, your lips turned into a small smirk. “Should I mind?”

Natasha leaned even closer, and you could almost feel her breath on your face. “Of course you shouldn’t…” she brought her hand up, placing her fingers under your chin and turning your head to the side. Her movements were sensual, but still mindful, and you could see that she didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Her lips touched your ear briefly, and you almost jolted, moving your hand to rest on the seat, but accidentally laying it right on top of her hand that was still placed there. You decided to be bold and disguise your awkward unintentional move into something planned, and didn’t pull your hand away.

“You know, you were staring at me the whole time I was watching you perform..,” she whispered into your ear. You turned your head to meet her gaze, suddenly aware of how close your face was to hers.

“I could say the same thing about you too… I saw how you couldn’t take your eyes off of me,” you stated. She moved her hand from under yours, and for a moment you thought she was going to pull away, until she placed her hand back, but this time it landed right on your thigh. You swallowed once, and resisted the urge to bite your lip. 

“Couldn’t resist it. You looked so damn good up there,” she spoke. You refused to seem too flustered even though you could feel the famous butterflies in your stomach. You had managed to achieve boldness for once, so you were not going to let it go so fast.

“That good huh?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side just a little. You kept your eyes glued to hers.

Natasha nodded slowly. “Mhm, really good, actually…” her hand moved up and down on your thigh, just an inch, but enough for you to end up biting your lip. “And you look even better now, up close,” she continued.

“Do I now? What do you like about me the most?” you asked boldly. Your eyes held almost a mischievous glint to them, and you could feel yourself growing more confident as the conversation went on.

“Hmm, that’s a tough question, love…” Natasha answered, the nickname slipping past her lips easily. She seemed to think for a moment, before she continued.  “I think I’m going with your eyes.”

“My eyes? Really?” you questioned, even though you weren’t really that surprised she had said that.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to get tired of staring into them for a while…” Natasha said with a not-so-subtle smirk. “In fact, I think I want to see them a bit better, up close.”

Before you could say anything, her hand moved to the back of your neck, gathering up some of your hair into her hand. Her other hand remained on your thigh, her fingers stroking your thigh in a slow motion. She gave your hair a small tug, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to make you part your lips and let out a little sigh as she tilted your head up. Her smirk widened as she heard the tiny sound you had let out. She gave your hair another small tug, making you bite your lip in order to prevent another sigh from escaping.

“That got you nice and worked up, didn’t it?” Natasha asked smugly, and you couldn’t stop the heat from creeping up on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I’m gonna admit that,” you answered, still feeling the slight tingling on your scalp, as her hand was still clutching the strands of your hair.

“Oh come on, you can tell me… I can see how responsive you are. I want to hear how bad you want me,” she purred, tugging your hair again.

“Fuck, you’re too good at this,” you let out a small breath, trying to gather yourself, trying to remind yourself of the boldness you had managed to achieve before.

“What can I say, I’ve had a lot of experience honey,” Natasha stated with a smug smirk. You moved your hands up to her shoulders, extending them out a little and wrapping them around the back of her neck. Her hands moved to your sides, her fingers caressing the bare skin on your waist. “You know, I really like this top of yours. Makes me want to see more of you.”

You were not going to submit too easily, and with your newfound courage, you opened your mouth again to respond to her with a surprising boldness. “Guess you’d love it even more if you saw what I was wearing under it…” you smirked, and leaned closer to her, bringing your lips very close to her ear. “Nothing…”

You could see Natasha’s breath hitching just slightly, as she probably wasn’t expecting such boldness from you. She turned to look at you, clearly trying to hide the surprised look on her face. “Fuck,” she breathed out, before continuing very straightforwardly. “I want you so badly.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling extremely accomplished with your actions. “I know you do, I can see it pretty clearly. I can play this game too, you know,” you spoke with a hushed tone, as you didn’t want the whole bar to hear.

Natasha smirked too, clearly not wanting to give you the satisfaction of making her too flustered. You knew she wasn’t that type of a person who would give up control, but that made you only want to try even more. Her fingers caressed your bare waist again, almost slipping under the hem of your shirt, as she spoke again. “Oh really now? I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I have to. I think you’re already quite addicted,” you responded with a small chuckle. Natasha looked straight into your eyes, her face still very close to yours. You could see it in her eyes, how she knew you were right. You could read her reactions like an open book, and you were going to use that.

“And what might give you that idea?” she challenged, but you had already planned a perfect response to that. Your smirk only widened, powered by your boldness that had reached its peak, and you leaned closer to her.

“I don’t think you could leave here without me… Or if you did, you’d probably end up touching yourself in your bed, only hoping it was my lips that were down on you… You know, my face, right there between your pretty thighs,” you whispered into her ear, knowing damn well how those words were going to affect her. You also knew just how bold you were being, and if this went further, you knew your ass would pay for those words. 

You could almost feel Natasha shivering a little, as you whispered that little fantasy to her. You could see how she was trying to get a grip of herself.

“I told you I could play this game too,” you whispered, purposefully brushing her ear with your lips. 

“Yeah… You definitely can,” she let out a small breath. “Wanna get out of here?”

You knew you wanted to, but you also wanted to make it more fun. “Why don’t you beg me a bit?” you asked, knowing that those words might have been a little too bold. You knew she wasn’t going to beg, and that she’d definitely put you into your place because of that comment, but you just couldn’t help it.

Her gaze hardened, and you could see the dominance growing in her eyes. “You want me to beg? I think you know damn well I’m not the one to beg, sweetheart. I could go and find someone else if you want to play this game.” 

You probably would have felt a little offended by that, if you had thought she actually meant that. But you knew you were right, she was addicted to you, and she most definitely was not going to leave and find someone else. 

“You could… But I know you’d only imagine my face instead of theirs,” you stated with a growing smirk.

“You’re really good at this, aren’t you? I wouldn't have expected that from you honey… You seemed more innocent at first… But I guess you just know what to say to rile me up,” Natasha chuckled. You knew it was only a matter of time when she’d take the dominant role back.

“Mhm, I do,” you responded with a nod and a smug smirk, enjoying yourself a bit too much. 

“Well then… Why don’t you test it out a bit more? Why don’t you say something else? See if you can rile me up even more?” she asked, moving her hand to your chin again. “But I’m warning you about the consequences baby…”

“Should I tell you how good I could make you feel? How good I could be?” you asked, tilting your head to the side again, never breaking eye contact. 

“Go ahead, love, tell me. Tell me how good you think you can make me feel,” she urged, with her thumb stroking your cheek slowly. Your smirk only widened, as you knew this was your time to shine. 

“Oh I think I could make you feel so damn good,” you started, and tilted your head more, getting free from her grasp. You leaned closer, with your lips hovering close to her ear, before you continued. “You’d take me home, maybe slam me right against the door of your apartment once we’re inside. You know I’d like that, especially if you combined that with a small tug on my hair and your knee between my legs… Imagine how good you’d feel with all that power you’d have over me. Hearing the small gasps I’d let out… You know you could just pick me up and throw me over your shoulder, right? You could do that, you could make me feel vulnerable… And I know you would enjoy having that power…”

Natasha let out a slightly shaky breath. “Damn, you really know how to play this game honey… You like being dominated, don’t you? You love feeling vulnerable… And you know I find that really fucking hot.”

You chuckled, letting your breath fan against her ear. “Don’t think I’m done yet,” you whispered, taking a small pause before continuing. “You could throw me on the bed, I bet you know I like it rough. And at that point, I’d probably be as wet as you are right now,” you teased her. The last part was just a guess, but from the way her breath hitched slightly, you could tell that you were correct.

Natasha let out a low moan, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “Damn you’re really good,” she breathed out. “You better keep going.”

You smirked, and slid your hand on her inner thigh. Her hand was still on your waist, slowly inching further up under your shirt. You stroked her thigh in a slow motion, before continuing. “I know you’d want to strip me out of these clothes right away… You probably wouldn’t undress yourself yet, I bet you like having that power, with me naked below you while you’re still fully clothed, looking so damn good with that suit of yours…”

You could feel her squirming in her seat just a little. “Yeah I would.. I would love to see you naked below me, looking up at me with those pretty eyes… God you’d look so fucking good under me,” she breathed out.

“I know you crave that power… Just imagine how good it would feel. You know you could make me absolutely lose it, make me your little toy,” you purred against her ear. “I also bet you must have a pretty and large strap-on in your collection, am I right?”

Natasha let out a low sound, almost like a small growl. “You are indeed right… And you’d want me to fuck you with that? You’d let me be rough with you, just how you like it, just how you crave it? You’d let me use you, just because you need it?” she questioned. You could tell she was getting her grip back, but you weren’t ready to go down yet.

“Yes I would… And you know what happens after that?” you asked her, letting your lips brush against her ear again. You were glad that no one was near enough to hear, even though the thought of someone finding out what was happening excited you a little.

“What happens after that, sweetie? Tell me, what would happen after that?” she questioned again, urging you to continue.

“Then you’d have me right there, with a hazy look in my eyes… So submissive, just for you. You could have me right between your legs, eating you out so well…” you said, right to her ear.

Natasha’s eyes closed for a moment, and you just knew that little scenario was playing in her mind. “You think you could be better than anyone else, love?” she challenged.

You leaned even closer, so that there was no way anyone else could hear. “Mhm… I know you’re already wet from me just talking like this. Imagine how aroused you’d be with my mouth down there, right against you… And oh, imagine my pretty face after that… Covered in your slick… I could make you lose it too, you know. I could make your thighs tremble, make them press around my head when you’d feel so close…”

You knew she was only getting more aroused, the way her fingers stroked your side slightly rougher. “Fuck baby, you really know how to get me going… But can you live up to the expectations you’ve set for yourself now?” she questioned, clearly trying to get a grip of the situation.

“I know I can babe. And guess what? I could make you lose it with one single word right now…” you teased with a sly smirk.

“Oh yeah, you can? Why don’t you tell me then baby, go ahead…,” she urged. Your smirk grew even more, and you had to bite your lip to prevent you from grinning too much. This was perfect.

You moved closer, placing your lips right against her ear. You made sure that your breasts brushed against her bicep, as you leaned close to her. “Mommy..,” you purred softly right into her ear, causing her shiver visibly.

Natasha bit her lip, and slowly turned her gaze towards yours. “God damn baby… You’re way too naughty for your own good, and I’m guessing you know that. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love to call me mommy…” she spoke with a low voice. “Say it again.”

You smirked, moving closer again and wrapping your hands around the back of her neck. Her hand moved further up on your side under your shirt, almost brushing the side of your boob. God, the thought of her being able to grab you so easily as you weren’t wearing a bra, left you feeling incredibly hot. You forced yourself to focus on the mission, and as you leaned closer to her ear, you gave her ear a gentle lick. “Mommy,” you purred again, feeling her tense up.

Natasha’s hand moved from your side to your thigh, squeezing it firmly. “That’s it baby. We’re getting out of here, right fucking now,” she breathed out and squeezed your thigh again. “You’re coming home with me. And I’m gonna fuck you so good that ‘mommy’ is the only word leaving that pretty mouth of yours…”

Before you could protest, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you up from your seat. You barely had any time to grab your guitar case, before she was already pulling you out of the bar with her. She dragged you with her all the way to her car and opened the backdoor, letting you throw your guitar case back there. Before you could open the passenger’s door, Natasha spinned you around and pinned you against the side of the car, leaning her face down close to yours. She was slightly taller than you, so her presence felt even more dominating as she was towering over you..

“I’ve let you run that mouth long enough little girl… When we get to my place, I’m gonna make sure you strip out of those clothes and kneel in front of the bed. You’re gonna have to meet up those expectations you’ve been setting up for yourself now, and I’m not going to let you off the hook too easily,” she said with a harsh tone. “You’re mine for the night now, do you understand? You’re gonna obey me, and do as I say, or you won’t like the consequences. Isn’t that right, little one?”

You bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together slowly, trying to ease the growing neediness. “Yeah,” you breathed out, but that wasn’t enough for her. Natasha moved her hand down on your thigh, and gave it a harsh smack.

“Try that again baby, yes what?” she demanded you to correct yourself.

Before you could even acknowledge it, you found yourself submitting to her. “Yes mommy…”

Her lips curled into a smirk, and she raised her hand up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good girl,” she purred into your ear. “Now get in the car and behave yourself.”

more notes... :

So yeah hi... Anyone want a part 2?

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max only breaks the things he loves, but Y/n likes being broken if it means they can be whole together.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The night you met Max, he had just come off a win, drenched in adrenaline and glory. The world had been his that day, and when he noticed you across the room, something in his gaze sharpened. A fierce look, like he’d spotted his next victory. You should have known then, you suppose—that when he wanted something, he didn’t just take it; he consumed it, left marks on it. But that night, as you watched him approach with that half-smile, you were captivated.

You had spent the night laughing, letting him tell you stories about life in racing, about the whirlwind of pressure and grit. He had seemed lighter then, more open, willing to let you glimpse the parts of himself that no one else got to see. By the time you found yourself pressed against the hotel door, his lips brushing against yours, you were already falling for him.

“Come on,” he had murmured, that daring gleam in his eyes, fingers lacing with yours. “I know you’re as reckless as I am.”

And you were. Or at least you’d convinced yourself of that.

The next months were exhilarating. You followed him across the world, cheering him on from the sidelines, riding the highs and lows of his career. When things were good, they were perfect. He’d pull you into his arms after races, press his forehead against yours, and tell you, “Don’t let go of me.” You would laugh, tell him you wouldn’t even if you tried, because he had a way of making you feel like you were part of his victories, his journey. You saw it all: the determination, the stubbornness, the boyish grin that made him seem so much softer than he was.

But there were other sides to Max. Darker edges that you hadn’t seen at first, and they began to creep into your relationship like shadows 

After races where he didn’t win, or when things went wrong, he’d come back to you tense and closed-off. Those nights, he’d sit in silence, his jaw set, his eyes hard as he stared at nothing. You’d reach out to him, try to offer comfort, but he’d turn away, frustration and disappointment in every movement.

One night, after a particularly difficult race, he came back and barely looked at you. You tried to pull him into a hug, but he stiffened, pulling away.

“Max, talk to me,” you murmured, hurt by the distance. "I’m here.”

He let out a bitter laugh, looking anywhere but at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice low. “None of this. You don’t know what it’s like.”

The words stung, but you swallowed the pain. “I know it’s hard on you. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he snapped, and there was a rawness to his voice, something wild and uncontained. “Maybe I don’t want you to be here every second. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Your heart sank, but you forced yourself to stand tall. “I’m not your babysitter, Max. I’m here because I love you.”

He glanced at you, and for a second, his expression softened, but just as quickly, he turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to face the vulnerability in his own eyes. “I… I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, looking down. But he didn’t apologize, didn’t try to make it right. Instead, he just walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, wondering if this love you had was only breaking both of you.

The days that followed were strained, silent. You tried to talk to him, to tell him how much his words had hurt, but he shut you out, retreating into himself like a storm gathering strength. And then, as if nothing had happened, he came back, pulling you close, whispering sweet things in your ear, telling you he couldn’t bear to be without you. You told yourself it was enough. That he loved you, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

But the cycles continued. One moment, you were his world, and the next, you were just someone in the way, someone he didn’t have time for. It was as if he was afraid to let you in completely, as if he thought you’d leave if you ever saw him fully. Yet, for all the moments he hurt you, there were just as many times he showed you a softness that made you stay.

On a quiet night, long after another race, he held you close, trailing his fingers along your arm, as if memorizing you by touch. “Sometimes… I think I’m too much,” he murmured, his voice vulnerable, almost boyish.

“Too much?” you echoed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.

He nodded, his gaze turning distant. “Too intense, maybe. I want things too badly, and… I don’t know if I can stop. I just keep pushing, keep wanting more, even when it feels like it’s costing me everything else.”

You reached out, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Max, you don’t have to be everything all the time. You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you.”

For a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him anchored. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, and there was a sadness in his voice that broke your heart.

Maybe he knew even then that he was hurting you, that he was breaking you bit by bit. But he couldn’t stop, and you couldn’t let go.

One evening, after yet another rough race weekend, he came back to find you sitting in the bedroom, a packed suitcase beside you. You looked up at him, tears filling your eyes as you struggled to find the words.

He froze, his eyes darkening as he processed the sight of your things neatly packed. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Max… I can’t do this anymore,” you managed, your voice shaking. “I love you, but it feels like… like you’re always pushing me away. Every time I get close, you build these walls, and I’m left outside, trying to find my way back in.”

His fists clenched, his face contorting in pain. “So, what, you’re leaving? After everything?”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “I don’t want to. But… Max, it’s like you don’t even want me to be here. One day you tell me you love me, and the next, you shut me out.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I know I do this. I don’t mean to hurt you, but… I don’t know how to be any other way.”

You took a shaky breath, stepping closer to him, reaching out one last time. “Maybe that’s the problem. You keep breaking the things you love most.”

He looked up at you, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it, swallowing hard. He was silent, and the silence said more than words ever could.

You placed a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing over his skin as you whispered, “I wish you could be whole. I wish… I wish you could love me without breaking us.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “I wish I could too,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I wish I could be better for you.”

For a moment, you stood there, holding each other in a painful, beautiful silence. And then you pulled away, picking up your suitcase. You didn’t look back as you walked to the door, the ache in your chest growing heavier with every step. But as you closed the door behind you, you knew it was the only way to find peace.

You leave that night, suitcase in hand and heart heavy. You think it’s the end, that the constant fractures in your relationship with Max have finally split you apart for good. You spend weeks trying to convince yourself you’re better off this way. You keep telling yourself that the pain is over, that the ache will ease.

But the ache doesn’t fade—it only sharpens with distance. And Max? He feels it too, that emptiness you left behind. He goes through the motions: the races, the parties, the applause. Yet, at the end of the day, he’s alone, haunted by memories of a love he couldn’t let himself hold without fear of shattering it.

It’s late one night when his name lights up your phone screen, a simple message that stops you in your tracks: “Are you awake?”

You stare at it, knowing you shouldn’t reply, that responding will only pull you back into his orbit. But your fingers move on their own, typing out, “Yeah.”

The next thing you know, he’s outside your door, looking like he’s barely slept. His voice is quiet as he speaks, almost tentative. “I thought I could do this,” he murmurs. “I thought you’d be better off.”

“You thought you’d be better off,” you correct gently, voice laced with pain and longing.

He nods, exhaling slowly. “I was wrong.”

You let him in, both of you filled with things left unsaid. That night, he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. There’s a sadness between you, a knowing that you’re both drawn to something you can’t seem to keep but can’t bring yourselves to leave entirely. You tell yourself it’s the last time, but deep down, you know better.

Days stretch into weeks, and you both try to make things work. There’s laughter, the way he holds you close after each race, whispering promises of change. And for a while, you feel whole again.

But, eventually, the same cracks reappear. Arguments simmer, quiet disappointments surface, and you’re left feeling like two broken pieces that can’t quite fit together. You know his heart, his dreams, but his intensity is overwhelming, something fierce and untamed, and you’re left with pieces of a love that never quite held.

One evening, in the midst of another argument, you find yourself saying, “Maybe… maybe we’re better off alone.”

Max looks at you, his eyes flashing with hurt, but he doesn’t fight you this time. Instead, he nods slowly. “Maybe.”

And so, you leave again, pulling the door shut and walking away. Yet, each time you close that door, each time you think it’s the last, it only takes a few weeks before one of you reaches out, before you find yourselves standing in front of each other, tired, bruised, but still unable to let go.

It becomes a cycle. A dance of love and hurt, where neither of you knows how to stop the breaking, but neither of you can bear the thought of living without each other. You try to convince yourselves, time and again, that maybe you’d both be better off if you left. But deep down, you both know it’s a lie. You’re his favorite kind of heartbreak, the one thing he keeps coming back to, even though he knows he’ll only hurt you again.

And you? You’re no different. Each time he calls, each time he tells you he needs you, you let yourself believe that maybe this time, things will be different. Because for all the breaking and all the pain, you know that neither of you are better off without the other. You’re both broken, both bruised, but maybe—just maybe—you’re each other’s only way to feel whole.

[ranchstoryblog]

Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

[kumkaniudaku]

At Last: Part Two

Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Richmond make their union official.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: None

Part One

Under two Spanish moss trees, the two that towered highest above the rest like gods watching over their creations, Patrice and Terrence were due to share vows and declarations of love with a small crowd of family looking on as witnesses in less than twelve hours.

Her mother referred to the quick turnaround between engagement and nuptials as a “small miracle” as she and her elder sister meticulously planned details that even Patrice had overlooked in the haze of the evening. 

Truthfully, after all the fuzzy feelings and congratulatory bubbly had worn off, she was left with a gaping pit of confusion deep within her belly. Terry had promised one year to prepare for a life together. That amounted to 365 days to learn, grow, and get ready for eternity. A calendar year to decide if the eagerness of fresh love could bloom into something everlasting. Three hours ago, she didn’t need any more convincing. Now, having 365 days cut nearly in half with a wedding occurring on the other side of the sunrise had suddenly become suffocating. 

They hadn’t taken a traditional road, one paved with tangible milestones on the journey to name changes and legal titles. There was no high school sweethearts storyline to follow. They hadn���t awkwardly fumbled over kisses after a first date or met each other’s parents at a Sunday evening dinner. Terry did officially ask to be her boyfriend, but she never really treated him as a man to date on the way to some serendipitous revelation that he was, indeed, the one. In her mind, they’d always existed as lovers, time moving in a flat circle back to him as the only man at the altar when she envisioned jumping the broom with a new last name.

But, even with all roads leading back to Terrence James Richmond, the cotton sheets beneath her tired body provided no refuge. She was restless in the dead of night, head pounding with uncertainty and throat raw with questions. She kicked at the thick duvet for some relief from the stifling heat in the bedroom of the tiny guest cottage she and Imani were forced to share for the night. 

Because, even if she and Terry didn’t adhere to tradition, the women of her family held strong. 

Next to her, Imani grumbled into her pillow before flipping the bedside lamp on with a huff. 

“Damn, Petey, what now? You must wanna look like Frankenstein at the altar tomorrow.” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t get comfortable.” 

“What I gotta do? My arms ain’t big as his but I can be the big spoon. Turn over.”

Imani jokingly cuddled up to Patrice, pretending to be Terry as she spoke to her in a dramatically deep voice. “I love you, girl. You the only woman in the world, girl. Kiss me a hundred times so I don’t melt away, girl!” 

Patrice couldn’t hold back her laughter at her cousin’s silly imitation of a man she’d only just met in person but managed to get his mannerisms down to a science. She was good like that. Always able to break the ice and calm Patrice with a joke, even through troublesome storms. 

Turning in Imani’s arms, Patrice faced her cousin to feel less alone in the world. Imani adjusted her bonnet and looked back with a faint smile. 

“Tell me what’s wrong. You nervous?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Anxious?” 

“Not that one either.” 

“Worried.” 

Patrice nodded and chewed her bottom lip before answering. “That’s the one.” 

“Spill. You already got me awake. Might as well make it interesting.” 

“I wish I could but, I don’t know what exactly I’m worried about,” she started, shifting to her back to search for answers on the vaulted ceiling. She found nothing. “You think this is all moving too fast? It’s only been a few months. We said we’d wait a year at least.” 

“A year? Three months? Who’s countin’. Those rules are made up.” 

“Yeah, but what about the courting? The whirlwind romance? Being held close while you dance in an empty jazz club tasting champagne on his lips while Etta James plays in the background? What about all that?” 

Imani watched her cousin jump from the bed, waltzing in circles with her head thrown back, treating the empty space between the bedframe and dresser like a palace ballroom. An amused smile tugged at her lips as she sat up to get a better view. 

“Girl,” she exclaimed, laughing and shaking her head to Patrice’s dismay. “None of that shit is real! You watched the Brandy Cinderella one too many times during the pandemic.” 

“Only four times. Five. Six if you count the time we watched it on FaceTime.” 

“That’s why it’s rotting your brain now. How many times you been in love?” 

“Once,” Patrice answered, her mind drifting to Terry and what he might be doing all alone in that room upstairs.

“It’s been three times for me. And guess what?” she questioned, not expecting an answer. “None of them had a formula. Love is illogical, girl. There are no steps or rules or movie scripts to guide you through this shit! It’s about the willingness to give yourself over to something incomprehensible in hopes that you found your person for as long as you can hold on to them.” 

Imani’s rant floated around the room until it began to burrow itself deep into Patrice’s ears in hopes of reaching her brain. She stood there, taking every word in, eyes intently focused on her wise older cousin, knowing she was right yet having a hard time turning that insight into something she could fathom for herself. 

She’d always had a plan that she followed to the letter. She thrived in logical next steps and absolutes. The black and white kept her organized. Routine was her center. But love with Terry? That was different. That was whimsical. That was girlish pining and a botched kiss when they pretended to be a couple for one night during senior prom. It was time away wondering what their bond had become amid infrequent communication and eventual radio silence. Their love was reuniting as adults and running so fast into dizzying passion that she hadn’t time to wrap her mind around what had happened over the last seven months. Their love was intense and scary, beautifully abstract with no rhyme or reason. Nonsensical even. But it worked. 

Scooting to the edge of the bed and standing to her feet, Imani mimicked a chivalrous prince, pulling Patrice into a silly little waltz around the room. “Create your own fairytale, P. Everything doesn’t have to make sense.” 

“You think he misses me?” Patrice asked, her voice so tiny and meek that it almost surprised Imani. “Think he’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about him right now?” 

“Only one way to find out.” 

A mischievous smile spread across Imani’s face as she dashed for her phone. Patrice chased after her, calling for her to stop what she was doing at such a late hour. 

Ordinarily, Terry would be asleep. He was never one to stay up too far beyond the early hours of the night, often dragging Patrice away from a good book to force her to sleep beside him. 

Peaceful slumber, however, had been elusive all night. The moon was too bright. The room? Too hot. He could complain about the bed being a hair too soft or the floorboards creaking too loud whenever someone would sneak down the hallway for a late snack, but all of those would be a deflection from the true issue - he missed Patrice. 

Just as his longing was reaching a tipping point, his phone buzzed against the solid oak nightstand. He had half a mind to ignore the sound. It was likely his mother confirming details yet again or one of his twin sisters finally responding to the engagement video, he thought to himself as he lay on his back staring at the constant revolution of the ceiling fan. 

Then another buzz came accompanied by several more to let him know this was a phone call and only people with emergencies call at that hour. 

He answered without looking at the screen to verify the caller.

“Hello?” He answered, slightly annoyed by the interruption. 

“Terry put some clothes on and come to the cottage. We got an emergency.”

“A what?” 

“Boy, just come on! Skip the third step from the bottom and go out of the side door by the kitchen.” 

Terry wished that sneaking around his fiancée’s family home was among the silliest things he’d done in the middle of the night for a woman. 

He carefully slipped into a hoodie and sneakers before tiptoeing his way down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of that side door like Imani instructed. The moonlight provided the only guidance down the cobbled pathway leading to a tiny shack at the edge of the property with a little light flipped on in the bedroom. 

Imani watched through the peephole with Patrice hot on her heels, peering over her shoulder as if she could see too. 

Moanie shrugged her away with a harsh whisper. “Girl, get off my ass. He’s coming!” 

Patrice backed away with her hands up in surrender. The wait for his eventual appearance felt like forever. She fiddled with the hem of her nightgown, wondering if he would care that this was all a half-baked scheme to circumnavigate their forced separation. 

Terry ambled up the dirt path with his normal scowl and fists pushed into his pockets to shield his hands from the wind chill. Imani timed his arrival perfectly, swinging the door open before he created a disturbance by knocking. 

“Everything good?” He asked, one eyebrow hiked high as Imani pulled him into the cottage by his arm. 

She stepped back and gestured toward Patrice who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

“I just wanna sleep,” she sighed. “Take her, go in that room, and do whatever y’all do until the morning. Then you gotta dip because I’m not getting in trouble for y’all. My mama will still hit me.” 

Terry’s eyes drifted from Imani to Patrice, catching how she looked nervous under his gaze. He smiled and extended his hand for her to take. 

“C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

His voice, honied and soothing to her soul, gave Patrice her first rush of comfort in what felt like forever. She placed her palm in his and trailed behind him as he led the way. 

Imani called behind them. “Please, don’t have sex on the bed. I gotta sleep here until Tuesday and I don’t really need that image in my head.” 

“Can’t make any promises but, thank you. I’ll make sure you get the bouquet.” 

“Hard pass. Give it to Moon’s desperate ass. I like to let my fairytales unfold organically.”

She winked at her cousin just before Terry could close the bedroom door to block them from the outside world. 

Wrapped in the midnight hour, they’d finally found peace. 

Patrice watched from the bed as Terry stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his hoodie to expose bare skin to the night air. He slowly crawled in beside her, brushing his fingers against her midsection to guide her against the mattress the way he liked. He pulled her close to his chest to rest his nose in the crook of her neck for a deep inhale of her unique scent. She sighed and pressed even closer, at ease once eyelashes painted butterfly kisses where his warm breath fanned against her skin.

“How’d we get like this,” he laughed once they were settled.  “Can’t even fall asleep without each other.” 

“I still think you put a spell on me in that bathroom. I loved sleeping alone before then.” 

“Had to pull out all the stops for you, baby.” 

“I’m just that fine, huh?”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, already feeling slumber's clutches coming for him in the darkness. His grip around her waist tightened. She trailed her fingers up and down his forearm with her focus on the soft rustle of the linen curtains against the window. Her mind quieted. The room fell silent save for steady, deep breathing and the crickets making music outside. 

“You wanna know something?” 

Terry blinked himself awake to answer. “What?”

“They call me Petey because I had a big crush on Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man one summer,” Patrice admitted in the darkness. “I figure if you’re gonna be my husband by this time tomorrow, you should know.” 

No answer. Only the smack of his lips pulling away from the skin behind her ear in another kiss. He knew not to interrupt her fleeting moment of vulnerability with the silly joke on the tip of his tongue. So, he joined her confessional.

“I used to think Roxanne from A Goofy Movie was fine.”

“The animated dog?”

Terry scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know being attracted to a human spider was better.” 

Their shared laughter reverberated off the walls, uncorking the bottled-up pressure to be present as perfect beings to the world. Terry felt Patrice’s ribcage expand and contract in his embrace as she took a deep breath to release pent-up nerves, silently thanking God that he was the one allowed to mold himself into the curves and contours of her body every night. 

“I want to know more about you.” she requested, sounding like a child asking for a bedtime story. “Tell me something else.” 

So he did. With no hesitation, he told her secrets that seemed so daunting to share until she was the one listening. Anxieties about the future fell from his lips freely, receiving no judgment on the other side. He told her about his fear of clowns and felt his first dose of validation when she agreed that expressionless mimes shouldn’t be around children. The backstory of the small scar on his upper lip was followed by a giggly recollection of the time she put her brother in the dryer to see how long he could spin without getting sick which made him laugh until his abdomen ached. Together they shared uncomfortable memories that introduced intense insecurities, weird theories about the existence of intergalactic forms, and wondered if LeBron James was secretly an android. An elementary game of 21 Questions created a crash course in the entire history of one another. 

They lay there together in a pitch-black room drunk off the jagged, imperfect pieces of each other until their eyes burned with exhaustion and sleep was no longer an option. 

The last thing Terry whispered into Patrice’s ear was a promise to never stop learning about her, to never stop being curious about her likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams as long as they both lived. She could barely mumble out a worthwhile response but hoped that her gentle hum served as an oath to do the same.

By morning, he was gone. Out into the breeze by first light, leaving only his scent on Imani’s pillow and the fleeting memory of his fingers making a home between Patrice’s legs with whispered praise on his lips as evidence that his presence wasn’t an apparition in the witching hour. Patrice couldn’t resist burying her face into the sheets, squealing and kicking her feet beneath the duvet in elation. 

She was getting married. 

“Y’all are so cute,” Imani swooned, leaning against the bedroom doorframe as she watched her cousin hold a pillow close to her chest like an actress in a romantic drama. “We gotta get you ready, sis! It’s your wedding day!”

People whisked around all morning like busy worker bees, each one darting off to a new place around the estate to fulfill a purpose. Some balanced stacks of white chairs under their arms like magicians to turn a portion of the backyard into a wedding venue. Others hustled through the kitchen’s service door with mounds of ingredients for what could only described as a feast fit for royalty. Women giggled on their way out of the backdoor to meet Patrice and her small entourage to prepare her for a day she’d planned as a girl, but never saw coming together in a dizzying whirlwind such as this. 

In the cottage, women laughed and sipped tea in porcelain cups to go with their fancy hors d'oeuvres on fancier china. The soothing purr from an antique sewing machine placed careful stitches in a beautifully plain satin gown gifted by Imani and Rosalyn to ensure that the garment was made to Patrice’s exact proportions. She was a princess for the day, the world bending to her every whim.

Terry wasn’t so lucky. The bedroom was still too hot and growing even hotter with each unwanted guest moving in and out with more questions than he thought he needed to answer. He wanted a moment to write out heartfelt vows with pen and paper but found himself so frustrated with the whole production that he slammed his writing utensil against the writing desk in the corner and cursed at the wall. 

Another visitor tsk’d behind him. “Boy, you better not let Mama hear you talkin’ like that.”

”She’d pull that ear clean off the side of your head!” 

Equally raspy voices made Terry sigh with relief before he stood to his feet. As two almost identical copies of their mother, Zorah and Zanah were Terry’s first loves. He remembered the day they entered into the world. So precious and honey brown with striking chocolate eyes that could make him bend to their will without a word. He watched them mature through the world like their hired security, never letting harm come to a single hair on their head. He wiped tears, kissed scrapes, and played with dolls like a third parent. When they went their separate ways to grow into adults with individual hopes and dreams, he cried in secret like he’d been the one to birth them. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his baby sisters but he knew he’d never needed their embrace quite like he needed it in that moment. They hugged him back, two sets of arms wrapping him up in a quiet group hug until he’d had his fill. 

“How is this supposed to be the happiest day of your life and you’re in here cussin’ and breathing all heavy,” Zorah, the oldest of the pair, asked as she cleared her brother’s face of invisible debris. 

She’d always acted as his surrogate mother despite being six years his junior. The everpresent pillar of stability, she left home as soon as she could to explore the other side of the country at UCLA in hopes of studying the ins and outs of music performance. Tall and athletic with long dark locs, her voice became her calling card, but her big brother knew her as a young lady that was once too afraid to sing in the children’s choir at church. 

“You know how Terry is. He think he Obama. All serious for no reason sometimes.”

“That’s not true.” 

“You’re right,” she conceded. “You never gon’ be fine as Obama.” 

Zanah was the hell raiser. Loud and full of energy with an afro big enough to block the sun, she lived to tease her older brother. A zest for bold flavors that could bring even the worst enemies together for a good meal sent her in search of the best culinary school their parents could afford. If you could dream it, she could make it appear in the kitchen with little effort. Terry admired her for her gift, but couldn’t stand her poking and prodding at his expense. 

He kissed his teeth and broke free from their short-lived period of civility. “Treece and the girls are out back. She’ll be happy to see y’all. Zo, get the rings from Daddy as soon as you can. You know how he gets.” 

The twins rolled their eyes at each other while watching Terry pout on his way back to the writing desk for another crack at his speech. Zorah was the first to move with Zanah bringing up the rear. 

She stood over his shoulder to take stock of what he’d managed to write in his time alone. Half sentences and scribbled words scratched through several times over littered the page as if a madman had gotten ahold of his journal. Something about how much he cherished her but with far too much Shakespearean language to be sincere made Zanah giggle behind him.

She sat on the edge of the desk, pretending to judge his work. “Are you writing your vows or the sequel to Romeo and Juliette?” 

“Zanah, please. Pick with me after all of this is done. I can’t deal with the stress right now.”

An invisible weight seemed to push Terry into a defeated hunch, forcing his head into his hands as he angrily rubbed at his eyes. His stress tick was back and more ferocious than ever. Zorah flanked his other side and gave her twin a look of concern before looking back at him.

“Wanna pretend we’re Patrice to practice?” 

He sighed. “No, not really.” 

“Don’t be like that. We won’t tell and you gotta get a move on these vows. It’s a win-win.” 

Terry sat back in his chair to mull over their proposition. A practice run couldn’t hurt. At worst, he’d rid himself of the useless mass of words clogging his brain. 

“Fuck,” he conceded, pushing back from the desk with a loud scrape across the wooden floor. “Look, be nice. If I say something stupid or too mushy just let me finish, alright?” 

“It wouldn’t be nothing we ain’t heard you writing poems about before,” Zanah laughed along with Zorah. 

Terry showed her both of his middle fingers with a smirk as he walked to the center of the room. His days as an amateur poet were a well-kept secret that only his family was forced to witness. One day, when he and Patrice were old and grey, he’d reveal a shoebox full of terrible musings in her honor.

Taking a needed inhale through his nose and long exhale through his mouth, Terry prepared to ramble through his feelings. 

“When I try to imagine my life without you, my mind goes blank. It’s kinda like when you get an error message on a computer or something. No images, no search results, nothing. Empty.” Terry began to pace, finding inspiration in the back-and-forth motion. 

Zorah pressed for more. “Why?”

“I’m not supposed to imagine life without you, Patrice. I don’t want to experience another birthday or Christmas, Earth Day, Juneteenth, shit anything if you’re not there. I prayed for you.” Terry didn’t anticipate getting choked up until the sensation brought with it a lump in his throat. All of the instances he’s asked God for guidance in matters of the heart came rushing back to his remembrance with only one answer at every turn. “Trying to imagine an existence without you feels like I’m telling God that bringing you back to me wasn’t enough.”

His eyes flashed up to his sisters, finding them in the throws of emotion right along with him. 

“Keeping going. Bring it home,” Zanah encouraged. “Give her the fireworks, loverboy!”

Terry laughed through misty vision. “I’m excited to spend the rest of our days together. Tonight, I’m promising you a lifetime of my protection, my devotion, and my desire to show up every single day to make our time together worth the wait. Thank you for choosing me, baby. Let me work on making sure you never regret that decision.” 

A slow clap took over the room, first from two sets of hands that Terry expected, making his shoulder slump from relief. 

“Shit, now I gotta remember all that.” 

“Don’t worry, we recorded,” Zorah assured.

But there was still applause. He whipped his head around to investigate the extra spectators and found his parents beaming from the room’s threshold. 

Diedra spoke up first as she made a beeline for her son. “Oh my God, oh my God! This is really happening. My baby is about to be somebody’s husband.” She claimed his face with her hands, distributing doting kisses on both of his cheeks. “Beautiful vows. Remind me of your father’s.” 

“Not nearly as eloquent,” Marvin laughed, joining the conversation. “Matter of fact, I don’t think I got past the to have and to hold portion without stuttering. The pastor had to move us along because I was so tongue-tied.” 

“Yeah, but the feeling is the same. Your heart’s in the right place.”

“Not right now,” Terry laughed before kissing her forehead. “My heart is in my ass, Mama. Stomach too.” 

The Richmond family laughed harmonious laughs, providing the first bit of ease Terry had felt all morning. 

Marvin reached out to grab his boy’s shoulder for a small squeeze. In all his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a better man than Terrence had become. All the rearing, the man-to-man talks, the tough love, and every stern redirection had become another foundational brick in not only a worthwhile man but a spectacular human. 

He looked around the room at his girls and wife, trying to hide the overwhelming rush of emotion tightening his chest. “Can you ladies give us a moment?”

Zanah released a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, here we go. They about to cry a river in here. Come on, y’all. Patrice says they’re opening another bottle of champagne and you know I don’t like to miss hearing a cork pop.” 

“You honestly need to talk to somebody about that.” 

“We talk all the time, Zo!”

Time winding down turned advice into a hot commodity, transcending social groups as the sunset drew closer. Everyone had an opinion, an unsolicited tidbit on how to navigate the peaks and valleys of marriage. A hodgepodge of dos and don’ts thrown out like casual information whether Patrice wanted it or not. 

Don’t go to bed angry. Have sex every night. Make sure there’s a separate account for personal emergencies. Keep the kids out of your bed. Some were helpful, others mostly nothing but projections and special circumstances veiled as some sage secret that Patrice and Terry should offer special thanks for receiving.

Nerves were turning into embers of annoyance. By late afternoon, they’d both requested for rooms to be emptied and questions to cease. They’d had enough. No more information. No more guidance. Anything left to learn was up to the test of time, not a bunch of people who meant well, but would ultimately return to their own lives with no say so in what went on between the newlyweds.

Reprieve came when the white chairs were in perfect rows on either side of a flower-lined aisle, ties were neatly draped underneath starched button-up collars, and dresses were pressed to perfection. The sun had begun to dive behind the clouds, leaving the sky full of pink and orange hues. A half-moon hung high in the sky as if it were invited to witness a show made especially for the cosmos. Guests took their seats without care given to which side belonged to the groom or bride. They were all family now. A beautiful mix of lineages and temperaments bonded for as long as Patrice and Terry saw fit. 

At the altar, Sybil stood under two Spanish moss trees towering high above the rest, her gray hair pulled up into an ornate headwrap that matched her dress. She smiled up at both trees as if saying hello to living, breathing beings before asking stragglers to take their seats. 

From the kitchen’s sliding door, Terry bounced on his toes, waiting on his cue to step into the early autumn chill. A tailored suit hugged him close, finally fulfilling its duty to carry him down a path lined with his love's favorite flowers to forever bond himself to the woman handpicked for his unwavering fidelity. 

This was the moment. Fate had willed it so. He wouldn’t turn back for any reason. Destiny had come knocking and he welcomed her in with open arms. 

Dreamy chords from a baby grand piano served as the soundtrack to his final walk as a single man. Measured steps carried him forward, his chest puffed with pride and his shoulders rolled back in the type of relaxed confidence only afforded to people who had no doubt that they were on the exact path they’d been ordained to traverse.

Candles and soft, white light from paper lanterns hanging nearby provided romantic theatrics to accompany his every step. Voices whispered, some calling his name, others leaving comments as he passed. In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of his family. DeeDee’s eyes welled with happy tears as Marvin rubbed her back for comfort. His sisters, both beside themselves with excitement, flashed Terry a look at the wedding bands as a final check-in on their whereabouts. 

At the altar, Junior waited for his arrival as his best man. Terry had requested his presence during a surprisingly heartfelt conversation where Junior had all but lifted his brother-in-law off of his feet to show his appreciation. 

“I love my sister, man.” He repeated over and over under the spell of brunch liquor. “I’m happy it’s you, T. I’m happy it’s you for my sister, man.” 

Junior tapped his right hand over his chest and nodded at Terry, jumping right back into the masculine display of affection that had escaped him when no one else was around. 

Patrice watched it all unfold as she carefully made her way into the kitchen at the tail end of a secret mission to hide her from her husband. Imani trailed her with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in one hand and the train of her dress in the other. If not for her heels clacking against the black and white tile on the floor, Patrice was sure that her cousin could hear her heart thudding against her sternum. 

“Alright, girl, this is where I leave you,” Imani spoke, a small smile forming as she took another look at Patrice. She tucked a stray curl back into place and presented her with the flowers. “You look beautiful, P. Stunning. My friend is all grown up. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Imani. For everything. Let’s not allow too much time to pass before we see each other again, okay?” 

“Of course. I’ll be back for Christmas. But, don’t focus on me. You gotta get down the aisle, Mrs. Richmond.” 

Patrice sighed and grinned at the mention of her new last name. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Believe it, baby! It’s time.” 

A final hug connected the two before Imani was out of the door and comically announcing the bride’s arrival before taking her place as maid of honor.

She stood behind that glass door, beaming as all in the area stood in anticipation of her entrance. 

You fix your makeup just so

Guess you don’t know that you’re beautiful 

Try on every dress that you own 

You were fine in my eyes a half hour ago

Terry had mentioned the song in passing once, commenting on how he heard it in a department store and found John Legend kind of corny. What he didn’t mention was that he was in the department store getting fitted for the very suit he wore as he watched Patrice walk toward him and how he took the song as a sign that he was doing exactly what God intended. 

That cheesy song from a cheesier artist was the reason he was dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles to stop the incoming tears. 

In a lovely satin dress with a high halter neck, Patrice was the center of attention. Imani had specifically chosen a white dress without any reverence for outdated tradition. If her girl was to be wed, she’d be in the appropriate color, no doubt. A split in the front was a personal gift to Terry, a peek at her oiled legs with each step immediately catching his attention.

Her bantu knots were unraveled, leaving behind shiny, bouncy curls that framed her face just right. Soft makeup enhanced ancestral facial features. Minimal jewelry kept the look tailored to her flare for the understated. 

When she waved at Terry, he waved back with a smile so wide that it made his cheeks burn. In all of her glory, every perfect inch from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, was his to cherish. 

And this evening, I won’t let the feeling die 

I never wanna leave your side

Before the music could fade to make way for the ceremony, Terry had already found himself unable to hold back emotion. His fingertips were damp with tears as he assisted Patrice onto the low platform. 

“Sorry,” he whispered while she pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to clean his face. “Think they got all this in the photos?”

“I hope so. Might get a couple wallet-sized prints to carry in my purse.” 

Patrice chucked as she tucked the pale blue fabric behind her bouquet’s stem and smoothed Terry’s collar. He captured her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. 

Sybil cleared her throat. “We aren’t at that part yet, but I love the enthusiasm. Should we get to the good stuff?” 

Patrice hoped the good stuff was captured in ultra HD on a camera somewhere. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the flowery words and intricate language. She tried her hardest to listen for her name to avoid embarrassing herself in front of everyone hoping to see something movie-like unfold in front of their eyes. But seeing the light etch beautiful reflections and shadows on Terry’s skin was all she could lend her focus to in the moment. 

Luckily, she made it through her vows without stumbling, even managing a joke that garnered a communal chuckle. 

“Honestly, we’re lucky this is happening now instead of at 18 like you said you wanted. I got to see Juicy J at homecoming one year and that wouldn’t have happened if I was chasing behind you in my 20s. You cute but not miss a Juicy J concert cute.”

She listened to Terry sniffle his way through heartfelt lines, occasionally wiping under his eyes to clear his vision. He gripped her hand tight and bathed her in a gaze so intense it sent a shiver down her spine. 

What she was present for, however, was the grand finale. 

“Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” Sybil asked Terry though she was already sure of his answer. 

His top lip almost disappeared from being stretched so wide in his smile. “I do.” 

Sure as he knew his first name, Terry affirmed his decision with two words and all of his teeth on display. Sybil looked to Patrice, finally seeing her niece as a woman and not the little girl that kept her on her toes every summer. 

She took a deep breath and then laughed. “Lord, now I’m crying!” The family laughed, some using the moment to wipe away their own tears. “Okay, I’m back. Do you take this man to be your husband -” 

“Yes! I do! I mean you can finish if you need to, but that’s my answer. One billion times, yes.”

There was no need. Under the twinkle of ancestors acting as stars and God showing his splendor in the marvelous brightness of the moon, man and woman became one. Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, free to jump hand in hand over a small, decorated broom to honor the folks that had come before them.

Well wishes came in abundance. Gifts big, small, and monetary spilled from a small table onto the rug beneath. Toasts became the preferred way to start a conversation. Buttons and ties had come undone from tight collars. High heels swapped for sensible shoes. Couples already squarely in the mature stages of partnership rushed to slow dance in the center of the communal area between tables. Pictures memorialized a wondrous occasion. They’d sign official paperwork another day. Tonight was for celebration.

While the party raged on, Patrice and Terry sat in the center of the table wrapped up in one another. His chin rested in the palm of her hand as he watched her lips move in time with the lyrics to a line dance song her parents led on the makeshift dancefloor. Her fingernails gently scratched at his jaw, an absentminded habit she’d picked up recently. He nudged her temple with his forehead like a cat begging for affection. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, not looking in his direction. He repeated his actions to receive the attention he craved. She finally looked over and giggled. “What, baby?” 

“Nothing. Just wanted you to look at me.” 

Patrice pressed her nose to Terry’s before placing a soft kiss on his full bottom lip. “Let’s get away from here for a second. Follow me.” 

Without question, Terry allowed Patrice to tug him along, past the throngs of dancing guests, away from music blasting out of jumbo speakers, down a shallow hill, and to a small lake shimmering in the night. 

He held her steady when she stopped short to remove her heels, saying something about needing to feel the grass between her toes. She jogged the rest of the way to the lake with Terry holding her shoes and taking long strides to catch up. 

She carefully lifted her dress before stepping into the water, only allowing it to cover the sides of her feet as she tilted her chin to the sky. Terry watched her with a placid grin and low eyelids. 

“You having fun,” he asked as he placed her belongings on a tree stump and stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“Mhm. You?” 

“Yeah. I am.” 

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” 

He watched her for a few seconds more, admiring the way she seemed to salute every piece of nature in the vicinity. 

“You know, we didn’t get a first dance.” 

Patrice stopped creating ripples in the water with her toes and looked over at Terry. “Oh shit, we didn’t, huh? Wanna go back and do that? I don’t even have a song picked out. Slipped my mind, I guess.” 

“Nah, it’s cool,” he answered, still smiling. “We can dance right here.” 

He presented his hand for her grab, pulling her from the lake with care until she was up against his chest. They swayed to nothing for a second while Terry fiddled with his phone to find something worthy of their time. Patrice closed her eyes to listen to the breeze, more content with the wind as a soundtrack than she expected. 

Soon, Etta James came rolling through his phone’s speakers. 

Terry dropped one hand just above Patrice’s backside, the other wrapping around her back to lead them in a slow dance. A waltz of sorts in the blue moonlight. 

Her hands snaked up to the top of his head and pulled him as close as he could be, his nose so tight against her neck she could feel the slight suction and release from every breath. 

They stayed there, moving side to side under Etta James’s sweet song of found love until all distractions faded and left them in the fullness of each other. 

Patrice angled her head upwards as Terry kissed along her collarbone. Then her ear. Her cheek, her nose, and, finally, her lips. 

As he said I love you without words, Patrice tried to place the sweet taste of citrus and apple on his tongue. Was it dessert? Maybe her lip gloss or the fancy compote from their dinner plate? 

No, none of those. 

She closed her eyes tighter to taste more. There it was. The ghost of her fantasy. The secret marker of her one true love. 

Champagne.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown

[burdenandacrop]

hi mags!! super happy to see you back! could you write something about sitting in schlatt’s lap?

˗ˏˋ ❝ could get used to this. ❞ ˎˊ˗

hii, thank you so much !! glad to be back, thank you for your patience with this submission :>

summary : up late and bored out of your mind, to bring back some adrenaline in your system. you choose to annoy schlatt who was already fed up with his night.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, dry humping, dirty talk, fem reader.

schlatt's face was stuck with the same 'i hate everything' look as he scrolled through his phone. it was very obvious he wasn't taking some comments too well to the heart, he usually just brushed it off; but something was different about tonight. you rolled over to him and peered your eyes to his screen, seeing how he was going through a reddit thread. your brain picking up on how many times the words 'asshole' and 'piece of shit' were prominent in the thread. seems like he did something that really pissed off the field of fans, you just rolled onto your back to not look to suspicious. "actual fucking idiots." he muttered under his breath as you could see his fingers typing away a third message to post in the thread. here he goes. it would be futile to try and convince him to not do such a thing, especially when he was like this.

some part of you wanted to at least attempt though, if your presence could keep him from looking like an angry hate-filled man on reddit; that'd be enough. you sigh and sit yourself up on the pillow, crossing your arms and eyeing him. he could feel your eyes on him and sighed, dropping the phone screen onto his chest and turning his head to you. god he really did look pissed, it was surprising considering he never got like this. not actually pissed. you drum your fingers along your forearm and sigh, "it's stupid to let them get to you like that, you know that right?" you state, it probably wasn't exactly the right thing to say in such a moment; but it needed to be said. you could see the anger on his face was never ending. "it's cause i was fucking 'mean' to panda." he admits, biting down on the inside of his cheek with nasally sigh. you couldn't stand to see him get so angry like this, but it might've been leaning from something else. it had to have been.

"none of those people affect how you actually are." you say as you softly shake your head, your words reeling in some needed common sense to schlatt's mind. when he got into fits like this, which weren't too often, his brain just loved to cut off any ties to critical thinking. just the same loop of 'these people are stupid and i need them to know i find them fucking stupid' over and over. leaving him with no defenses, that is, until you come into the picture to humbly remind him he has a good cognitive function. "over something so fucking small too." he sharply states as he rolls his jaw in irritation, letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. seems like he was calming down. he threw his phone to the ground and crossed his arms against his chest. never mind. you shook your head at his behavior that was now just seemingly overly childish. you had a thought though.

you scoot your body up and trail your hands to his arms, letting your hands travel up and down. the notion making schlatt open only his left eye to peek at whatever you were doing, letting out a deep gruff from his throat before tightly shutting his eyes again. maybe he thought if he closed his eyes for long enough, he'd forget about all the stupidity. just maybe. you scoff at his little attempt of acting like he didn't care, eventually having enough of this little character of his. propping your body up and climbing on top of him, as he felt you settle on his lap his eyes shot wide open. he looked at you with crooked brows, interested but none the less confused at the sudden action. you lean your upper half closer down to him, accidentally causing a small amount of friction to occur from the two of your sweatpants meshing with one another. "just keep your phone on the floor." you plead, and with that statement he just nodded slowly. his softened face looking as though he was in a deep trance.

you could see the hostility leaving his eyes, now being replaced by something much different. you stifle out a chuckle before trailing your fingertips along his chest, feeling every curve under the touch. you noticed how his heart rate was a bit faster, well faster than normally, smiling gently at the fact. seems like you still had that effect on him, nice. as your hands roamed along his chest, you exhaled deeply and let your head hang low as you looked down at him. "i want you to repeat after me." you bluntly state, the tone immediately making schlatt firmly nod. you smile and bring his hands to your waist, placing them exactly how you wanted them to be. he squeezed your sides a little before relaxing his muscles, "whatevers on that phone, it doesn't matter." you slowly mutter, a glint of anger returning back to schlatt's face but he nonetheless pushed it away. "whatevers on the phone- doesn't matter." he repeats, swallowing a lump in his throat afterwards.

you slowly nod at his words, pleased that he was actually willing to make an attempt. you move his hands slowly up before they're barely cusping the edge of your ribcage. your shirt raising a little in the process, causing him to focus on your lower parts. the reddit post was beginning to look more and more like an imaginary tale. you gently giggled as you saw how his eyes were traveling on your body, he was genuinely like a adolescent when it came to things like this. no matter how long he'd actually been doing it. "what's on the phone?" you ask after the long line of silence, he just relaxes his head against the pillow and chuckles. letting his hands get a good grip on the edges of your breasts. "you're like a stress ball, you know that?" he snickers out quietly, licking his teeth as he lingered his eyes on the curve of your shirt. you sigh and tilt your head at him, his head focusing back to the question you asked. "there's nothing important on the phone." he states, clearing his throat and settling deeper into the sheets.

you gently nod, pleased with his progress. "you got better things to focus on." you mutter out while letting your hands roam up and down on his chest, the slow motions of it making schlatt tense up slightly. you could even feel how his chest twitched when you pressed a little too hard. "yeah, i know. lookin' at it." he gruffly replied, you could practically hear the neediness in his voice grow. you giggle at this little remark and lean yourself over him, gently bucking your hips enough to press a bit of friction between the two of you. the little movement making him take in a sharp inhale and stare in your eyes with a look that screamed 'seriously?' your hands ran through his hair as you were mere inches from him. "too much?" you ask with a sly smile, letting your fingers run behind his ear. he could feel himself nearly letting go of any restraint with the feeling of your fingers tracing along his edges. "mm-mm." he groaned out, his lips tightly closed as he attempted to compose himself. it was just too easy.

the gentle touch of your hands, how thin the material of your sweatpants were, how he could see your underwear peeking out from the waistband. it was not hard to see he was enjoying this rather than arguing with mad men on reddit over a stupid joke. his hands reached to gently squeeze your chest, feeling the offensive under wire from your bra. "someone's needy." you chuckle out, only making him a bit more irritated. his grip became harsher, tugging at the cup and seething from his nose. "i'm sorry- i just-" he stammered out, his grip not lessening in the slightest. his hips gently rolled up to better meet with your core, he was practically begging for any type of movement. due to the thin material from your sweats, you could feel how his dick pulsated from underneath you. "need this. need you." he stammered out once again, his breaths coming out more quicker as he continued to roll himself against you. the friction helping you in the case as well, causing you to let out little whimpers. the sound only encouraging him more.

the second he heard your noises getting progressively louder, he leaned himself up and latched his hands onto your waist instead. quickly pulling your hips onto his lap, roughly grinding against you as he pulled you into a deep kiss. the second his lips found yours, he was lowly groaning from the satisfaction. your hips involuntarily moved with his, hitting the right spot over and over. you could feel every twitch from underneath you, wrapping your hands around his shoulders to bring yourself closer. he let out another groan as he felt your chest squish against his, instantly moving his left hand from your waist to roughly grip at your breast. you wince out softly into his kiss, only pushing him to go further. he pulled his lips off of yours and lowly chuckled, his lips fallen agape as he roamed his eyes all over your form. "i need to get mad more often if this is the fuckin pay-off." he groaned out, his hand moving from your breast so he could stabilize his hands back to your hips.

you roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile, "maybe just don't let internet trolls get to you." you roughly reply, kissing the tip of his nose and pulling back with a softer expression on your face. "yeah yeah." he says with a snarky tone, letting his hands relax along your thighs. "now let me delete those comments." he adds on, looking to his phone on the floor. you crawl off his lap and sigh, "whatever works." your little comment making him crook his neck to look at you as he reached to grab his phone. "smartass." he mumbled under his breath with a grin.

author's note : i love these oneshots so Bad. i apologize for it being short-ish, but i hope you like it anon ! <3 also another note, yes, this is based on when schlatt blasted people on reddit a year ago. i ponder about it often.

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 15

Summary: You decide to pretend that nothing happened the last day you stayed at the burrow, have an awkward conversation with Fred, and hear some bothersome rumors.

WC: 1.7k

A/N: another shortie! but this next chapter is gonna be messyyyyyy so lock in, also merry (late) christmas!

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

You left the night you kissed Fred. Deciding it would be the best to run away from the awkward tension for now. 

You could at least prepare for the tension that would be there when you got back to school.

Though you tried your best to prepare. You still weren’t ready.

On the express back to Hogwarts, you sat with Angelina and Katie. Angelina left a few times to go see George.

You did your best to act like nothing had happened between Fred and you. Pretending like you never cried to him, again, slept in his bed, cuddled him, and kissed him.

Trying to convince yourself none of that happened. You planned to do this for the rest of your time at school. Maybe your entire life too.

You avoided any possible subject that would lead to bringing up the twins. 

You laid down on your seat in your booth anytime the memories became too much, you slept most of the ride to avoid them.

The Start-Of-Term Feast wasn’t too awkward as you expected. 

Of course, Angelina wanted to sit by George, her new boyfriend. Katie and you followed along and sat with the twins.

Surprisingly, you were able to make conversation with the both of them. Fred especially.

It seemed he had the same plan as you, to pretend like nothing happened between you too during Spring break.

Nothing happened. No crying in his arms, no snuggling in bed, no close moments in the kitchen, no kissing.

That was the plan for the both of you. But it showed you were both still thinking of those moments through the quick glances and looks you shared with each other.

Katie nor Angelina had caught any of them, or at least hopefully they hadn’t. You just really wanted to get back to your dorm and away from all this tension.

The rest of the first years that were chattering in the corner went up to their dorms. Leaving the only remaining people in the common room being Fred and you.

Fred was on the sofa, sketching something on a piece of parchment, his face extremely focused, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. It was kind of cute.

You were sitting on the chair opposite from the red leather sofa. Feet sitting on the cushion beneath you, reading a book that was laid against your knees. You weren’t tired yet, but you hoped this would make you sleepy.

Yet, you couldn’t stop looking over at Fred. Not being able to focus on the words on the pages for more than a minute at most, your eyes kept darting up to the redhead across from you.

This time, you were the first to speak.

“Already working on a new shop idea?” You half-joked from behind your legs. Fred looked away from the paper.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just updating one of the firework ideas we had.” You hummed and nodded in response, looking back to your book.

“So, how was the rest of your break?” Fred spoke, going back to sketching.

“It was good. Fine. Yours?”

“Mine was good too.” Fred nodded. You wanted to scream, you were cringing in your skin at the amount of awkwardness between the two of you. 

You’d rather go back to him pissing you off than to deal with whatever this was for another minute.

You put your book down before blurting out your next few words.

“I…I missed you.” There’s no way those words just came out of your mouth. Your last year self would be gagging at the sight of this.

The sound of Fred’s quill scratching the paper ceased.

In your peripheral, you could see Fred look at you. Most likely some confused and surprised look on his face. 

You didn’t dare look at him, your eyes focused on fluttering flames from the fireplace.

“Yeah. I missed you too.” Fred took a minute before he spoke.

“I like you, Fred. More than I care to admit.“ Your eyes went wide at your sudden confession, wondering what the hell was making you say all this. 

“Oh. That’s…nice to hear.” Fred breathed out.

“I’ve been stopping myself from saying that for a while.” You let out a scoff of disbelief, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

The cogs were turning in Fred’s head, trying to figure out how to respond. You were unpredictable now that he wasn’t getting on your nerves, this was a struggle.

“What’s been stopping you?”

You opened your mouth and hesitated, then closed it. Waiting a moment before attempting to speak again.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just afraid.” You fiddled with your fingers.

 “Of what?” Fred pressed, you wished he wouldn't. You wished you never said anything at all.

“Of liking you too much.” There was a bigger word you could’ve used there instead of “like”, you were afraid to say that one too. 

You were denying that you felt that strongly.

“What’s so bad about that?” Fred shrugged, you hesitated to speak.

“I don’t know. It just feels…wrong.” You scratched at your arm. 

“Nothing wrong with someone being likable. You’re likable, surprisingly.” He teased, it earned a breathy chuckle out of you.

“Look at us, being friends and all nice to each other. After all the times I’ve been an asshole to you.” You let out a guilty smile as you finally looked up at him.

"I’ve never cared about any of that. I'm just glad we're not at each other's throats any more.” Fred shrugged, giving you such a heartwarming smile as he began to gather his things.

God, why was he so sweet? Why was he so sweet to you, out of all people?

“I also realized I never said thank you for…everything really. Getting me out of the crowd during the attack, the gifts, inviting me over.” You rubbed your hands down your face, the realization and guilt eating you alive.

“Thank you. For being so nice to me, I really don’t think I deserved any of it after how I’ve treated you.” You let out a nervous laugh, not finding anything amusing, just nervous as hell.

“Maybe, I think you’re just too pretty for me to be mean to. Goodnight, Y/N.” Fred said as he stood up, leaving the room and going up to his dorm before you could even fully process what he just said.

You guess your impulsive confession led to one from him as well.

You really tried not to be stuck on Fred’s words for the rest of the night, or next few days. He called you pretty. It made your chest tighten.

Things moved on normally, Fred and you were good enough at acting as if nothing happened between you to the point where it felt like nothing actually did. Though deep down, you both still could remember what your lips fell like pressed together.

Katie and Angelina, nor George or Lee ever caught on to those occasional glances. Actually, you wondered if George was ever told about it. George and him are twin brothers, of course they tell each other everything. He definitely knew.

You tried not to dwell on the thought of that as well.

You and Fred carried on with the act, talking to each other as if that secret yearning didn’t return in both your chests.

Later on, you started to believe Fred was moving on, or had moved on. His eyes didn’t linger on your face for too long anymore, he didn’t shoot those glances with a certain emotion behind them, maybe he’d just gotten good at pretending. Maybe he had moved on. Deep down, you really hoped it wasn’t the second possibility, you’d never admit that though.

Maybe Katie and Angelina not catching on wasn’t the best thing. 

Sure, they were already suspicious of your true feelings about Fred. But as of now, they had no idea that anything more than sharing a bed had happened.

Angelina and Katie walked together into your shared dorm, coming back from Quidditch practice tired, Angelina falling onto her bed as Katie was next to her, leaning on the nightstand. They greeted you and you looked up from your hunched over position above your textbook, seeing the lingering smirks on both girls' faces.

“Hey, what’s with the look?” You smiled and let out a confused laugh.

“I heard that Alicia has her eyes on someone.” Angelina sang, crossing her legs lazily over each other on her bed.

“Spinnet? No way, who?” You sat up straight, excited to hear gossip.

“Freddie Weasley.” Angelina grimaced, as if it pained her to say it. There was a strange twist in your stomach. 

This was probably another quip to try and get them to prove you had feelings for Fred, they wanted to see you jealous and then use it as evidence of you liking him.

“He’s definitely been eyeing her back too.” Katie whispered, as if she’d get caught saying it at a normal volume. There was a strange twist in your stomach. You made an unbothered face, playing it off.

“Fred can have his eyes for anyone he wants, it’s none of my concern.” You shrugged. Trying to ignore the feeling of a pit growing into your stomach.

“They were all over each other today. They’ve definitely got something going on.” Angelina let out a giggle, but then it faded when she caught your excited smile falter and go away, you swallowed and looked back down at your book.

“Leanne swore she saw them kissing in the-“ Katie was cut off by Angelina’s elbow hitting her in her side, Angelina widened her eyes at her for a second. Katie got the memo.

“That’s just a rumor though. She was probably just being dramatic, you know how she can be.” Katie let out a fake cough.

“It’s fine, really, I don’t care. Plus I don’t want the image of Fred shoving his tongue down a girl's throat. Or really the image of anybody doing that.” You scoffed, closing your textbook.

You hated that you cared. That you wanted to know if there was really something going on between Fred and Alicia.

You despised that twisting feeling in your stomach when you saw them talking in the hall. The way it twisted more when Alicia grazed her hand down his arm.

You were excited when Lee invited you to a party at his house that following weekend. Knowing that Katie and Angelina were going with made you comfortable.

It felt as if all that excitement was all wiped away when you heard Alicia ask Fred:

“You’re going to Lee's party this Saturday, right?”

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @livingdeadgirlflorette @getthefuckoutofhereidiot @merikaberika @beomibeom @sleepygirlsworld @rookiegoose @suna-rintired @imamexican @whotfskai @miaandthediamonds @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx @fweasleys @m1chellerak

@hornyforyourb1tch

[steveseddie]

my heart burns there too

steddie | rating: t | wc: 4,7k | cw: none | tags: misunderstandings, light angst, pining, eddie jumps into some crazy ass conclusions, but it’s all good in the end

for @steddie-spooktober day eight, prompt “bonfire”

read on ao3 here

The bonfire is Robin’s idea, but Steve is who extends the invitation to Eddie when he stops by Family Video one day.

“A bonfire? Won’t that get us arrested?” He asks, leaning on the counter and watching Steve operate the tape rewinder with a bored expression.

“Nah, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “Hopper is Chief again and you’d be surprised by how easy it is to get him off your back if you play the ‘I fought monsters with your kid’ card.”

Eddie lets out a snort. “Wish I had that all those times that he picked me up for dealing.”

Steve sniggers. The tape rewinder makes a loud clicking sound, signaling that it’s finished, and Steve removes the tape, putting it back in its case before rewinding a new one. “So are you in?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, never one to turn down the opportunity to spend time with Steve— and Robin, of course. “But I’m not holding hands with you and Buckley and singing Kumbaya.”

For some reason, that makes Steve blush. He ducks his head, fiddling with another tape. “Um, well, it’s not just us, Nance is coming too.”

Ah, Eddie thinks, now the blush makes more sense.

He tries not to let his disappointment show. He doesn’t want Steve to think he has anything against Nancy because the truth is that he doesn’t. Nancy is great— she’s nice, she’s smart and she’s fucking badass. He wasn’t lying during that Spring Break from Hell when he told Steve that he should win her back, Wheeler is a fucking catch. Even Eddie, gay as fuck as he is, can see it.

Only now things are different. Not the fact that Nancy is a catch, she still is. But now she’s single, and she and Steve have been inseparable since she ended things with Jonathan.

Oh, and now Eddie is stupidly and hopelessly in love with Steve so he’s just waiting for the day when they finally announce that they’re back together and break Eddie’s heart.

He doesn’t know what they’re waiting for and he kinda wishes they would just get the fuck on with it. At least then, Eddie could stomp down any hope of anything ever happening between him and Steve. Right now they’re in a weird limbo where some days Eddie will catch Steve’s gaze flickering down to his lips or he’ll feel his touches linger a little too long and he’ll think maybe, but then he’ll walk into Steve’s kitchen to find Nancy and Steve whispering with their heads pushed together only for them to break apart and go quiet the moment they see him or he’ll try to make plans with Steve only to watch him fumble for an excuse before admitting he’s hanging out with Nancy. And every time his heart shatters a little, so better to just rip the bandage off once and for all.

“Eds?”

Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his thoughts and he realizes that he fell uncharacteristically quiet at the mention of Nancy. So much for acting like he doesn’t have a problem with her. Goddammit.

He plasters a smile on his face. “Wheeler is coming, you say? Great! The more the merrier!” He says, hoping it sounds convincing enough. “Should I bring something? Lighter fluid? Marshmallows? Child sacrifices?”

A woman standing to the side of the counter, letting the kid in her arms pick something from the candy display gasps audibly, scowling at Eddie and switching the toddler from one arm to the other, further away from him.

Whoops.

Steve gives him a look— why are you like this? it says. Eddie shrugs.

“Just bring drinks, okay?” Steve whispers to him after giving the woman a placating smile.

“Sure thing, big boy,” he says, delighting in the baffled little pout Steve makes every time Eddie calls him that. “Anything else?”

“Well,” Steve purses his lips, thinking. “I’ve got everything we need for the bonfire, Rob is bringing the music and Nance is in charge of the snacks.”

“Tell her I want s’mores.”

“She’s way ahead of you, man,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie’s eye twitches— of course perfect Nancy already picked the perfect snacks.

Nancy isn’t your problem, Eddie reminds himself, the problem is that Steve’s straight and still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, and frankly, out of your league.

He sighs. “Sweet, I’ll see you and the ladies on Friday then.”

“Oh, you’re leaving already?” Steve asks, sounding almost disappointed. Other than the woman and her child, the store is empty and has been for the entire time Eddie has been here. He’s probably dreading being alone for the rest of a slow shift.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, “I promised Red I’d drive her to the skatepark and if I’m late to pick her up, she’ll beat me to death with her skateboard and I’m too pretty to die.”

Steve smiles at him, that little lopsided smile that Eddie likes to believe is reserved just for him. He’s never seen him smile like that at anyone else— fond, amused, endeared. “Yeah, you are,” he says and winks.

Eddie’s breath hitches, his traitorous heart thinks maybe but his brain stomps down that hope real quick.

“Careful, Stevie, or Wheeler might get jealous,” he jokes but it doesn’t come out as lighthearted as he wishes.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but before he can say anything else, a group of kids comes barrelling through the door followed by an exhausted parent and they all walk up to the counter to ask Steve for recommendations for their movie night.

Eddie quietly slips away from the counter, giving Steve a lazy salute and getting a finger wiggle in return before the kids loudly demand his attention.

Six little nuggets, Eddie thinks, recalling a conversation between Steve and Nancy that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

His heart breaks a little more. He wonders how long it’ll take before it shatters completely.

***

To no one’s surprise, Eddie is the last one to arrive at the bonfire.

He parks his van between Steve’s car and Nancy’s station wagon at the spot Steve circled on a map when he gave Eddie directions. After swinging his guitar over his shoulder and grabbing the cooler filled with sodas and beer, he follows the smell of smoke and the sound of Buckley’s boombox through the woods.

He spots Robin first— feeding dry leaves and twigs into the fire and singing along to some pop song Eddie doesn’t recognize.

Eddie whistles appreciatively. “That’s one impressive fire, Birdie!”

Robin jumps, dropping the leaves and the twigs to the ground with a startled yelp. When she spots Eddie, her face breaks into a big grin and she clumsily steps over the logs arranged around the bonfire to hug him as best as she can with the cooler between them and Eddie’s guitar on his back.

“You made it! And you brought your guitar!” She says, bouncing on her feet with excitement.

“Yup, there’s no way I’m letting you make my ears bleed by listening to pop tunes all night,” he teases and gets a light punch on his arm for it.

“I didn’t know you could play metal with just an acoustic.”

“Metal isn’t all I know, Birdie, I have hidden depths,” he says, thinking about all the country and folk songs he knows thanks to Wayne.

Robin cackles. “Sure you do, Munson.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and then glances around, looking for Steve and Nancy but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“They’re picking up more wood,” Robin says when she notices him looking. “They should be back soon.”

Unless they got distracted making out, Eddie thinks, biting down on his tongue to not let the bitter comment slip past his lips.

As if on cue, they hear leaves rustling and then Nancy and Steve step out from the treeline. Steve is carrying the wood and Eddie gets to enjoy the way his biceps bulge from the weight before his eyes zero in on Nancy’s tiny hand wrapped around Steve’s arm. They’re in deep conversation, Steve listening intently and nodding as Nancy speaks to him with a soft voice, her hand never leaving his arm. They don’t even notice he’s there until Robin points it out.

“Hey! Look who’s here!” She says, oblivious to the downward turn of Eddie’s mouth.

Both Nancy and Steve’s heads snap in their direction and Eddie tries really hard to school his features into something casual and less green-eyed monster.

Nancy’s hand falls from Steve’s arm and the pile of wood he’s carrying falters a little before Steve hoists it up again, biceps flexing. Eddie tears his eyes from his arms to look at his face, expecting him to look like he just spent the last ten minutes making out with Nancy or like he just got caught red-handed but instead, he’s grinning widely at Eddie, eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

“Hey, Eds!” He says, attempting to wave with his elbow but giving up when a piece of wood falls to the ground, his cheeks pinking up in embarrassment. “Shit, Nance, can you—” he starts but Nancy is already picking it up and placing it back on the top of the pile. “Thanks.”

Eddie carelessly drops the cooler in front of him. “Hey, Stevie. Hey, Wheeler,” he says, sweeping down in an over dramatic bow. “I come bearing drinks.”

Robin whoops, throwing the lid open and grabbing a wine cooler while Nancy picks up a beer.

Steve forgoes the cooler, dropping the wood on the ground next to it and walking around it to pull Eddie into a hug.

It takes him a little by surprise but he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against Steve's neck, feeling him shudder, probably from the cold. He's only wearing a polo shirt, and despite the fire burning next to them, Eddie feels a slight chill in the air even though his jacket. “You smell like smoke.”

Steve snorts. “Oh, so I smell like you?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to shudder as his brain provides a handful of other reasons why Steve would smell like him. He tells his lizard brain to cool it and pulls back. “Yup, exactly! And you should know the smell is a bitch to get rid of.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Steve says, shrugging. With a wink, he adds, “I like it.”

Which to Eddie sounds flirty and a lot like ‘I like the way you smell’ and it takes his brain a moment to recover from that, but he does it just in time to catch the beer Steve tosses at him, even if he fumbles with it at first.

“You did a good job with the fire, Stevie,” he says, expertly popping the bottle open and gulping half of it down.

He catches Steve watching his throat as he drinks and the way he gives a little shake of his head before glancing at the bonfire. “You only say that because you didn’t see my first two failed attempts,” he chuckles. “It was actually Nancy who got it going.”

Eddie’s grip on the bottle tightens. “What would we do without her?” He says, voice a little clipped.

Steve’s smile falters but luckily doesn’t ask what Eddie’s problem is. “So are you gonna play for us?” He asks instead, gesturing at the guitar still hanging from his shoulder.

“Not just yet, Stevie. I was promised snacks, I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” Robin jumps in.

“Oh, the snacks are in the car,” Nancy says, digging through her bag for the keys. “I’ll go get them!”

“It’s okay, Nance. Eddie and I can go,” Steve volunteers, and with a secretive smile, Nancy tosses him the keys.

“Don’t forget you gotta—”

“Jiggle the key to open the trunk, I know,” Steve finishes with a smirk.

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s pouting until Steve points it out. Luckily he thinks it’s because he volunteered Eddie to get the snack too, and not because Steve is finishing Nancy’s sentences. “Stop pouting, Eds, it’s not that far.”

“You only say that because you didn’t have to carry a cooler and a guitar all the way here,” Eddie responds snarkily before setting his beer down on the ground and falling into step next to Steve.

“I’ll do the heavy lifting this time,” Steve smirks.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s arm, feeling the taut muscle underneath. “Seems like you already have, big boy,” he says, his voice coming out lower and flirty now that they left Nancy at the bonfire.

With an undignified yelp, Steve trips over something and Eddie, who hadn’t let go of his arm yet, tightens his grip to keep him on his feet.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Eddie says and Steve curses under his breath. Maybe his foot got caught on a root and he hurt himself— it’s hard to see the ground when all they have is the moonlight filtering through the trees. “You okay?”

“Yup, yeah, thanks, man,” Steve stammers out, giving Eddie a tight smile. “Come on, we don’t want to keep Robin waiting, you know how she gets when she’s hungry.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh yeah, I know. I still have her bite mark on my fucking arm,” he says, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to point out the fading bruise from their last movie night when the pizza was taking too long to get there and Buckley decided to chump on his arm. “As if getting chumped on by demobats wasn’t enough!”

Steve sniggers. His eyes sparkle with something when he says, “Don’t think I can blame her for wanting a piece of you, though,” matching Eddie’s tone from before— low and flirty.

Eddie’s eyes widen, he stops looking at where he’s going to gawk at Steve and trips on a rock. With no one grabbing his arm, he goes down, landing on his hands and knees.

“Motherfucker,” he curses, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Christ, Eddie,” Steve mutters, hurrying to help him up.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he laments with a chuckle, brushing off dirt from his pants and his hands.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly and then Eddie feels hands cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up until he meets Steve’s eyes. “You didn’t hit your head?”

Eddie shakes his head no, but the truth is he isn’t exactly sure— maybe he hit his head and now he’s hallucinating how close their faces are or how Steve’s eyes linger a little too long on his lips as they dart over his face, looking for any sign that Eddie hurt himself.

“Um,” Eddie clears his throat which feels a little dry. “We should get those snacks before the girls send a search party after us.”

Steve nods, and after letting his right thumb brush over Eddie’s cheekbone once, he drops his hands from his face.

Heat builds up on Eddie’s face, making his cheeks burn hotter than the bonfire.

They stay like that all the way to Nancy’s car.

***

Back at the bonfire, Robin snatches the marshmallows from Eddie’s arms. “What took you guys so long?” She asks, ripping the bag open and unceremoniously shoving one into her mouth.

“Gee, and they call me feral!” Eddie says and is rewarded by Robin hitting him with the bag of giant marshmallows. It doesn’t hurt, they’re marshmallows, but Eddie is nothing if not dramatic.

He grabs his arm where she hit him and falls to his knees, as if wounded. “This is what I get for braving the woods at night for your snacks, Lady Buckley? The nerve, the ungratefulness! I shall never recover!”

Robin lets out a giggly snort. She offers him a marshmallow on a stick for him to roast as an apology which he graciously accepts.

When he looks up, he finds Steve looking down at him with an amused expression. “Why do you insist on dropping to your knees in the middle of the woods? Your jeans are ripped enough as it is!”

Eddie’s mouth acts faster than his brain, leering at Steve as he says, “You don't like how I look on my knees, sweetheart?”

Steve’s eyes widen almost comically, his cheeks flaring an alarming shade of red. Eddie doesn’t get to enjoy the sight of a flustered Steve for long, his head snapping to his right when there’s a loud gasp that doesn’t come from either of them.

His eyes meet Nancy’s wide ones as they dart from Steve to Eddie to Eddie’s knees and back at Steve, her lips mouthing a silent, “Oh.”

Oh? Eddie thinks, ‘Oh’ what?

She can’t possibly mean— even if Steve said this isn’t the first time Eddie drops to his knees tonight, she can’t possibly think— oh Christ, does she?

Eddie is about to blurt out something along the lines of, ‘I didn’t blow your secret boyfriend in the woods, I just wish I did’ when Nancy’s eyes meet Steve’s and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Steve firmly shake his head. That seems to be enough for Nancy, whose shocked expression melts away as she stands up and joins Robin where she’s roasting her marshmallow.

Eddie sits back on his heels with a sigh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, knocking his Nike against Eddie’s leg.

No, your girlfriend just thought you cheated on her with me! Eddie wants to say. “Yup, come on, let’s make some s’mores,” he says instead, pushing himself off the ground to go sit on one of the logs arranged around the bonfire.

He expects Steve to sit with Nancy, to appease her further but he sits next to Eddie, leaving no space between them despite there being plenty of room.

Eddie doesn’t mind, he loves having Steve close. Still, he can’t help but send surreptitious glances at Nancy every once in a while, averting his eyes when he finds her staring right back a few times.

He stops glancing at her when he gets distracted by Steve eating his s’mores— more specifically by him messily licking his lips and fingers clean. Not even his own marshmallow catching on fire can make Eddie tear his gaze away from Steve’s tongue lapping at the melted chocolate on his fingers, not until Robin screeches and points at the blackened little thing at the end of Eddie’s stick.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie curses as he pulls it out of the fire to blow on it, extinguishing the flames. Next to him, Steve laughs, lips stretched in a smug smile that it’s a little too knowing.

Holding the stick between his legs, Eddie squeezes the marshmallow between the crackers and the chocolate before taking a bite. There’s a slight burnt taste to it but it’s still good, so Eddie eats it enthusiastically.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he does and he considers putting on a show like he did— licking and sucking on his fingers in an obscene way. But before he can, Steve is reaching out and wiping chocolate from Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb.

Eddie’s breath hitches, his eyes widening.

Red blooms on Steve’s cheeks and he drops his hand to his lap. “Uh, you had chocolate on your lip.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” Eddie mumbles. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna— I need a beer.”

He scrambles to his feet, stepping over Steve to get to the cooler. He nearly drops the beer when he looks up and finds Nancy staring at him, lips pursed and a tiny frown between her eyebrows.

Did she see Steve do that? Is she mad? Eddie wonders, averting his eyes and staring at the flames instead.

And more importantly— what the fuck is Steve playing at?

***

Eddie finally gets his answer about an hour later.

The four of them are sitting around the bonfire, drinking beer and talking about everything and nothing. Robin and Nancy are sharing a blanket they grabbed from Steve’s trunk because, despite the fire that’s still burning, the air has only turned colder as the night goes on. Eddie is sharing a log with Steve— or he was until Steve stood up to put on his Members Only jacket and sat down on the ground instead, leaning against Eddie’s leg.

Eddie didn’t question it at first, assuming that Steve wanted to be closer to the fire while still leeching some of Eddie’s body heat, which is fine by him. But then Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie’s calf and dropped his head on Eddie’s thigh, essentially cuddling Eddie’s leg.

That’s also fine with Eddie. At least until Steve’s hand starts rubbing up and down Eddie’s leg, his fingers occasionally coming in contact with bare skin where his jeans ride up and his sock rides down while, at the same time, his hair is tickling Eddie’s skin through the rips in his jeans.

He reaches for Steve’s hair, intending to move it away from his leg but the moment his fingers touch the strands, Steve shudders and melts under the touch. Eddie doesn’t have the heart to push Steve’s head away so he ends up playing with his hair instead, brushing his fingers through the strands.

It’s maddening. All of it— Steve’s head on his lap, his fingers in Steve’s hair and the small noises it drags from him, Steve’s fingers playing with his ankle bracelet and his wiry leg hairs.

Suddenly, Eddie feels hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the flames bathing them in red and yellow and orange. And when Steve tilts his head and kisses Eddie’s knee it feels as if he might burst into flames.

But when he looks up and finds Nancy staring at them with what can only be described as a scowl —a jealous scowl— it’s like being hit in the face with cold water. Cold water and a realization. The realization that Steve might be doing all this to make Nancy jealous.

Eddie doesn’t know why exactly. Maybe he’s ready to go public with their relationship and he’s trying to bait Nancy into accepting. Maybe he’s getting back at her for whatever happened with Jonathan when she was still dating Steve. Maybe it’s just a weird fucking kind of foreplay.

It doesn’t matter what it is, Eddie knows he doesn’t want to be a part of it.

So he pulls his hand away from Steve’s hair, and as carefully as he can, jerks his leg free.

Steve turns his head, looking up at Eddie with big confused eyes. “You okay, Eds?”

“I, um. I need to smoke,” he lies, scrambling to his feet.

Steve looks even more confused at that. “You can do it here, you know? We literally all smell like smoke already,” he says with a chuckle.

But Eddie shakes his head. “No, I- I gotta go, sorry, Steve,” he stammers out, tripping on the log as he hastily heads back to the van.

Without stopping, he digs a cigarette and hiz Zippo from his jacket, lighting it up as he walks. He hears Steve call out for him once, twice then nothing. Eddie pretends it doesn’t hurt that he didn’t come after him but he’s got Nancy, so why would he?

“Goddammit,” Eddie curses, running his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

It falls on the ground when Eddie lets out a strangled scream as Steve materializes out of fucking nowhere.

He hurriedly snuffs it out as he tries to get his heartbeat under control. “The bonfire wasn’t enough, Harrington?” He scoffs. “Are you trying to get me to start a real fire sneaking up on me like that?”

“I didn’t sneak up. I was calling for you.”

Oh. Eddie might’ve missed that from the blood rushing through his ears. “What do you want?”

“Why are you leaving? What happened?” When Eddie doesn’t answer, Steve’s face scrunches up. “Did I do something?”

Whatever Eddie’s face does at that is answer enough and Steve’s shoulders slump. “Shit, was that too much— I’m sorry, Eddie, I thought—”

“That you could use me to make your girlfriend jealous? Yeah, well, a heads up would’ve been nice,” Eddie says bitterly.

Steve jerks his head back as if he’s been slapped. “What?”

“I’m just saying that I probably would’ve said yes if you asked. At least then I wouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, y’know?”

“I- I don’t know, Eddie, what are you talking about?”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie asks, “You were trying to make Nancy jealous by being all over me, yeah?”

Steve splutters. “Uh, no?”

Eddie frowns. “So what? You guys are in an open relationship or something?”

“We’re not in any kind of relationship!” Steve says, his voice loud and hysterical at this point.

“Please!” Eddie scoffs. “You two have been inseparable since she and Jonathan broke up! It’s obvious you’re back together!”

“We’re not, Eddie, we’re friends! Yeah, we’re closer than we were before but that’s just because—” he hesitates.

“Because?” Eddie prompts with an impatient hand gesture.

Steve sighs, glances over his shoulder to where Nancy and Robin are and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, what the hell!” He says to himself. “We got closer because we both realized we have a crush on our best friend.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “Buckley?”

“No,” Steve says, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, Nancy does. She has a crush on Robin and I hope she’s telling her right now and that she won’t care that I just outed her to you—” His eyes meet Eddie’s and they’re open, vulnerable, hopeful. “But no, I don’t have a crush on Robin, Eddie, I have a crush on you.”

Eddie blinks. Then he blinks again. Then he pinches his arm hard but the world doesn’t fade away, he doesn’t wake up, he’s not dreaming. This is happening.

“Me?” He asks in a small voice. Steve nods. “So all of that— you weren’t making Nancy jealous you were—”

“Making a move on you, yeah,” Steve admits shyly, hanging a hand from his neck.

“Oh,” he says as he recontextualizes everything that has happened in the last couple of hours— hell, in the last couple of weeks. “Oh,” he repeats. “For what it’s worth it would’ve worked. If I wasn’t, you know, an idiot.”

Steve chuckles softly. “Well, good to know.”

Eddie bites his lip and goes on, a little nervous. “Yeah, and since I’m not an idiot anymore, if you wanted to like, make another move right now, I wouldn’t storm off or yell at you or—”

Eddie’s words are cut off by Steve making his move, which consists of him cupping Eddie’s cheeks, guiding his face to his and catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss.

Eddie stands frozen only for a split second before he loops his arms over Steve’s shoulders and kisses him back, feeling a fire bigger than any bonfire they could’ve built blaze wildly in his chest.

Steve dragging his teeth across his bottom lip only fuels the fire and causes Eddie to make a punched-out groaning sound that Steve chases with his tongue, deepening the kiss in a way that makes Eddie’s knees so weak they threaten to give out.

Before they do, causing Eddie to fall on them for a third time that night, Steve slows the kiss down to a full stop, ending it by nuzzling their noses together.

“You still are by the way,” Steve says.

“Huh?”

“An idiot,” he says, kissing the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I can’t believe you thought I’d use you to make Nancy jealous!”

Eddie groans, dropping his head on Steve’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

Steve wraps his arms around him, kissing his hair. “Nope.”

“Yeah, I deserve that,” he says, nuzzling Steve’s neck. He jerks his head back as he thinks of something— “Wait, if Nancy wasn’t jealous then what’s with all the scowls and the glares?”

“Oh, she was jealous. Of me. For making a move on you while all she did was share a blanket with Robin,” Steve says with a laugh.

And Eddie can’t help but giggle at how ridiculous this all is. “Should we make her jealous a little more?” He asks, grabbing Steve’s hand with a wicked grin.

Steve nods, intertwining their fingers together and letting Eddie drag him back towards the bonfire.

***

They find Robin and Nancy making out next to what’s left of the fire, wrapped up in the blanket and each other. Quietly, they make their way back to the cars, climbing into the back of Eddie’s van, kissing until the sun comes up.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem! Reader) Monster AU pt 10

(Ruggie is a Gnoll and can switch between bipedal and quadruped locomotion as easily as most people breathe. Any scent of food or the sound of someone eating something draws in Ruggie to investigate to see if he can have a snack or get some scraps from whoever is eating. Leona is usually the one that feeds Ruggie the most, so he has earned Ruggie's loyalty. The fastest way to befriend a Gnoll is through food.)

Warnings; Yandere, Yandere behavior, multiple Yanderes at different Yandere stages/levels, Romantic and Platonic Yanderes, smothering behavior, blood, mention of menstrual cycle, blood consumption, Crow, Selkie, Sphinx, Shadow-man, Minotaur, Vampire bat, Dragon, Grim, Shinigami, Harpy,

Note; Ortho is STRICTLY platonic.

~~~~~~~~

It was dark and well before those first few rays of light were to peak over the horizon. It had been thirteen days since the Human had arrived in Twisted Wonderland and already a representative had arrived from at least seven different Kingdoms and Queendoms as well as a few scientists. Crowley had managed to convince them to wait a few more days, but the many Kingdoms and Queendoms were eager to confirm there was a Human and confirm they were being treated well.

The several staff members were sitting in the Crow's office as they all contemplated what to do with the arrival of the representatives. None of them wanted the Human taken away from them or from Night Raven College grounds. In the next few days they would have to ensure nothing harmed or unsettled their Human before the representatives arrived. This would prove difficult given the already obvious interest almost all of their students had taken in the abnormal Human.

That wasn't even the worst of their troubles, however.

"And you are certain our (Y/n) has imprinted on Grim?"

"Absolutely certain. She was stressed after waking from the injury and overblot, but she was more distressed over being unable to find Grim and only calmed once he was reunited with her. According to the other students she even threw young Riddle after he targeted Grim in his Feral state which is what lead to her injury."

"Then he can't be removed from her side any longer. My memories of Humans are old, but I do know Humans- especially the young bearers- take guarding those they imprint upon rather seriously. There will be questions to the potential threat Grim poses to (Y/n), he is a forest creature of unknown type and origin. We can't guarantee he is safe to keep around her, but we can't remove him either without a catastrophic response from (Y/n)."

Divus frowned at the memory, displeased to have not even a full week pass before the Human had been injured by a Feral student. Not to mention said Feral student was supposed to be the safest bet for a guard for the Human. Still, despite what had happened it had proved that the collar worked to some degree and that many of the student body was willing to protect the soft Human.

"In any case," Trein began, lifting his tea cup to take a long sip before setting back on the table, "there are several issues with her dorm that need to be addressed. Not to mention the fact that she has a rather limited wardrobe given her very recent arrival. The representatives will be looking at all of these things, from safety, to general happiness, to even her diet. If we are to keep her here, we will need to address everything before the representatives arrive."

Of course, most things were still being figured out as it had only been a little under two weeks since that fateful day. There was very little time now and they would have to pull several Housewardens from classes to aid in resolving these issues.

"I can handle the clothing issue, I will be pulling those two Pomefiore pups to aid in my pursuits. I have little doubt Vil and Rook will prove to be useful in my endeavors."

"Good idea. While you work on that, I can begin discussions with Mr. Ashengrotto as to the state of the building. Dubious as his dealings may be, he is a valuable resource."

Most issues they faced could be solved within the timeframe they had been presented with especially given the fondness their students had for the soft Human. The only issue that was most prevalent in that moment was the Dragon-sized problem of Malleus Draconia. He was a fantastic guard, but who knew how he would react to the idea of the representatives potentially trying to take this Human away from him and NRC.

"The question that remains is this; do we tell Birar Valley's prince and heir apparent to the throne Malleus, or do we try to keep him away from the representatives?"

Sam's question did bring up a very valid issue as they all knew Malleus had claimed their dear Human as a member of his Hoard. Dragons were notorious for having an ill temper towards anyone or anything that may threaten that Hoard. Beyond even the representatives, there were the many scientists from across the vast lands of Twisted Wonderland that wanted to get a good look at the Human and study her. Malleus would never allow such an intrusive and inquisitive bunch to poke or prod at his Human for long.

"Perhaps his handler can address that for us? Mr. Vanrouge has been quite adept at keeping Mr. Draconia peaceful despite a Dragon's natural temper and pride."

"Brilliant idea, Mozus. Ashton, you will be in charge of telling Mr. Vanrouge our plans and keeping him up to date with the impending arrival of our visitors. Sam, I trust you can handle the food situation? Shadowfolk are the next most culinary adept species after Humans."

Sam nodded, already looking at his own stock and comparing it with his most recent visit to (Y/n)'s kitchens. He would ensure to get a wider variety of spices and foods not typical to the broader student pallet, perhaps this Human could even surprise him in the kitchen. Despite the woefully short timeframe they had thanks to Cater's lack of discretion, it seemed like there was at least a chance at keeping the Human.

"Besides, if all else fails and they try to take her, we just set Mr. Draconia loose on them and they will either concede or fall."

~•§•~

You awoke to an unusual sensation on your neck. It was still dark outside but the faintest of light blue began to bleed into the sky as you slowly regained consciousness. The feeling on your neck was an odd one as it seemed like a mouth was nuzzled against your skin and slowly dragging a pair of soft lips over your pulse. Something about the almost unconscious movements confused you as you were usually the one cuddling, not the other way around.

The pair of black and pink wings told you who it was laying behind you and you vaguely wondered why Lilia had been drawn to your side as you slept. He had been the least problematic of your guards during your several days long stint with your own hormonal cycle, so you weren't particularly annoyed that he was holding you. Sure, the lack of personal space was wearing on you but supposedly your nestmates were going back to Diasomnia for the week.

In some ways you wondered if you would miss the group you had grown accustomed to and vaguely worried about getting to sleep without them. As odd as it was, there was a great comfort to having the four monsters sleeping by your side. You certainly never complained about the absolute warmth and comfort that was cuddling with Silver. Maybe you could convince one or two of the four to sleep in the nest whenever you felt lonely.

The soft growl of a stomach interrupted your thoughts as the sound had come from Lilia and you vaguely considered getting up to cook. It was far too early for your tastes, but something about the Bat's hunger made you feel on edge. Perhaps it was the way he unconsciously mouthed at your neck that gave you such an unsettled feeling. Perhaps it was the fact he had you wrapped up securely in his wings.

"Lilia," you whispered, trying to rouse the Bat without rousing your other nestmates, "you're getting a bit too nibbly there."

The Bat made an almost whining sound at your attempts to wake him, his wings tightening their hold around you and a soft mumble coming from him. You could feel his lips move against your neck more than you could hear him, unable to understand what he mumbled.

"Lilia-"

A startled yelp left your lips now as those pointed teeth of his dragged a bit too roughly against your neck for comfort. The sound rousing all of your nestmates rather quickly. You could see the way the eyes of the four men and one cat-beast snapped open and seemed to glow in the low light, reminding you of crocodiles, cats, and other predatory animals. It was surreal to see how quickly they woke as Lilia actually moved in a protective stance over you.

There was a moment of quiet as they took stock of their surroundings and their alert stress turned to confusion as they looked back at you. From their understanding, there was nothing they could find that could have caused you to cry out. You, however, were quick to touch your neck where the Bat had been mouthing and found he had not broken skin but the area he nipped was raised and irritated.

"(Y/n)," Lilia started, looking down at you as his wings lowered, "what's wrong?"

"You just bit me."

"Did I?"

Lilia seemed genuinely surprised at your words as he quickly examined where you had been touching your neck. Sure enough, there were two scrapes along where his fangs would have sat had he been mouthing the area. The hunger within him told him what information was missing as he sighed and moved from on top of you. He would have rathered you learn of his dietary needs in a less stress-inducing manner, but his own hunger had unconsciously acted for him.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). It seems my instincts were getting the better of me."

"Instincts?"

"I'm what we call a Vampire Bat Fae, unlike many other Bat folk, my kind has a certain... Dietary need that we have to satisfy once in a while."

"Satisfy how?"

"I need blood. Specifically I need to drink blood. Usually Silver helps me with this 'craving' but even Malleus or Sebek have offered in the past."

"Like... From a cup?"

"No, the blood coagulates and clots too quickly in a cup. I have to drink from the source or the blood needs an anticoagulant- which rarely tastes good- for me to consume it from a cup."

You stared at the Bat Fae as he explained his actions to you, almost seeming upset with himself. They made enough sense that you vaguely wondered why he would keep such a thing secret from you. Vampire Bats existed in your world and though you weren't overly familiar with the species you knew even the little Bats of your world needed to consume blood.

"Why were you only at my neck then?"

"Well, as morbid as it may sound, your blood has a very appealing scent to me. I assume I unconsciously gravitated towards you due to your recent- and pardon me for saying this- bleeding cycle. The lingering scent of blood on you likely drew me in."

Some part of you wanted to snap at the Bat for trying to bite you, even if it was unconscious. Another part of you wanted to allow the hungry Bat to take a quick drink despite your reservations as a way to somewhat repay him. Lilia had been your original chosen guard and he had more than earned his keep given how many students and poachers alike he had driven off. Perhaps the Bat did deserve something for his efforts in protecting you.

"How much do you need?"

"A mouthful or two. Luckily I don't need to feed on blood often or in large amounts, just every now and again to make up the vitamins I can't gain from my food."

"... Do you want to drink my blood?"

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable. You are proving to be quite precious to me and an integral part of this Hoard, I would hate to drive you off for something as simple as blood."

You considered his words for a moment, staring at him as your hand rest over your neck where he had scraped his fangs against you. Sure, you just lost a good level of blood already thanks to your cycle, but maybe you could let the Bat take just a bit more. Out of those who seemed to gravitate towards you, Lilia had been the most reliable and the one to explain quite a bit to you when you didn't understand the ways of these monster men.

"... Will it make you happy?"

"What?"

"To feed on my blood. Would that make you happy and help you be content with your life?"

Lilia stared for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were asking him. He did worry about saying the wrong thing if you were testing him for aggressive thoughts or behavior, but part of his brain insisted that he be honest with you.

"Yes. It will make me happy, but I still don't need to feed specifically from you if you are uncomfortable with that. Would I like to? Absolutely. I would consider myself somewhat of a gourmand when it comes to the taste of blood and your blood is very interesting to me. Would I take if it wasn't offered? I would try not to, but we both see how my instincts control the way I unconsciously act."

"Will it hurt?"

"Not horribly. I won't lie to you and say it is painless, but it is not as painful as an axe in the arm."

You almost snorted at this response, still feeling the dullest of throbs from your recently healed injury. Really, you had been so stressed and upset over potentially losing Grim that you barely felt any pain until it was already over and even then you were given pain management. At least Lilia didn't seem keen to lie to you about it.

"... Go ahead."

"(Y/n)?"

"Take a drink, Lilia. Either we all get up now so you can find blood somewhere else, or I give you blood now and I can get a few more hours of sleep."

"I want to make sure you are serious, (y/n). I don't want this to be a spur of the moment decision."

"I know. I am serious. Take a drink, Lilia. You're probably the one I would consider to be one of my first friends and you haven't complained even once about my attitude. That matters to me and is important to me. You are important to me."

Lilia gave a genuine smile at this, hugging you quickly. He had hoped you would be willing to share some of your sweet smelling blood with him and your approval now could mean you would let him take more drinks in the future. Naturally, Lilia didn't plan to force you to share with him, but he certainly wasn't upset you were willing to let him take a drink.

"Let me know if it hurts too much and I will stop. Okay?"

You nodded, staying still as the Bat moved behind you in a mimicry of how you had awoken. His wings wrapping around you as if he intended to cuddle you as he rest his mouth over your pulse. It was unnerving in some way to think about letting the Bat latch on to your neck and consume your blood, but you were being honest when you said his wellbeing mattered to you. Lilia was a good guard and a good friend despite everything that had happened.

"Hey, Bat-wings, don't hurt my Hooman, okay? I'm not gonna lose her, no matter what, so you better be careful."

"I know. I will try to not harm her."

Grim nodded, still seeming stressed with the situation as Lilia hummed. The Bat had easily found the ideal spot to bite, but he seemed to be taking his time either to try and soothe you or to make sure he has control of himself before actually biting. It would be a lie to say you didn't tense up somewhat when those fangs teased your skin.

"Child of man, if you need a distraction or to be soothed, I am content to speak with you."

"I- ah!"

You yelped again as those fangs sunk in and the bat began to nurse at the wound gently. He was clearly trying to be as gentle as possible and not move too much or drink too quickly as it would move his fangs in your skin. It was not pleasant by any means but you trusted Lilia to not take more than he needed.

"I think- ngh- I think you need a new name, Malleus."

"Is my current one insufficient?"

"No, I just think- ah- you could use a nickname. Something short and- and not so lofty."

"If that will appease you. I am eager to know what name you believe fits me most."

"Like M-Mal or Tsuno, or-!"

You fought to keep your hands from reaching up to where Lilia nuzzled against your neck, your own instincts upset with you at allowing such a creature to bite you. It was vaguely disturbing to feel the way he pulled back, his fangs sliding out of your neck with a little too much ease. His warm tongue made quick work of licking over the wound to catch whatever else spilled out as he wasn't keen to waste the delicious flavor.

"I am somewhat partial to Tsuno, perhaps Tsunotaro?"

"... The point of a nickname is to be shorter than your actual name. Tsunotaro is longer than Malleus."

"Tsuno works. As close to my name as Mal is, a new name certainly wouldn't be amiss."

Lilia hummed and used his magic to summon what appeared to be a bandage of some kind. He happily set to work cleaning and covering up the bite-mark as you tried to keep yourself focused on your conversation with Malleus. It was odd to be a blood-bag for the unusual Bat and to be somewhat bullying a literal Dragon into letting you give him a nickname, but your life has been odd since you woke in the coffin.

For now, it wasn't too much of a weight to bear.

~•§•~

The early morning meeting was well underway as it was akin to a mulligan from their meeting several days ago. Again, the Dragon was invited to the meeting and again the two dorm leaders of Ignihyde showed up to make the switch. Given the earlier meeting between the staff members, this hand-off needed to go without a hitch. Almost everyone was stressed as the Dragon walked into the room, his cloak sweeping behind him as his fellow guards walked the treasure they protected into the room as well.

You seemed tired, but still dressed in your uniform as you held Grim close to your chest. He was happily laying in your arms and snacking on what remained of the breakfast burrito you had thrown together that morning for breakfast. The scent drew a few jealous looks, but word of Grim's importance to you travelled quickly. Even Leona knew better than to try and bully the little cub-like monster out of his meal, lest the cub's mother react poorly.

For some of the Housewardens, seeing this odd creature was still a very surreal experience as she was an extinct species so casually attending their school. For one of them, it was his first time officially meeting the Human face to face. Idia really didn't consider the small amount of time spent in the Human's dorm as an official meeting and he was somewhat hoping the Human didn't remember his panicked sprint into her kitchen. He hoped the other Housewardens that had also sprinted to her dorm distracted from him as he wanted a mostly clean slate for their official meeting.

"Good morning, my precious little chick! Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. Do we really have to switch out who lives in the dorms with me? I just got used to these guys..."

"Yes, we really do. Besides, it isn't all bad, the Housewardens were chosen for a reason and I have faith you will be protected! It's the Housewardens and teachers that are notified by your collar in the situation you are injured or attacked, you can trust them to protect you."

"If you say so..."

Your less than excited attitude towards the situation put your faithful Dragon on edge as well as several of the other Housewardens. They all wanted a chance to get to know you and be around you, only really knowing your species through rumor and myth, but they didn't want to cause you genuine distress. Idia was especially unnerved as he wanted to make your acquaintance and be your friend despite his severe lacking of social skills. He had hoped Ortho would be a good buffer as his younger brother was much more cheerful than he was.

"Don't worry, Nee-san! Nii-san and I will make sure you are safe and feel comfortable while we guard you!"

"I'm sure you will..."

"Oh, Nee-san, this is Idi-nii! My big brother."

Idia almost ran the moment your eyes landed on him and actually looked at him the way he looked at you so often through the many cameras he had around NRC. You could see him and perceive him where he had been the only one to see and perceive in the past. Always watching, yet never watched until now.

"Eep! She's looking at me... What do I do? Ortho, help!"

"Introduce yourself, silly!"

"I'm... Idia Shroud... Ortho's big brother and Housewarden of Ignihyde... Why is this so hard?"

"You're doing fine, Idi-nii."

He almost screamed as you walked over to him, looking at his bright flaming hair and making him want to sink into the chair or disappear behind a screen once more. As you observed him and the way he squirmed under your gaze, Vil scoffed loudly.

"I knew he didn't have it in him. He can't even talk to us, why would anyone think he can talk to her? Does anyone genuinely think Idia could even fight when push comes to shove?"

"Hey," you interrupted with a frown, seeing as Idia wouldn't argue with Vil regardless of what Vil said or did, "leave him alone. He is here, isn't he? That's more than most could say. You can act the act and talk the talk, but why do you feel the need to put him down? Does it make you feel better to know you can easily do something he struggles with?"

Vil scoffed again and looked away from you, wanting to argue with you but also wanting to stay in your good graces. Despite how Vil felt the others had no right to be in your presence, he wasn't going to drive you away from himself by speaking his mind. The actor knew better than to speak until he had you alone and held within his own talons.

"You really don't have to do that... It's the way they all act with me. You don't-"

"Don't care."

"Ghk-!"

"Just because you let them treat you that way doesn't mean I will let them treat you that way. You're my new guard for the week and you're a Housewarden, right? So, screw what they think. You have a right as much as they do. Besides, my talk with Ortho leads me to believe you are more useful to me than a lot of others could be."

"H-how?"

"I want to play videogames. I loved my videogames back in my world. It feels like no one else plays and I want to play even for just a little bit. It is easier to stave off the feeling of pressure and the stressors of life with a controller or keyboard in hand. Help me forget I am somewhere far from home, okay?"

Idia slightly perked up at this, hearing you talk about using videogames to escape certain aspects of life. He had done it himself so many times that he almost began to believe he was alone in this avoidant behavior because it seemed like everyone else didn't need that escape the same way he did.

"You... Game?"

"Yes, and I have been twelve or thirteen days and counting without playing. This makes me incredibly upset. I have classes today, so I can't play right now, but I would like to have access to a gaming system even if this cursed place doesn't have the games I'm used to. Can you help me with that?"

"Yes."

"Good, then we have nothing else to worry about right now. Right?"

Idia nodded, beginning to feel unusually comfortable now that he knew what it was you expected of him. It really wasn't a big ask at all and Idia had already been planning on setting up more than a few devices in your dorm. He figured it would help to keep him comfortable outside of his room and keep Ortho entertained. Neither Idia nor Ortho needed much sleep and their species was prone to spending days awake, so he wanted to make sure he and his little brother could have entertainment while you slept.

"Right. Ortho and I don't have classes today, so we can get things set up right away."

"Alright. That is what I like to hear. Can I reasonably assume things will be ready by the time my last class is over, or should I lower my expectations for getting in some gaming today?"

"I can have everything ready and set up in no time. If you wanted, you could cut out of half your classes today and start gaming before lunch."

You smiled in response to his words and for some reason it made his heart flip wildly in his chest. He liked seeing that gentle and almost sweet smile, liking it even more now that it was directed at him. Sure, he had seen it through the visor Ortho wore while you talked to the young Shinigami, but it was a whole new experience being face-to-face with you now.

"Music to my ears. Last question; what kind of foods do you like? I will be cooking for myself so I will also cook for you if you want, but I'm not a mind-reader and I have no idea what is safe for you and Ortho to eat. Especially Ortho."

"Wh-what? You're gonna cook traditional Human meals for us? Seriously?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I feed those who are protecting me?"

"This is the best day of my entire 88 year fanboy life..!"

"What?"

"Nothing. Ortho and I are gonna go set up. See you after class."

Despite how nervous Idia had been, there was something disarming about the soft Human. He was quite large in comparison to their stature, standing well above most in the school despite wishing to just disappear in the background. Even sitting he had to look down at the little Human.

Something about how soft she looked made him want to grab her and never let go, he was starting to understand why the others were acting the way they did. Something about being close to someone he considered incredibly cute and small was endearing. Actually being near this soft Human made him realize just how little she was.

"I don't know, Hooman. This one has a kinda funny look to him."

"Grim, be nice. We have to at least trust the Headmage is correct in everyone here being safe."

"Fine... But I'm not sharing the nest with him!"

"Oh, absolutely not. Malleus made that nest and only his Hoard is allowed to use it, you know that. Lilia told us the rules."

"Am I part of Tsuno's Hoard too?"

"You're part of my hoard," you kissed Grim's forehead gently and several of the onlookers felt burning jealousy, "so you count by Proxy."

Grim purred at this and you turned back to the Shinigami. He was very much an older and larger version of Ortho in terms of appearance, but obviously very different from his bold and affable little brother. Also, you heard his mumbling quite easily and that meant he was seventy-five years older than Ortho. That meant either Ortho was very smart and advanced for his young age or Idia just couldn't attend a school without someone else accompanying him.

You had also never seen this student around except for the brief passing glance when he entered your dorm several days back with the others. It was odd to you that he really didn't stand out much to you back then like he did now, but you also weren't really in the mood to entertain guests at the time. Much like Ortho, Idia had more technology on him than most students had at all and he seemed to be almost hiding behind it as he suddenly turned away in his chair seeming to try and compose himself while looking away from you and somewhat out of your sight.

It was while he was turned away that a voice unfamiliar to you spoke up.

"Crowley? It's imperative I speak with you-"

Walking into the room was a bird-man that somewhat reminded you of an owl entered the room, pausing abruptly as he noticed you staring at him curiously. He seemed to be an older Harpy man judging from his feathers and general bird-like appearance, several gray feathers grew alongside his hair and came up in two points like ears. The man seemed taken aback at your presence as he slowly set the scrolls in his hands down, seeming to study you closely as you watched him warily.

"In... In all my years... Here you are."

He gestured to you and you felt more than a little upset at the treatment. Sure, you understood they were surprised but that still didn't mean it felt very good to have someone gawk at you. You weren't a pet and you weren't some sideshow attraction.

"Here you are."

"Ambrose! This kind of casual disregard for decorum is unlike you! Explain yourself!"

Crowley was quick to get inbetween you and the newcomer, his feathers fluffed and wings somewhat raised. It was clear the Crow was blocking this Owl-man from taking too long a look at you as his wings spread and he almost seemed to caw angrily.

"Crowley, my old friend," the man paused, glancing at you and almost grimacing, "more have been spotted in the woods. It's not just trophy hunters, there are Fae among them. Townsfolk are starting to talk and the rumors at Royals Sword Academy are more than a little wild. We need to unite and discuss the-" he lowered his voice, "the Human."

"This meeting is dismissed, students. Everyone make sure to get to your classes. (Y/n), my chick, do you need a guide to class from here?"

You were about to shake your head when Vil came sweeping over, his crest up and his movements almost an exaggerated graceful motion. He seemed to be trying to show off in a way as if the presence of the two other birds made him suddenly need to present himself. It could have been your perception of the situation, but Vil almost seemed threatened by the increased avian competition and was keen to get you away from both older birds.

"I will happily show you to class, (Y/n). My class is right nearby, so I will gladly show you the way. Come now, we can't dawdle."

The Peacock was quick to herd you away from the room and the other Housewardens, ignoring the look Malleus gave him as he passed by. You wondered who that man was or what it was he was so worried about, but you knew it had something to do with you. Those games and potential earthly comforts you may be able to get from Idia seemed all the more tangible now.

All you had to do now was get through the day.

[ikeupied]

I had been staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes, but nothing was sinking in. I was lost.

With a heavy sigh, I closed the book. I’d deal with it later. Right now, I needed to get dressed—rehearsal was in less than an hour, and the studio where we would practice today was further away than the other one.

I opened my closet and started looking for something to wear. Nothing felt right. Today was just one of those days. Frustrated, I pulled out almost all my clothes, turning my room into a disaster. But at least I found something decent.

As I put everything back, I came across a shirt that caught my eye. It was riki's.

"Why do I still have so much of his stuff?" I muttered, sitting on the floor with it in my hands.

I shut my eyes for a moment. Why—after everything that happened—did I still miss him? My head started to ache. I didn’t want to think about him, but it was impossible when I saw him all the time.

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of it. A message from Taesan:

don’t be late, ynie.

I reacted with a thumbs-up and got up, leaving Riki’s shirt in the laundry basket on my way to the bathroom.

I wasn’t entirely sure where the new studio was, but thankfully, Taesan had sent me his live location.

Standing at the entrance, I reread Taesan’s instructions:

5th floor, room 2. There’s a big sign.

I headed for the stairs, only for my heart to drop. A sign blocked the way: "STAIRS UNDER REPAIR. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. PLEASE USE THE ELEVATOR."

Elevators had always been my biggest fear. Since I was little, I’d done anything to avoid them—even leaving places if it meant I didn’t have to get on one.

But today, I had no choice.

With my head down, I walked toward the elevator. To my surprise, someone was already standing in front of it.

I looked up.

Riki.

Definitely not my lucky day.

He had his headphones on and hadn’t noticed me. Not until the elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside, and just as he reached for the button, his eyes met mine.

I quickly followed him in, avoiding eye contact. He pulled off his headphones and pressed the button.

I kept my gaze fixed on the panel, mentally counting the seconds until I could get out.

Then, it happened.

A dull thud, like something getting stuck in the gears. A sharp jolt knocked me off balance. The lights flickered.

And then—nothing.

My chest tightened.

Panicked, I pressed random buttons, hoping one would respond. None did. My throat closed up, my skin burned, and a familiar emptiness settled in my stomach.

"Hey."

Riki’s voice cut through the silence. It wasn’t irritated or sarcastic. It was… soft.

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

"We’ll get out of here, okay?"

I buried my face in my hands, trying to breathe, but the air in the elevator felt thick. Riki sighed—not in frustration, but in quiet resignation.

"Here, do this." He took a step closer.

Through my haze of panic, I saw him extend his hand. Palm open. Like he used to do when he had to convince me everything was fine.

I didn’t want to take it, but my fingers were shaking, and the ground felt unsteady beneath me.

Riki tilted his head, "you’re still terrible at this."

And then, without waiting for permission, he took my hand.

I hadn’t realized how badly I was trembling until his fingers wrapped around mine.

"Breathe," he murmured.

And, against all logic, I did.

The elevator was still stuck. The emergency button still didn’t work. But somehow, the panic that had paralyzed me seconds ago was fading.

Not completely. But enough.

Riki didn’t let go right away. He didn’t make any smug comments about how quickly I’d given in, even though I knew he wanted to. He just stayed still, as if any sudden movement might set me off again.

"Better?" he asked after a few seconds, his voice unusually neutral.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good." His hand slipped away, leaving behind a faint warmth.

The elevator creaked, and whatever relief I’d felt vanished instantly.

Without thinking, I grabbed his arm.

Riki glanced down at my hand, then at me. His lips twitched like he was about to say something, but at the last second, he changed his mind.

For a moment, the only sound was my breathing and the faint hum of something electric in the walls.

"They’ll get us out soon," he said suddenly.

"And how do you know that?" I didn't mean it in a bad way, but it came out harsher than I expected.

He shrugged. "I don’t. But it sounds better than saying we might be stuck here for hours."

I wanted to argue, but the thought of spending hours trapped in an elevator with him completely shut my brain down.

Riki leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone.

"there's no signal." he murmured, and then slid down to sit on the floor, completely unbothered. "Sit."

"No."

"You’re gonna get tired."

"I’m fine."

"Sure you are." He smirked, like he was daring me.

I shut my eyes in frustration. Then, slowly, I sat down—keeping a safe distance between us.

"You’re still shaking," he said quietly.

I pressed my lips together and tucked my hands under my legs. He watched me for a moment.

Then, a small jolt. The lights flickered, and a mechanical whir signaled the elevator was working again.

I held my breath.

"See? Told you we’d get out soon," Riki said, standing up effortlessly.

I shot him a glare.

"If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear—"

"But I deserve it."

I rolled my eyes and reached for the wall to push myself up. Before I could, Riki grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. It was instinctive, automatic. Like we were still close.

But we weren’t.

I let go quickly, fixing my gaze on the doors just as they slid open.

The hallway was empty. Finally, I could breathe again.

When we reached the rehearsal room, all eyes turned to us.

Taesan frowned and rushed over.

"Are you okay? I was worried, I texted you but-" His eyes flicked to my hands. "Why are you shaking?"

"The elevator got stuck," I mumbled, trying to steady my breath.

Taesan’s eyes widened.

"What?" He turned to Riki, scowling. "And you didn’t do anything?"

"What was I supposed to do? Break the doors open and carry her out?"

"You could’ve at least calmed her down."

"I did," Riki said simply, shrugging.

Taesan looked at me for confirmation. I nodded.

"I’m fine. Really."

The others, who had been watching in confusion, suddenly looked way too interested.

"Wait," Sunghoon interrupted. "You two got stuck together… and didn’t kill each other?"

Riki and I turned to glare at him at the same time.

"I was too busy dying to focus on killing him," I muttered.

Then, I felt it—a heavy gaze on my back.

I turned and locked eyes with Gowon. Arms crossed, eyes darker than ever. A chill ran through me.

Riki must’ve noticed because he quickly spoke up.

"Well, we’re here now. Can we start rehearsal?"

Everyone nodded, and we got into position, waiting for Leehan to play the music.

definitely not my lucky day (wc ; 5215)

SYNOPSIS: Y/n and Riki were inseparable. The kind of friendship everyone envied, the kind that felt unbreakable. But somewhere along the way, something shattered. Now, every word they exchange is a fight, every glance a silent war. Neither of them wants to admit how much it hurts. Neither of them wants to be the first to let go of the anger. But how long can you hate someone who once meant everything to you? Because the line between love and hate has never been thinner.

prev | m.list | next

note: this is 100% inspired by myself lol

perm taglist 😼: @brianashiftz @zaycie @ijustwannareadstuff20

taglist @kizumis @yangjungwonnie @doririsstuff @annybah @yurizzzs @iheartshopping @luvjichang @starbyeol1512 @jaerisdiction @soobinbunnie5 @tasnemluvs @right-person-wrong-time @yuaaa-somehow @nishikio @ezekiel-bublz @hyunjinslongasslegs @iboughtnjz @jvngw0nlvr @blvengene @notcamii @wonzzziezzzz @rikidaze @lovingjongseong @danlovestay @lovenha7 @lilliansreality @lisamrrth @gyuudai @ihearteatingxo @somieverse @i03jae @jakewonist @nodoubtily @luv-rizzimura @s0shroe @xxkatsusjinsux @yawn-zi @lannadray @lovuegi @bigsimpo343

　　　　　　　　◌ 𓈒 ꒪　◌゚❀　.˳ ���

© all rights reserved to ikeupied, please don't copy.