#it's okay to be a fat child in a push chair

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[residentshitcunt]

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (11)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Now is your time to survive. Will you swallow your words? Or spit them and face the consequences, both good and bad?

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Alright... I can do this. This'll be a piece of cake." You paced yourself, walking around your room to clear your dooming thoughts.

"Nothing bad is going to happen; this isn't like back then. I'm in my room, where I can control what happens and when something happens. How much worse could my situation possibly get? The worst characters in the entire game are here, in my house already. It physically can't get any worse!"

"Shut up! You sound like a cult of fat Mitachurls dancing around a fire!" A Harbinger's voice shouted from downstairs, banging following their shouts.

"Break a hole in my ceiling and I swear to your archon I'll gouge out your eyes and bury them in my back garden!"

"Shuuuut up." The same voice shouted back quieter, going completely silent when another voice scolded them. You guessed it was a scolding, as their voice sounded authoritive despite being muffled. Pierro, perhaps.

This idea of yours better work. You're not fighting your past experiences for nothing! If these characters don't reply to you and make you sound (and look) like a dunce, you're done with the universe.

Speaking of being done with the universe, how on Earth did this even happen? It's not normal for fictional characters to know of the existence of people who created them. Are other games like this too? Or is Genshin Impact special in some way? And if it's just Genshin Impact, who's to say other Hoyoverse games don't have the same level of intelligence behind the characters?

It's a good thing you uninstalled Honkai Star Rail a month ago, who knows, it could have been the Stellaron Hunters in your house instead. Although... Arguably, you somehow think they'd be a lot better compared to the Harbingers.

Anyway, it's time to start your plan.

You booted up Genshin, eyeing the Celestia background hesitantly with shaking fingers, the sun in the background feeling more real considering your current circumstances.

Pushing your chair inwards in a hurry, you scrambled to get your notebook beside your PC to re-read the notes you wrote before. You didn't want to freeze up in the middle of your SOS speech, so you took it upon yourself to write key points of your argument and read them if you start feeling the anxiety creep in.

Ugh, thinking about how possibly the entirety of Teyvat was going to hear your voice scares you even more.

No, take deep breaths. The characters left aren't as evil as the Fatui, or have smart people such as Dottore or Sandrone. The only person you currently see as a threat is Albedo, but he shouldn't be a problem since his goal is to destroy Mondstadt.

You read your paper again:

Introduce yourself formally, keep it classy

Ask Aether what the FUCK the Harbingers think they're doing!!!

Beg Explain you could really use some help

Ask if there's any way someone on the other side, perhaps Albedo, could construct a portal to get these mangy, whining, murderous babies out of your house

Be polite, thank for listening, and wait for reply. Patience is key

If this little golden teenager with a ratty plait doesn't answer you, you're throwing your TV remote at your PC. ...Actually nevermind, it might come useful in the future.

Your screen suddenly loaded, the blinding white loading screen with each element fading to show the landscape. Your screen looked exactly how it did yesterday. With your Childe team, minus Childe obviously, in their idle animations outside of the Spiral Abyss portal in Mondstadt.

Okay, this is it. It's better to at least try rather than run away with cowardice. If you don't try, you'll never know whether it's actually possible to communicate with other characters. Also, in the small hope that the Harbingers leave your house, you can delete the game and start a new life. ...Hopefully.

You hesitantly went to the character selection screen and selected Aether, putting him in a team on his own with no other characters next to him. Noticeably, Arlecchino and surprisingly Wanderer aren't in the character menu either. Did the Harbinger's travel to Teyvat alter the course of history on their side? Interesting...

Now, where to communicate with him? Well, considering Signora is alive, the timeline must be just before or during Inazuma. Would staying in Mondstadt be a better place? Oh, who cares. You've got the guy in your party anyway. As long as he's there, it should be fine, right?

You selected the waypoint closest to Albedo's lab in Dragonspine, running to the camp and occasionally stopping to avoid freezing to death by using the orange seelies.

Then, you turn Aether's avatar to face you, his breath creating white vapour in the cold air of the mountain.

"So, uh, hello...!" You started, mumbling quietly as you scooch your chair back away from your desk.

No. Follow step one correctly, and be confident about it. You coughed before starting again, voice stronger but still quiet as to not alert the Harbingers.

"My name is Y/N, and I really need your help. I'm not sure what's happening on your side of things, and to be honest, I don't really care. If you haven't noticed on your journey by now, The 11 Fatui Harbingers have gone missing. Well, in your world anyway." You began.

"They somehow and miraculously ended up here, in my world. Specifically, my house. From what they've told me, they want to give me over to the Tsaritsa. I have no idea what that means, all I know is she'll probably kill me."

You waited for a response, any glitching similar to when Childe wasn't working in the abyss or visual cue to show someone (or something) was listening. You didn't see one, but continued anyway.

"I need your help to transport them back to Teyvat. I know what you're probably thinking, 'but the Fatui have been causing me problems on my journey to find my sister'. Unfortunately for you, they become important in developing your journey across each nation. I'm guessing you're currently in Inazuma or Liyue since Signora is still alive, even though I've brought you to Natlan? Ugh, this is so weird." You shook your head with a small grimace.

"Anyway, I'm really hoping you can hear me. If the Fatui of all possible people who could know of me are aware of my side and my existence, surely you and/or the Archons must know too? Maybe even the Abyss? After watching your journey in Natlan I can't stand them, but they did prove a long theory I had..."

You trailed off, hoping that maybe nobody replied to your speech because they were waiting for a moment you would stop so they could input. Alas, nothing changed. Aether was still as blank as ever, face unchanging to the world around him.

You tried everything to get a reaction. Kamera mode, Teapot mode, equipping different characters, changing locations, reloading the game... but nothing worked.

What were you doing wrong? If the Harbingers knew of your existence, surely that would have been because you used Childe a lot, right? There's nothing else you can think of that could be the cause. Unless, perhaps, the 'players' existence is a known fact throughout Teyvat? No, that couldn't be right. You've talked to NPC's and read hundreds of theories using lore found within the game. Not once did it ever mention a higher being above the Descenders, nor the Phane for that matter.

You hit the pause button in Genshin, huffing an angered sigh as you pushed your chair out aggressively. You'll have to try again later, that's the only thing you can do right now. Considering the Harbinger's have no idea what resources exist in this world, you're pretty sure it will take them awhile to figure out how to get back to Teyvat.

'Awhile' may sound like a long time, but you know Dottore will somehow cut that word by 3/4. Anyway, you'll have to save asking about a possible way to create a portal another time. Right now, what's more important is grasping a connection of understanding.

Well, you better start sorting out another problem that will soon come. The problem which Pulcinella actually pointed out, too.

Food.

And you know what you need to get more? Money.

If only Pantalone were useful in this world, then, he would be able to pay for all the expenses you'll need these next few weeks. You know, now that you're actually thinking about it, he's probably the most useless Harbinger here.

You sat up from your chair and left it pushed out, convincing yourself that this plan wasn't completely over. In truth, it wasn't. There was nothing wrong in trying again, was there? Sure, this session might have failed. But who's to say it won't work the next time? Or maybe the time after that?

...Right?

You left the room after eyeing your computer screen once more, scowling at the Genshin merch on your desk. That reminds you, you need to burn all the Harbinger merch the second you can. Maybe all your merch in fact. Okay that's a lie, although this instance has definitely scarred you for life, it won't stop you from keeping a few non-Fatui items.

Unfortunately, if you'd just looked at your desk one more time, you would have noticed Paimon waving frantically at you with a face of panic, shouting through the screen trying to get her voice to be heard on the other side.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Okay, group time. We need to discuss something." You called everyone to the living room, snatching the remote from Pantalone's hand and turning the TV off.

"Pardon me, it was my turn to watch the television tonight." He excused himself aggressively, trying to swat the remote back into his hand.

"Not so funny when it's your turn, is it?" Dottore laughed at him, pausing his writing to mock the banker.

"Are you aware of how long I had to wait until I could have a look at my channel? I only just received the remote!" He complained, glaring at Dottore through his closed eyes.

"Hmph. To me, it looks like you're sleeping laying on the sofa like that." Sandrone scoffed, her posture straight.

"Alright, Alright," You quietened them. "Pantalone can get the remote back after I say what I need to."

After a short while of waiting, everyone except Pierro, Signora, Capitano and Childe had arrived in the living room to listen to what you had to say.

"Where are the other four? Why is there always someone missing when I need to say something important." You asked the Harbingers, sighing in frustration.

"Heh, Childe is out of commission at the moment." Scaramouche snickered to himself, eyes closed imagining the pain he's going through.

"That's not a 'where', it's a 'what'." You deadpanned.

"He's in the landing with Capitano. I brought him there since these two were taking over the sofa." Arlecchino answered.

"And... Signora and Pierro?"

"Signora's in the guest bedroom, fretting about her nails growing in a different direction that how'd she'd like them to. Pierro's still in the office signing paperwork that clearly isn't helpful to our situation at this moment in time."

"Thank you, at least someone's helpful." You nodded to her, Arlecchino nodding back in an understanding as she leant against the wall with her arms crossed.

"We need to talk about food. As Pulcinella reminded me earlier today, if we don't get more food we'll run out in about 3 days."

"Does that even matter?" Scaramouche interrupted you. "The majority of us don't even need to eat, you're just wasting your resources by feeding us. Besides, who would want to eat your aw--"

"What he means to say is," Pulcinella coughed to interrupt the puppet. "Yes, this is indeed a tough predicament. How are we to get the resources we need?"

"Well, we'll have to go to the shop and buy some. But to buy, we need money."

"Money? I have plenty of that." Pantalone questions with a bored tone, his head leaning into one of his hands.

"Stop forgetting what I told you earlier, you damned diva. Your money is useless here. If we want to get money, we'll have to work." You hushed him quickly.

"Work. Yes, of course." Arlecchino thought out loud. "But how do we work when we know nothing about this world?"

"Ugh, it's not that different to Teyvat! So, who's feeling like working?"

Nobody replied, everyone looking at eachother urging them to say yes instead of them.

"...Right, well, let's eliminate the people who can't work. Signora can't, as it would be way too risky. If the police somehow recovered the damaged footage and released it to the public, I'd be dead meat she'd blow her cover immediately," You started.

"Pulcinella and Pierro also can't, as they look way too old to be working. They'd be considered retirement age from looks alone. On the same topic, Columbina and Sandrone might have to stay behind too because of how child-like they look. Columbina might be able to get away with it, but it would still turn some heads in my opinion."

"Hah! It seems you're worth some praise." Sandrone commended you, letting out a hearty laugh in satisfaction. "However, this does cause some problems on my end of the bargain."

"And what problems would that be?"

"Why, exploring your world's machinery, of course! Becoming an engineer would be the perfect way to learn more about your world."

"Yes." You gave her a dead look. "And tell me, you're planning to become a professional's apprentice to learn? Something tells me your pride wouldn't let that happen."

"It can't be that difficult." She scoffed to herself, voice quiet and eyes narrow.

"I wanted to see more of this world..." Columbina sighed sadly, interjecting Sandrone. "Oh well, I suppose I can do that by asking you questions instead~"

"Right..." You sweated nervously.

"I have no objections." Pulcinella nodded with his eyes closed, being in agreeance. "We can discuss Sandrone's means to learn later, as I believe it would be an excellent idea."

You sighed once more, not bothering to argue more, and continued your rambling.

"Capitano is also a no in terms of getting a job. That helmet really stands out, and considering he can't and wouldn't want to take it off, I guess he's not going outside ever. Anyway, so, uh... We'll discuss who wants to have what job and when they'd like to start tomorrow. I'm going upstairs to tell Signora what's happening. Arlecchino, Pulcinella, could you both respectively tell Childe and Capitano, as well as Pierro this information?" You told them, head looking back over your shoulder before turning straight to walk up the stairs.

"Of course." They both replied, leaving to do their own thing.

As you were walking up the stairs, you could hear Pantalone and Dottore arguing for the remote. Funnily enough, it was Columbina's abnormal dry tone that caused the two to stop fighting and find something to watch together. Huh, you wished you could do that.

You knocked on the guest bedroom door, hearing Signora scoff and call out to the person on the other side telling them to enter. You walked into the bedroom silently, sitting on the bed waiting for her to talk to you.

She was sitting on the chair in front of the mirror, fiddling with a nail file whilst muttering about the state of her fingers. Beside her fumbling form was some nail varnish. Hold on a minute, aren't those your mothers?

"Signora, you wouldn't have happened to find the nail kit in front of you in my parent's bedroom, would you?" You asked her, feeling your annoyance begin to grow.

"Hm? Maybe I did. What's it to you?" She glared in the mirror, eyeing you without turning around.

"What's it to me??? Did you seriously just ask me that? You're using a dead woman's nail file and nail varnish!" You argued.

"Well, yes." She shrugged, a wicked grin growing on her face. "I'll have to make do with what I can get. If it weren't for the surprisingly beautiful colour and necessity of my manicure, I would have put the thought out of my head immediately."

"But those are just excuses! Look, if you really wanted a fucking manicure, you could have just asked for my stuff in my room."

"And how, for Teyvat's sake, was I supposed to know you had supplies in your room?" She eyed you strangely.

Well, she has a point. A dumb point, but one you'll accept as long as she stops using your mother's marriage anniversary nail kit.

"Just...! Just pass the nail kit to me and I'll give you my manicure bag. Stay here, and stay out of my parent's room." You warned her, snatching the nail file and nail varnish with haste.

You speedwalked to your bedroom, dumping the items on your desk with the thought to put those in your bedside drawer later. Stopping for a moment to look at your monitor still showcasing Genshin, you sighed and continued pacing the room to find your manicure bag. When finding the bag, you quickly swiped it off of the shelf and returned to the guest bedroom.

"Right." You started, dumping the bag and opening the zip to let her see what was inside the bag.

"Is this alright for you, your majesty?" You mocked her, unable to stop yourself from speaking. "You'll have everything you could possibly need for your nails in here. From different colours, to charms, to glitter. Capiche?"

"Hmm..." She fiddled with the bag, having a look at the colours you've given her. "Since you're here already, why don't you make yourself useful and do my nails for me? Do whatever you wish with them in terms of colour and point, I'd like to see how nails in this world differ from Teyvat." She ordered you with a wave of her hand, one leg over the other.

Is she actually joking?

"Are you kidding me? I'm not doing your nails for you!" You exclaimed, outraged at the suggestion itself.

"Oh, please. Don't act as if the suggestion is atrocious. Aren't you the one who often mentions our wrongdoings when we're minding our own business? Who's to say we can't do the same?"

"A normal person." You grumbled under your breath with squinted eyes. "Murder and stealing are two very different things."

"I hope you're as good as talking as you are making excuses." She rolled her eyes, laying her hands out in front of her. "Not only that, but doing nails. If I don't like them, you'll have hell to pay."

Well, looks like you don't have a choice in terms of doing her nails for her. What a prissy bitch.

"Fine." You scoffed at her, dragging a spare chair in the corner of the room to sit down.

You looked through the bag of colours you had, deciding to do a red and black gradient whilst leaving her nails relatively long and sharp. Perhaps you could add little light blue dots to the black gradient to highlight her eyes? Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

"Those are the colours you're choosing?" She raised on eyebrow with an uninterested frown.

"I'm sorry, your highness, were you expecting a pretty baby pink?"

"Continue." She rolled her eyes.

Filing and washing her nails to the perfect size, you began to paint the nails delicately. As you were working, you noticed Signora begin to soften her features, a small almost non-existent smile on her face with satisfaction in watching you work.

"Do you do nails often?" She asked you with a gentler tone, tilting her head to get a better look at you painting her smallest nail.

"Not really." You denied, shaking your head. "I only have this many colours because my mother liked to gift me stuff like this."

"Ah..." She made a noise of understanding. "So that's why the majority of your colours are still sealed."

"Yeah. I never used them because I saw no need to, occasionally I'd help my mother do hers if she went out to party with the neighbours. Also most of my Pinterest references use a specific set of colours."

"...Pinterest?"

"It's a type of catalogue." You tried your best to explain, fanning the nails hoping they would dry quickly.

"You can save pictures that other people post and use them for references. I like to use it for clothes and nail inspiration for my mother."

"That sounds... exquisite." Signora noted with wide eyes. "You mean to tell me different people from all over can post these pictures? And others seeing the pictures can use them as they wish?"

"Yup. Although, you saying that out loud makes me think you're thinking of something illegal." You deadpanned.

"I'm not!" She accidentally recoiled, slowly putting her hands back out when realising. "It just seems like a power not worthy on humans. Surely you would use such a powerful idea for messages instead of just pictures?"

"You're literally just describing a forum."

"Hm?"

"Nevermind!" You stated, grabbing the blue and adding dots to the black. Instead of ending it there as planned, you decided to add glitter and put a couple specks onto each dot. You looked back at the nails from a distance, finding satisfaction in your work.

"What do you think? If you don't like them, I don't care. To be fair, this is the first time I've done nails in awhile."

"I suppose they're... alright." Her cheeks turned slightly pink, hesitating in how to answer. "They're much better than what I thought they'd be. Your world has such vibrant colours for varnish, usually I just stick to black."

"I noticed." You put all your materials away, attempting to zip up the bag.

Before you could zip up the bag completely, Signora stopped your hand by placing hers over your own.

"Hey, don't move your hands so much! I just finished your nails!"

"Ahem. I believe we had a deal? You do my nails, and I'll do yours? Although I would rather spend my time doing something else, I am not one to back out of an agreement such as this."

Somehow, despite the day not going to plan, you don't hate how it ended. In fact, you feel as if you've grown a little closer to Signora today.

"Oh, and whilst I'm at it," She paused. "I better have a look at what clothes you have in your wardrobe. From what I see now, I don't think I'll like what I'll see in there."

You take back what you said earlier.

Has anyone noticed I like the word 'prissy' a bit too much?

Anyway, Insatiable Madness is going to have longer Views from now on 🥳

I like this part a lot, it's definitely one of my favourite Views I've written so far!

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @shellofthewell @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin @bk-4-trash-fire @uniqaal @tnsophiaonly @vianitry @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild @melou008 @lsleepysimpl @steadybreadbluebird @thebigkessydisaster @eliciana @kamit-frog @twst-kumi @idk098 @kurayamioterasu @mmeatt @the-lazy-perfectionist @florelll @vvzhyxx @averycuriousperson @starlaisopaque @liyuedragonmorax @lovelive-animequeen1029 @mayythammyy

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch8

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, fingering, doctor play?? grinding, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

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

Three months, Eight Days until D-Day

Today was finally the moment Miguel's been waiting for. The day that got you on your nerves. Today, was the day of the health examinations. To be precise, your full body examine given by none other than Miguel.

You were currently in your office, mentally preparing yourself. You could feel your nerves getting the better of you. You had been telling yourself about this for weeks now. Not even your hardest fights got you this nervous.

Recalling your last few weeks, you let out a grunt before sitting on your chair. You hate to admit it, but you took Miguel's advice. This super hero stuff was new to you and because of it, you kept getting injured.

Slowly, but surely, you were letting the Public Eye do their job and protect the people from the small issues. You just took on the villains and other high risk problems. It felt wrong, but nothing bad was happening to anyone.

"(Y/N), it's time. Please head to the twelfth floor for your examination. Miguel has a private room for the two of you." Lyla chirped as she appeared before you, "Do you still need that relaxing sedative?"

"Um, y-yea. Lyla, does...does Miguel know what he's doing."

"Yep. I made sure he studied hard for this," She teased, appearing by your door, "Let's go before you're late."

"Yes."

--------

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for you to arrive. Everything he needed was set up for him by the doctors he hired. You were just a few minutes from giving him everything he wanted. Miguel was going to enjoy this.

"S-Sorry I'm late, Miguel...I-I...I'm just nervous." You said, biting your lower lip as you tried to calm down. Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite amusing,

"Well, relax. We're going to start with the normal stuff. Empty your pockets and step on the scale."

"Um, don't judge me...Okay?" You huffed, taking your shoes off and getting on the scale. Miguel raised a brow as typed on his tablet,

"For what? Your weight is below average. You need to eat more."

"I said no judging."

"I'm just stating facts," Miguel said.

You needed to gain more weight if you were going to produce the perfect child. If this was about you thinking that you were fat, then Miguel was going to have to convince you otherwise. Having you sit on the chair, Miguel took your blood pressure first. After that, he went to one of the main courses-your blood.

"Remember, after we take your blood, you're going to feel really dizzy from the relaxing sedative I give you. When you come to, don't push yourself." Miguel warned as he watched your blood drip into the bag.

"I know," You muttered, "Just don't bully me too much, okay?" You asked with a huff.

Miguel just smiled towards you, more focused on your blood. He was being a little greedy and taking a whole ounce from you. This was for the sake of helping you. Miguel was going to make himself into a superior being just like you.

For the sake of his experiments.

Once the blood was drawn, Miguel gave you a minute to relax. He checked your ears, eyes and mouth before giving you the drug. Once you took it, he waited a few minutes for it to kick in. Your body soon started to slump and you wavered in place.

"How's my good girl?" Miguel whispered with a hum, lifting your chin.

"Beeeetter," You slurred, smiling sheepishly.

Miguel couldn't hold back his laughter. He had you where he wanted you. The drug included a little truth serum along with a touch of the same drug that made people high. Taking your robe off, Miguel inhaled deeply at the sight of you. Your body seemed like it was glistering. Tossing the robe aside, Miguel first grabbed your arms, stroking down to your wrists.

"(Y/n), my dear (Y/n), how did you get your powers?" Miguel asked sweetly, watching you shudder,

"Mhm, I got bit....by your radioactive spider," You cooed, leaning towards him, "Mig, be careful~"

"Why?" Miguel smirked at how woozy you were.

"I can shoot webssss~" You giggled.

Miguel raised a brow in awe as he pressed against your wrist, watching the organic webbing shoot. He gasped in awe, eyes sparkling as he did it once more. This was fantastic! You were Miguel's little toy until that drug wore off.

Miguel had exactly one hour to ask you whatever he wanted. To do whatever he wanted to you. Wanting to return to your webbing later, Miguel hummed as he continued his examination. He still had to give you something professional by the end of his.

"(Y/n), why didn't you tell me about this?" He asked softly against your ear.

"I....was afraid that I'll be your next experiment." You whimpered, leaning against Miguel's chest, "I don't want to be cut up."

Miguel felt your body tremble as his hands massaged and examined your breasts for any lumps. His head was against your shoulder, just listening to your sweet, soft whines. Cut up? Oh how wrong you were. Miguel wasn't going to kill you like the others.

He had bigger plans for you.

Miguel grunted lowly as you squirmed against him. Moving away from you as he felt something stir within him, Miguel continued with the examination. He tested your reflexes while telling himself to focus on the main task.

"Did gaining these powers affect any part of your body?" Miguel asked, propping your legs up and removing your panties.

"I can shoot webs~ and stick to walls~" You cooed, giggling lowly. Miguel glanced at you,

"When was your last period?"

"Last week~"

"Still a virgin?" Miguel typed on his tablet.

"Yep. Waiting for you~ Migueeeeeel, I love youuuuu~" You cooed, holding you arms out. Miguel placed his tablet down before washing his hands, "I love you so much!"

"I know, (Y/N). I know," Miguel hummed as he put his gloves on, "I made sure you stayed single, my dear (Y/N). No one is allowed to have you now. Not when you are so, so special."

"Ah~ M-Miguel...d-don't-"

"Shh, the doctor is working," Miguel chuckled.

He wasn't exactly lying. Miguel was performing a full body examination of every part of your body. Spreading your folds, Miguel just scoffed. You were nervous about this part. Your pussy was just dripping for his attention.

It was a shame you weren't going to remember this. Sliding his finger inside your hole, Miguel inhaled to the sounds of your whines. He was just testing for any strange lumps, but this was nice. This stirred that same feeling he tried to ignore.

"Mig~" You whimpered.

Miguel wiggled his finger around, watching you squirm and whine. This was new. A different kind of experiment. Miguel wanted to see what would make you cum. He had watched you do it yourself enough times, how hard could it be?

Inserting another finger, Miguel hovered over you as you reached out for him. His attention was towards your face as you moaned against his touch. His fingers pumping deep inside of you with each thrust. Miguel felt his chest grow heavy as he felt eager for more.

"Why'd you become a hero, (Y/N)?"

"I-I wanted, ah~ t-to save you~!" You moaned. Miguel chuckled darkly as he curled his fingers,

"Save me from what? I think you're the one who needs saving."

Miguel inhaled deeply as you cam against his gloved fingers. Your breathing heavy as you calmed down from your high. Miguel removed his fingers and threw out his gloves before returning to you. Oh how delicious this was.

"Would you do anything for me? Because you love me?"

"Yes,"

"Even be my little trophy, waiting for me to come home and test your stamina?" Miguel's smile turned wicked as he hovered over you again, his pupils blown as he gave you a crazed look, "As I take over the city as the new powered individual, while you wait at home pregnant with the future of humanity?!"

"Mhm,"

Miguel grabbed your cheeks, forcing you to look into his insane looking eyes.

"Answer me, (Y/N), will you be my good girl and do whatever I say?"

"Yes."

Miguel broke into a fit of laughter as he stepped away from you. He leaned against the wall, covering his face as his laughter turned sadistic and cruel. Oh how delicious this was. How perfect you were for him.

Nueva York's precious Spider-Woman was being tainted. Miguel was going to turn you into his personal trophy. Now that he had your blood, Miguel was going to fix himself. He was going to rule over this city with you as his little obedient wife.

"Oh, (Y/N), you drive me insane." Miguel hummed, "Is it hard to keep your secret from me?"

"Yes. Sometimes it feels like you like Spider-Woman more than me,"

Miguel raised a brow as he put your panties back on. You looked like you were about to cry. Rolling his eyes, Miguel went to put your clothes back on.

"Before I knew it was you, I did find Spider-Woman more interesting; however, you were always in my line of interest," Miguel sighed, knowing damn well you weren't going to remember this, "But you were always mine."

"Miggy," You whined.

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine as you called him that. Grunting lowly, Miguel set up his work and grabbed your wrist. He cussed lowly and had you sit on his lap, your chest against his chest so that he could work.

"Miggy~"

"Stop talking, (Y/N), I need to take notes of everything," Miguel grumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I like this~ So warm~ I love you~"

Miguel grunted once more, finding it hard to concentrate. You were squirming against his lap, breathing softly against his ear. That eerie feeling in his chest return as he felt the urge to do something he had never thought of before.

"Miggy~"

"¡Maldita sea, no puedo follarte hasta que sea como tú! (Dammit, I can't fuck you until I become like you!)" He cussed out in Spanish, which was rare and only when he was really frustrated.

Realizing what he just admitted, Miguel cussed lowly once more. You were really testing him. Miguel had to behave. He couldn't risk his plan by giving in now. Shit, just the thought seemed so ridiculous. This was going to be Miguel's secret.

He was never going to let you know about this weakness in him. No one was going to ever know about this.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," You whispered, apologizing against his ear.

Miguel lazily glanced at you, wondering if you could ease his harden erection. It would be taking advantage of you for sure, but you would still do it. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Miguel just decided to grind his erection against your cunt.

"Miggy~"

"(Y/n), my little stress reliever," Miguel hummed as he took his dick out, rubbing it directly against your panties, "Who is your toughest villain?"

"Ah~ Uh, mhm~"

Miguel chuckled as you shook against his body, moving your hips against his. Your panties getting wetter as Miguel pressed himself against you more.

"D-Doc...O-Ock was ah~ h-hard...H-He hurt me, mhm~ r-really bad, but...you took care of me~" You moaned. Miguel grunted lowly as he felt your body shake from cumming again,

"Wrong answer," He muttered, groaning as he coated your panties white, "It's me."

Finally feeling some relief, Miguel cleaned himself up then you. He didn't want to hear any questions or concerns from you. Placing you back against his lap, Miguel continued to do his work on the computer.

--------

You whimpered lowly, feeling yourself come back to your senses. As you started to waver back into realty, you noticed that you were still in the doctor's office. Resting your head, you groaned softly as you tried to remember what happened.

Everything was a blur.

Turning your head to the side, you saw Miguel working intensely on something. His face just inches away from yours. Sinking that in, you gasped and went to jolt back, but Miguel grabbed you. He pulled you back into his lap, grunting angerily,

"Don't move. I'm focused," He spat.

"Miguel? Why am I-"

"Shh," He hissed.

You kept quiet, still feeling a bit woozy from the drug. Your body felt heavy and your vison was spinning. Relaxing against Miguel, you hummed quietly, enjoying this moment. You felt your eye lids slowly close.

"Tch, it's as if they know I'll kill him." Miguel hissed harshly. You nuzzled into him, whimpering softly,

"Hm?"

"Someone's getting comfortable. Did you forget that I'm your boss?" Miguel huffed, leaning back and glancing towards you.

"Mhm, you said....not to move," You whispered. Miguel's hand rested against your head, sending a shiver down your spine,

"Because you're reacting poorly to the drug. I didn't expect your body to be so sensitive," Miguel hummed, smirking, "But, since you were such a good girl for me, I'll treat you to dinner. We have to get your blood cells pumping."

"I'd like that,"

Your smile grew wide as you stayed in Miguel's lap for a while longer. This was nice. Maybe, just maybe, you could try and ask him out for a proper date. With how Miguel has been lately, there might be a slither of a chance he says yes.

"Oh, and (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Miguel?"

"If you call me Miggy again, I'll have to punish you." Miguel said firmly.

Your face turned bright red as you apologized and buried your face into his shoulder. You had only called him that in your wet dreams. Now you were worried about what else you said while you were drugged. Hopefully nothing more than just the little nickname you called him.

--------

Miguel kept you on his lap for another hour or so. He quite enjoyed the thought of having the city's favorite super hero on his lap. It won't be long until he joined the game and turned this city into his playground.

A villain's playground.

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

Next Chapter

(Going on a short break, gotta finish Persona 3 Reload in time for Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth!)

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper

[0547]

a/n: late bday special for childe, reader and him r still new in their relationship, im getting better at writing a bit…

a red velvet cupcake was sitting on your desk, with a single lit birthday candle poked into the cream cheese frosting.

before you could take a closer look at it, your office door bangs open and childe enters the room, practically prancing into your private office. you don’t even look at him as you lift the confectionery in the air, eyeing it closely.

“i sent you a birthday letter yesterday in advance.” you say, plopping down on your chair, peeling the cupcake cup. “—no need reminders for me to wish you.”

you take a bite of the sweet, setting it down aside and gather today’s fatui agent reports in your hands, waiting for childe to reply.

you do finally look up at him when he still doesn’t say anything, and realization hits when you meet his pleading, puppy-like eyes.

“please?” he tries, leaning close to your desk.

“no.”

-

“archons!” you screech, nearly missing a direct hit from the primo geovishap’s tail snap. of course, the ideal gift for your boyfriend’s birthday, spending quality time fighting a gigantic monster together.

“having fun, baby?” he giggles, striking a huge slash on one of the fat legs. you knew he was holding back for you, let’s be honest, he does primo geovishaps like normal people do hillchurls.

you hate that he thinks this all that you’re capable of, but since you wouldn’t ever agree to a one on one duel with him, this was the closest he could get to see you in combat. a genuine fascination from him you would never understand.

the beast roared in agony of it’s injuries, the sound echoing throughout the underground, causing a large sediment to fall right above where you were standing.

you looked up to see an arrow shooting through the solid earth, bursting the sediment into bits of rock and water before it can hit you. you catch childe’s eye, and you feel your heart swell, but your ears are starting to ring from the noise.

the harbinger laughs as you muster all your strength and threw your electro infused sword directly into the creature’s eye, bringing it crashing to the side in a thundering noise that made the ground shake.

you dust your hands and crouched, breathing heavily while keeping your eyes to the ground. childe’s arms were immediately around you, bringing your head close to his chest and kisses your forehead.

“you okay? was this too much? i’m sorry.” he entwines his fingers with yours, rubbing his calloused thumb against your gloved hand.

“this? literally piece of cake. hardly broke a sweat,” you lie, smiling up at him. “and happy birthday. now you know how weak i am.” you snort, kissing his cheek.

he frowns. “i don’t think you’re weak. that was pretty badass to me. you gave the final blow.” he says, looking up at the fallen monster.

logically speaking, he was a harbinger. he’s definitely seen battles more badass than your low stamina performance.

he looks down back at you, and squishes your face with one hand. “why are you pouting?”

you shake your head. “i’ll get stronger. i won’t waste this vision, i’ll train and work hard.” you say, determined.

“and then can we duel?” he asks hopefully.

“no.”

“c’mon!,” he whines. “can i at least help you train? think of it as this year’s birthday present.” he tries to get closer to your face, but you push his face away.

“you already used up your birthday wish this year.” you reminded him. and he pouts at you.

[reblog if you want, as it helps me plenty.]

[otrtbs]

hello trying smth. a bit. different under the cut?

Druella

Bellatrix is born on Halloween. On October 31st 1951, she becomes the eldest daughter of Druella and Cygnus Black, and she doesn’t cry. She just peers up at Druella with wide-round eyes and a calm, unaffected disposition. It’s eerie. It’s haunting. That’s something that always worried Druella– the Halloween birth, Bellatrix’s refusal to come into the world kicking and screaming and fighting for air like a normal child would. Druella worries that Bellatrix is cursed, born on the day of skeletons, death, evil spirits, and darkness. She tried to hold out a few more hours, she begged the mediwitches at St. Mungo’s to delay the birth somehow through grunts of pain and the sweat forming on her brow. She attempted to not push through her contractions, but it was pointless. 

“They say babies born on Halloween are immune to evil spirits,” the mediwitch whispers to Druella as Cygnus sleeps in a chair in the corner of the room, arms crossed and shoulders slumped. “The veil between the living and the dead is thinnest tonight. So she’ll probably have a strong connection with the spirit world. She might even be given the gift of second sight,” she adds sagely, attempting to calm Druella’s fears. “A blessing.”

Druella holds Bellatrix in her arms, she’s sleeping and swaddled in a soft blanket, a peaceful expression on her face, but Druella can’t escape the feeling of hesitant fear bubbling beneath the surface. A bomb waiting to explode. “She didn’t even cry,” she lets out an exhausted sigh. 

The mediwitch gives her a soft smile. “It happens. Her heart rate is stable and she is breathing normally. She’s perfectly healthy.” The witch finishes cleaning up a few things around the room and removes her gloves. “Be sure to let me know if you need anything. Someone will be here to check on you shortly.” As she turns to leave, she pauses for a moment with her hand on the handle, debating something. Then, with a quick look back and a sharp breath she says, “It’s going to be okay.” 

Druella wishes she could believe her. 

Bellatrix grows a little every day. She’s healthy, she never cries, her bones aren’t weak, her limbs aren’t mangled, her cheeks are pink and fat and not sallow. She looks nothing like a cursed child, acts nothing like a cursed child, except for the small birthmark just below her left cheek. A bad witch’s mark. 

Walburga and Orion come to the house to see the new baby. A cruel, satisfied smile overtakes Walburga’s features when she sees it’s a girl, confirming with her own eyes that the chance to have the next heir is still within her grasp, but Druella takes her own pleasure in Walburga’s still slender frame.

At least Bellatrix proves that Druella isn’t barren. She can have children, healthy children. She could provide an heir. It was only a matter of time. Walburga and Orion had been married nearly three years before Druella married Cygnus and yet their house remained empty. 

Walburga always hated Druella. Hated that Druella and Cygnus got to live in 12 Grimmauld Place with the family heirlooms the libraries, the portraits, and the tapestry detailing their lineage. She always believed it should belong to her and Orion. Druella was a Rosier by birth. It was only right that true Blacks lived in Grimmauld. She had married Orion earlier. It was only right that she reside there. The next heir to the Black family name got to reside in Grimmauld. So it wasn't just a race to bare a male child, but also a claim to the family residence.

Because Druella can't help herself, she takes Walburga to the drawing room with the tapestry for tea and revels in the looks Walburga casts at the family tree.

Druella was barely healed from her first pregnancy when Cygnus demands that they try again. One child was only enough if it was a boy. She counts the cracks in the ceiling and does her best not to shout in pain in those early days after Bellatrix’s birth. She washes too many bloody sheets before anyone else can see them. 

She tries to spend time in the nursery, but baby Bella, as the house elves had taken to calling her, hardly interests her. Cygnus never goes to the nursery to see Bellatrix, he couldn’t be bothered. Rather, he immerses himself in his work. Druella knows it is her job. It's her job to dress Bellatrix and feed her and bathe her and sing to her, but she leaves most of those tasks to the house elves. 

Bellatrix feels like a stranger in her home. A thing rather than a person. Something haunted and hard to bond with, even if she looks just like a normal child. However, there was still a sense of pride, even if Bellatrix wasn’t a boy. Druella had given birth to a child. She could be a mother. She could do what was expected of her. She just needed a boy.

More days pass. 

Druella busies herself with planning Christmas parties and elaborate dinners and pruning her winter garden of Christmas roses and Goose Grass. She attends charity meetings and plans galas for the Museum of Modernism and Moda. The mediwitches assure her that Bellatrix’s witch mark will fade as she grows older. 

Days turn into months, and just after Bellatrix is ten months old, Druella finds herself pregnant once more. Cygnus’ once stormy mood had shifted to one of gentle ease. He comes home earlier, he speaks softer, and he scowls less. All of the ladies drop by to place their hands on Druella’s growing stomach, to offer their well wishes, to bring gifts. 

This time, it was going to be a boy. Druella can feel it in her bones. All of the divination midwives say as much. She dreams about it. 

“Of course, we’ll name him Sirius. Something strong and commanding. The brightest star in our sky,” Druella was saying over tea as Walburga pursed her lips tightly. 

“I think that’s a wonderful choice,” Irma nods in approval. “Lots of Sirius’ in our family history. He’ll fit right in. Splendid.” 

Druella catches Walburga’s eye and grins wickedly. This house is hers, this life is hers, the family favour is hers. 

They decorate the nursery blue and paint constellations on the ceiling that glimmer in the dark. By the time April comes, Druella doesn’t even mind that it’s raining when she goes into labour. Torrential, thunderous skies and rolling black clouds. Another bad sign, but one she ignores happily.

Cygnus meets her at St. Mungos. He stands by her side and holds her clammy hand through the hours of painful birth. She hears the mediwitches buzz around her and whisper nervously as she screams in her potion-dulled pain. She worries about all the blood staining the sheets and feels her head heavy with Merlin knows what. 

She struggles to keep her eyes open as hospital staff swarm around her and wheel her to another room with bright, artificial lights. She tries to listen to what they’re telling her, but their voices sound gargled and warped like they’re talking underwater. It’s too hard to keep her eyes open anymore. She lets herself drift off and she dreams of her son. 

When she wakes, she’s in a new room. A quieter room. A mediwitch rushes in and places a swaddled baby in her arms. She talks in slow deliberate sentences. 

Druella barely hears her. 

Complications with the birth. Postpartum haemorrhage. Beautiful baby girl. So lucky. 

Through chapped lips and a dry throat, she asks to see her husband. 

The mediwitch informs her that he left shortly after the baby’s birth. She hands Druella some water. 

Alone in a private room at St. Mungos, she decides to name the baby Andromeda. She holds the small infant to her chest, only hours old, and she weeps. 

Cygnus barely looks at her. The days pass and Druella watches over the girls in the nursery and tiptoes around her husband as she tries to ignore the walls of the house closing in on her. She tells herself there is still time, though the doctors at St. Mungos disagree. They all tell her another pregnancy is risky. Fatal. Nearly impossibly in her state. 

Druella doesn’t breathe a word of this to Cygnus or to anyone else. She shuts herself up in Grimmauld Place and avoids everyone’s prying eyes, their disappointed looks, and Walburga’s triumphant sneers. 

As days turn into weeks that turn into months, Druella grows more and more desperate. She finds herself under the guise of heavy glamour charms, back in Knockturn Alley, begging the shopkeeper for more fertility potions. Pills that will ensure a male child. She swallows down glowing green vials of bitter liquid that smelled faintly of baby’s breath. She crushes up black beetle eyes and crunches into the red bulbs of Witch’s Ganglion with wild abandon on the smooth tiles of her bathroom floor, and she waits. 

She leaves the family Christmas dinner early as she feels the familiar trickle of warm blood run down her leg. She stays in bed for days at a time. She leaves her two daughters to the house elf. 

Her third pregnancy nearly kills her as all the doctors had promised. She tries to hide it from everyone as best as she can. Cygnus doesn’t bother showing up to the hospital with her. 

On a cold and bleak day in early January, Druella gives birth to her third daughter. The chill from outside worms its way around her heart and solidifies in a sickly, icy, frost. Narcissa takes what little Druella had left with her that day and keeps it for herself. 

Three daughters. Their little lives just beginning. Girls who will have hopes and dreams and ambitions. Druella feels all of hers dwindle as she hands her third child to the house elf once more. Their stories begin as hers ends. Druella thinks that it’s unfair, having girls. She married Cygnus to give him sons. Not to love him or to look after him in his old age. She was made to produce heirs. What use would she be to him now? 

He’ll want to keep trying, even if it kills her. Without a boy in the family, Druella was better off dead to him anyway. She was plagued by awful visions of her own mother, shut up in a room all alone after the death of her brother. Too old to produce any more male heirs, her father left her mother to claw at the walls and floorboards of her bedroom. Allowed her to be shut out and ignored by every family member who was once so warm towards her. He locked her away in a dark, stale room somewhere for failing him, and acted as if she never existed. 

She felt the frost seep in. Her daughters, her own children had damned her to the same fate. Even if they didn’t know it. How could she hold them and be happy? How could she wipe the tears from their face and act as if everything was fine? 

She’d like to swim in the ocean, or work at the ministry, or travel the world by herself. She’d like to go out at night and not worry about a home she’s obligated to come back to. She closes her eyes and lets herself dream these dreams for a while until Narcissa’s shrill cries wake her up and she feels her fate close in on her all at once.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

damian’s dialogue is so fun to write, why doesn’t every character talk like him, honestly. also peep tim for like three seconds?

part nine

❝ BLACK HAIRED NIGHTMARE ❞

SUNDAY — 8:00AM

BENTLEY WAS WOKEN UP AT PRECISELY EIGHT A.M. BY THE SOFT OPEN AND CLOSE OF DAMIAN’S BEDROOM DOOR. Bentley had learned he could hear much of what happened in the hall and in Damian’s room. He couldn’t hear him talking or anything — that’d be creepy — but he could hear when he left, or closed the bathroom door, or shut his drawers a little too hard. He could also hear Tim’s bedroom door, which had opened and shut at exactly three-forty-seven in the morning. There had been a quiet whisper argument prior to said opening and closing, but Bentley hadn’t been awake enough or close enough to the door to catch their words.

He didn’t hear anyone leave or return for patrol, which made sense considering it was a new child’s first night in the house. Everyone being gone in the middle of the night might be a bit concerning if he didn’t already know they were superheroes.

He took the time to change out of Damian’s clothes and into some from the wardrobe, which ended up being some old, slightly big jeans and a red hoodie. Instead of leaving the room, he watched the numbers turn from 8:00 all the way to 8:23.

And then there were three small knocks.

Bentley cleared his throat and moved to the edge of the bed, repeating a phrase he heard his father say once: “It’s open.”

The door slowly opened, and Bruce stuck his head inside. He still had that sheepish smile the child found odd. “Morning, Bentley. Alfred is making some breakfast, if you’d like. My oldest son, Dick just arrived here a few moments ago if you’d like to meet him. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

Bentley’s eyes flicked up at the mention of Dick. Someone at least vaguely familiar. (Even though, for the sake of his superhero identity, they’d both have to pretend they didn’t know each other.)

Bentley found himself muttering: “…Okay.”

Bruce smiled a bit more sincerely, pushing the door open as Bentley rose from the edge of the bed. He followed him past Tim’s still closed door, and down to the dining room for the second time.

Damian and Dick were the only ones at the table, and the oldest was taking up the seat next to Damian that Duke had sat in the night before.

Bentley pretended not to recognize him in the slightest as he made his way to the same chair he’d sat in the night before. Now that Dick’s eyes weren’t covered by his mask, Bentley realized exactly how readable his expressions were. He was smiling, and his blue eyes were sparkling with a contagious happiness akin to that of a golden retriever. His hair was wet like he’d showered, and he was wearing a blue crewneck.

“Hey! Bentley, right? I’m Dick Grayson,” He said excitedly, but he didn’t make a move to put a hand out like any of Bentley’s father’s business associates. He actually had his hands down under the table in a non-threatening manner. “Nice to meet you!”

“… You, too,”

Alfred brought several different foods into the room, including pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Bentley took note that this was the second (or third, counting Nightwing) time the Wayne’s had fed him without wanting anything from him. And he found it strikingly odd.

Dick Grayson, like Nightwing, was still a master at filling silence. He asked Bentley a lot of questions. Harmless ones that had been carefully considered: nothing about Bentley’s past, or his time being homeless, (aka his big fat lie.) or anything that might coincide with that. For example, he didn’t ask anything about school, because a homeless kid wouldn’t have school, and he didn’t ask about his family or his favorite food or anything. Instead, he asked things like, what’s your favorite color? And do you like animals? He managed to take Bentley’s one word answers of blue and yeah and spun them into entire stories that held the attention of everyone at the table. Even Damian. Bruce chipped in every now and then with embarrassing tidbits Dick may have purposely left out, and Bentley couldn’t deny that he cracked a few smiles over that meal. Dick’s eyes shined just a bit brighter when he did.

Maybe staying at the manor, at least when Dick was there, wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Breakfast was a lot better than dinner. It didn’t last as long and it wasn’t so stiff with Dick around. Duke came downstairs after the initial meal and grabbed something from the fridge.

Bentley tensed again when he heard more footsteps thudding down the stairs, because everyone was in his vicinity but Tim.

Tim may have not been as intimidating as Batman or Red Hood, but Bentley knew good and well that if anyone in the house that wasn’t Batman would find out about his secret mission, it would be him. According to his father’s files and the various stories inside of them, Tim’s mind worked like a computer and he was easily one of the most dangerous people in the house when it came to Bentley’s success.

But when Tim appeared in the little breezeway that connected the kitchen to the dining room, opening the fridge to search for nothing in particular, Bentley guessed he wouldn’t be much of an issue today.

He looked terrible.

His skin was pasty with a tinge of green, shining with a thin coat of feverish-looking sweat. His black hair was bedraggled and seemed as though he hadn’t spared a second to try and tame it. His posture was closed, his blue eyes were dull, and he looked like he might fall over if the gentlest of breezes washed over him.

Dick wasn’t the first to notice, but he was definitely the first to shove himself away from the table with an obviously distressed: “Oh, Timmy…”

Bentley stared at the tabletop as his one source of comfort faded away to comfort someone else. And then he realized that was a really selfish train of thought, so he promptly stopped thinking about it, as if everyone else in the room could read his mind.

Bruce muttered something and then rose, too, leaving Bentley in the hands — sword? — of Damian.

Neither of them said anything for a solid minute and a half. He really wished Duke were here. Bentley stared at the table and messed with his fingers in his lap, and Damian was probably glaring daggers through his skull. He could hear Dick and Bruce fussing over Tim in the next room, a mixture of voices saying things like you have a fever, I’m fine, and a lot of Timmys which Bentley was sure was Dick’s contribution. It earned a groan nearly every time.

After a solid two minutes, Damian spoke up: “Father suggested I take you to meet the animals, if you wish.”

Bentley glanced up at him. 

“He also suggested I give you the opportunity to refuse,” He added, after a moment of silence, crossing his arms over his chest. His greenish-blue eyes were piercing… but not exactly angry? Or murdery?

Bentley blinked, glancing back down at the table. Well, Damian wasn’t stabbing him, so he assumed he should take the opportunity, right? 

He tapped the toes of his tennis shoes together. “… Animals?”

“Yes. There are two dogs, a cat, and a cow. All but the cow are inside the house,” He stated bluntly. 

Bentley nodded. He’d never really seen animals outside of pictures or the occasional birds and squirrels that hopped around outside his window, or dog that was brought to a meeting. They’d never had a pet of any kind. They were too much work and too messy, his father had said.

“Uh, sure,” He mumbled. It didn’t seem like Dick or Bruce would be returning soon, anyhow, which Bentley found strange. If Tim was sick, wouldn’t they just want him to go away and stay in his room? That’s what Bentley’s father did, and it made sense — if Tim was around them, they could get sick. So why did Dick rush to him instead of telling him to go back upstairs?

He supposed it was similar to when Dick helped him in the alley instead of leaving him. Not that it made it any less confusing.

“Follow me,” Damian stated, rising from the table and heading out of the dining room. Bentley stood, too, and followed quickly behind. “Titus and Ace are the dogs. Alfred is the cat.”

Bentley followed Damian back up the stairs. “They prefer to spend most of their time in my room, because of my competence, I suppose.”

Bentley followed behind warily, watching Damian’s hands. They walked down the hallway, past Bentley’s room to the room right next door. 

The bedroom was still sort of bare, but there were books and papers on a desk in the corner, and the bedspread was a deep green instead of Bentley’s black. There was a bulletin board on the wall that was covered in pinned-up pages.

“Titus, come,” Damian spoke as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

Bentley blinked in disbelief as a dog roughly the size of a small horse unfolded itself from an extensive dog bed in the corner. Its fur was a sleek dark gray, nearly black, and its eyes were silver-ish. But Bentley couldn’t really focus on anything other than the fact that the dog nearly came up to his shoulders. The largest dog he’d ever seen could fit in a woman’s purse.

Titus made a guttural woof as he obediently approached Damian. Bentley was convinced that this was not a dog at all, but instead, something from nightmares. He took a few steps back the closer the animal got to them, and ended up in the threshold of the room, in the doorway.

“He will not harm you,” Damian spoke with a level tone, patting the dog’s head. He didn’t look over at Bentley. “Titus, sit.”

Damian made a hand gesture similar to a fist as he said sit, and the massive dog immediately sat on the floor, tilting its head in anticipation. Damian uttered: “Good boy. You may pet him if you’d like.“

Bentley only stared at Titus. Pet that thing? If he wanted to lose an arm, maybe.

“He will not harm you,” Damian repeated. Bentley heard the annoyance in his tone — though he was doing a very good job keeping it under wraps. He supposed trying to convince a terrified kid to pet your horse of a dog probably wasn’t the Robin’s favorite pastime; more of an order from his father kind of thing.

Don’t annoy Damian, he is an assassin.

Bentley warily stepped forward into the bedroom, and Titus looked over at him curiously, his tail bobbing back and forth behind his back. The dog halfway stood up, inching toward him in a strange half-sitting position in anticipation of something. 

“Titus, stay,” Damian ordered sharply, holding his hand out in a stop motion. He looped a finger in the large dog’s collar just in case he tried to jump, but to be honest, it could probably pull him around the house without blinking. Sure, Damian was older than Bentley (by one year), and taller (by, like, an inch, maybe an inch and a half) but this dog probably weighed more than both of them. He hadn’t considered that the house would contain animals that could kill him in addition to superheroes.

In spite of his utter terror at the giant black monster of a creature in front of him, he stepped forward again, and Titus just wagged his tail and made a short, high-pitched whine. 

Bentley carefully outstretched his non-bandaged hand, trying to move in a predictable, gentle manner like Nightwing had when he picked him up. Titus only sniffed his hand for a second, then licked it with his massive tongue. Bentley flinched away but a smile grew on his face anyhow.

“Seems as though he likes you,” Damian stated, releasing the dog’s collar. Titus stood up and took a few steps over to Bentley, sniffing his clothes and hands. He worked up the courage to actually pat him on the head, and the dog wagged his tail faster, pushing up just high enough on his hind legs to lick Bentley in the face.

And he laughed.

It was short and breathy, and… weird. Bentley couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually laughed at anything. He never had anything to laugh at in Whittaker Estate with his father. 

“Would you like to see him perform a trick?” Damian asked, and Bentley glanced over at him.

“Sure,”

“Titus, spin,” Bentley watched intently as Damian twirled his pointer finger in a spinning motion, and as soon as the dog saw it, he spun around twice like he was chasing his tail. “Good boy.”

Bentley smiled at the dog. He was pretty sure, after the initial terror of it all, that Titus was becoming his second favorite Wayne after Dick.

“Titus, roll over,”

Damian held his hand out palm down, and flipped it palm up. The massive animal immediately flopped over onto the floor with a thud, wiggled around there for a moment, then stood up again. 

“Good boy,” Damian repeated. “You may try if you’d like. Roll over is like this,” He repeated the hand motion, flipping his hand from palm down to palm up. “Spin is like this,” He twirled his pointer finger in a circle. “Teaching him both the verbal and visual commands help train his focus, as well as obedience in a situation where I may be unable to do one or the other.” 

Bentley glanced at the big dog, who was still looking at Damian.

“Say his name to gain his attention first. Make sure to speak clearly,”

“Titus,” Bentley started, and the dog’s big silver eyes flicked to him. He flipped his hand from one side to the other just like Damian had. “Roll over.”

The large dog flopped over and rolled on the floor. 

“Good boy,” Damian said to Titus, then looked over at Bentley. “He seems to have taken very well to you. He growled at Todd for months after he met him, even if he was simply walking down the hallway.”

Todd, as in Jason Todd, Damian’s second oldest brother, Bentley realized. 

“I haven’t met him yet,” Bentley stated. Damian waved a hand toward him.

“He isn’t around as often as the others. He’s quite an inadequate communicator, but I’d assume he’ll be a bit nicer to you,” 

Bentley nodded in response. “Your… other brother seemed sick.”

“I am singularly unsurprised,” Damian uttered with a huff. “Drake lives solely off of coffee and spite. He wouldn’t know marginally good self-preservation if it hit him in the face.”

Bentley only knew about half of those words, but he nodded at Damian anyways. 

And he flinched suddenly when he felt something rub up against his leg, taking a few panicked steps away from whatever was touching him. Much to his horror he nearly bumped into Damian, but thankfully, he stopped short.

“It’s only Alfred,” Damian stated simply, gesturing down the the floor. A black cat with white feet and a white-rimmed nose walked from Bentley over to his owner, rubbing on his ankles with a deep purr that sounded kind of like a car. He crouched down and ran a hand over the cat’s head, who pressed heavily into his touch.

“He definitely will not harm you. He might run if you move too fast, but I don’t foresee that being an issue. You may pet him as well,”

Bentley copied Damian’s movements, crouching down and extending a hand toward the cat. Alfred (the cat) approached him quickly, rubbing his face on Bentley’s hand with a quiet mrrow noise.

“I do not know where Ace is. Perhaps he’s in father’s room,” Damian said, rising from the floor while Bentley continued to pet the cat. “Would you like to go meet the cow? We can find Ace on the way.”

Bentley spent a few more moments letting the cat rub on his hand and ankles, before replying, maybe the most confidently he’d spoken since he got to the Manor: “Yeah.”

Maybe Damian wasn’t as bloodthirsty as he first assumed.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

—

tag list: (comment and i’ll add your @!)

@fleur-alise

[angelasscribbles]

Friendship

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Constantine x Eleanor, Jackson x Bianca, but really it's about the beginning of Liam and Drake's friendship.

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 1,894

A/N: I had written the first couple of paragraphs over a year ago then put it away with no real idea where it was going. Then @kingliamappreciationweek happened and I decided to dust this off and finish it for childhood/family and friendships/relationships. I'm late, but here it is.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam was a serious child. Even as a toddler, people would remark about his solemn expression. It wasn’t that he never smiled, he did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, he was. There had just always been an aura of thoughtfulness surrounding him. The portrait his mother had commissioned of him for his second birthday showed a somber child. He sat in an elaborate Baroque throne chair with dark red crushed velvet upholstery and a gold leaf finish. He was dressed in a toddler suit with short pants, showing his legs, still chubby with baby fat, his ebony hair brushed back from his face as he gazed solemnly out at the photographer.

Despite that, he was a friendly child who learned by the age of four that being charming got him whatever he wanted from the nannies and the kitchen staff.

A heartfelt, “Please?” netted him cookies, cakes, candies, and plenty of baklava. No one could withstand the cuteness of the little prince. Especially his mother.

His first smiles, at three months old, were for Eleanor. As he grew into a toddler and preschooler, she remained his favorite person, that somber expression turning into a wide faced grin at the sound of her voice or the sight of her face.

She read to him, she played with him, she took him on walks in the garden. She was the antidote to his father’s seriousness.

By the age of six, Liam had learned that his father’s affections were less frequent and harder earned. The bulk of Constantine’s attention went to Liam’s older brother, because Leo was going to be king, and Liam was not. He was only the spare.

Liam never resented Leo for it. He loved him. Leo was his second favorite person in the world, after Eleanor. He started toddling along behind him as soon as he could walk. Leo was older, cooler, and knew all the best games.

Leo was also a frequent rule breaker, while Liam was not. On this particular day, Leo and Olivia had decided to sneak away from the nannies and play in the woods behind the palace.

Leo had read to him until he bored of it. Pushing the stack of books away he exclaimed, “I can’t stand being inside for another moment! Let’s go out to play!”

“Finally!” Olivia cast the copy of Little Women she’d been reading to the side as she jumped up from the oversized beanbag in the corner of the library.

“I want to come too!” Liam scrambled quickly to his feet. He had learned the hard way that if he didn’t keep up with the older kids, he’d be left behind.

 “Sure,” Leo shrugged, “but you have to be quiet until we get past the hedge maze.”

“Past the hedge maze?” Liam asked in alarm, “We aren’t supposed to go past the hedge maze! Father said-“

“Father doesn’t have to know, does he?”

“Maybe you should stay here, Liam,” Olivia said sagely, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Liam thought for a moment, taking in Leo’s amusement and Olivia’s smug sureness that he would stay behind. He drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders, “No. I’ll go!”

“Are you sure, Li?” Leo asked with a laugh, “Last time you got caught breaking the rules, you cried.”

Liam flushed with embarrassment. Father had been so angry. He didn’t like to make anyone angry, “I didn’t mean to break the vase.”

“Hey,” the amusement disappeared from Leo’s face, replaced with sympathy, “It’s okay! It wasn’t even your fault, I’m the one that talked you into playing football in the great room!”

“It’s okay, Liam,” Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down, “but I heard there’s fresh baklava in the kitchen. You should go get some!”

“Yeah…okay….” He agreed half-heartedly.

He picked up an illustrated copy of Where the Wild Things Are with a sigh as he watched Leo and Olivia sneak giggling down the hallway toward the garden doors.

Thirty minutes later he was perched on a stool at one of the marble counters in the place kitchen, shoving baklava into his mouth as he turned the pages of his book when he heard unfamiliar voices.

He turned away from his book in interest as the head of the King’s Guard entered the room with a man and a woman Liam had never seen before. Trailing behind the adults were two children.

Liam’s eyes widened as he took in the new arrivals. A little girl with dark curls and wide eyes took in everything around her in wonder. A boy that looked to be about the same age as himself kept his gaze trained on the floor indifferently, a shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes; hands stuffed into his pockets.

Liam twisted back and forth on the stool in excitement, nearly tumbling out of it as he did.

“Careful there young master!” The pastry chef caught him before he could fall.

“Sorry!” Liam exclaimed as he twisted out of her grasp, his head spinning to keep track of the children, “Who are they? I want to go say hi! Can I?”

“Certainly!” She laughed as she released him and watched as he sprinted across the travertine tile.

The group had moved into the formal dining room when Liam caught up with them, skidding around a corner and colliding directly with the head of the King’s Guard. “Ooof! Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Captain Sullivan helped him to his feet, “What’s the big hurry?”

“I wanted to meet the kids!” Liam ducked his head, suddenly a little shy, “Who are they? What are they doing here?”

“Okay, okay, slow down!” The captain laughed, “I’ll introduce you! Your Highness, this is the newest member of the guard, Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca and their children, Drake and Savannah. Everyone, this is Prince Liam.”

Liam sucked in a breath of surprise; he knew that some members of the guard lived at the palace. He felt like he was about to explode with excitement. Please let them live here, he prayed furiously. Out loud he said, “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“And we’re very pleased to meet you,” Jackson shook his hand.

The girl shoved her way in front of her parents, a look of awe on her face, “Are you an honest to God, real life prince?”

“I am.” Liam grinned at her.

“It’s nice to meet you Liam,” Bianca told him before pushing the boy forward, “Isn’t it Drake? Can you say hi to the prince?”

Drake shuffled forward awkwardly, lifted his eyes to Liam’s face for a moment then dropped them as he mumbled, “Hi.”

“Can they come play with me?” Liam directed the question to the adults, lacing the fingers of both hands through each other as he pleaded, “Pleeeeease?”

“Oh, yes!” Savannah squealed, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down, adding her pleas to his, “Can we please?”

“I think that would be okay,” Jackson replied, “What you think, son? Would you like to go play with Liam?”

The sullen faced little boy lifted his copper and gold flecked eyes again and found Liam’s face. Drake’s determination to hate everything about this new place faltered a little as saw the genuine excitement bubbling over in the other child. “I guess that would be okay. What do you want to do?”

“Yes!” Liam jumped up into the air with joy, “We can play whatever you want! Hide and seek, or tag in the gardens, we have board games, video games, we could ride bicycles if we get the nannies to supervise us or we could play sword fighting-“

“You have swords?” Drake’s eyes widened with interest.

“Wooden ones but-“

“Can I dad?” Drake turned to Jackson hopefully.

“Yes, go on. We’ll come find you later.” Jackson squeezed Bianca’s hand as they watched their children scurry down the hall with the prince. Relief flooded his wife’s features, mirroring his own. Drake had been the child they had been most worried about adjusting to the move, but he seemed to be warming to the place already.

“What’s it like being a prince and living in a palace?” Savannah asked as she hurried to keep up with the older boys.

“Boring,” came the instant reply.

“Really?” Savannah sounded disappointed.

Drake laughed and Liam’s smile broadened at the sound as he elaborated, “The other kids in the palace are all older than me and no one ever wants to play.”

He was lonely.

“Drake comes up with all the best games,” Savannah told him.

“Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Drake agreed, “Where is this playroom you’re taking us to?”

“Fifth door on the left,” Liam pointed down a long hallway.

“Race you,” Drake grinned at him, “Winner gets to pick his sword first!”

“Okay-“ Liam started to agree but Drake was already sprinting down the hall. It only took a second for Liam to realize what was happening and tear off after him.

The three children tumbled through the playroom door panting and shrieking with laughter.

Drake collapsed onto the floor in purposeful exaggeration as he gasped, “I’m dying….but I won!”

“You cheated you mean!” Liam laughed as he dropped onto the ground next to him.

“It wasn’t cheating,” Drake corrected him, “It’s called gaining a tactical advantage!”

Liam was used to other children being awkward around him, letting him win games or actively trying to avoid playing with him, because of his status. The young prince was absolutely delighted by this new playmate’s utter lack of concern about his title.

Drake had been convinced that the princes would be stuffy, stuck up and boorish. He was thrilled to be proven wrong. He hadn’t wanted to move, yet again. He hadn’t wanted to give up his friends, yet again. His father had promised that this duty station was more permanent. He had been determined not to get attached to anything or anyone, but as they staged epic battles with the wooden swords, of which Liam had let him claim the best one, he found the heaviness that had sat in his chest since his parent’s had announced this move starting to loosen.

The boys quickly became inseparable.

In the weeks and months that followed, Liam became less somber, at least around Drake. He was still a serious, thoughtful child, but he had a quicker smile as Drake drew out his playful side. Drake became less guarded, at least around Liam. He was still a slow to warm up child, but he turned outward a little more as Liam gained his trust.

“Drake seems to be adjusting well,” Eleanor remarked as a maid set the tea service in front of her.

“He is!” Bianca agreed happily, “It’s been four months and he seems completely back to normal! I think it’s because of Liam, honestly.”

Eleanor nodded with a smile on her lips as she blew on her tea to cool it, “Liam is so happy to have a playmate of his own. He’s a different child now. I think this friendship is good for both of them.”

The two women turned to watch as the boys raced through the gardens, shouts and laughter filtering through the late morning air. It was a beautiful day, the children were happy and for the moment, all was well in Cordonia.

[lyon-amore]

With you until the end of the world Chapter 8

Chapter 7

*Angel POV*

We went to the city center to eat. Jack grips me tight, looking around in fear. I sigh and take him in my arms, thus preventing them from being able to push him.

   "Let's see, where can I take you to eat?" I ask myself more, looking at the different places to eat.     Jack pulls me over and points to McDonald's.    "That's not good for a child." I reply, even though I should be the one who should talk the least if I can eat two McDonald's hamburgers, fries, and ice cream. What I don't want is for him thinking I'm going to fall for their good boy charm. He won't be with us long. Besides, I want to be alone with Jake “, it has a lot of fat and, who knows what else they put into that food? Yuck!””     He begins to look at me with sad eyes. I look away, biting the inside of my cheek. No. I will not fall.

I will not fall.

I won't do it.

Damn it.

We enter McDonald's and get in line. A children's menu and that's it, he doesn’t need anything else. We sit away from everyone and I watch him eat. Maybe I should ask him if he's okay, after all, he can talk and maybe we can create his testimony.    "Tell me, Jack. Do you remember everything that happened when you were with Jake and your brother?"     He nods while playing with the menu toy.    "And Jake did something? Did he take something important from the house?” I don't ask him because I don't trust Jake, but to make him consider what he saw. I trust Jake, which I don't know whether to trust a child. Yes, children are sincere, but what if he lies to protect his brother?     He shakes his head and picks up a chip. I sigh trying to calm down. He doesn't talk now. I rest my head on the table. I don't know how to make him talk to me.    "Don't cry" I listen and look up a little, noticing a hand on my head. Jack tries to cheer me up “. Don't cry mommy.”    “I'm not crying” I get up fixing my hair, uncomfortable that he calls me that. As much as it's going to serve to pretend, I don't like being called that “, and I told you, don't call me mom, I'm not your mother.”    “Bu-but you bought me clothes and you fed me” it's the longest sentence he's said today ”Isn't that what a mother does?”     Can he finish eating and get out of here? I'm not his mother, I just did it out of pity.    ''It's not-" I bite my tongue, trying not to say anything that might hurt him. If my mother, who is a teacher at elementary school children, saw me right now, she would feel proud of me for sure “. You can't decide that I'm your mother just because you've decided so, we just must appear so in people's eyes, you don't have to… call me that.”     He cocks his head, looking at me confused. Maybe I should find a way for him to understand it better.    "Okay, we're actually spies." I lean forward a little, whispering. Jack also approaches, with an innocent smile “and as the spies that we are, we must pretend to be a family, but! No need to call me 'mom', do you understand?”    "Are you spies?" He asks me excited.     I stare at him feeling bad, but I have no other choice.    "Exactly, but" I signal for silence "you can't tell anyone."    "I won't say anything.” he also makes a sign of silence, with a complicit laugh.     Okay, at least I've got the kid under control, so he doesn't rat on us. It's easier than it sounds to handle this kid.    “Oh, what an adorable son you have.” says an old woman with her granddaughter, smiling at us.    “Tha-“    “She's not really my mom.” Jack says, and I get nervous.    “What?” The lady looks at me badly.   “We are playing!” I exclaim trying to stop the child from talking “He is a savior prince and I am an evil witch who wants to defeat him.”    "Oh! I understand!” She walks away while she laughs.     I frown at Jack, annoyed. He shrinks back in the chair shyly. I have to fix this.    “Jack, you can't tell people I'm not your mother.”    "But you said-"    "I know what I said." I take a deep breath. I have to calm down, so I don't kill him “. But when people ask us, we must say that we are.”    "It's very confusing." He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.     I look at him carefully, he doesn't look like a child who has suffered a traumatic event.    “Jack” he looks me straight in the eye and I look worried “Are you okay after what happened with your brother?”     I see how he starts to shake. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.    "No... I shouldn't cry" he says in a thin voice ". Jonas used to tell me that if I cried it would bother him... Crying is bad."”     I take a deep breath, clenching my fists hard. I don't like hearing children cry either, but this is different, it's forcing a little one to shut down. I reach out to comfort him but stop myself. I don't want to be close to him. And I don't want to get attached either. I just want to help him, find him a new home and be alone again with Jake. I sigh trying to relax, smiling a little.    “You're done?” I ask seeing that there is no rest of food left.    "Yes." he answers, picking up the toy again.    “Well, let's go.”     I take the tray and take the contents to the trash. I feel Jack tug on my sweatshirt and I look at him.    “Now what?” I ask, exhaling a charged breath.    “I want ice cream.”     I roll my eyes. Great, now I have to buy dessert for the boy.

Maybe I took advantage of the fact that the boy wanted an ice cream to buy me another, I think I have the right to give myself a reward for taking care of him, right? I look at Jack as we walk back home. He is happy with the toy. I notice that we cannot enter through the main door, there are too many people on the street. We make a detour and I help him sit on the dumpster and push myself up to run. Jake taught me some tricks to get up faster. As I stand on top of the dumpster, Jack looks at me in surprise.    "It's been great. Can I do it?"    "Mmm…Maybe when you grow up a little" I reply as I get into position for him to climb ", come on, I'll help you up."    “Do you want me to do it?” I turn my head when I hear Jake's voice and smile when I see him.    "Jake!" Jack gets excited to see him, as if he was seeing his hero.     Jake signals him not to yell his name and quickly covers his mouth.    "Sorry." the little boy apologized, embarrassed.    “Do not worry, just… Be careful next time, okay?” He answers a little awkwardly, climbing more easily than me. He hasn’t even moved the container an inch.     I get up and I don't take my eyes off him, what's more, my feet move on their own to get closer, lowering his mask a little to kiss him. He kisses me back with a few smaller ones.    “All good?” I ask worried.    "Yeah, do not worry." He caresses my cheek and I lean into the side of his hand, still smiling.     Then he walks away and approaches the child, picking him up in his arms until he approaches the window.    "Alright little one" he climbs onto his shoulders, placing his feet on his shoulders ", go ahead, come in through the window."    "Okay." Jack grabs onto the window and Jake urges him on.    ”Stay there, now we enter.”    "I've been talking to Jack about what happened" I whisper so he can't hear us "Do you know what he told me? That his brother forbade him to cry, because that's bad.”     Jake sighs, I can tell how upset he is. I share his anger, Jack is a child who is growing and developing, this learning is not good for him.   "I think you should talk to him" I advise him ", you were there with him, maybe he talked to you."    "I saw him hiding behind his brother's drug dealer." I look at him surprised after hearing those words “He preferred a man who sells drugs to her brother and that he had yelled at him before.”    "Poor boy" I look up, knowing he's waiting “. When he has seen you, his face has lit up.”    “Yes I saw it.”   "Maybe he need to talk to his hero."     He nods and I jump up, grabbing the window. Jake then walks in and looks at Jack, who was waiting for us leaning against the wall.    "I'll be in the room listening to music if you need anything." I smile at both of them, walking away.     I also want to be able to write a little bit of a letter to my parents, telling them what has happened and even if I am not going to receive an answer, I want to imagine what my parents would say to me as I write. What advice would you give me about caring for a young child?

I still don't understand what Jake really has in his head to take him to us.

*Jake POV*

Angel leaves and I am left alone with Jack. I stand up to him, looking at the toy in his hands. It was a doll of a Sonic character. Tails. Although it is somewhat different, with metallic tails.    “And this?” I ask showing curiosity “Has Angel bought it for you?”     He nods with a smile.    "Yes, from MDonald" he tries to pronounce McDonald's, hugging the doll ", it came with the hamburger."    "Wow, you got the smartest one." I ruffle his hair and he laughs.     I should be able to bring up the conversation about how he feel about his brother's death, try to get him to give a hint of emotion. I then decide to do the same as when I started the older brother-little brother relationship with Henry. As that important person for my mother taught me.    “Come, I'm going to show you something very cool” I get up offering my hand, which he takes immediately.

   We enter the room where I have the computer. I sit in the chair and pick him up, sitting him on my lap.    "Do you know how to use a computer?" He shakes his head and I nod “Better, you are still too young to navigate web pages.”    “What are web pages?” He asks and I look at him surprised. Or maybe it is relief.    “They are digital places where you can look at anything you want to look for” I try to explain it to him in the best way that he can understand it “But do you know what I can do? Enter the cell phones of others from here.”     He opens his eyes surprised, then looking at the screen.    “Really?”    "Of course, look" I prepare the program and look for Macie's cell phone, seeing on her screen that the Spotify program is on “. Look, this is Angel's cell phone right now.”    “Wow…”    "Shall we do something fun?" He nods quickly and I laugh “Very well, we do this to control her cell phone” I use one of my programs and search YouTube for the nursery rhyme that bothers Angel the most and fast forward to the chorus “. Now, we remove Spotify and…” I press play on the video and signal for it to wait.    "Take this song away from me right now!" We heard her scream from the room.     We laugh and finally I remove the video, leaving control of her phone. Jack points to the screen with a big smile.    "Will you teach me to do that?" He asks excitedly.     I see myself reflected in it, except that I was about fourteen when I started.    “I think it is not a good idea at the moment” I answer, although I do not intend to teach him. I know what that would lead to and it's not what I want “. Angel told me what your brother told you not to cry.”     He lowers his head, feeling guilty.    "Crying is bad" he answers me with a small voice ", if I cry, I'm upset. Crying is not okay.”     I look at him with pity. To have to hear that from such a young child… I can not imagine how he must have lived with him.    “You know? I spent many years setting aside everything related to feeling emotions” I start to explain my story, but I will not go into details “. I did not care if someone was attacked, if they threatened him, if… they killed him” I remember then those moments with Macie's friends, those moments that I know I was cold, not caring about anyone but Hannah “. In many years, I became a very cold man, I did not want to have anyone by my side.”    "Weren't you crying?" he asks curiously.    “No, because at that time I thought that would be weak” I tell him not very proud. But then I smile “. But everything changed when he met Angel” I look at him remembering the first message I sent her, the first contact after a long time “. She taught me that it was not bad to feel emotions again. And although at that time it was still difficult for me to show them, it was thanks to her help that I became what I was again” He stays looking at me with those big blue eyes that penetrated my soul. I remember then when my mother used to talk to me like this “. It is not bad to cry when you need to, Jack, it is much better than keeping it all inside, you have to express yourself. You may have to learn it like I had to, but we'll help you.”     He stays thinking for a few moments, to finally speak.    “I cried a lot when mommy died” I notice sadness in his voice, even his eyes shine, as if now he wants to cry “. Jason told me to shut up because I was annoying and he told me that she died because I was annoying and that if I didn't cry, no one else was going to die” I stare at him surprised by his words. I do not think I should ever heard anything so cruel “. So in order not to bother and that no one died, I listened and stopped crying” he starts to shake and I see how he starts to cry “. I miss mommy, I didn't want her to die because of me.”    "It was not your fault, Jack." I speak to him in the clearest and softest way possible, so that he understands my words “, your mother did not die because you bothered her, of that I can be sure” I give him a little squeeze on the shoulder without hurting him, affectionate “and I am sure she loved you. You can cry all you need, do not keep it with us, okay?”     He nods while still crying and hugs me. I let out a small laugh, hugging him back. I see Angel leaning against the door frame, arms folded. I can see that she has a small smile on her face. I also answer her with a smile.

He falls asleep after crying and we put him in the sleeping bag to rest. We stayed silent looking at him.    “And now that?” She asks me, sighing “Have you changed your mind? Shall we leave him in charge of Leonardo? He has already managed to cry, he doesn't need us anymore, we have solved it.”     I rub my hands nervously. Part of me wants to leave him here because I knows it is dangerous. The other part is like that feeling I had with Macie, wanting to protect her because she looked helpless. Now I am sorry with Jack. The protective instinct is clearly different.    "I…" I keep looking at Jack. He is alone in this world, he has no one. Nobody except us “. Like I told you, he only trusts us.”    “Jake, I understand that it is easy to have become attached to him” she approaches me, holding my hand “, but the difference between adults running away, and ones with a child is that they need more care” she pulls her hand away and I see her hug herself, uncomfortable “and it's complicated for me, I lose my temper and today I almost didn't yell at him for screwing up. I'm not as good at this as you are.”     I watch her closely, seeing how she watches Jack. I caress her cheek gently, slowly moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She ends up looking at me, hurt.    "I think you have done well" I answer with a smile ", there's no one better than you to take care of him."     She sighs approaching my face. She begins to kiss me slowly and I return her. We end up getting up leaving the room, to go to the computer room and I sit her on my lap, continuing with the kisses.

I stroke her hair while she lies on my chest, breathing easy. She hugs me tight and looks up.    “What's the plan?” she asks me, her voice almost breathless.    “When we have the identity card and the passport, I need you to buy two tickets to Italy.”    “Why two?” She gets up looking at me with a frown “Jake…”    “I will go too, but I will do it by bus.”    "So, that saying that our trip will be difficult doesn't apply when there's a child involved." She says as she gets up and grabs her clothes from the floor.    "And because we still have money for him" I also grab my clothes and get dressed, to then place my hands on her cheeks “. Angel, don't be mad.”     I give her a small kiss, but that doesn't make her expression change.    “It's just that…” She takes a deep breath “I thought it would be just the two of us.”    “You have made me go back to being the man I once was, someone who helped those who need it most” She looks away, but I place my hand on her chin, making her look at me “and I can not leave him alone, it would not be right.”     She nods slowly, now placing her hands on my cheeks to kiss me.    “But nothing of calling us 'dad' and 'mom' in private.” she finally says.    "I do not know; I think that nickname suits you very well.” I tease, taking her by the waist.    “Not even in dreams.”     I laugh and kiss her again. It is a different way to run away than I have ever thought of. I know it is dangerous, but I will keep them both safe.

Chapter 9 soon

[i-cant-sing]

I'm in love with the idea of baby reader destroying the Zenin patriarchy one zoomie at a time. Imagine baby reader at dinner time asking where the twins' mom is and why she can't be at the table with the rest of them, and Naoya giving that poor excuse that women aren't allowed there. So baby reader is just like "I want to go eat with her!" And after arguing for about the whole duration of dinner, and after baby reader threatened to not eat anything, Naoya begrudgingly lets her go to where the women eat. He's like "whatever" at first, but then the chubby cheek withdrawal starts kicking in, so he's like "screw this" and goes eat with baby reader. Everyone else at the table is shaking their heads at him, but after a couple minutes, they start making up excuses to join baby reader.

"Oh, I should go make sure y/n is safe."

"I need to ensure y/n is eating healthy."

"I... need to make sure y/n breathes properly!" - the grandpa probably

Hmmmm yessssss. Okay let me set the scene for yall:

Its dinner time, and baby Fushiguro is escorted to the table by a maid. All the men are already sitting there, and you take your seat by Uncle Naoya.

The servants are bringing in the food as Naoya makes small talk with you, asking about your day. You tell him you were playing with Aunty Zenin (aka Zenin twins mom) and Naoya nods.

"Where's Aunty Zenin?" you ask Naoya who begins eating.

"In the other dinning room. With the other ladies."

"Why?"

The table falls into silence. Why? The men thought. The answer was always clear, but now that you've voiced the question, they don't know how to explain it to a child without sounding... mean.

How are they supposed to tell you that they don't think their women deserved to eat with them?

"Just eat your food, Y/n." Naoya tried to dismiss you.

"No. I wanna eat with the girls!"

"No. Now eat."

"But Aunty Zenin is there and-"

Naoya slammed his chopsticks on the table, making you jump. He turned towards you, staring you down. "I'm warning you for the last time, Y/n. You're not going to the other dining hall. You're going to eat here with us. Do I make myself clear?"

Naoya used his mean voice with you, the one he usually uses with servants, but rarely with you.

He and the men watched as your mouth formed into a pout and you looked down at your hands, and they could see your eyes get a little watery. But you were Toji's daughter, stubborn as hell, they noticed as you still didn't touch your dinner.

"Y/n. Eat your food." Ranta Zenin, the more soft spoken of the Zenin men tried.

You sniffled. "M' not hungry."

Your stomach growled loudly at that. Making the men smile a bit. At least you had a big appetite like them.

But Naoya was losing patience. "Y/n-"

"You can go." Naobito said, drinking his wine.

"What-"

"You." Naobito called the maid. "Take Y/n to the ladies dining." The maid nodded and held out a hand for you, but you quickly went to Naobito first and kissed his cheek, thanking him, making the older man laugh and pat your head. Taking the maid's hand, you left the room, but not before sticking out your tongue at Naoya, who had a death grip on his chopsticks.

"Why did you let her leave?" Naoya asked, mad that his father had undermined him in front of you.

Naobito only hummed as he sipped his wine. "If you didn't let her go, she would continue to pester you until you did. Its better if she goes now, let her get it out of her system, and she'll come back on her own."

That was what Naobito thought, as did his brothers. Naoya soon realised what his father meant. You'll come back on your own once you realise how bad it was with those soulless women.

But then you didn't join them for breakfast the next day. Or lunch. Or dinner. Maybe you'll come back after the day. But then one day turned into two, then three, then four.

By the sixth day, they were all on the edge. They all missed you, especially the older men since meal time was often the only time they got to spend with you. At least Naoya and Ranta got to be with you when they trained you.

What exactly was happening in that dinning hall for you to not come to them?

"I'm going to take a nap." Naobito said, after only taking a few swigs of his wine. "A little tired today. Enjoy lunch." He said, bidding farewell to the men.

After a few minutes, Ogi Zenin stood up, clearing his throat. "Ugh. The food tastes disgusting. I'm leaving." And the food did tasteless, all because of your absence.

Soon, Jinchi Zenin also left the room, excusing himself that he's got stuff do.

Now, it was just Naoya and Ranta, the latter smirking at the former.

"What are you smiling about?" Naoya asked, agitated.

"You miss her, don't you?" Ranta said, popping another piece of sashimi in his mouth.

"No, I don't. Shut up."

"Alright, if that's what you say, I'll believe you." Ranta said before standing up. "I don't know why you would lie to yourself though. There's no shame in missing Y/n. I mean, I miss her, your father and uncles miss her, you miss her,"

Naobito looked up from his plate, confused. "What do you mean they miss her? And stop saying I miss her. I don't."

Ranta began walking towards the door. "Oh really? Well, where do you think they all are now?"

Naoya frowned at him. He didn't mean- he didn't mean there in the dining room down the hall, did he?

Naoya stood up but Ranta stopped him. "Oh where are you going? I thought you didn't miss her."

"Shut up." Naoya pushed him out of the way and practically sprinted down the hall to the dinning room.

Sliding the door open, he was shocked to see everyone, EVERYONE from the Zenin clan in the room. His uncles were sitting next to their wives, Naobito was sitting in the head chair, drinking his wine and you were sitting in Aunty Zenin's lap, telling her a story you had heard from Naobito.

As it turned out, the ladies dinning room was far more fun than the men's. The women who already loved you, thought you were dumped by their men to their dinning hall. So, they made sure to make you laugh and play with you and tell you stories and do your hair, heart melting at your adorable face. Not to mention, they let you do zoomies in the dinning room.

Before you came along, the women like their husbands, would usually just eat in silence and the entire aura of the room was dark and gloomy. But with you, it was like a firecracker of happiness had went off in the room, lighting anywhere you went with you jolly and carefree nature.

As Naoya stood at the door, feeling betrayed that he was the last one to come while the others were enjoying their time with you. Without a care, Naoya went and plucked you off Aunty Zenin's lap, lifting you up in the air.

The room fell silent as they watched you recognise Naoya and struggle to get out of his hands. Clearly, you were still mad at him.

"Let go!" You said, wriggling in his huge hands.

"Why? Are you still mad at me?" Naoya asked, eyes sharp but a playful glint in them.

"Yes! Let go!"

"Hm, no. But I have a way to fix that." Naoya said, grinning evilly before tickling your sides.

You immediately went into a fit of laughter, telling him to stop.

"L-let go! St-stupid Uncle N-aoya! LET GO HAHAHAHAHA-!"you continued laughing.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes!" Naoya continued tickling you, smiling at the way you were getting red.

In the middle of laughing and trying to escape him, your hands managed to catch Naoya's hair, and you tugged hard, making him finally stop.

"Stop! Fine, I'm not mad at you anymore." You said, trying to catch your breath.

Naoya smiled, rubbing his scalp where'd you tugged his hair. "Good." He said, before kissing your fat, chubby cheeks.

God, he missed them.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

our day will come

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Plus size F!Reader

Words: 3,073

Warnings: some misogyny, talk of prostitution, allusions to being full figured, name calling. Soft, sweet, and naughty Pero - SMUT: unprotected sex, sex on a chair, dirty talk from Pero, spitting, creampie, Pero begging (if you squint).

Summary: Finding someone who can look past what your body looks like is tough, especially in your line of work, but you find a companion in someone you least expect.

[pero tovar masterlist]

You took another sip of ale before turning your attention to the man who had just walked in. You always tried your best to figure them out before serving them. This man looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“What can I get you, sir?” you asked, pushing your chest out a bit like your boss always told you to. The corset helped, of course, but he always wanted you to go above and beyond for his shitty little tavern. He even had some of the girls offer themselves to the men. You were full figured and while many of the men didn’t mind that, your boss assumed that you wouldn’t get as many “customers” as the smaller women so he stuck you behind the bar with your tits practically spilling out over your dress. It was uncomfortable but it was your only way of making money right now.

The patron, who had barely looked at you, grumbled something. You leaned in and he spoke up.

“Mead!” he shouted and you jumped.

“Right away…” You rolled your eyes and filled a stein with mead, slamming it down in front of him then sticking your hand out. He put a few coins in your hand which you proceeded to shove down your corset. “Thank you.”

“I need a room and a bath,” he said.

“Okay.” You pointed to the sign behind you with prices. He did look filthy and a bit like he was in pain as well. “Someone will bring you hot water.” A man on the other end of the bar whistled at you and shouted something lewd. You looked at the man in front of you and smiled sadly before walking over to the other patron.

You talked and laughed as though their words didn’t bother you. This is what you had learned in all your time working here. They made their jokes about how warm you would keep them at night and how lovely and wide your “child-bearing hips” were. You were tired of it all, of course, but you had no other choice.

You stepped out once the other barmaid made her way back downstairs. You loosened your corset a bit and breathed in the cool night air. Leaning against the brick wall, you stared up at the stars then closed your eyes until the door clattered open and someone called you.

“Fella says he wants a bath,” your boss said.

“I don’t do the baths,” you reminded him.

“Now you do. Says he wants you.” He stood there staring until you spoke again.

“You know I don’t do…that.”

“You’ll do whatever then hell I tell you to and whatever he pays you for now get your fat ass up there!” He slammed the door behind him and you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut to keep tears from falling.

You shoved past the filthy men and their grabbing hands to pick up the bucket of hot water. You made your way up the stairs, past rooms that were filled with sounds of pleasure, to the very last room. You knocked then pushed the door open. His back was turned to you and you nearly gasped at the scars and bruises that littered it.

“Uh…your water, sir.” You walked in and poured it into the small tub in the corner then walked back to the door quickly.

“Wait,” he said and you froze, closing your eyes.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you really want to go back down there?” he asked. You didn’t respond. “I listened to how those men talked to you, how they treated you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for too? Isn’t that why my boss told me you specifically asked for me?” You looked at him and hoped he couldn’t tell that you were crying.

“I asked for you because I could tell you were not enjoying yourself,” he said.

“I never enjoy myself in this place,” you admitted.

“Then why are you here?” he asked and you were about to answer until you realized you knew nothing about this man. You could hear his accent, you could tell he was a fighter of some sort, you could tell he really needed a bath, but that was about it.

“I really must go,” you said quietly.

“I paid for the night,” he told you and you swallowed hard.

“Why would you do that?” you wondered.

“So you wouldn’t have to go back down there. I can see how unhappy you are. You can rest now,” he offered.

“Why are you doing this for me? Do you want something from me?” You closed the door and put the bucket down. When he didn’t answer, you began unlacing your dress.

“Don’t…I am taking a bath and going to bed. You should get some rest as well.” He began taking his pants off and you looked down at the floorboards, your face warming up at the sounds of what was happening in the room next door. You heard the water sloshing around then some hit the floor.

“Is it hot enough, sir?” you asked.

“Please stop calling me sir. My name is Tovar. Pero Tovar,” he said as he bathed himself.

“D-d you need help, Pero?” You still weren’t exactly looking at him.

“I am quite capable of bathing myself, thank you. You can sit.” He gestured to the bed and you sat nervously. “I will not hurt you,” he said.

“Oh…” You wanted to change the subject. “Where are you from?”

“What is your name?” he asked at the same time. You told him your name quietly and he nodded. “I am from Spain.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” you said.

“Why haven’t you gone?” He stood and you made sure to keep your eyes averted.

“Look at where I am. I can only visit in my dreams,” you said sadly. He sat on the bed on the opposite side.

“Dreams sometime come true.” He laid down facing away from you. “You can lie down.”

In the morning, you awoke in a panic and rolled over. Pero was gone but his side of the bed was still warm so he hadn’t been gone long. You would miss him. It wasn’t everyday you found someone who treated you like another human being.

Every time he came to the village, he would stay at the same place and made sure to pay for your time.

And you both just talked and enjoyed each other’s company. He never wanted anything else from you and you were never sure why. You never had enough courage to ask him if he was married or not.

“Where do you live now?” you asked him one night. This had to be the tenth time he had visited the tavern.

“Just down the road,” he said as he removed all his belts and buckles. You turned to him, nearly seeing things you had no right to.

“Down the road? Then why do you come here?” You looked into his eyes and he looked into yours without another word. “Oh…um…y-your water is ready.”

“Thank you.” It was quiet while he bathed.

“Don’t you have all this at home?” you asked.

“No. I do not have company at home,” he responded. Well, that answered at least one question for you. “It is why I’m away so often.” He hesitated before speaking again. “I will be leaving again.”

“Okay? You’re always off on some adventure. Why are you making this sound like something sad?”

“I will be gone for a few months. I am not even sure I will return,” he said.

“Oh, I see.”

“I’m going to China.”

“So, tonight is goodbye?” You looked at him.

“For now.”

You shook your head and swallowed your tears. “Goodbye, Pero.” You left the room without another word and without another look at him.

It had been four months now. You kept track with little tally marks on a small part of the wall beside your bed. Maybe he really wasn’t coming back.

You had quit the job down at the tavern a few weeks ago, finding something better for yourself but part of you was still empty without him. He was the only man who treated you as more than someone he just wanted to have warm his bed. He didn’t make smart remarks about your size or make you feel as though you were less attractive because of it.

Now as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt ashamed of yourself. All the words thrown at you seemed to flutter about your head. You had lost whatever self-worth you had in that place.

You made your way down to the market, greeting familiar faces here and there. When someone called your name, you looked around but saw no one. You assumed you had thought you heard your name.

There it was again and in a familiar voice. He emerged out of the crowd looking a little worse for wear.

“Pero?” you gasped before walking to him and hugging him tightly. He hissed and you pulled away quickly. “You’re hurt!”

“Do not make a fuss. It’s nothing I have not dealt with before.”

“Come with me. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.” You walked back to the little hut you called home and Pero followed. “You can lie down on the bed.”

“I do not wish to dirty it,” he said.

“Well, take your clothes off then,” you quipped, turning back to your cupboard.

“You have gotten bold while I was gone,” he strained as he undressed down to his under clothes.

“I left that…horrible tavern,” you told him with a smile. You pulled a small chair up to the bed as he laid down.

“I am proud of you.” He smirked.

You finally took a good look at him. “Gods…what did you get in a fight with?”

“Gunpowder,” he joked then winced.

“You’re all bruised especially your ribs. You’re lucky you haven’t been bleeding internally this entire time.” You shook your head. “Well, there isn’t much I can do for bruising except keep you comfortable and off your feet.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“You’re staying here.”

“I would try to argue but something tells me you are not the kind of woman I want to argue with,” he said with a small smile.

“Exactly.” You stood and checked the food on the fire. “Dinner will be ready soon. You caught him touching the tally marks on the wall by your bed.

“What are you counting?” he asked.

“Days…” You paused and wrung your hands. “All the days you were gone.”

He whipped his head around to look at you. “Does that mean you missed me?” He gave an arrogant smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Tovar.” You walked away and he chuckled behind you.

He bathed with just a little help from you then got back into bed until it was time for dinner.

You were going to bring his food to him in bed but he insisted on getting up and walking to the table.

“You must enjoy pain,” you scolded as he sat down.

“There must be pain in order to know what pleasure feels like,” he said and suddenly your face was hot.

“How are you really feeling?”

“I am better than I have been in months and the pain isn’t so bad. I also am much cleaner than I have been in…I don’t know how long,” he said and you laughed.

“I’m glad.” You looked at his empty bowl. “Are you finished or would you like some more?”

“I think I’ve had enough.”

“Okay.” You grabbed your bowl then walked over to grab his. You washed them quickly then made your way back to the table. “Here, I’ll help you get back in bed.” You went to help him up but he didn’t budge. Suddenly, you were on his lap. “Oh! I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?” You hurried to get yourself off of him.

“Why would you think you would hurt me?” he asked, his hand on your lower back.

“Pero…you know exactly why.” You try to stand again but he doesn’t let you. “You’re already hurt just let me…”

“You are not hurting me. Look at me.” When you looked into his eyes, he spoke again. “This is fine.”

“Pero…”

He kissed you softly, pulling back to gauge your reaction. You could only blink a few times. “May I kiss you again?” You nodded slowly then his lips were on yours again.

“I’m going to…crush you,” you murmured.

“You will not. Stay.” He held you tighter as he deepened the kiss. “I have dreamt of this.”

“You have?” you asked and he nodded.

“Will you…undress for me?”

“I…I…you don’t want to see me with my clothes off,” you said quietly.

“Why would I ask you to undress then?”

“I am not like the other women you have been with…” you started.

“How would you know what kind of women I have been with, hm?” He tilted his head. “Undress for me. Please.”

You stood on wobbly legs and undressed slowly, trying your best to hide the most unsightly parts of yourself.

“Why do you hide yourself?”

“I…I am not pretty nor do I have the perfect figure that most of these women have.” You looked down at the floor, with your hands covering you as best as they could.

“What if your figure is perfect to me?” he asked and you scoffed.

“Don’t make fun.”

“I am not. I’m serious. I think you are perfect. Every inch of you…” He reached out and move your arms out of the way so he could touch you. “There is no need to hide yourself from me. Ever.”

“I’ve never had anyone look at me this way. I’m always so afraid that…that…”

“You’re beautiful. You can sit here again.” He tapped his thigh. When you looked down, you noticed a bulge in his pants.

“Hm…” Your face was on fire now. You sat on his lap carefully, straddling him. “If we stay like this then we’ll break the chair.”

“I bet we won’t.” He touched your breasts gently and you arched into his hands. “Do you always worry so much?”

“Yes,” you sighed, watching as he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, worrying it between his teeth carefully. “Yes,” you moaned.

“I’m going to touch you,” he said.

“I thought you already were.”

He shook his head and slowly put his hand between your legs just as he wrapped his lips around your other nipple. You cried out as his fingers spread you open and began exploring you.

“So wet. So warm,” he growled against your breast before biting down on your nipple. “No pleasure without pain, remember?”

“Fuck,” you cried. He teased your clit with his thumb and watched your face twist in pleasure. He longed to see you in the throes of passion. When you came undone on his fingers, he quickly brought them to his lips and sucked them clean.

“The sweetest nectar all for me.” He kissed your lips then pulled away to look down. You knew what he needed so you slid back on his lap a little so he could pull his cock out. He was more than ready, thick and throbbing with a lovely vein that you wanted to drag your tongue along.

“Should we go to the bed?” you asked, slowly wrapping your hand around him.

“No,” he grunted. “Right here.”

You froze. “But the chair…”

“Will be fine.” He put his hand over yours and stroked along with you. “Spit,” he whispered. Your pussy clenched. You gathered some spit in your mouth then let it fall onto his cock. He mumbled something as he helped you stroke him faster. “Again. Spit again.” You spit once more and he pushed your hand away. “Fuck me.”

“What…I…”

He looked at you with desperation in his eyes. “Please, sit on my cock.”

You bit your lip as you lifted up and he lined himself up with you. You lowered yourself onto him slowly and gasped at the stretch. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as he bared his teeth.

You hadn’t done this in a while but it all seemed to come flooding back as you began swirling your hips on him.

“Yes, yes, just like that,” he groaned. The chair creaked beneath him but he paid no attention to it. His eyes were on you and only you. He began thrusting up into you as you circled your hips and he knew just how to hit against that sweet spot inside you—one that only you were able to find.

“I want you to be full of me so when I leave again you will remember this night, this moment, and how I filled you with my seed…how I marked you inside and made you mine.” He kissed you sloppily as his thighs thrust up against yours. He cried out and held onto tightly as he began filling you.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel me? Take all of it.” He thrust up into you hard. “Take it.”

You felt as though it would never stop. You could feel some leaking out and back onto him.

He let out a loud groan then rested his head on your shoulder, catching his breath.

“You are mine,” he murmured. “Mine.”

Later that night in bed after another rigorous round of lovemaking, Pero held you close.

“You know, I missed you too,” he said.

“Hm?”

He reached into his bag on the floor and pulled out a small piece of paper. “I missed you.” He showed you the paper in the candlelight. It was full of little tally marks like your wall.

“I am hoping to never be away from you this long again,” he said, folding the paper back up and tucking it away in his bag before wrapping his arms around you again.

“Next time I may just have to come with you,” you joked, smiling as your eyes closed.

What you didn’t know was that you were with whether it was in person or not. He always carried you in his heart since he first laid eyes on you. Your face, your smile, your voice had been carved into his memory from the beginning. And nothing would ever change that.

[therealpussybangs]

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Starring:    Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev                                                          

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual-    intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!  

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Aone-

                Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative. 

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you. 

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply.                     “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm. 

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Goshiki-

 You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong. 

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu. 

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door. 

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!” 

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home. 

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say  the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music. 

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother. 

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men. 

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him. 

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces. 

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

[leetotters]

Hi! Can I ask for a long sugardaddy mob Tom fic? You’re first like blurb kinda did it for me ☺️☺️

mobsugardaddy!tom holland x reader

warning: daddy kink(he's a sugardaddy here lmao), curse words, oral (male recieving)

summary: basically request just short😔

"Don't you fucking come near her again" Tom spat on the man's bloody face colliding his fist to his swollen eye one last time, he gripped the man's jaw making him let out a groan at the mob boss firm hold. "Don't go touching things that don't belong to you" Tom gritted through clenched teeth as the image of the man in front of him attempting to grope your ass played in his mind once more. Tom roughly drew his hand back, pushing the man's face to the mucky floor, he instructed his right hand man Harrison to finish up for him, knowing you would be fretting why he was taking so long.

Tom exited the back door of the pub, pulling out a handkerchief from his suite wiping the blood from his fists and knuckle, mumbling profanity words when he noticed his knuckles were bruised red. Tom made his way to his car, where he was met with the sight of you laid back in the car seat scrolling through your phone, your dress hiked up displaying your red thong that was surely doing a poor job covering your cunt.

Tom opened his door, sliding in his seat as he pulled his seatbelt over his chest, pressing the start button. "Hey babydoll, sorry for taking so long daddy had.. some business to deal with" Tom knew better than to tell you what he was doing, he knew you didn't mind his choice of work but he was smart enough not to get you involved.

You nodded your head acknowledging Tom, you kept your eyes on your phone screen skimming through dresses and jewelry you wanted Tom to purchase for you. "Ohh look at this Daddy" you gasped at the ivory satin dress with corseted details that exposed a fair amount of cleavage to Tom, he only smiled at you resting his hand on your thigh pecking your plump lips, "Looks lovely doll, you should add it to your cart" You beamed saying a soft thank you as he clicked the plus icon.

"So where are we going now" You inquired setting your phone on your lap, pulling Tom's hand from your thigh interlocking your fingers together, twisting the silver rings that adorned his fingers. "I was thinking that Italian restaurant you wanted to try" Tom answered pulling your hand to the steering wheel as he circled around the road.

"Yes let's go there, the menu is a bit pricey though" You stated earning a hearty laugh from Tom, "M'sure I can manage the bill darling" you rolled your eyes at his cheeky response but broke out grinning knowing he wouldn't give a damn about the cost.

After your extravagant dinner you went home your stomach full with the delicious full course dinner and your favorite dessert. "Tommy I think you're trying to get me fat" you whined poking your belly, pouting at Tom, he looked at you shaking his head placing his hand on your stomach giving it a gentle pat. "Course not doll", he pecked your lips focusing his eyes on the road as the light turned green.

When you arrived at Tom's mansion you got out of the car, handing your coat to the maid as Tom did the same telling her to expect Harrison to stop in later to collect some important documents, you made your way to Tom's room which was practically yours since he insisted that you had your own personal closet, the reason being you spent most of your nights here instead at the luxurious apartment he bought you.

"Doll I have to finish up some work so don't wait for me" Tom spoke walking up to his bed undressing himself leaving him in his button up shirt and his boxers. "No Tom it's a Friday night" you whined out like a child, wrapping your arms around his torso resting your head on his clothed back, your fingers fiddling with his pendant.

Tom turned around latching his lips to your pouty ones, "As much as I want to spend my night with you doll, I have some stuff to get finish up" You huffed pulling your lips from his as he tried to deepen the kiss as if he was going to finish what he started. "Well go ahead, m'not stopping you" You went to the bathroom taking your dress off leaving you with your thong and bra on, you thought Tom already left to go to his office so you began wiping your makeup off.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror making sure you got all your makeup off, exiting the bathroom ready to dress yourself for a lonely night with Netflix. Before you could bend to pick up Tom's trousers from the ground you were hoisted up in the air, your legs instantly wrapping around the middle of person as you let out a loud scream. "Sh doll" Tom quieted you, his hand holding the back of your thigh while his other stretched the fabric of your thong letting it go to slap against your skin making you yelp at slight sting.

"What the fuck Tom" you jeered pretty sure he should be in his office doing his work or killing a man for all you knew. "What doll did you not want to spend the night with daddy" he smirked seeing you attempting to clench your thighs together, he knew how much you loved the daddy title.

"Put me down Tom" You uttered trying to come down from Tom's sturdy hold. "What did I tell you about calling me doll" Tom quipped through gritted teeth not liking your tone and name you just used, giving you the chance to correct yourself, his free hand unclasping the hooks of your bra revealing your perky breasts.

You gulped answering him like the good girl you are for him, knowing tomorrow he was suppose to take you out for your daily shopping spree because of your good behavior. "Sorry Daddy" you mumbled eyes trained on Tom's shirt not daring to meet his gaze.

"Much better" Tom rest you down on the floor patting your ass as a little approval, you smiled up at him happy that he wasn't using his mean tone and you probably still had the chance to buy latest Chanel handbag you saw earlier. "Since you behaved bratty today why don't you show daddy how sorry you are" Tom spoke his hands tweaking your hardened nipple.

"Yes daddy, I really am sorry" you sunk to your knees, internally cheering that your grumpy self got him to give you his cock, you pulled his boxers down his legs, your finger tracing over the cross tattoo on his ankle. Tom's cock stood high and proud slapping his stomach breaking free from it's prison, you grasped his length your hand pumping his brick hard cock, vaguely dipping your tongue on his tip tasting his moreish precum.

"C'mon doll better start sucking or else I'll not buy that cute little handbag you so badly wanted" Tom lifted your hair pushing his cock in your mouth making you gag, but wasted no time suckling his length, your hands playing with his balls as Tom kept his hand in your hair pushing you deeper so you were now deepthroating him. "Just like that babydoll" he groaned thrusting forward inches away from his end.

You looked up at Tom through your lashes, your eyes glossy blurring your vision of his beautiful face as he came in your mouth, his hold of your head tightening eager to come all over the tip of your tongue, that was more than gladly to collect his come. "Yes doll swallow Daddy's come" He ordered, you didn't need to be told twice immediately swallowing the warm liquid.

"Open up babydoll" You opened your mouth showing him you swallowed just like he asked you to. "Good girl" he praised softly patting your cheek prompting you to close your mouth, Tom pulled his boxers up his legs tucking his now wormy looking cock in.

You were about to speak but was cut off by the ringing of Tom's phone which made you roll your eyes but you stayed quiet knowing better than to upset him. Tom answered his phone giving you his winsome smile before entering the bathroom to continue his call.

You changed slipping in to your satin ruffled two piece pajama set waiting for Tom to come cuddle, you clicked on Netflix playing Gilmore Girls once again even though you finished the series. You laughed at one of Lorelai jokes twisting the rose gold tiffany and co bracelet Tom bought for you a while back at the first three months in your 'arrangement'.

Tom exited the bathroom his smile long gone and replaced with a miffed expression throwing his phone carelessly on his dresser running his hand through his curls. "What happened To- Daddy" you asked softly not sure if he would want to reply to you or not. "Nothing doll just someone fucked up again" He groaned slamming his fists against the wall letting out an annoyed huffed.

You jerked up at the sound, standing from your spot on the bed making your way to him, gently pulling him in a hug kissing his forehead, his whole mood changing embracing you in his muscular arms pecking your nose snuggling closer. "What happened" you asked a few minutes after.

"Just this new guy fucked up, lost me thousands of dollars too, big dumbass" Tom scowled pulling away grabbing his coat from the leather chair, clasping his Rolex on his wrists, combing his locks. "I have to go see about this babydoll" Tom kissed your lips, "But tomorrow I'm yours for the entire day, me and my credit card" He laughed seeing the way your eyes widened at his last words.

"Yes okay daddy don't be long" You pecked him waving him out the bed room door, jumping on the king sized bed pulling out your phone scrolling through yet another site.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Syd pounding away at PC's tight heat, not even trying to keep quiet; his lover's back pressed against the library counter. Your hips were definitely going to bruise when he was finished. Lost in his own lust and unaware of the strength he had, he was using more force then necessary. Not that you minded, wrapping your legs around him and spurring him on. You'd broken your vows together, something that meant so much more to him that it ever could you. It was only fair you let him impale you on his fat cock when and wherever he wanted.

"God, fuck," He let out a needy moan. Drool slipped down the corner of his mouth. His glasses laid discarded, and his shirt open. Not that he'd care if you squirted all over him and ruined it. In fact, he loved it. He lived for the fact he could wreck you so good that came hard enough to do so. That he could fuck you so hard he had to carry you to his father's car just so you could get home. Hell, every now and then he'd insist you ditch the temple early; just so he could bring you back to his home and screw you in his own bed. You weren't sure how, but you'd managed to make the prudish library assistant into a sex hungry degenerate.

"You feel so good wrapped around my dick." He panted, his pace increasing to something harder, deeper. Like he wanted to fuse your bodies together. He hit all your deepest parts. You could swear he hit your cervix a few times. You clung desperately to him when he stared aiming for your g-spot, your body beginning to shake and his name a desperate whimper on your lips. He groaned again, strawberry blonde fringe falling in front of his eyes. He grunted from the force of rolling his hips into your's. The sound of skin hitting skin would be definingly loud if not for the lewd duet of your cries and moans and the wet squelching of his enormous prick stuffing you full.

"Oh fuck yes, cum on my cock, love." Sydney increased the speed with which he bottomed out inside you, a hand leaving your hips to play with your clit. It was enough to have you sob his name as an orgasn rocked your body. He hissed out a swear above you, your inner walls milking his cock for cum, but his hips didn't miss a beat. He fucked you through your climax and into overstimulation. It was going to be one of those days then. At least it was friday and you didn't have to worry about school the next day. You squirmed under him, but never the less wrapped your arms around his neck. You keened loudly, pussy clenching when he hit your sweet spot again.

"D- Daddy-" Something that did make his hips stutter. He groaned your name, nearly pausing so he wouldn't bust a nut right there. Sydney leaned over you, pushing your knees to your chest. You weren't entirely sure who was moaning like a whore, you or him. Maybe it was both of you.

"Fuck, love! Daddy's gonna fill you up, okay?" He let go of one of your knees, trusting you to keep it in place for him. You did, the best you could anyway. With his free hand, he removed one of your arms from around him so he could entwine your fingers together. He covered your neck in kisses and love bites, trying and failing to muffle himself as his balls began to tighten.

"Fuck! Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna fill you with my-!" Sydney squeezed his eyes shut so you wouldn't see his eyes roll back in his head. It didn't matter if you could actually get pregnant or not. The thought of knocking you up, of having the person he loved carry his child; it always made him cum the hardest. He continued fucking you through his peak, elongating it and leaving him as overstimulated as you.

When he finally stopped his assault on your sex, he lazily kissed you. Your tongues dancing in a wordless show of affection. After a bit, he ghosted his hands down your body, slowly pulling away from you.

Only to hoist you along with him as he sat back in his chair, cock hard inside you again. His hands resting on your sore, bruised hips. He hadn't quite caught his breath when he spoke.

"I love you so much. I can't get enough, I need more." Sydney began moving you up and down over his erection, rolling his hips up to meet yours. You weren't sure of he meant more of your body, more orgasms, or just more cumming inside you. He never pulled out and you had a feeling he'd be apposed to the idea. He seemed pretty offended when you brought up condoms. Thank fuck the pill was free (should you need it). The sharp crack of his hand against your bare ass was enough to let you know he wanted you to ride him like a racehorse. It was going to be one of those days. You hoped Sirius wouldn't mind giving you another lift home.

(- anon 🚩 I'm hopping on the Sydney thirst train.)

"I'm friend zoning Sydney," I said. Send in this and make me thirst for them, 🚩 does.

I love how much he swears when you corrupt him. It's ridiculously hot how he goes from a shy, stuttering mess to a sex-crazed breeder.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[princessbatears]

Winter Challenge 2021 - Day 8 (Snowed In)

Pairing: Werewolf Frankie Morales x Female Reader Summary: Frankie must protect the sanctity of Santa Claus when his preschooler has doubts POV: Frankie Warnings: Reader not actually present in story, language, lying to a child about Santa, brief toilet humor Words: 650 A/N: From my Lunar Cycle/Bitten universe, set shortly after Trick-r-Treat

A soft hush blankets the house as snow continues to pile onto the six inches already covering the ground and trees outside. Frankie can also tell several inches have stuck to the metal roof, adding to how muffled the world around him is.

He nestles squash into a roasting pan, glad he went to the grocery store before this started. Nobody’s going anywhere for a while.

Then, a terrible scraping ruins the tranquility, nearly sending him through the roof. No! The panicked word echoes in his head as he scrambles out of the kitchen on socked feet. You are taking a much deserved nap and he’ll be damned if you’re awoken by whatever your 3-year-old is doing.

The screeching of something on the wood floor continues as he skates down the hall. “Maya, stop!” he hisses.

There’s the briefest of pauses, indicating she heard him, and then it starts up again.

When he reaches your office doorway, he sees Maya pushing the wooden desk chair towards the closet.

“Stop, now!” The sharp words are followed by a low, wolfish growl in his chest. This, more than anything, gets her to cease. Her tiny fingers clench onto the chair’s back stubbornly, but he sees her big, brown eyes giving him a nervous side glance.

Arms crossed over his chest, Frankie walks into the room. “Can you tell me why you decided Mommy’s nap time is when you wanted to do this?”

You tend to be the disciplinarian in the house, so it’s rare that he shows this level of displeasure with his daughter. But you’re eight months pregnant and he’s very protective of your rest time.

He stares her down, watching as she considers whether to answer or not. Good sense prevails and she says seriously, “I need to see if Santa’s real.”

This was not the answer he expected—not that he’d known what to expect, considering the circumstances. “What are you talking about, dulce niña?” he asks, allowing curiosity to soften his disapproving father tone.

“Braydon said Santa isn’t real, that parents bring Christmas presents. I said he’s a liar and he told me to look in the closets for mine.”

This is the first Christmas she might remember and it’s the first Christmas you and Frankie are really able to include her in the festivities. He is not about to allow one of the little shitheads at her preschool ruin the joys of Santa Claus yet.

Gently, he pries her fingers off the chair and carries it back over to your desk. “Don’t listen to Braydon, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But he says he found toys at the top of his mommy’s closet!” Genuine distress makes her voice louder.

Frankie scoops her up in his arms, kissing her cheek. “Papi will prove that Santa is real. Look.” He walks over to the closet, which you use to store various office and home supplies.

The top shelf is stacked high with empty electronics and appliance boxes, which you refuse to throw out until the warranties are up, “just in case” they need to be sent back.

“What about your closet?” she asks, her chubby hand holding onto his shirt.

“Mommy’s sleeping in there, but I’ll show you as soon as she’s up.” That would buy him time to move the gifts to under the bed.

She hums, considering, then nods. “Okay. But I’m not forgetting!”

“You hold me to it. Come on, keep me company while I make supper.” Frankie carries Maya out of the office, hoping that the fact the master bedroom door is still closed means you slept through the ruckus.

“Papi?” Maya asks as he sets her on the kitchen floor.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He returns to the squash, wondering what other Christmas lies he might have to quickly spin to counteract Braydon’s big, fat mouth.

“Why do farts smell?”

- - -

Spanish translation: dulce niña - sweet girl

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Werewolf Masterlist