#just spilled pancake mix on the one I was just wearing

[msgexymunson]

walking around the house in nothing but one of eddie's old t-shirts... knowing that the second he sees you, you're getting bent over the nearest surface.

Well! How could I say no to this?? 

Warnings: p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) implied established relationship, dom Eddie x sub fem reader 

A/N: this was a good ask, exactly what I like, short and dirty (just like me) Comments and reblogs are what keep the cogs and springs in my steampunk heart oiled ❤️

Masterlist

Humming along to the radio in the warm light of the trailer, you try to be helpful, mixing ingredients in a plastic bowl you'd found in a cupboard. Eddie had left to do a deal and his uncle was away all weekend, so you'd crawled out of bed and decided to whip up some pancakes. He'd mentioned them the night before and left you with a craving so you thought you'd surprise him. 

You pad around the kitchen barefoot, only wearing one of Eddie's old Hellfire T shirts, the one he hated since it was too big. It was perfect for you as a makeshift dress, just covering the curve of your butt. 

Reaching on tippy toes you examine the top cupboard trying to excavate a frying pan from its depths. Over the sound of the tinny radio and your own clattering you don't notice the opening of the trailer door, or the metallic sound of Eddie's keys falling to the ground in shock. 

You cannot help but notice a warm torso against your back and an unmistakable bulge pressing directly against your ass. Jumping with shock, a squeal escapes your lips.

"Jesus Eddie you scared me!" 

No words. Just a firm hand gripping you by the hip, the other snaking fingers across your jaw, and a strong body pushing you hard against the counter. Panic grips you for a moment. What if it isn't Eddie? 

That is until hot breath winds its way into your ear. 

"Baby, look at you. What are you doing?" 

You attempt to answer, whilst he grinds his hardness against the fat of your ass cheeks. 

"I-I was, I was making pancakes. I was gonna surprise you?" Your words are unsure; he almost sounds mad, belying the urgent gestures of his hips.

"I mean, what are you doing in my shirt? Jesus baby, you look smokin' hot." 

You attempt to move but Eddie's holding you still, hand now gripping the nape of your neck whilst the other smooths across your curves and under the hem of his old shirt. As his fingertips ghost across your heat you can't help but back into his feathering touch. 

"Fuck, you're not even wearing panties? Well, fuck." 

His hand moves away, making you frown, until you hear the unmissable clink of his handcuff belt. Eddie unzips his jeans and pushes them down just far enough to release his cock from its denim confines. 

You feel the weeping tip rut against your slickened folds making you jolt. 

"Eddie, please." It comes out needy, begging; exactly how he likes it. 

"Yeah? You want it? Is that why you're wearing my shirt and nothing else?" You hear the grin in his voice and the wet noise of him spitting into his hand to wrap it around his dick. 

When he starts pushing into you a gasp forces its way out of your lungs; air expelling in relief at him entering you. 

Eddie gives you no time to adjust. He simply ruts into you animalistically, one hand gripping your hip leaving indents in your skin, the other leaning on the countertop as leverage, allowing him to drive into you as hard as possible. 

"You drive me crazy, just walking around in my shirt, and, fuck, nothing else. You fuckin' menace." 

"Eddie!" You try to retort but there's no air to breathe, unable to snap back when he's fucking you this brutally. 

You feel a deep bubbling in your stomach, a powerful release clamping down on your insides, about to spill. Eddie's thrusts become sloppy and somehow even deeper as you scream your release out into the world, pussy gripping him as if it were afraid to let him go. Eddie cums inside you with a drawn out groan, body flopping over yours on the countertop. 

Pressing soft kisses to your temple, he pulls from your heat and stands. You're not so lucky, legs wobbling, nearly giving out from under you like a new-born fowl. 

"Woah there, sweetheart" Eddie says as he grasps you firmly by your waist. "You OK?" 

Steadying yourself, you turn to face him. 

"Hi." 

"Hi." He chuckles, peeling a strand of hair out of your face. "You wanna go and clean up and I'll make the pancakes?" 

"Sure" You grin, planting a kiss to his chapped lips.

"You wanna hand me that then sweetheart?" 

Confusion floods your face, until your eyes follow his, and realise your gripping onto the spatula you had in your hands when he came in. You hand it over, fingers releasing from their death grip. 

"That good eh?" Eddie smirks, full of himself. 

"Shut up Munson" You hit his arm, but there's no force in it, as you make your way to the bathroom. It was, after all, a hell of a way to wake up. 

I only had a tag list for Rumour, so if anyone wants to be on my general Eddie taglist please comment/reblog to say so!

@munson-blurbs @eddiesprincess86

[heartfullofleeches]

Happy Birthday, C.C!

(And a happy belated Valentine's day. One holiday is a bit more important to me than the other. Gotta celebrate my favorite incubus's day or he may cut me. Reader is brief mentioned to be wearing lingerie, but there really isn't anything that suggestive in this fic- Enjoy!)

-

When asked what he wanted for his birthday, C.C gave the same answer nearly every year.

"Why would I want anything when I already have everything I need?.... A new pair of shoes would be nice, but I'm really not that picky about what I get."

A successful career, the funds to purchase whatever trivial possession he desired. If he hadn't found fame and fortune early on in his life on earth, C.C would have been more than happy to mooch off of the desperate, lonely humans who'd do give him just about anything for a crumble of his attention. A short while ago, the only presents that mattered were what he received from the select few in his family he deemed worth the title, but something that has changed recently - another person entering his life who he puts on the same pedestal as the blood he holds dear if not higher.

If there was one thing C.C didn't want for his birthday - it was waking up in an empty bed all by himself.

Reaching an arm over your side of the bed, the drowsy demon is rudely dragged from his sleep as he finds no one there next to him. It's funny to think that a year prior he would have had no problem with this. Now, his heart sinks every time there's no one at his side. You're cruel for making him so dependent on you like this - and not being beside him on his big day.

C.C grumbles something under his breath - stumbling out of bed, making a grab for his phone on the nightstand as he exits the room. The second he turns it on, he's bombarded with hundreds of birthday wishes from friends and fans across several social media accounts. C.C swipes them all away, only bother to read any of the notifications in case he misses a message from you saying you're out. Why you'd leave without him is beyond him, but it was the best his groggy mind could come up with. Turning the corner that leads to the living room, a sea of curses sound from the kitchen muffled by running water.

"Shit, shit, shit- Fuck, why won't it come off?!"

C.C would recognize that voice anywhere. He scurries into the kitchen - biting back a laugh at your unfortunate state of appearance. There you stood over the sink, frantically scrubbing at your palms with a sponge. It was all over your hands, the robe you wore, even your face - pink stains that stubbornly refused to come out no matter how hard you tried. On the counter behind you was a bowl filled with a pinkish mixture - a bottle of red food dye still mixing its top and covered in red fingerprints seating beside it. C.C creeps over while you're distracted and sticks his fingers in the batter.

It's pancake mix.

"Mmm... I think all that dye is supposed to be in the bowl, babe."

Startled by the voice behind you, the sponge hits the bottom of the sink with a wet splat as you look behind you - hands quick at fixing your robes over scantily dressed body. "C.C? You're awake?! You're usually not up til noon - I thought I had more time.... Happy Birthday!"

The more attempt to hide it, the more C.C notices parts of your skimpy attire beneath the robe he had got you on your own special day. C.C loved to see you in his favorite color, but the bright pink fabric lessened the nearly see through aspect of your underwear and top in this lighting. The stockings you wore made up for it well enough - another accessories he loved to see on you that he made sure to voice many times before.

C.C gathers some of the paper towels on the counter. "Well I see you were at least trying to make breakfast - or get readying for Halloween a few months in advance. Sexy vampire is always a nice look."

"The seal just wouldn't come off and when it finally did it spilled all over me... I'm sorry for messing breakfast."

"Hush." C.C pulls you in close, wetness bleeding through his shirt as he embraces you, but he doesn't seem to mind. "We still have everything we need. I'll help you finish up and then we can take a shower together and spend the day in bed. You didn't put that outfit on just for show, did you?~"

"No, it was actually meant to be your Valentine's gift but.... I still haven't gotten your birthday present yet. I was going to take you to the mall and let you decide since there's so many things you like..."

C.C holds you tighter - grinning from ear to ear as he looks over your shoulder at all you've done for him. 'Don't worry.... I have everything I want right here."

[jtstoryweaver]

Child or Double, Part 2

(Part 1 of this story is here.)

You pull the old children's clothes out of your dryer and hold them up critically. They'll be a bit big for the girl, but they'll do well enough for now.

"Little sister, are you around?" you ask the empty hallway.

There's a shuffle behind you, and you turn to see two young girls behind you, hand in hand. The one on the left is warier, while the one on the right is flickering gently—here one second, faded the next. You offer the clothes to the child on the left.

"Could you please take these to your sister? If she wants to come out of her room, I'll be making breakfast in a minute. If not, you can take her breakfast up to her."

Little eyes squint at you, and the girl on the left takes the clothes silently. The pair vanish, clothes and all.

As promised, you head downstairs and start clattering around with plates and pans. Pancakes, you think; even if the terrified child in Alan's old bedroom doesn't want any, the rest of your children will happily clean them up. They don't <em>need</em> to eat, but some of them enjoy it anyway.

There's a shuffling noise on the landing above, and light footsteps pad hesitantly down the stairs. You make sure to pretend you haven't noticed, moving to the far side of the kitchen before looking towards the door.

Two wide brown eyes peek back at you from around the door frame, and you smile. "Hello," you offer.

"'lo," she whispers.

"What would you like to eat?"

Her gaze darts towards the heaped platter of fresh pancakes. "You made pancakes."

You nod, setting the plate on the kitchen table and taking the milk out of the fridge. "I did, but you don't have to eat them if you don't want to. My kids are very happy about finishing off any leftovers."

Tiny white teeth dent her lower lip. "Cereal?"

"You can absolutely have cereal," you agree, opening the cupboard so that she can see the selection. "What kind?"

She points at the rice pops, and you pour them into a bowl and add milk.

A little more of her is visible now, and her bright red top tells you that she's wearing the clean clothes you sent. There's a pang in your heart, pain mixed with pleasure at seeing Alan's clothes on another child. "Are you comfortable eating at the table, or would you prefer to take them back to your room?"

Her eyes widen even more. "What if I get milk on the carpet?"

You smile, putting her cereal on the table and then backing off. "I promise you, that carpet's been through worse than a little spilled milk. I can always scrub it later."

Her lips press together in determination and she marches out into the kitchen. You half expect her to grab the bowl and spoon and scurry back to her room, but she pulls herself up onto the chair and digs in.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. So brave, this little one.

A moment later, part of the reason for her courage walks through the kitchen door. It's the girl's Doubler, still hand in hand with the child who used to look like Alan. "Is there room for us?" the girl's Doubler asks.

"Always, sweetheart," you tell her. The girl scrambles up next to her sister, the still-flickering child perforce taking the next seat along. You're almost certain that the additional child is Duncan, the Doubler who haunts your attic.

You're proved right a moment later when Duncan looks up at you. "M-mom? Is it okay if I look like this?"

"Of course it's okay," you reassure the most nervous of your children. "You can look like whatever you want. Did you want a new name?"

"N-no." Wonder of wonders, Duncan smiles tremulously at you. "I like being Duncan. I just like being a girl too."

"I'm proud of you, my daughter," you assure her.

Not being particularly demonstrative, Duncan looks away shyly. But the little smile is still on her lips, and she stops phasing in and out of reality.

The girl, who's about halfway through her cereal, pauses to stare at you. "What's your name?" she asks.

"Elaine," you say, leaving it open as to whether the girl tells you her name in return.

She nods. "I'm Diana."

From across the kitchen, you nod in acknowledgement. "I'm pleased to meet you, Diana."

Duncan nudges the Doubler sister. "Do you have a name?"

"No," she says, her lips turning down in a pout.

"Sara!" Diana declares. "I always wanted a sister called Sara."

The newly named Sara lights up. "I like it!"

Milk splashes on the table when Diana drops her spoon to hug her newly named sister, but you're not worried. Like the carpet in Diana's room, the table's seen much worse than a little spilled milk.

~

(Okay, breakfast went on longer than I expected and I have more story to tell, so keep an eye out for Part 3!)

[fandom-nursery]

Can you do Klaus agere headcanons?

Yes!! I love little Klaus so much!

He isn’t totally sure what age he regresses to yet but he’s pretty sure it’s usually under the age of 7

Because of how frequently he was high or drunk over the years he has had a bit of trouble identifying if it was substances or regressing making his movements uncoordinated or his head fuzzy or his emotional state more sensitive. Now that he’s sober hes slowly starting to figure out the ins and outs of his own regression 

Involuntary regressor and has only recently been really addressing it  

He’s pretty accepting of it in a “this might as well happen” sort of way. He tries not to let it bother him and knowing his siblings regress too helps but there is always reginalds voice in the back of his mind calling him weak or an embarrassment for his behavior 

Little Klaus finds all of his big feelings very overwhelming and confusing and tends to shut down when faced with them. It sometimes takes some prompting for the others to figure out what wrong 

He’s pretty talkative when small unless he’s really upset but he tends to lisp or mix up his words while talking which can sometimes make it difficult to understand him. He also loves to just make up words and then use them like everyone else knows what they mean already. His siblings have taken to keeping a sort of dictionary of made up Klaus words

His moods are unpredictable. Sometimes he will regress and be very silly and happy, others he will be silent and clingy and withdrawn, sometimes he will even be incredibly grumpy or angry. It’s hard to tell which version of little Klaus you are going to get

He will nap but it’s always in the strangest places. His family has joked that he must be allergic to his bed after finding him passed out bent over the back of the sofa for the 5th time 

little Klaus once lined up all the kitchen chairs in a row and then fell asleep underneath them

He has a bad habit of hiding and then falling asleep in his hiding spot and making everyone watching him panic because they can't find him

Klaus will run and leap into his siblings' arms insisting they catch him. Most of them manage it pretty well. Ben always feels really bad when Klaus forgets to make him corporeal enough and isn’t able to catch him at all 

Baths have always been a source of great comfort for Klaus and he has a truly astonishing number of rubber ducks 

He loves to go on “treasure hunts”. It's never clear what exactly the treasure he’s looking for is but he has a great time doing it. He also loves to play elaborate pretend games and dress up 

Big fan of sugary snacks. He also loves breakfast foods. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, french toast, bacon, hash browns, you name it he will eat it at any time of day 

Messy little. He’s been banned from eating on the couch after spilling three things on it in one evening 

Surprisingly musical while small and loves playing maracas, tambourine, and kazoo at all hours of the day. He will also sing along to any songs playing over the radio and he knows a very impressive number of them by heart

Klaus doesn’t get too attached to material possessions due to always being on the move. He does however always keep Dave's dog tags around his neck even when small and will rub them between his fingers when he's sad. Being able to see Ben is also pretty important to him since he’s used to his brother's presence. 

He has a habit of stealing his siblings clothing to wear while regressing. They bring him a lot of comfort. His favorite siblings to steal from are Luther and allison 

He will use a paci on occasion although it’s usually a tool to indicate when he has confided something about himself to his family but doesn’t want to answer follow up questions because he doesn’t feel big enough to adequately explain  

He doesn't like diapers very much however he has consented to being changed into them on the rare occasion that he does have an accident 

Ben has known about his regression the longest for obvious reasons but Dave was the one who helped him figure out what exactly it was. Once Diego told him about his regression he became very open about his own and it didn't take very long for everyone else to learn about it. 

Ben took care of him as best he could for years and Dave was his first real living caregiver. He never asked any of his siblings to be his caregiver however Diego was pretty quick to step in and be that for him when he started slipping around his family. From there five also started stepping in. Viktor, Allison and Luther aren’t really sure what to do with him and usually stick to babysitting. Sparrow Ben accidentally proves his resemblance to their Ben when he also falls into the role of caregiver  

Little Klaus does not have as thick of skin as big Klaus and can be very sensitive which his siblings learned the hard way after a bit of teasing that big Klaus would have snarked back to or ignored caused little Klaus to burst into tears 

He isn't sure exactly when he started regressing but he suspects it might have started as early as the mausoleum

[chocopuchino]

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI – “IS THAT MY SHIRT?”

“It looks what?” you breathe out, suddenly turning back to see him, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“it looks good on you.” he says, suddenly getting closer to your face.

cw: ushijima wakatoshi. lightly suggestive, reader is smaller. reader has boobs. you’re funny.

wc: 1k+

a/n: i love him so much, soso much, hes a small n silly n adorable little guy :(((

it’s a sunny day. your wonderful boyfriend decided to take a break and not go to practice! (correction, you obliged him to take a fucking break) he’s in the shower, and as a wonderful partner, you decide to make some pancakes for breakfast!

You’re excited, finding an amazing pancake recipe online, and he doesn't have a clue that you're making them or what it even is. mixing the batter— oh no, it spills onto your t-shirt! oopsie daisy, you’re so clumsy at times, hehe. hot girls dont wear aprons, remember? with pancake mix all over your t-shirt, what’re you supposed to do now? of course, the one and only right answer, to wear one of your boyfriend’s shirt!

humming down the hallways, making your way towards his overly big wardrobe, you realize you should probably take this rich man shopping. two pants, three pair of jeans, all of his underwear folded in a drawer, pajamas, a luxury branded robe he never uses, neat shirts of all types, blazer, coats, and of course, millions of shorts, leggings, running jackets, compression shirts, and any other type of athletic clothing. you sigh, ugh so unfashionable.

but, one thing catches your attention. neatly folded and hanging, you spot his beautiful jersey. schweiden adlers, his name written on the back, the dark blue collar, number 11 written widely front and back, the little logo on the right, the gold ombre below going up- fuck he should be coming any minute now! still, even if he’s currently playing for Japan’s men national volleyball team, this jersey was always your favourite. bingo, you think, immediately snatching it (with lots of care, of course) and placing it down on the floor.

taking off your messy t-shirt and throwing it away, knowing how eventually he’s gonna be the one to pick it up and place it in the washing machine- you put it on.

his fresh and manly scent immediately invades your nostrils, and oh god is it big. just like his d-

he’s big. its obvious. he’s tall, and you’re not at his height either, so there’s a difference. his jersey reaches below your pelvis, while on him it used to reach just before reaching his hip. jerseys for athletes are usually tighter, meaning that this might be a tiny bit smaller for him. the sleeves reach your biceps, and your collarbone is almost exposed. you’re surprised though, its quite thin and flexible. you thought that it might be a bit felty or something, but it’s light!

making your way towards the kitchen, you go back to the counter again to actually start the pancakes- and you finally hear the loud creak you’ve been waiting for. a few creaks coming in your direction, it suddenly stops, and you turn around just to face a—

tall. wet. and a freshly from the shower wakatoshi. ah, his body is like a work of art, like a greek god, sculpted to perfection, and, with only a beige towel wrapped around his hips- wait a minute, that’s the same colour of that branded robe inside his closet, are they maybe from a set?—

“love.” he breathes out, his deep voice hitting you suddenly, interrupting your thoughts, and your cheeks flush.

“yeah? what’s wrong, toshi? something the matter?” fluttering your eyes at him, speaking in a tone so oblivious.

“Is that … my jersey?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow.

“no, it’s not. it’s my boyfriend’s. isnt it, like, so cool? i swear he’s so cool, you should prolly meet him y’know.” you answer sheepishly, facing your back to him, showing off the name written widely on the back.

“Ah… I see. It looks …” if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't quite get your sarcasm and would stand there confused. deciding not to answer, he simply observes you. seeing where it reaches till, sleeves reaching your biceps, and the way your curves are hidden under it— but seeing the curve of your breasts, the jersey flowing down from there, makes him blush a little.

“It looks what?” you breathe out, suddenly turning back to see him, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“it looks good on you.” he says, suddenly getting closer to your face.

your eyes widen slightly, cheeks heating up softly. leaning back, you scoff, prepping the stove now.

“i-i know, of course it does. why wouldn't it?” you answer after a moment,

“you're right, really. it's very big on you. why are you wearing it, honey?” he asks, now suddenly feeling big hands on your waist, your back flush against his firm, broad, and bare chest.

“because, you know-”

“no, I do not know.”

“Toshi!!" You whine his name out, frowning with a scoff.

"it's because while I was making the batter, I spilled a lot on my t-shirt, so, it got dirty, and I wanted to … “

your voice gets quieter after each word, and he notices, his hands now going from your waist, to now caressing your sides.

“to what?” he asks so normally, gosh it makes you mad.

“to … wear… your, shirt. or t-shirt. or jersey. I just wanted to wear something of yours, y-you know, to take in your warmth and to feel comfy and nice. I missed you, y'know? s-so I thought...” you explain, tone quiet.

“I see. Doesn't making love count as the same thing though? If you're missing me so much, I should take more break days. No, why don't we have it today? tonight? now?”

“W-what?! Toshi- you should definitely take more break days but you can't just squeeze that in like that, that's too sudden!-” you squeak, surprised by the sudden change in topic, cheeks heating up impossibly as you look up to see his face. he looks so calm and stern.

“Tonight we’re going to have dinner at your favourite restaurant. we’ll have some wine, a three course meal, and then I'll have my dessert later.”

he states with a nonchalant tone, pecking your cheek from behind before walking off, leaving you ultimately flustered.

safe to say you got a three course meal and wine from your fav restaurant, in change he didn't get your pancakes but did get his dessert!! now you're unable to walk lolol

© chocopuchino : all of the works that are written on my blog belong to me. please refrain from copying, translating, plagiarizing, and/or altering my works. (that includes doing so on other websites and platforms as well). credits to original authors for characters and artwork. all rights reserved, 2023, and however that shit goes. notes are appreciated! <3

[diorleclerc]

Could you possibly write something on Carlos Sainz, a breakfast scenario, w/your guys' child maybe x

you wake up to an empty bed, your daughter and husband both nowhere to be seen, but you could hear little giggles and laughter coming from downstairs.

you head down and see both of them wearing matching aprons, you daughter sitting on the counter while carlos mixed the pancake batter by her side.

“and what are my two little chefs cooking up?”

at the sound of your voice, they both turn to the entryway to see you with a very amused look on your face.

“mommy! we were supposed to surprise you!” your daughter exclaims. “aw, i’m sorry i ruined the surprise. but you guys sounded like you were having so much fun and i didn’t wanna be left out,” you say, going over to give her a lkiss on her forehead.

“and where’s my good morning kiss?” your husband speaks up. “be patient,” you giggle before pecking his lips quickly.

“so what’re we making?” you ask. “oh no. we are the ones cooking. you don’t get to do any of the work,” carlos shakes his head, leading you to the dining table so you could just watch them.

“oh come on. i’m already here. let me help,” you say but they both shake their heads. “nope! you’re not allowed to help mommy!” your daughter exclaims.

you sit and watch as the two of them mixed the batter, carlos instructing her on what to do for each step. while you watched, you were able to sneak a few cute photos of them.

“okay mi amor, slowly,” carlos says as he helps your daughter flip the pancakes. “that’s it! look at that, absolutely perfect. don’t think i’ve ever seen a more delicious looking pancake,” he says, making her giggle.

she helps him with a few more before he takes over and makes the rest himself so it was faster then they joined you at the table.

“so? are they good mommy?” your daughter watches as you take a bite. “mmm, your daddy was right. these are the tastiest pancakes ever,” you hum, making her smile even wider.

“what? they can’t be better than mine!” carlos teases. “sorry babe, but they’re ten times better than yours,” you say, watching as your daughter stuck her tongue out at him.

“oh really now?” carlos starts as he pulls her onto his lap. “i think the tickle monster would disagree with that!” he exclaims before tickling her sides, filling the room with her giggles.

watching the way both of them are smiling and laughing puts an even bigger smile on your face. and giggles quickly start to spill from your lips when carlos and your daughter decide to team up and attack you with tickles.

[quotemenevervore]

SIX THOUSAND WORDS LETS FUCKING GO

This was meant to be haha funny feral boys game but I kinda got out of hand oops

Content warnings: general panic, anxiety, crying, character feeling bad about themselves, safe, soft, g/t vore, fluff and angst.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The trio had just woken up, getting ready to actually get up and start the day, when their door was practically kicked down with a loud bang. Sapnap bolted upright, throwing the covers off and heading downstairs to find out who the hell was trying to break into their base. Quackity was the next speeding down the stairs, his wings puffed out to make himself seem bigger. The fireborn threw the door open, glaring hotly at the person- people, on the other side. George at least looked apologetic, but Dream was wearing the mask, so all he saw was the smiley face on it. “What-“ “What the fuck are you both doing!?” Quackity had all but shoved him aside, seething as he tried to step over to the blonde. At least Sapnap had the sense to grab the collar of his fiancés shirt and yank him back before he could do something he’d regret.

“Do you know how fucking early it is!?” “Do you not remember agreeing for us to meet up at this time?” George retorted. “Can we come inside so we can discuss the details of this?” “It looks like you two need to get dressed anyway.” “We would already be dressed if someone wasn’t banging on our door like they were trying to rob us.” Sapnap stepped back inside, releasing the avian who followed with a pointed glare at the blonde as he and George joined them inside the house. The fireborn pointed to the couch. “Stay here while we get dressed, then we can figure out breakfast and everything else.” There was already a sweet scent in the air, likely Karl having gotten dressed and started on breakfast.

Quackity had walked right past him when they’d entered the house, and as Sapnap started towards the kitchen he found the ravenette practically draped over the other, muttering to him and making the brunette giggle while trying not to spill the batter he was mixing.

Upon stepping into the kitchen, the avian turned to face him, and was motioned to go upstairs. With a groan, he detached himself from Karl, and begrudgingly made his way to their room to change. “Good morning.” He pressed a kiss to the brunette’s cheek, not wanting to interrupt his cooking. They’d done it once before, had a competition to see who could distract their fiancé more, and wound up with him being angry with them for the rest of the evening. If they had more than one couch he almost guaranteed both of them would have been sleeping on it. “Good morning, Sap. I’m guessing George and Dream are here?” A sleepy tone clung to Karl’s voice, and he turned only briefly to leave a peck on the fireborn’s lips, turning back to the pancake to flip it. “Yea. Fucking gave all of us heart attacks. I’m gonna go get dressed, and I’ll be back down, okay?” “Okay!”

He passed his other fiancé on the staircase, the man out of pajamas and into a tee-shirt and a pair of pants. He whistled at him, and got a fond scoff and an eye roll in response. Once he’d gotten dressed in his normal attire, he headed back down and joined the two in the living room. “Quackity, quit distracting Karl so he can cook!” He yelled to the kitchen. “Make me!” With a smirk, he was back off of the couch and halfway to the kitchen when the avian tried to dart past him, resulting in a shriek as he wrapped his arms around the other’s waist and picked him up, carrying him to the living room while he flailed, wings puffing up and feathers threatening to smother him. “Put me down!” “If you insist.” He dropped Quackity onto the couch, sitting on the opposite side of it. When the other finally righted himself, he turned to him with a pout. “Sapnap…” His tone was nothing short of betrayed, and he rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. “I warned you.”

A fake retching sound pulled their attention to the other two of the room, George acting like he was sticking his finger down his throat. “Shut the fuck up, you’re just jealous that Dream doesn’t treat you like this.” Quackity huffed, glaring at him. “That’s literally not true. We’re not together, why would he? And do you do this to all of your guests, or are we just unlucky?” “See, normally we get all of our affection out in the morning, but that was ruined by someone.” Sapnap pointed out, as the avian jumped in. “Congratulations! You’re our one hundredth visitors, and for that you get the prize of watching us suck each other’s faces!” “Stop, oh my god.”

Quackity startled giggling, and Sapnap was debating what he’d do to make the other too flustered to continue before Karl poked his head into the living room. “Breakfast’s ready! Come to the table.” The four stood, George seemingly happy to have an out to the PDA before him, and they all headed to the dining room where Karl had already set up his own plate. “Just pancakes? Don’t you guys want something that’ll actually keep your energy up throughout the day?” Dream questioned. “Not just pancakes, nimrod. If you’d actually look in the kitchen you’d see.” “Then what about you?” “You woke me up early. If I get caught first, I’m going back to bed.” “Starting to sound like George over there.” Sapnap teased. “I do not sleep that much!” The brunette retaliated, angrily walking towards the kitchen to get his own plate.

It did not take long for everyone to get their own plates, settling at the table to start eating. “You barely explained what this is over the phone. Would you mind explaining a little bit more before we actually do anything?” The question was very quickly answered by Sapnap, despite it being directed at Dream. “Yea, let’s go over the rules and everything. Not having another game like last time.” “That’s fine. It’s kinda like tag and hide and seek. Last time we played Sapnap stayed big while me and George shrank and if we got caught he got to store us. Now that we know Quackity can store people too, that means we can add more people to the game.” “You seriously got us up this fucking early to play a twisted game of tag.” The avian was unimpressed. “I thought you’d be up for it?” The other sighed. “Honestly? I don’t even really like storing people to deal with my instincts. I do it when I’m asked, or when I know it’ll help, but this just sounds like it’s gonna lead to bad things.” “It did last time.” George muttered, poking at the food on his plate. “Even if I was more interested, I can’t store people like Sapnap can. I have a pretty small limit and I will not risk anyone’s safety by going over it.” Dream became confused by the statement, but decided to brush it aside for now. “What’s your limit?” “Two. Even then it’s pretty crowded.”

Dream had begun to say something else, until the avian suddenly perked up. “Actually? I change my mind. I’ll play, on one condition.” “What’s that?” “Dream’s mine to catch.” “I’m good with that.” Sapnap said, looking to the brunettes in the room to get their opinions. He knew if he was left with the more anxious two of the ones shrinking for the game, he could at least make it not as terrifying to be caught. Besides, he knew George was likely to fall asleep quickly and Karl already said he was sleeping the second he was caught.

“You know what? Fine. But I don’t plan on making it easy on you, Quackity.” “I wouldn’t want it any other way. What’re the rest of the terms?” “The hiders get a two minute head start. Sapnap can’t use his senses to track us, and if you catch us you can store us. But don’t purposely try to kill us, or hurt us for that matter. Like, accidents happen but don’t try to hinder our progress by hurting us.” Sapnap rolled his eyes. “The whole point of the game is to tire everyone out. Why would we waste energy trying to hurt you if we’re just gonna store you anyway?” “Just putting it out there.”

Once everyone had finished their breakfast, and set the dishes in the sink to come back to later, Dream faced the group with a grin that they could tell was there just by his posture alone. “We ready to go?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dream led the group pretty far from the base, using a command and making an ender pearl stasis chamber for when the hunters were ready to return. The other three would be teleported with them, so it wasn’t a concern for any of them.

Dream had only brought one splash potion of shrinking, so he had Sapnap throw it so the three hiders would be hit with it. The fireborn watched carefully as it began to take effect, making sure nothing went wrong. When all three had shrunk down to the four and five inches they were supposed to be, he stepped back. “Two minutes. Then we start coming for you. You can keep running, or try to hide. It’s up to you.” “Obviously.” George rolled his eyes. “Let’s get on with it already.”

Sapnap and Quackity moved to sit back to back a little ways away from them, both closing their eyes as the avian started counting to a hundred and twenty teasingly aloud. With their timer already started, all three tinies sprinted towards the woods surrounding him, Dream splitting from the brunettes to lead his pursuer down a completely different path. That is, he thought with a grin, if the other would even find his path.

As he continued running, the speedrunner thought about good spots to hide to throw the avian off. Unlike Sapnap, Quackity can use his wings to hover off the ground, so hiding in the branches of the trees would be a no go. Thankfully, he didn’t have enhanced senses like the fireborn, so if he were to hide on the ground it would be easier on him. The real question was where. He didn’t take his chances with the nearby bushes, not willing to risk getting caught up in thorns, and most of the trees nearby simply didn’t have crevices near the bottom that he could hide under. When he heard the hunters call that time was up, he snatched up a nearby leaf and propped himself up against the base of the tree, making sure not a single bit of himself was visible from behind the leaf. Now all he had to do was wait and conserve his energy.

George was still running when the time had been called, sprinting towards the tree closest to him and searching the base for a place to hide. There. He’d almost stumbled into it, not seeing the entrance due to the moss covering it, but when he ripped a corner of the moss off he found a burrow at the base of the tree. With a quick prayer that there wasn’t an animal inside, he slipped down into it, breathing a sigh of relief when it was empty. Grimacing at the damp moss under his feet, he stepped over to the burrow’s entrance, listening for the hunters to start arriving. A few minutes had to have gone by, and his eyelids were growing heavy, when he finally heard the footsteps of something gigantic coming towards the tree.

Maybe it was because he was tired. Maybe it was because he wanted to get caught so he could get a nap. It didn’t matter, because George then poked his head out of the burrow to see who was coming, and promptly put it back upon realizing the sneakers he saw were not Sapnap’s checkered converse.

Wrong person. He hoped with everything he had that it was Quackity and not someone who just happened to stumble into their little game. It would be terrible to have to explain all of this to another person. The footsteps stopped just outside the burrow, making his heart stop for a moment.

“ ‘Ello, George!” The fake British accent cut through the air, almost making the Brit laugh. “I thought you were after Dream?” “I am! Can’t I say hi to my friends?” The larger hadn't crouched down or made any attempt to grab him, so hesitantly, George let himself relax, poking his head back out to look up at the other. “Hi, Quackity.” “Thank you. Guess you want me to leave before Sapnap shows up, huh?” “I don’t care. He catches me, I get to sleep. Dream woke me up even earlier than you guys.” The avian scoffed. “That’s why I want to get him.” “What’re you gonna do to him?” “I won’t hurt him, don’t worry. I am gonna scare the daylights outta him though.” “Good luck.” “Yea. Guess I’ll see you when all this is over.” “Okay.”

He watched the other’s shoes step away from him, heard the footfalls grow softer as he went back to searching for the speedrunner. “You’re really not gonna try?” “Maybe if it was later in the day and Dream didn’t wake me up so early. Guess we’ll just have to play again sometime.” He stepped out of his hiding spot to find the fireborn had climbed into the tree covering the burrow, resting his head on his crossed arms and smiling down at him. “I’d be down.” “Did you find Karl yet?” The smile turned quickly to a frown. “Not yet. I’m starting to wonder if Quackity found him first.” There was more on the tip of his tongue, but George could tell he bit it back to try and stop worrying.

Karl had stopped trying to hide the time traveling thing from the five of them, but it didn’t make it any easier when he suddenly vanished for long periods of time and came back forgetting more. It takes a bit to jog his memory each time, and sometimes it doesn’t work or he still can’t remember something. And if he wasn’t coming back with fewer memories than before, then he was coming back injured, from deep scratches to almost fatal wounds. “Well, come get me already so you can go find him.” “Go back in the burrow and I will.” George rolled his eyes, but complied, hearing the crunch of leaves as his friend landed. “Come on out, Gogs.” A hand was waiting for him outside the burrow, and he didn’t hesitate to climb onto it, shivering as the heat from his friend made him realize how cold he’d been.

“I vote we don’t play this game until it’s warm again.” “Aww, that’s two seasons away!” “That’s Dream’s problem, not mine. He can find a warm place.” “You wanna play this in the desert?” The shrunken man cringed at the idea of having to fight sand dunes and hidden caves while small and running from his friends. “Never mind.” “You ready?” “Yea. Go ahead so you can find Karl.” Even he couldn’t deny the tendrils of worry gripping his heart at the thought of their friend being pulled away again. If only they could help, but alas, it wasn’t their place to. All they could do is help with the aftermath. Hopefully he was just hiding in the area he’d said he’d try hiding in before the two split up.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he allowed himself to focus on the source of heat that his legs have now slipped into, letting his eyes fall closed as he was drawn in quickly. If he focused, he could feel the fireborn’s heart racing through his tongue, feel the slight quiver to his breaths. He really was worried, and the brunette decided to have a talk with Dream about not including Karl in the game without special rules for him next time. It simply wasn’t fair to any of them, and it almost ruined the fun worse than Dream forcing them all to wake up early did. Not that it was Karl’s fault, he’d never blame the other for any of this, but still.

He hadn’t even been paying attention, too lost in his own thoughts, but he was definitely brought back to the present as he was caught by the other’s throat, tugged quickly but gently down to his friend’s storage. He did little to adjust himself once he slipped in, merely patting at the walls and telling the other to go ahead and find the other brunette, relaxing at the soft purr that he could hear his friend emitting. Once he’d settled down to the swaying motion around him, he let his mind drift once more, though this time to how Dream was faring with Quackity.

~ ~ ~

Shitshitshit-

He’d fucked up. The leaf shifted thanks to the wind and as he tried to pull it back over him, he locked eyes with the avian’s dilated pupils. The second his body unfroze itself from shock, he was on his feet, sprinting off. His heart was pounding as fast as his feet were, and both sounds were nothing to the other’s sneakers slamming against the forest floor as he gave chase.

He was pulling every trick he could think of to try and shake Quackity off of his trail. Ducking under roots, being risky with jumps that could wind up with him being caught, making too sharp of turns, and yet none of it shook those dark eyes off of every move he made. “Get back here, Dream~” Even breathless, his voice was taunting, and almost sinister. He knew the other agreed not to hurt him, but damn if he didn’t try turning his veins to ice anyway.

Finally, he got what he thought would be his saving grace; The other had taken a corner too sharply and slammed directly into a tree, knocking him off balance and allowing him another head start. He gladly took it, but began searching for a new place to hide. He couldn’t keep running forever, he was already getting winded. He only took a chance to duck near the base of a tree once he couldn’t hear the other’s footsteps anymore. In hindsight, he should have been more concerned about it, but he took the chance to take much needed air into his lungs, feeling every muscle in his body burning from exertion. Once more oxygen finally entered his brain, he wondered why he hadn’t heard the other’s footsteps, and began looking around.

Dream could swear his heart stopped completely when those dark eyes narrowed onto his form once more.

Oh fuck.

He was crouching damn near beside him, a small smirk on his face when they finally made eye contact. He didn’t even get a good chance to run before the avian’s hand slammed into the tree, effectively cutting off the blonde’s escape route. He slid to the ground, having tried and failed to change his direction and another hand blocked that route off as well, leaving him trapped. He had to hand it to the other, really; he felt well and truly hunted, and it was exhilarating. But now he’d slipped up, and got himself caught. Panting, he let Quackity scoop him up. “That what you wanted?” The other quipped, sitting back and staring at the smaller. “Yea, actually.” “Damn. I was hoping to make you regret hosting the game.”

“Didn’t really do a good job of that. Really, it just makes me wanna include you more. Sapnap’s pretty good too but he’s also really careful when we’re small. Kinda ruins the mood.” The avian gained a thoughtful look to his face, eyeing the other carefully before a smile turned the corners of his mouth upwards. “As long as you don’t wake us up at ungodly hours again, I might be down to play again.” “Now you’re getting in the spirit.” And then the blackette was scoffing, rolling his eyes at the quip. “Well, maybe you should get in the spirit for a nap. God knows I’m ready for one after chasing your ass around.” The blonde laughed, making no move to stop the other as he was lifted up towards his mouth. Despite being tipped in rather unceremoniously, he could tell the avian was being gentle as he licked at the other. “Why do you taste like that?” Even as he was spoken around, he was maneuvered so he didn’t come close to the teeth surrounding him. “Like what? I don’t know what I taste like.” “Like fucking lemons or something. How are you the one wanting to be eaten the most and tastes the most fucking bitter!?” “You’ve yet to spit me out.” He pointed out. “Fuck no, you earned your damn time in my crop.” And there he went, laughing all over again as he was quickly slicked up and slid back so he could be swallowed down.

He was surprised to be slid back gently as his surroundings were tilted, rather than be pushed back with the other’s tongue. He supposed it was fair though, not everyone who stores would be like Sapnap. He couldn’t say much about Sam, since he never shrunk to be swallowed by him. Though, there wasn’t really much of a difference between being tugged down by the throat muscles, despite the fact that Quackity simply wasn’t as warm as the fireborn.

When he slipped into the other’s crop, he realized that the avian hadn’t been lying before; his crop was definitely smaller than Sapnap’s pouch. He took a moment to feel around and get a sense of his surroundings, yanking his hand back when the walls around him tensed up. He’d just found an area that had felt different than the others, and now he could feel Quackity attempting to push him away from it with his hand and with the organ’s walls. “Is-“ “Stay away from that spot.” His tone was strangely emotionless, simply matter of fact and stern. “What is it?”

And then the other was sighing, and the walls relaxed around him, letting him have more room once more. “My crop isn’t like Sapnap’s pouch. It’s attached to my stomach.” Dream blinked, then relaxed, realizing the other had just been concerned that he’d put himself further down. “Oh, your biology is like Sam’s, then. Why didn’t you say anything before?” “Oh shit, yea, Sapnap told me that Sam had a crop or something similar. I forgot about that.” The blonde settled down, relaxing on the side of the crop that Quackity wanted him on, and listened to the other start walking back to what he assumed was their stuff. “What’re you doing now?” “Looking for Sapnap to see if he found Karl yet.” “What about George?” “I ran into him earlier. Sapnap was literally hanging out on the branches of the tree he was hiding under. There’s no way in hell he hasn’t gotten his ass caught yet.” Dream laughed, listening in as he heard the other’s communicator go off.

“Hey, have you seen Karl? I’ve searched all around and I can’t find him.” Sapnap asked, barely concealing his concern. “No? I wasn’t looking for him, but I’ll start. Why?” “What’s going on?” “I'm worried he may have traveled while shrunk.” Quackity froze, then picked up the pace, ending the call abruptly and scanning everything around him on the chance he could spot his shrunken fiancé. “Quackity, what’s going on?” “We didn’t take into account Karl’s ‘ability’ when we agreed to do this.” The blonde froze as well, sucking a breath in when he realized the implications of that. “I’m searching for him. Did he say anything to you about a potential hiding spot?” “I separated from them when you started counting.” A Spanish swear escaped the other, and Dream only wished he could do more to help. He just hoped they were blowing things out of proportions, and that they hadn’t just doomed their friend to a dangerous time whenever he wound up.

~ ~ ~ ~

If there was one thing that Karl could thank the time traveling for, it was the fact that in short time frames and dangerous situations, he was agile enough to give himself an edge against the odds. As it stood, he’d tucked himself into a bush, keeping an eye out for any pursuers from the thick foliage. For a while, nothing happened, not even faint footsteps, and he felt himself getting sleepy. But then, footfalls finally came close to his hiding spot. He watched with bated breath as his fiancé’s sneakers came into view, scanning everything around him before giving a resigned sounding sigh, beginning to look around again and stepping away from the bush he hid in. Then his voice rang out, amplified by what he could see was his hands cupped over his mouth.

“Karl, you’re literally the last one. The other two got caught already. You won, come on out.” Poorly concealed worry tinged his fiancés words, and he almost considered it. But at the same time, he’d only wanted to catch Dream when they made the arrangements. He didn’t want to be unfair to Sapnap and reveal himself so soon. “Fuck…” the blackette pulled out his communicator, clicking through the contacts so quickly it almost made Karl’s head spin. Then he put it to his ear.

“Sap, I can’t find him.” There was no hiding the panic in his voice now, but the shrunken man didn’t move yet. For all he knew, the other could be faking it, or trying to make him reveal himself sooner. Maybe he already knew where he was and was just toying with him. He never knew with these kinds of games. He couldn’t hear what his other fiancé was saying, but it only seemed to worry Quackity further. “I’ve searched my entire area twice already, and Dream told me that he hadn’t said anything to him about how he was hiding!”

… Okay, maybe his fiancé wasn’t pulling a joke. He knew they could get wary sometimes thanks to the time traveling, but he’s never seen them get this frantic before. Is it because he was small? No, maybe he was amping it up to try and make him come out. He had a habit of doing that. “…Okay, I’ll wait here.” And then the call had ended, the other putting his communicator back in his pocket and warily looking around, trying to locate something that would tell him where he was. It was still for a few moments, both unmoving in their respective spots. “C’mon, Karl…”

Not a few seconds had even passed before rapid footfalls sounded in his ears, and they were only getting louder the closer they got. As they finally skidded to a halt, the avian gave a sound of surprise. “How did you know where I was?” “Hang on,” Sapnap wheezed. “Gotta catch my breath.” “Then you shouldn’t have fucking sprinted, dumbass.” A few seconds passed before a retort was given, the other less winded. “George said he should be around here. If he’s not, I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do.”

Oh. Oh this wasn’t a joke, they thought-

He crawled out from the bush, looking up at the two. Sapnap had started searching around the area again, and Quackity had also begun searching, but with a jaded sense, like he’d believed that they wouldn’t be able to find him. “Quackity? Sapnap? I’m right here.” he yelled, knowing he’d catch the fireborn’s attention but unsure if his other fiancé would hear him. Both heads snapped up, Sapnap’s eyes going to the forest floor. “Where, love?” Quackity asked softly, but the other had already located him, kneeling down and offering him a hand. He climbed onto it, about to apologize for unintentionally worrying him, but was cut off by the other practically smothering him with a kiss.

“Where the hell have you been hiding?” Quackity’s words were said sharply, but Karl knew it was from relief rather than anger. The avian’s wings were still puffed out in worry, and for a moment the brunette worried that he could potentially cause the other to get lost in instincts again. “The bushes. I’m sorry, I thought you guys were trying to trick me into revealing myself, so I stayed hidden..” he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. “It’s- well, it’s not okay, you about gave us heart attacks, but we forgive you. Maybe next time we should implement a time limit for hiders.” “I can already tell you how Dream’s gonna react to that.” Sapnap snorted, lifting his tiny fiancé back to his face to kiss him again. “Quackity?” He hummed, and the blonde continued. “Tell him we should. At least if Karl’s participating, because one of these times something actually could happen.” He’d gone completely limp once he figured out the other was found, and the avian could tell he’d been worried too.

“Do I get a turn before you tuck our love away?” Quackity pouted, before sighing. “And Dream said he thinks it’s for the best after what just happened. If he wants no time limit all he’d have to do is wake one of us up at fucking four A.M. again.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the side of the brunette's head, smiling when he was given one to his cheek, as tiny as it was. “I’ll head back and get our stuff. Meet me at home?” “Yea. I’ll see you there.”

Sapnap waited until the other’s footsteps had faded out of earshot before giving the smaller a smile. “You ready?” “I’m really sorry about earlier, Sap. I didn’t wanna make you guys worry so much.” “Karl, it’s okay. We’re not mad at you, we were just worried. We got it sorted out, didn’t we?” “Still.” “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s all sorted out. We’re all gonna be okay.” It was said so softly, and kindly, that Karl couldn’t help but relax into it. He let his body go limp, closing his eyes as he felt warm breath course over him before being set into an even warmer spot. He barely paid attention to being licked at, guilt still wrangling his thoughts and making him upset. He knew his friends and fiancés would never hold it against him, but it felt stupid for him to have to have different rules for the game. Made it feel like maybe he shouldn’t be participating at all.

He’d only snapped out of it when George began tapping at his arm, a dim light coming from his communicator’s screen. The light was just enough to reveal the other’s concern, and it only made him feel worse. “You okay?” He nodded. “I’m sorry about this, George.” “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. We’re just glad it was you still hiding. I’m gonna talk to Dream, see if maybe you could carry a potion of growth on you when we play from now on.” “They’re already implementing a time limit for hiders now.” The time traveler sighed in response. “I didn’t mean to mess the game up by having to add all these stupid rules.” “Hey.” The Brit’s tone was enough to shut Karl up. “They’re not stupid, they’re for your safety. What if you did wind up traveling and remained small at where- um, whenever you wound up?”

When he didn’t get an answer, he sighed. “There’s not much we can do to help you with the time traveling thing as is. Let us do what we can to at least make things easier.” “You guys do make it easier. You all always help me when my memory fails, or if I’m hurt. I just, I don’t know. I feel like all this is a burden.” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he could tell the message had gone across when the space around them shrank slightly and a growl replaced the soft purr that had been going moments before. “Karl Jacobs, I did not just hear you call yourself a burden on us.” “It’s true, isn’t it?” He’d pulled his knees up to his chest, looking down and attempting not to let his emotions get the best of him. “Absolutely not. It’s not your fault that you keep time traveling, and it’s not your fault you can’t control it. Don’t you ever say shit like that again, okay? We care about you too much for you to just put yourself down like that.” His voice had grown softer at the end, and all it did was make the tears filling his eyes spill over, letting out a soft sob as he attempted to wipe his eyes with his soaked hand.

“Good job, Pandas. You made him cry.” George joked, jabbing an elbow softly against the walls around them while reaching out with his other hand to grab Karl’s own. “He’s crying!? Fuck, I’m sorry-“ “Don’t apologize, nimrod. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The stern tone he tried to take failed thanks to the sobs still threatening to escape him. He squeezed George’s hand, forcing himself to take deep breaths to try to stop crying. The fireborn sighed. “You know we’re gonna have to tell Quackity about this.” “Yeah.” “I can stay when you have that conversation, if you want me to. I’m sure Dream doesn’t care.” George offered, but the other brunette simply shook his head. “I appreciate it, but this is probably something we should talk about on our own. You already don’t like sappy stuff and it’s probably gonna end with it.” He could just tell in the dark that George had rolled his eyes, and he felt him clamber over so he could pull him into a side hug. Ignoring the saliva drenching his friend, he rested his head on his shoulder, exhaustion overtaking him. He felt the other’s head rest atop his own, and he let his eyes close for a while.

~ ~ ~

When he came to, he was laying on the sofa, as dry as he could be and in cozy pajamas. The lights were dimmed, and he could hear his fiancés playfully arguing and fighting in the kitchen. With a smile, he went to join them. “Karlos!” He was greeted with a hug, the fireborn looking up from the sink to give him a soft smile. He hugged the other back, mouthing ‘did you tell him?’ To his other fiancé, who shook his head in response. Nerves began to build again, especially when Quackity then shooed him back to the sofa to rest until dinner was done, telling him he was taking it easy in a tone that made him wonder if Sapnap lied to him about telling their third. Dinner was done fairly quickly after, and Sapnap let them eat peacefully and helped with the dishes before pulling the two to the bedroom.

“Before we lay down,” he started, seeing the other already pulling his shirt off to replace it with a night one. “We need to talk about something that happened today.” “What about? I thought we got everything situated?” “Not quite.” He sat down beside Karl on the bed, taking the other’s hand and giving him an encouraging smile. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves slightly before he began. “Do you think I’m a burden?” “For fuck’s sake-“ the avian whirled around so quickly it cut the fireborn’s words off. “What the fuck did you just say?” “Do you think I’m a burden?” The words were shakier now, the other’s reaction making anxiety knot his stomach up. “Why would I think that? Because of today?” “Because you guys always have to change things around because of me.” Quackity took the spot on Karl’s other side, wrapping a wing around the brunette. “Dream had to change the rules of his shitty game. Big deal. The important thing is that you’re okay. You know good and well all we want is for you to be safe and happy. We can’t always provide that.” He looked down, and the Mexican caught his chin with his hand, turning his face so he had no choice but to make eye contact. “We just want to do what we can because we care about you. If we didn’t, do you really think you'd be here?” With tears filling his eyes, he shook his head, chin still caught in the other’s fingers. When he blinked them away, he was met with a sympathetic look. “C’mere.” The avian wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down onto the bed so he could tangle his limbs around him. With a soft chuckle, Sapnap joined them, wrapping his arms around the brunette as he pulled his back towards his chest. “You are never going to be a burden on us. We love you way too much for that.” “Mhm. You’re stuck with us forever, Karl. And we’re gonna show you how much we care every chance we get.” With a shaky breath, he smiled, trying to keep the tears from falling again. “I love you both so much. Thank you.” “It’s the least we can do.”

And if the brunette drifted to sleep with drying tear tracks on his face, smushed between his two doting fiancés, then the moon had nothing to say about it.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗 (18+)

∘ request(s): I am in love w all of you and i'm getting to the others when they fit :)

my personal favorites:

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), smut, choking, fingering, slight domination

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: my incentive for getting these done (when they're fuffy) is listening to 21st Century Vampire in a dark room for four days, in case you guys were wondering.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Your heart hammered in your ears. You took a seat on your couch, carding your fingers through your hair as his face flashed into your mind, the somewhat confused expression boring a hole in your heart. You’d led him on, you knew it. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, but the cold fear of what the two of you had vanishing after assigning labels flushed through your body. What if it was only as strong as it was because you weren’t stuck to each other? Was the fact that you were choosing to sleep with him and him alone not enough? What more could he want?

Then it dawned on you; what more would it be? The two of you were already attached at the hip a ridiculous amount of time, you already knew more about him than you cared to, and obviously, the two of you were already past the awkwardness of building a sexual relationship.

So what the fuck was wrong with you? Would it be so awful to be his girlfriend?

You avoided him for a few weeks, your mind burning with guilt and indecisiveness. As soon as you had straightened your thoughts and favored one reality over another, it was like buyer’s guilt persuaded you the other way.

Lectures were quiet, even lonesome for you without him around. That would add to your Pro Karl list; he was great company, especially in public, when he knew people were watching the two of you. Would that element be different when the two of you were dating?

You hadn’t realized how apparent your moping had become until your roommate brought it up one night. You were tucked into your favorite spot on the couch, mind racing with how to solve your problems. “I called Karl. I’m sick of this weepy, self-loathing bullshit. Man up and tie him down. I know you want to,” she stated bluntly, tugging open the curtains in the room to get to the windows. The night breeze wafted in as if it’d been knocking against the glass for an hour. “He’s outside.”

You blinked at her as she pulled you out of your seat. “He’s what?”

She pulled you behind her, slipping on her jacket. “I’m going to Clay’s. Work this shit out and let me know if I need to vacate for the week,” she jested, making you roll your eyes as she pushed you out in front of her. As she headed down the stairwell, Karl was on his way up, greeting her brightly as he usually did.

He smiled at you gently as he stopped in front of you, fondness and allure playing in his eyes. Even if you looked disheveled, he still looked upon you with pride and admiration. His hair was longer, but despite that, he looked exactly the same way you’d left him. You cleared your throat, the wind bringing his scent towards you. “We need to talk,” you mumbled. “You were right.”

He pressed his back against the dividing wall, tucking a cigarette behind his ear that he had between his fingers and looking out over the railing behind you. The city lights reflected in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I just..." He looked at you softly. "Fuck, I really like you."

You crossed your arms, hands rubbing against the sleeves of your hoodie to generate more warmth. You were so torn. Most of you, wanted to wrap yourself up in him and give in to his offer while the ugly, nagging thoughts in your brain told you to run. "What about after we cool down then?" You asked, making one of his eyebrows feign to furrow. "Are you still going to be attracted to me after I'm… domesticated?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll probably be attracted to you even when your tits sag to your waist, baby." You rolled your eyes at his joke and he crossed the space between the two of you, shoes dragging against the cement. He pushed his fingers into your hair, settling his hand against your neck so his thumb brushed against your jaw soothingly. You leaned into his touch. "I just want to be locked down by you," he chided. "... Officially."

You let out a small wheeze. "You're not gonna be into my friends next week, are you?" It was a joke, but it came out as more of an insecurity.

He fought not to grin. "You're fuckin' serious?" He used his other hand to separate your arms gently, stepping into your embrace. "When I'm with other people, all I can think about is how they're not you."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, eliciting a pleasant sigh from between your lips. You tightened your arms around him, basking in the warmth of his body as you threaded your hands beneath his jacket. "Even your mom?"

He snorted. "Don't make this weird," he jested, making you laugh softly. He pulled your body completely against him, digging his face into the crook of your neck as you sighed tiredly, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

The bathwater was warm against your skin, Karl’s arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him in the small tub, making you giggle slightly. You paused what you were doing as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. You struggled to shrug from his grasp. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna mess up your nails,” you wheezed, before he surrendered, leaning his back against the porcelain.

It was a brighter color than he usually wore, but the hue still gave him the dark appearance he prided himself on. Goosebumps peppered your skin as he drew absent-minded shapes into your back with the pad of his finger. “I missed you,” he hummed. Despite having your back to him and concentrating on not smearing his nail polish, you could hear the content smile in his voice. “And now, I’m your boyfriend,” he mocked, eliciting a snort from you.

You screwed the cap on the polish when you were satisfied with your work. “I feel like a middle school girl every time you say that,” you grumbled, jokingly.

He snickered. “Me too.” You could feel him watching you carefully as you blew on the nail polish, his fingers to your lips to test their dryness. He curled around you again, pressing his lips to your neck, his other arm curling around your torso. His breath was sweet against your skin, mixing with the steam from the water. “Stop it, or I’ll get too excited,” he groaned, making you smile.

You moved his hand to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers threatening to demonstrate his true strength. He swapped hands, his fingers dipping beneath the water towards your heat. His other hand wrapped around your neck, waiting for your first moans until applying pressure. Your head tilted back against his shoulder as he rubbed circles against your bundle of nerves, a sigh of pleasure spilling past your lips as his teeth nipped gently at your shoulders.

Your knees peeked out above the surface of the water as you leaned further back against him. He pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear. “Look at my girlfriend, so needy so quickly,” he moaned in your ear, slipping one of his fingers into you. His name fell from your lips as if your life depended on you repeating it. He pumped another finger into you, basking in the way you reacted to him. You hated how well he knew your body.

Before you knew it, your back was pressing into your sheets, Karl hovering over you. You dug your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on his locks as he pushed himself into you with a moan. His hips rolled against yours, his forearms resting on either side of your head, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It wasn’t long until he was thrusting in and out of you, teeth printing his mark on your skin. “All mine,” he moaned as your fingernails pressed into his skin.

You smirked slightly, rutting your hips against his. “Oh, right there, Todd,” you moaned almost pornographically. Karl stiffened slightly, struggling not to laugh as you giggled.

His teeth dug into your neck, shutting you up with a moan. He pushed your hands above your head, intertwining his fingers with yours while his other hand moved to wrap around your throat. “He fucking wishes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, making your toes curl. His pace slowed, focused on driving himself deeper into you, reaching your sweet spot with each of his thrusts.

You moaned his name, pressing your lips to his shoulder as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. He muttered pet names into your ear, coaxing you over the edge with his declarations of ownership over you.

The next morning, you wrapped your arms around Karl’s waist, pressing your cheek against the middle of his shoulder blades as he stirred whatever he was making. Your hands looped into the front pocket of his hoodie. The kitchen was humming with life as the radio hummed softly in one of the corners and the two of you lightly conversed.

You moved to lean against the counter beside him, attempting not to completely gush at the sight of his messy hair and lazy smile as he made you breakfast. “So, do I get to wear your letterman’s jacket now?” You joshed, making him smirk.

He flipped a pancake. “I mean, you can if you’d like, I think it’s at my mom’s,” he answered, soft tones of sleep still hanging in his voice. “You can twin with your pal, Todd. We went to the same high school.”

Your head tilted at the news, mouth slightly ajar. “No way. Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged. “We lived down the road from each other growing up,” he recounted, making you chuckle at the irony.

You wet your lips slightly. “Now that we’re official, do you wanna have a threesome with him?” You asked sarcastically.

“If Todd’s dick comes anywhere near me, I’m moving to Iceland,” he finalized, making you laugh.

Tag List: @mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole

[charlies-gillespie]

and they were roommates | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader and charlie are roommates and they have fallen in love with each other

length: short-ish

rating: PG-13

warnings: fluffy content, a dumb little argument, and some nsfw content (no smut but some touching and teasing)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: if you dont get the title of this imagine, we can’t be friends (jk)

another author’s note: psst i’m working on a two part series and part one may or may not be posted in about an hour

You wake up in the morning to hear Charlie blaring ‘Now or Never’ in the living room. You put on a large hoodie to cover up your tank top and tiny shorts before stalking out into the living room. You rub your eyes as you look at your roommate.

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, seeing that he’s actually playing ‘Now or Never’ on his electric guitar. “It is eight in the morning, Charlie.”

He looks at you and says, “I need to practice. Sorry.”

You walk over to the amp his guitar is plugged into and say, “Just practice without blowing out my eardrums, please. You don’t need an amp at eight in the morning.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “I’m blessing your ears with my awesome guitar skills at eight in the morning. Appreciate it, Y/N.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you just turned it down a little bit,” you say, “Please?”

He smiles and says, “Only because you said please.”

“Thank you,” you say before walking up to your bedroom. You pull off the hoodie then crawl into bed and get comfortable.

After another hour, you wake up again and yawn. You sit up and see Charlie in your doorway. “Charlie?” you ask. “What are you doing here?” He’s wearing grey sweatpants with no shirt and you are caught a little off guard because he was wearing one of the Sunset Curve shirts he got.

He says, “I, uh, I was going to come wake you up but you looked peaceful so I didn’t want to wake you. I promise I wasn’t standing here and watching you sleep. Anyway, I was about to make some pancakes if you wanna come help.”

Pancakes grab your attention and you say, “I’m down for some pancakes. Let me put on my hoodie.”

Charlie says, “Yeah. Just meet me in the kitchen.” He turns to leave but he runs into the door frame. You laugh and he just walks off.

You put on the hoodie from before then leave your bedroom, closing the door behind you. You walk downstairs and see that Charlie has the pancake mix out on the counter. He’s putting water in a bowl and you walk up to him. You jam your fingers into his side playfully Charlie jumps and spills the water on himself. You gasp and step back.

He looks over at you and says, “That’s it.” Charlie throws the water in the bowl at you to get back at you.

“Charlie!” you whine. “You only got a little bit of water on you and you just soaked me. Now I have to take the hoodie off.”

Your roomie laughs and says, “So take it off, Y/N.”

As you reach down to pull off the hoodie, you say, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Gillespie.”

Charlie says, “I would.”

You pull off the hoodie and stare at Charlie. You blink at him and he quickly says, “Because you might get pancake mix on it. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Maybe you should take off the sweatpants since you got them wet too,” you say, playing at Charlie’s game.

He laughs and says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Y/N?”

A smirk forms on your lips and you say, “Maybe I would.”

Without hesitation, Charlie pulls his sweatpants down. He’s just down to his boxers now. You’re only wearing a tank top and the tiny shorts you wore to bed last night and he’s only wearing boxers. The situation makes your mind wander to different situations that you’ve already thought of.

Charlie refills the bowl and puts it on the counter. You grab the pancake mix and pour that into the bowl filled with water. Charlie mixes as you get a pan ready. Both of you dance around the kitchen after you put on your Spotify playlist with your favorite songs. You use the spoon that Charlie used to sing into. He watches you with a smile on his face.

The two of you finish making the pancakes and you sit on the couch, watching episode 7 of Julie and the Phantoms. You watch the Perfect Harmony scene intently. Your eyes are on Charlie during the entire scene. You got to be there when he filmed that scene with Madison, and now you get to watch it whenever you want. Charlie looks good in the scene. His hair neatly done with the white button-up.

Your roommate notices how much attention your paying to the scene on the TV. Charlie teases, “You can never keep your eyes off me, can you?”

“You wish,” you scoff, getting off the couch. You walk into the kitchen to throw your plate away and wash the bowl and the pan that you used to make the pancakes.

As you hum Perfect Harmony to yourself, you feel someone come up behind you. You ignore it because you know it’s Charlie. He pulls your hair away from your neck and he says, “I can never keep my eyes off you, Y/N.”

Where is this coming from all of a sudden? You have no idea, but you don’t mind it. You’ve always to be this close to Charlie. Maybe not when you just ate pancakes and haven’t brushed your teeth yet, but you’ve wanted to be this close to Charlie for so long.

You feel Charlie’s fingers run down your side and he mumbles, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, turning off the water and turning around, facing Charlie. You stare up into his eyes as you’re pressed against the counter.

Charlie leans down a little bit and runs his fingers up over your stomach and your breasts. You shiver a bit as he touches you. “Charlie,” you whisper.

He cups your face in his hands. “God, will you just kiss me already?” you say kind of aggressively.

That’s what Charlie does. His lips crash to yours and hungrily move against yours. Charlie lifts you up so you’re sitting on the counter by the sink, your legs wrapped around his waist. All the tension that’s ever built between the two of you melts away as you kiss the man you’ve loved for a while now.

And little do you know that Charlie’s felt the same way about you since you showed up to set on day one.

You pull back from the kiss and look at Charlie. Both of you breathless from the kiss. You run your fingers through his hair and say, “Now’s a good a time as any to tell you that I’ve loved you for months.”

Charlie smiles and pecks your lips. “I’ve loved you since day one, Y/N.”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips and you ask, “What happens now?”

“How about I take you on a proper date?” Charlie asks.

You smile and nod. “I like the sound of that,” you tell him.

Then he brings his lips to yours again, but carrying you to the couch to continue the little makeout session between you two. Now that you have kissed him, you don’t know how you’ll ever stop.

[thejilyship]

Acts of Service

Inspired by this post

I know that it’s weird that I’m writing a hinny fic. I’ve never done it before, but I got this idea in my head and needed to get it out. 

Enjoy. 

Ginny tells him that she loves him all of the time. She tells him that his hair looks great, that his ass looks amazing, that she likes how his arms look when he rolls up his sleeves. She’s always complimenting him, always telling him that she care about him, and he doesn’t know how to do that for her.

He wants to. He doesn’t know how, but he wants to. He wants to tell her that her freckles remind him of constellations and that her eyes make him feel like he’s finally home.

She does it all almost flippantly. Like off the top of her head she’s just thought about how his jawline makes her insides turn to goo, and he doesn’t know how she does that. 

Whenever he looks at her, it’s like all his words disappear, like he’s forgotten how to use his brain. When she’s wrapped herself up in his arms, god forbid she’s smiling at him, he can’t think at all. He’s just struck, time and time again, with how bloody lucky he is to have her. How lucky he is that she chose him. 

And he desperately wants to tell her. He doesn’t want her to think that he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t love her as much as she’s saying she loves him, that he doesn’t think about how beautiful and sweet and funny she is, all the time. But he doesn’t have the words, they just don’t come to him like they seem to come for her. 

“Hey handsome,” She says, her thick red hair swinging in a ponytail as she walks into the kitchen. She’s just gotten back from practice and she smells like her cucumber mint soap. 

She just moved in a couple weeks ago and he’s still surprised with how much his flat smells like her all the time now. 

Hey beautiful, hey gorgeous, but instead, “Hey, Gin,” 

She presses a quick kiss to his lips, because she doesn’t know that he’s just lost another opportunity. “What do you feel like having for dinner?” She asks, walking over to the fridge and pulling it open. 

“I can cook,” He says, not sure where that came from. He doesn’t normally cook, he hasn’t in a long time, but he can. “What do you want?” He used to do it often enough as a kid, and while he didn’t enjoy it then, he finds that he wants to do it for her now. 

She eyes him, like she’s not sure of something.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “What do you know how to cook?” 

He smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “Quite a bit.” 

“Can we have breakfast for dinner?” He thinks she might have asked for that since breakfast foods are quite simple to make, but he nods and moves to the cupboards. 

She takes a seat on the counter and crosses her legs at the ankle. She’s watching him, but soon she launches into a story about practice, how someone on the Harpies had done something to someone on the Canons to get themselves into trouble. He listens cheerfully as he gathers and mixes ingredients. 

She comes up behind him as he’s plating a few pancakes, and ruffles his hair. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook, Potter.” And when he hands her the plate, her eyes light up just a bit, and he feels like he’s telling her that he loves her. 

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” He grins. 

They sit down to eat and she tells him how good everything is, she squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek and thanks him and he refills her plate when its empty. 

And he finds that this comes easily to him. He can’t tell her how pretty he thinks she looks when she waltzes into a room wearing a new sundress, but he can help her with the zipper, he can braid her hair when her arms are too sore from practice (though he did have to ask her to teach him how first.)

He can fix her tea for her, he can rub her feet when she props her legs on his lap while they watch a muggle program on their little telly. He likes bringing her snacks and he cooks them dinner regularly. She mentions that she was running low on broom polish, so he goes out and gets her some before she gets back from practice. He likes doing these things for her, he likes finding knew small things he can do to show her that he loves her. 

They’re having a quite night in and Harry has fixed them both tea when Ginny calls him out on it.

She accepts the tea, “Harry, what are you doing?” 

He freezes, halfway to sitting back down next to her. “What do you mean?” He asks, and she doesn’t look upset so he sits all the way down. 

“I don’t know,” She shrugs. “I feel like you’ve been... extra attentive lately.” 

“Attentive?” He supposes that words fits. 

“Yes.” 

“I guess I have been,” He shrugs and then takes a sip of his tea. 

“I didn’t ask for tea.”

“You always have tea after dinner.” His brow furrows. “Do you not want it?” 

“I do,” She hugs her mug closer to her chest. “But you didn’t have to make it for me.” 

“I wanted to.” 

She tilts her head at him. “You’ve wanted to a lot recently.” 

He turned toward her, pulling one of his legs up on the couch. “I love you.” He said, trying to keep his voice at a normal tone. “I’m not always good at telling you, so,” She was smiling at he felt his ears get hot and he forgot where he was going with that. 

“This cup of tea,” She holds it up. “This is you saying you love me?” She laughs, “Why are you blushing, love! We live together and I love you too!” 

He shakes his head, and then she reaches out and pushes her fingers through his hair before pulling him closer to her. Her legs wrap around his torso and she presses a kiss to his cheeks. “Yes, the tea is me saying I love you.” She nudges her nose against the side of his face until he turns his head to look at her. “Please don’t spill it on my lap.” 

She laughs again and presses a quick succession of kisses to his mouth. Then she takes a sip of her tea, “I love you too.” 

He wraps his arm around her, content. 

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Six: Wonder

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, tooth-rotting fluff and as always, a smidge of angst

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Six - Next

A beam of golden sunlight shone through the small crack in the curtain, warming your exposed skin, waking you up. Maxwell was still sleeping, lightly snoring and his bare chest rising and falling underneath you. You noticed that his cozy sweater from the night before had been discarded on the floor by the bed, but he was still wearing his pants, and his arm was lazily draped around your body. He held you close and tight, like he was afraid to let you go. You snuggled into him, relishing the moment and hoping it would never end. But you were awake, and it was a new day, and you had a lot to do.

You slipped out of Max’s arms, careful not to wake him up, and smiled when you remembered the night before. Kissing a man, a man like him, felt like a dream come true. It was something you had only imagined when you had read tales of it back on Themyscira. But it was even better than you thought. His lips were sweet like honey and his touch was strong yet gentle. It was perfect, and you wished for the moment it could happen again. Realising you were still completely naked, you glanced into Maxwell’s walk-in closet and wondered if you were entitled to select something out to wear. You figured it would be rude to do so without asking him, so you picked up his forest green sweater that he wore yesterday and pulled it over your body. 

You padded back downstairs into the dining room and grabbed a notepad and pen. You noted that Maxwell kept one near the front door of his home. Sitting at the table, you opened up the book. You had six days until the court date. Six days to figure out a way to bring Maxwell and Alistair together for good this time. But you had no idea where to begin. You knew nothing about the legal system or how this kind of thing worked. Back on Themyscira, if Hippolyta wished to gain justice, she would simply use the lasso of truth. You were there, many years ago, when she used the lasso on Captain Steve Trevor. You hadn’t met the pilot, only heard from your mother Hestia who provided Hippolyta with the lasso, but apparently, he revealed himself to be a spy. You considered it. You considered the implications of using your lasso in court, but doing so in front of so many people would mean you’d have to give up your powers. There had to be another way. Before you could put pen on paper, you gasped, feeling a pair of hands grab your waist.

“Good morning.” you heard Maxwell from behind you. His voice was low and husky in the morning and he was grinning, feeling happier than he’d felt in such a long time.

“Good morning handsome.” you smiled, turning around in your chair and looking up at him with doe eyes. His dark blonde hair was still wavy and disheveled, and he was wearing a plain, light grey t-shirt. It fit tight around his biceps and really highlighted the broadness of his shoulders. He looked really, really good. You spotted a pink blush creep upon Maxwell’s cheeks at your compliment.

“You look nice in my sweater,” he noticed, tugging on it slightly. “What are you doing there?”

“Oh, I was trying to figure out an approach for the court case this Sunday,” you frowned, biting your lip. “Do you think we could get one of those lawyer things like Theodore mentioned?”

“This short notice? I doubt it. But I can have Raquel make some phone calls and she’ll see what she can do. I uh- I appreciate you doing this for me. You don’t have to.” Maxwell said sheepishly, running his ring clad fingers through his hair.

You stood up from your seat and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and holding him close. You pressed a kiss into his lips. He tasted just as sweet as the night before, and the skin was just as soft. “I like doing that.” you told Maxwell, completely dismissing what he said before. “Kissing you. I mean.”

Maxwell tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your face. He ran his thumb over the height of your cheekbone and stared at you in complete admiration. “I like it too,” he agreed, his voice quiet as he leaned in and kissed you again, this time swiping his tongue over your lower lip. He was so good at it, and you wondered how many women he’d kissed before. You loved the way the curve of his nose pressed against your skin and how his eyes would flutter shut as his senses overwhelmed him. You loved the way his hands navigated around your body like it was simply just meant to be. When he pulled away, it was to catch breath, and he pressed his forehead against yours. “Let me make you breakfast.” he whispered.

“Or we could just keep kissing?” you suggested, already tugging on his hair for another one. He smiled, planting a quick peck against your lips and pulled away again.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything,” he exhaled shakily, dragging his hands up and down your arms. “But you haven’t eaten since you got here. You must be hungry. What did you eat on Themyscira?”

“Hmm, fruit? Berries? We picked them fresh from the bushes every morning and they’d last us the rest of the day.” you told him and he nodded slowly.

“Well we don’t have berries, but I can do you scrambled eggs,” Maxwell shrugged, already grabbing a few eggs from the refrigerator. “Is that okay?”

“What kind of eggs…” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Uh… chicken eggs?” Maxwell shrugged, holding an egg up into the light to analyse it.

“You eat chicken eggs?!” You gasped, your eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yeah?!” Maxwell replied, trying to suppress a grin at your reaction. “So many people do! We crack a few, whisk it and put it in a pan!” You slapped your hands over your mouth feeling shocked. Maxwell chuckled, putting the eggs back and taking your hands, pulling them away from your face. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want chicken eggs for breakfast.” you mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Max nodded. “I can do oatmeal or pancakes, or we have cereal. Check that cupboard over there.” He said, pointing in the general direction to a cupboard by the kitchen sink. You followed his finger and opened the wooden door. Inside the cupboard were a few boxes of opened miscellaneous cereal. One box in particular caught your intention. It was a red box decorated with a rainbow and a leprechaun and the words read in a bold yellow font ‘Lucky Charms’. You brought it out and presented it to Max with an eager grin. “Oh, those are Alistair’s favourite,” Max grinned, taking out a bowl, spoon and carton of milk. “Help yourself.”

You smiled with gratitude and dug your hand in the box, grabbing a handful of cereal. You looked close at the little oat pieces mixed with the multi-coloured marshmallow bits, even bringing them close to your nose to smell. They were sweet, and the vibrancy of the marshmallows intrigued you. You tried a pink one and moaned as the sugary texture dissolved in your mouth. Max looked over to you as he brewed his coffee, his eyes wide as he watched you eat the cereal out of your hands. “No no no,” he chastised softly, placing his mug back down on the counter and walking over to you. He put the cereal box in your hands and unscrewed the cap on the carton of milk. “Pour some of it in the bowl, and then pour the milk over the top. Then you eat it with a spoon.” he taught you.

“Oh,” you sighed knowingly, understanding why he’d brought out the other utensils and ingredients for you. As he turned back to his coffee, you tried one of the oat pieces. They didn’t taste as nice as the marshmallows, so you put the rest of the oat pieces back into the box and picked out only the sweet soft bits of cereal, dropping them into the bowl. You poured the milk over, careful not to spill any, just like he’d told you. “I’m getting good at this!”

“You are!” Maxwell laughed, sitting down next to you with his mug of coffee and a few slices of toast. He peeked into your bowl and shook his head. “You’re just like Alistair,” he rolled his eyes. “He only eats the marshmallows.”

“Of course he does,” you giggled, taking a spoonful of your selective cereal. “They’re delicious.”

“So I was thinking about the dreamstone,” Maxwell said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If I was possessed by Romulus, the dreamstone would have been Roman. Which means the remaining dreamstone belonged to Dolos, meaning it’s Greek. But how do we find it?”

“If only we knew someone who could help,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Someone who knows about this kind of stuff just as much as we do.”

You stared down into your bowl of cereal, watching as the colour drained from the marshmallows and created rainbow swirls in your milk.

“Actually,” Maxwell exhaled, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is someone.” The thought of going to see that someone again, swarmed Max with fear and dread.

“Well- who?” you asked, dropping your spoon into the bowl with a clank.

“Diana.” Maxwell replied nervously.

“Diana Princess of Themyscira?!” You gasped, your jaw dropping.

“I’m pretty sure she goes by Diana Prince but-”

“Max you’re a genius! Where can we find her?” You stood up abruptly.

“Listen, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. The last time I saw her… I mean it was only a few days ago but it was not good.”

You took Max’s hand and pulled him up. “Diana is forgiving. Whatever happened, she holds no judgement, I assure you that,” you reassured him. “Diana could be the key to knowing where the final dreamstone is.”

Max nodded, sighing in defeat. You were right and he knew it. “She works at the Smithsonian museum. It opens to the public at nine, so we have a few hours to kill, but we’ll get down there as soon as possible.”

You smiled and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you.” you murmured, squeezing him tightly.

“It’s okay,” he promised, hugging you back. “But there is something I gotta ask you about.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t been out much since I renounced my wish. I went to the park with Alistair, and then Black Gold, and visited Julianna, but that’s it. I’ve been hiding from the world, living in fear that I’ll have to face some kind of repercussion for my actions. It only makes sense, right? I’m thinking about federal prison. Maybe even get sentenced to death. That’s if someone doesn’t see me on the street and kills me. But I don’t get it. I haven’t been noticed. Nobody cares. Julianna didn’t mention any of it to me, and she loves to bring up all my mistakes. Trust me. It’s just… there’s something not right.” Maxwell exclaimed. It was crazy. You were the only one he trusted to talk about this to. “I’m not sure,” you hummed, understanding his concern. “Maybe Diana will know?”

“Maybe,” Maxwell sighed. “I’m just worried about even being allowed in the Smithsonian. I kinda stole the dreamstone by nefarious means,” You tilted your head and frowned. “No don’t look at me like that!” Max pouted, raising both his eyebrows at you.

“Like what?” you questioned.

“Like you’re disappointed in me,” Maxwell huffed, running his hand through his hair. “I just want to make all of this right.”

“And you will,” you promised him. “We will. Together.”

Every little word you spoke, every action you took, filled his heart with warmth. You gave his life meaning and your presence made him feel a sense of belonging. You really cared about him. You were literally like his guardian angel, only instead coming from heaven, you’d come from the magical land of Themyscira.

“I guess if we have a few hours to kill… we should finish breakfast and find you some clothes. Something decent to wear,” Maxwell shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of leaving the house but I don’t think we have a choice,” he hummed, looking down at his green sweater that was draped over your body. You couldn’t just live in his shirts. You couldn’t keep walking around town, pant-less. And you certainly couldn’t wear your Amazonian warrior tunic and armour. “My tailor who makes my suits has her own boutique just off East Ave, I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

“It’ll be open this early?” you asked, crooking your head.

“They live there. Whenever I’ve needed last minute alterations before a charity event or gala, I’ve relied on them. Visited them during the early hours of the morning and Belinda- oh, she’s simply just a star. She works quickly and efficiently,” Maxwell praised, grabbing his car keys. He threw a coat in your direction and you quick Amazonian reflexes meant that you caught it in an instant. You smiled and mumbled a thank you before sliding your arms into his coat and zipping it up. You put on your gladiator sandals and met Maxwell in the car outside.

The journey was short, and you even vaguely recognised the area from your visit to Black Gold Cooperative. Maxwell fiddled with some buttons on the dashboard when he stopped at a red light. “What are you do-”

A loud booming melody cut you off and you jumped back into your seat. 

“So don't become some background noise, a backdrop for the girls and boys, who just don't know, or just don't care, and just complain when you're not there, You had your time, you had the power, you've yet to have your finest hour, radio…” 

“What is that?” you gasped and Max laughed, turning a knob down so the voice quietened down.

“You must’ve had music on Themyscira,” he chuckled. “That is Queen.”

“The Queen?!” You practically choked. “If I heard Queen Hippolyta sing like that I-”

“No,” Maxwell laughed, unable to hide his smile. “Just Queen. They’re a band. They sing songs and play instruments.” 

“What do they sing about?” You quizzed curiously and Maxwell adjusted the volume once more. 

“Listen.” he urged, pressing down on the ignition and drove away as the light turned green.

“All we hear is radio ga ga, radio goo goo, radio ga ga,” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Ga ga and goo goo? That makes no sense.”

“Keep listening!”

“Radio what’s new, radio someone still loves you.” 

“It’s about love.” you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You placed your hand on your heart. You loved that behind the baby-ish words, the song had a meaning so beautiful and powerful. It really illustrated that love was still the most important thing in the whole world. Maxwell’s voice brought you out of your deep chain of thought.

“Actually I think it’s about the commercialization of radio stations-” Maxwell exclaimed and looked at you in the reflection of the rear view mirror. Your smile fell and you looked even more perplexed by his words. What was he thinking? Of course you wouldn’t understand the ins and outs of how MTV had destroyed modern radio. So he decided to compromise. “Yeah okay, you’re right,” he shrugged, pursing his lips into a fine line to refrain from smiling. “It’s about love.” 

You smiled once more, subconsciously swaying to the rhythm. Max couldn’t stop watching you. You were so pure, and you looked at this world with so much joy and compassion. You were always so excited to learn new things and it was so endearing. If anything, it made Maxwell want to be more like you. You helped him not take things for granted. By the time Queen sung the final verse, you had already familiarised yourself with the words, even changing some and earning a few laughs out of Maxwell. As the song finished you pointed your finger at Max who was just pulling up outside the boutique. “Maxwell Lord what’s new? Maxwell, someone still loves you!” You sang, before pressing a kiss into his jaw and then pulling back with the biggest, cheesiest grin.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Max returned the smile but he couldn’t help but think about your words. Of course you were just quoting the song, but you had deliberately directed the lyrics towards him. He sighed, not having time to over think. But what if you loved him back? It sounded too good to be true. “C’mon, we’re here.” 

The boutique was beautiful inside. It was small, but filled with racks on racks of clothing. In every corner there were golden framed mirrors and an array of different flowers. The old lady, who you assumed to be the owner, was waiting half asleep by the cashier. When Max opened the front door, a little bell jingled, alerting her and waking her up.

“Oh, Mr Lord! How lovely it is to see you!” the old lady exclaimed, pottering over to Maxwell and shaking his hand. She must have only been about four foot, her perfect grey hair in tight curls and her glasses perched on the curve of her petite nose.

“Good morning Belinda,” Maxwell greeted with a charming smile. It was the same smile you recognised from when he was on television. “I’m sorry for dropping by so early. This is my friend,” Maxwell said, pushing you forward gently and introducing you by name. “She’s visiting just for 4th of July weekend and her luggage got lost at the airport so we’ll be needing a few things for her to wear.”

You waved shyly. “Oh darling, what a beautiful young girl you are!” Belinda exclaimed, pinching your cheeks excitedly. She then turned to Max, leaning into him. “You sure she’s just a friend? She’s wonderful. Definitely a keeper,” Belinda laughed and you giggled alongside her as Max stayed silent and only blushed. “Let me take your measurements and I’ll see what I can do.” Belinda told you, already grabbing some tape and sculpting your body to a suitable position. “Where do you come from, dear?”

“Themyscira.” You smiled.

“Them-a-what?” Belinda asked. “Oh pardon me, I’ve never heard of such a place.”

“Uh- small town!” Maxwell lied before you could reply. “Not really important.”

“I see,” Belinda said, holding up different materials against your body. “How long have you known Mr. Lord?” 

You looked over at Max and your smile grew wider. “Honestly, it feels like forever.” you told Belinda, finding yourself lost in Maxwell’s chocolate brown eyes. He was completely mesmerizing. It was true. You might’ve only known Max for two days but you already knew so much about him. He’d been haunting your dreams and thoughts for weeks before you’d even visited the world of man. You saw his past. You knew about his struggles. He told you things that he’d never told anyone else before. 

“Lucky for you I have Ralph Lauren’s new summer collection! They just shipped to us yesterday. I know that the colours will compliment your skin tone perfectly. They’re just out back, let me go grab them.” Belinda announced before padding away.

“Thank you.” Maxwell called after her.

“Who’s Ralph Lauren?” You asked, walking over to Max who was sitting on a sofa reading the business section of a broadsheet newspaper. You slipped down next to him and shuffled close.

“He’s a designer.” Max informed you, flicking to the next page of the paper.

“What are you reading?” you asked curiously, snuggling into Maxwell and leaning your head on his shoulder so you could take a look.

“Boring economic stuff,” Maxwell sighed. “Not sure why considering my business is broke now anyway. But this stuff is good to know.”

“What is the Cold War?” you frowned, reading the headline.

“Uh, there’s a war going on right now between us and the Soviet Union.” Maxwell sighed, narrowing his eyes as he focused on a piece of information presented in one of the columns.

“Us?”

“The US, United States of America.” Max confirmed with a scowl before turning the page again.

“A war… that’s impossible. Ares is dead.” you mumbled to yourself, feeling horrified. You hadn’t even noticed. You’d spent two whole days in the world of man and you would have never suspected that there was a war going on.

You pondered his words before Belinda came out holding a pile of clothes. “These should fit you perfectly,” Belinda exclaimed, shoving them into a paper bag for you.

“Will you be paying with your company card today?” Belinda asked, turning to Maxwell. 

Maxwell winced, knowing that his company had absolutely no money. “Uh- no. Personal please,” Max requested, taking out his wallet. This would be coming out of his own savings which probably wasn’t very smart but, you were worth it. “While I pay, would you mind getting changed in the dressing room?” Maxwell asked of you. “And then we can go to the Smithsonian.”

You nodded, taking the paper bag filled with clothing and navigating yourself to the store’s dressing room.

“Ooh, the Smithsonian museum huh?” Belinda asked as she registered each item of clothing into the till.

“Yeah, she’s never been before,” Maxwell hummed, his anxiety rising now that it was just him and Belinda alone. Of course the little lady wasn’t going to do anything to him, but it was like you were his safety. He was beginning to rely on you more than he’d quite like to admit. “Belinda, can I ask you something?”

“Whatever is it, my dear?”

Maxwell sighed, wondering how to phrase his question. Just like Julianna, Belinda was acting like she had no idea what he’d done. “Where were you on the fourth of July?”

“At the shop, working of course.” Belinda replied.

“Ah, so you didn’t catch what was on the television?” Maxwell quizzed further.

“No, my dear.”

So she missed the broadcast completely. And Maxwell supposed there was a chance that Raquel, Julianna and Theodore missed the broadcast, although that did seem ever so unlikely. Even if they had missed it, one of Julianna’s gossip-y friends would have seen it and notified Julianna of Maxwell’s mischief. Something wasn’t adding up. He had to confront Diana about it.

Just as Maxwell finished paying, you stepped out of the dressing room wearing a white blouse tucked into a brown suede skirt. Of course you were still wearing your gladiator sandals, but they practically completed the look. 

“You look… wow.” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“Now it gets warm out there so here!” Belinda exclaimed, propping a pair of sunglasses on your head. “To protect your eyes!”

“You really look amazing.” Maxwell said, completely entranced by you. His gaze hadn’t left your body once. 

“Thank you Max,” you hummed in delight. “I like it a lot.”

“Good,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. You really were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Belinda awkwardly cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Right uh- thanks a lot for everything Belinda. But we better be going.” 

“No problem dear,” Belinda waved cheerily. “Have a great day my darlings!”

You slid back into the passenger seat of Maxwell’s car and watched as he put his own sunglasses on. You smiled and copied, letting the brown tinted glasses fall to the bridge of your nose. “These are cool.” you beamed.

“Yeah, they look good.” Maxwell complimented as he set off to the Smithsonian.

Luckily for the both of you, Maxwell spotted Diana when he first entered the lobby of the building. Just in case of being noticed (which he usually thrived in attention), he kept his sunglasses on. He couldn’t risk being arrested for his previous actions at the museum. Diana was dressed in a royal blue pant suit, her dark brown hair curled perfectly and bouncing off her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds and she hadn’t aged a day since you last saw her on Themyscira.

“Diana!” you called, waving your hands ecstatically. Diana recognised your voice and her head snapped in your direction, her jaw parting in shock when she saw you. She questioned your name out loud, but she knew it was you. 

“Oh my goodness!” Diana cried, enveloping you into a hug. Maxwell stood a few feet behind you, rocking backwards and forwards anxiously. “What are you doing here?” She smiled, holding your hands and giving them a squeeze.

“I had my calling!” You revealed.

“I am so happy to hear that,” Diana grinned. “So who brought you the world of man?”

“A man, actually,” you laughed at the irony. “A man you might know. Uhm- Max Lord?”

Diana’s smile fell but her face softened when she saw Maxwell. “Ah yes, I’ve made his acquaintance.” She said, her voice vague and emotionless. Her glance flicked between you both.

“Hi Diana.” Maxwell waved shyly.

“How have you been?” Diana asked Maxwell, taking a few steps towards him.

“It’s been difficult, but I’m managing,” Maxwell admitted, hiding his face. “Listen, I never got the chance to thank you.”

“Don’t think anything of it,” Diana smiled. “Water under the bridge.” she promised before turning back to you. “Did you come to the museum to see me?”

“Yes, we did,” you sighed. “There’s another dreamstone out there and it is my duty from my mother to find it and destroy it. Otherwise, it could be responsible for society’s future collapse. History is known to repeat itself. If someone gets their hand on Dolos’ dreamstone, just like Max did, the same thing could happen.”

“I know all about it,” Diana frowned. “And I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been searching for the stone itself and I’ve found out it’s located in a secret cave, in Athens, Greece. If you want the stone, you’ll have to travel there.” 

“Is it far?” you asked, not liking the sounds of the proposition.

“Unfortunately, yes. We’d have to get a flight.” Maxwell notified you.

“I’m going to Athens too,” Diana informed you. “I can take you to the cave.”

“You’d do that?” you smiled graciously. “What are you going to Athens for?”

“The sword of Athena,” she exhaled. “There’s a terrible war going on and if I want to save the world from Ares again, I’m going to need that sword. Do you still have the lasso of Hestia?”

“I do.” you confirmed.

“Good, hold onto it. The lasso contains the power of the truth, and by destroying Dolos’ stone, you will be destroying the God of Lies. You can only destroy the stone with the truth. But Max knows all about that…” Diana trailed off, peeking back at Maxwell.

“Thank you Diana,” you smiled courteously and Diana nodded. “Will you be taking a flight with us?”

“I have to stay late at the Smithsonian tonight, so I’ll catch up with you in Athens tomorrow. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

“Would you like us to get your plane tickets?” Maxwell asked, thinking it was the least he could do for Diana.

“That’s okay. I’ve recently learned I have my own way of flying.” She smirked and you smiled back knowingly. Maxwell just furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment. Everything about this interaction made him confused and uncomfortable.

“Before we leave for the airport,” Maxwell spoke up, clearing his throat. “I have something to ask you, Diana.” “Yes?”

“No one has mentioned the broadcast to me.” Maxwell started but then stopped, feeling as though his words explained enough.

“I know.” Diana replied with a small nod.

“You know?” Maxwell quizzed.

“When I renounced my wish, Steve disappeared. I lost him again. But this morning, on my way to work, I ran into the man who possessed Steve’s body and we spoke for a short while. It’s like he never even knew me. Like we had never even met. He didn’t remember me. He didn’t know me. It was like… none of it ever happened.”

“What does that mean? Everyone who renounced their wish has forgotten?”

“Almost. When you renounced your wish, the world reverted back to the way it was before Romulus possessed you.” Diana explained and Maxwell couldn’t believe it.

“That doesn’t make sense. So I get away with all of this without consequence? That’s not fair.” 

“I think your consequence lies in your fate with Alistair.” Diana frowned sadly and Maxwell’s heart sank into the depths of his chest.

“No,” You shook your head profusely, interrupting their conversation. “Nothing bad is going to happen between Alistair and Max. I’m here to make sure that they stay together,” you turned to Maxwell and held his hand. “Julianna won’t split you apart. I mean it. I won’t let it happen.”

Maxwell let go off your hands and they dropped by your sides. “I’m going to wait by the car. I need some air.” Maxwell choked as anxious tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You nodded understandingly and watched as he sauntered out of the Smithsonian.

“I’m sorry to hear about Steve,” you whispered after a few moments of silence. You turned back to Diana, the princess of Themyscira. “I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose the love of your life. If I lost Max-”

Diana’s eyes widened and she stuck her hand out. “What?”

“W-what?” you repeated, realising what you had just said and immediately trying to figure out a way to retract it.

“You just implied that Max Lord is the love of your-”

“Don’t say it.” You begged.

“-Life.” Diana finished and you gasped. Hearing the words come from her only validated your feelings even more.

It was true. She was right. You were in love with Maxwell Lord.

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[krisgoatpher]

moment to remember

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35882266

This is a gift for @fireyalex for the Cafe Secret Santa! ^-^ Merry Christmas!

Summary/Basis: Christmas morning in the Beeduo household.

The smell of pancakes permeated the mansion, sunk deep into the walls and drifted through the mostly empty rooms. To add to it was the sound of Christmas carols and, every so often, two young beings singing along. Despite all of this… Ranboo was still curled up in bed, blankets half off half on, his ears perking every once in a while as he dreamt. He tossed and turned. His paws marched in the sheets before he scrunched his nose and his brow came down low on his closed eyes. He mumbled something incoherent and then something terribly clear.

“Leave me alone,” he whispered into the pancake-stained air. “Leave me--leave him alone…”

Ranboo’s leg kicked at the blankets that were still somehow on him. He shook his head, grumbled.

“Stop it, stop. St--”

“BOO!”

Ranboo sat up with a shout, his eyes tearing open and purple particles buzzing around his head. For a moment he just sat like that, breathing hard, his eyes wide. And then there was weight on his back.

“BOO!” Michael giggled again, clambering over his father’s shoulders. “Boo!”

“Michael,” Ranboo sighed, reaching behind them to gently touch their son’s hoof. “Michael, you scared me.”

Michael only giggled. He ducked underneath Ranboo’s arm and appeared in front of them, his small face cheerful. He pressed his hooves to either side of Ranboo’s face playfully. “Smoosh,” he babbled. “Smooooosh.”

“Smoosh,” Ranboo echoed. His paws moved to either side of Michael’s face and he copied his son’s movements. “Smooooosh.”

Michael snorted happily, his hooves going over his father’s paws. “Smoooosh! Smooosh! Sm--”

“MICHAEL! Michael!”

Ranboo tore their eyes away from their son and instead looked to the bedroom door. Only seconds after they heard Tubbo’s voice down the hallway they then saw Tubbo appear. Tubbo was still wearing the Christmas-themed pajamas he wore to bed last night; light green fabric with white pine trees scattered all over it. There were lights sloppily hanging from his ears and horns and the front of his shirt was stained with pancake mix. He glanced at Ranboo first before looking then to his son. The smile that appeared on his face was quick, thoughtless; then he was crossing the room and scooping up Michael.

“Michael,” he huffed, notching the toddler on his waist. “You can’t leave the kitchen until you’re finished with breakfast, big man.”

Michael leaned into Tubbo’s shoulder, giggling. “No!” he babbled. “Boo!”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the judge.” Tubbo glanced at Ranboo again, looking him up and down. “Another nightmare? You’re sweatin’ bullets.”

“I--” Ranboo cleared their throat. “I don’t remember.”

“Mm. Breakfast’s finished downstairs if you’re hungry. Michael helped me make it.”

“You let--”

Tubbo silently motioned for Ranboo to shut their mouth. With a heavy sigh, Ranboo followed directions.

The kitchen was shockingly clean. Tubbo must’ve been wiping things down as he went--the counters had little to no spills and the island was completely wiped. Michael’s high chair was pushed into the notch at the end of the counters and had a plate of half-eaten pancakes on it. Ranboo followed Tubbo into the room and silently watched as Tubbo tucked Michael back into the chair and snapped the fork onto Michael’s wrist again.

A few months ago when Phil was visiting he noticed how Ranboo was feeding Michael. When Phil asked why they didn’t let Michael feed himself Ranboo calmly explained that Michael couldn’t hold the silverware in his hooves. Phil had laughed at him.

You just put clasps on ‘em, Phil explained. I did the same thing when Techno was younger, mate. She was the one who came up with it. I’ll make ‘em up for ya if ya want.

And so now they had a set of silverware made especially for their son. He picked up on how to use them almost immediately; he could use his teeth to get them off and on if he wanted and when he was struggling he was good at calling for one of them to help him out. Michael liked the independence and Ranboo liked seeing him puzzle things out. He thought Michael would be a little kid forever--he wasn’t quite sure how zombie piglins worked, after all--but just this small improvement was enough to let him know that his son was going to be okay.

“‘Ere.” Tubbo placed a plate on the island. “For you, boss man.”

“Pbebents!” Michael babbled from his seat. He had a mouth full of mashed pancakes. “Pebents!”

“Presents.” Tubbo abandoned the plate he was setting up for himself and walked to stand in front of the high chair. He grabbed a baby wipe and began to wipe around Michael’s mouth. “Presents, Mike. Presents.”

Michael frowned. “Peb. Pre. Presents?”

“There ya go! Nice one, big man.” He turned slightly to glance at Ranboo out of the corner of his eye. “Whatcha think, boo? Think that’s a good enough reason to open the presents early?”

Ranboo was still groggy from sleeping to come up with any sort of intelligent reply, so he just nodded as he shovelled bites of pancakes into his mouth. Speaking of--Tubbo did a wonderful job. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted pancakes this soft--well. He didn’t really eat pancakes, so maybe he was biased, but--

“C’mere,” Tubbo grumbled as he pulled Michael out of the high chair. “Whose presents do you want to open first, Mikey? Santa’s or ours?”

“Sanba! Sanba!”

“Santa.” Tubbo balanced Michael on his hip again and wiped around his snout thoughtlessly as he walked out of the kitchen. “Santa, big man. Santa.”

Ranboo quickly shoveled as much food into his mouth as he could before he got up and fast-walked after his family.

The tree was massive. Tubbo cut it down a week before Christmas to replace the stupid fake one that Ranboo brought home from work. He and Michael spent an entire afternoon hanging ornaments and stringing up lights and popcorn; Michael did the lower half and Tubbo dragged out a ladder to do the top. By the time Ranboo dragged his sorry arse through the front door Tubbo and Michael were passed out on the couch with empty cardboard boxes scattered around them.

The tree had a skirt, of course, and a toy train running around it. In the beginning Michael used to sit in front of the train and just watch it chgchgchg around the tracks. He didn’t reach to grab it or put his hooves on it to stop the train. Tubbo had no idea why; he thought toddlers were supposed to do annoying shit like that. Not this toddler, he guessed.

The night prior Tubbo and Ranboo had placed all the presents under the tree while Michael was sleeping. Ranboo was the one who drank the milk while Tubbo took a bite out of the cookies. The whole time Tubbo was having to explain to Ranboo why these things were important and why they went through the trouble; Ranboo was, of course, being an arse about it. Why does the train have to stay it is in the way and why can’t I drink all of the milk. Tubbo called him Scrooge.

Now all of this hard work paid off. Watching Michael puzzle over the half-eaten cookies and get excited about the milk brought a smile to Ranboo’s face and a grin to Tubbo’s. And then watching him toddle across the living room to reach the tree? Tubbo’s heart panged.

“Here, buddy.” Tubbo motioned for Michael to sit on the couch. “Me ‘n boo are gonna hand you the gifts, okay?”

Michael excitedly pulled himself up onto his new throne before turning around, beaming. And soon he was being surrounded by nicely-wrapped gifts. Tubbo picked out the papers himself since he hadn’t trusted Ranboo to pick anything good. The only thing Ranboo contributed was writing the nametags.

“This one’s from Santa,” Tubbo explained. “Shake it around a bit. Hear anything?”

Michael held the box up to his ear and shook it expectantly. He kicked his legs gleefully when he heard a jingle. “Toy!” he squealed, dropping the box into his lap. “Open? Oben?”

“You open it,” Ranboo hummed. They were organizing the presents sitting around Michael into a good order. “It’s yours.”

Rrrrp. Wrapper flying all over the place. Ranboo grabbed some of it out of the air, but most of it just slowly drifted down to the floor. Michael pulled the cardboard box out of it excitedly, his hooves fumbling to pull off the lid. Ranboo watched as his son held up the wooden duck inside, his eyes bright.

“Duckbie!” Michael chirped. He shook it in Ranboo’s direction. “Duckie! Duckbie!”

“Duckie.” Tubbo took the duck from Michael and ran his hands over the wheels. The duck’s head bobbed up and down and it quacked. “See that, Mikey? Duck quacks. Quack quack.”

“Wack wack.”

“Good enough.”

Another gift. And another. And another, another, another, another. Gifts piled up all around the family, wrapping paper flying. At one point, as it always happens, Ranboo had all sorts of bows taped to the top of their head. Michael got another giant stuffed animal as a gift--add that one to the growing collection--and an indoor tent. He got a chest full of building blocks, enough to probably build a whole new house with. A play doctor kit, a painting easel, a play kitchen with play food--all of this was eventually scattered all over the living room, bound to be tripping hazards all day.

He made them lunch in the kitchen. The three sat there, in a circle, pretending to eat the plastic food. Tubbo sipped invisible tea with his pinky finger held out. Michael named Ranboo Mrs. Happyface and Tubbo Sr. Bubbaloo, a name Tubbo passed on to the new stuffed sheep Michael got. They sat in the living room for hours, a happy bubble, a happy family.

This was paradise. Wearing bows in his hair, having Tubbo bully him into poking out his pinky while he sipped at his tea, watching Michael babble as he made up a story to go along with their small party. This was paradise. This was perfect.

This was home.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “rainbow ink” rating: T warnings: soulmate au, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, DRLAMP, creativitwins genre: angst with a happy ending description: Roman just wants his twin to be happy. That’s all he wants. (for anon prompt: "Romantic DRLAMP soulmates? (Platonic creativetwins ofc) and usually when I see that ships it's Virgil or Deciet who doesn't write to his soulmates but how about Roman? He pretends not to have them because Remus already has them as his soulmates and he doesn't want to steal that from him? Angst with a happy ending?")

The first time Roman sees familiar purple ink flowing across his arm, he thinks it's a mistake. It has to be. He's seen that particular shade of purple on Remus's skin too often for it to be a coincidence. It's only further confirmed when, as he hastily yanks his sleeve down, Remus bursts into his room to tell him that he's going to the coffee shop to people watch and be weird. Just like his soulmate- Virgil- said.

Roman swallows hard, the lump in his throat only intensifying at the unabashed happiness shining in his twin's eyes. He doesn't say a word about the damning purple words drizzled across his skin- doesn't even think about writing back- just wishes Remus a safe trip and tries to pretend that the pain in his lungs is from a developing asthma attack.

The second time he sees dark and light blue ink scrawling across his wrist, he thinks someone must be playing a sick joke on him. It's not fair. Logan and Patton are also Remus's soulmates. Is Roman so cursed that he can't have anything to himself?

But the jealousy, teeming just beneath the surface, makes his throat tighten. He holes himself up in his room, pretending to be asleep when Remus bursts in.

"I'm going to wreak havoc at the library," Remus announces, like Roman hasn't already seen their plans scribbled in round letters and blocky script.

"Cool," Roman mumbles into his pillow, trying to sound foggy with sleep, not heartbroken. "Have fun."

"I will," Remus assures him. "And Janus might come, too! Virgil said he's gotta study, though." As if on cue, Roman can almost feel the spiky gold script etch itself into his forearm.

"Just try not to be arrested," Roman says, turning his face so Remus can't see the tears that have started to prick the corners of his eyes.

"No promises!" Remus says cheerfully. As soon as the front door of their shared apartment closes, Roman buries his face in his pillow and cries, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. This goes beyond even the cruelties of fate he could have ever dreamed up. He shares all of Remus's soulmates.

And he refuses to say a word. He's never seen his twin so happy as when he's with them. Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Janus, the latest. Janus is shy, perpetually wearing a hat around them, tugging the brim down as if it can hide the psoriasis that plagues one side of his face. The way his face lights up when he debates philosophy with a ruffled Logan. Patton's sunniness and platters of heart-shaped pancakes. Virgil's purple hair and anxiety and constantly playing emo music. Remus fits like the final piece of the puzzle, discussing the finer points of arson with Janus, listening to cephalopod facts and true crime podcasts with Logan, splattering paint on a canvas with Virgil and splattering cupcake batter with Patton.

Roman would be an outcast puzzle piece, the occasional broken one that comes from another puzzle entirely and can never find a place to fit in, not even along the edges.

Weeks pass. He starts to wear long sleeves and high necks, trying to hide the rainbow-hued proof from his sharp-eyed twin. He withdraws into himself, no matter how much he tries to stop it. What else is he to do? He's an actor, but he's not that good. He doesn't know if anyone could be that good, to know they can never, ever have what they've longed for their entire life, to watch it happening right in front of their eyes to someone who deserves it so, so much, but-

That's it, isn't it? Roman reflects, huddled on his bed and watching Avatar the Last Airbender through for the third time. 'But.' He feels the tingle of more writing on his wrist, but ignores it. It's not for him, after all. It will never be for him. There will be no gentle affirmations written in Patton's light blue script, no blocky exhortations to do his classwork or go to bed earlier from Logan. Virgil won't offer a mix tape and Janus won't cheer him up with snake-themed puns. They think they're friends and they are, but they have no idea they're more than that, and Roman refuses to tell them anything else.

His door bangs back on its hinges, bouncing off the wall, and Roman looks up in irritated alarm, ready to chastise his twin-

When he realizes that not only has Remus come in, he's brought reinforcements. Virgil, Janus, Logan, and Patton stand there next to Remus, and any annoyed words Roman might have said dry up in his throat.

"Something's wrong with you," Remus says, without preamble. "And I wanna know what."

"Nothing," Roman tries to deny, but he knows that no one will believe it. He looks a dilapidated mess, a far cry from his usual put-together self. He doesn't know when he slid down so fast.

"You and I both know that's a lie," Janus murmurs. He's not wearing a hat for once, and his hair is an unruly mass of curls Roman wishes he could run his fingers through. "You've been avoiding Remus-"

"You've been avoiding all of us," Virgil speaks up next. His shoulders are hunched, his fingers occupied with a purple fidget cube. "Did- did we do something wrong?"

"No!" Roman blurts out, before he even knows what he's saying. "No," he repeats. "You- you haven't done anything at all, it's- it's just me." He swallows, painfully aware all of a sudden that his sleeve has slipped down and dark blue writing is now visible.

Dark blue could be anyone, don't draw attention to it-

"Is it your soulmate?" Logan, because of course it's Logan, asks.

"Um," Roman hedges, inelegant. Remus bounds over to the bed, yanking Roman's sleeve up before he can stop him.

"I will be right up," Remus reads, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "But that's-" He looks at his own arm, at Logan's neat handwriting.

"Roman?" Patton asks hesitantly. "Is- is Logan your soulmate, too? Is that why you've been avoiding us?" An easy out, and yet one that will fall apart at the slightest touch. Roman trembles, feeling like a leaf in a vigorous breeze.

"I-" He croaks. "Um- not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Janus asks. Roman flinches, although he knows it's a perfectly reasonable question. If only there was a perfectly reasonable answer.

"Not just Logan," he whispers, staring down into his lap. "It- I'm so sorry, Remus, it's everyone-" The tears that have prickled the corners of his eyes since Remus touched his sleeve spill over, tracing down familiar tracks.

"But why is that a bad thing?" Remus asks, still looking utterly perplexed. "Ro, what's wrong?"

"They're your soulmates," Roman repeats. "And you've been so happy- I don't belong with that-"

"Who says?" Logan questions. "Shouldn't that be up to us to determine?"

"I- I don't know," Roman stammers. "Maybe?"

"I don't have a problem with another soulmate," Patton says, giving Roman an encouraging smile. "I want to get to know you better, Roman. As more than just your friend. Is that okay?"

Roman's eyes dart to Remus's face, suddenly brimming with unconcealed panic. Remus plops down on the bed next to him, wrapping him up in a tight, slightly odd-smelling hug.

"You dumbass," Remus hisses in his ear. "You deserve to be happy, too, you know. I want you to be happy. You being unhappy has made me really unhappy."

"It has?" Roman asks in a tiny voice.

"Of course it has," Remus says, giving him a shove. "You're my twin, asshole, I care about you. I don't care if we share soulmates."

Roman takes a deep breath, then shoves up both sleeves, up to the elbow, revealing a rainbow cacophony littering his lower arms.

"We talk a lot," Virgil observes. Roman lets out a shaky laugh.

"You do," he says. "But I- I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

tag list:   @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @reverendliu @matthindavick @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @bexxbeauty @killjoy-3000 @the-sunshine-dims @sneaky-slytherin @reesiereads @rabbitsartcorner @quackerz-creations  @psodtqueer @awkward-child-of-satan @snek-boii @im-fine-24  

[yeah-all-of-it]

I wrote a fic the other day (my first!) that included a brief appearance by an original character named Rhonda, who is Ian and Mickey’s neighbor across the hall. Decided to write a bit of a prequel, exploring how they came to be friends with her. It’s 2 parts because it’s 4.7k and I don’t have an Ao3 account. Link for part 2 is here and at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

Spill Your Guts: Part I

“Mickey, shut the fuck up! We’ve only lived here for like four days!” Ian whispers, dragging his slightly inebriated husband down the hall toward their apartment door. “We don’t want everyone to hate us already!”

“No, you don’t want everyone to hate us. I don’t give a fuck.” Mickey replies.

“Mickey.”

Ian’s trying to convey irritation, but the truth is, he’s so giddy about the evening’s surprise anniversary party, he’s struggling to come off as anything other than completely fond of his loud-ass, thoughtful husband. He’s a little drunk himself which isn’t helping matters.

“What? The only person I want to like me is you, Gallagher,” Mickey says, trying to be only slightly quieter.

“And I do like you, very much. But it would be nice to make a couple friends here too. Waking people up at 2 am probably isn’t the best way to do that,” Ian explains.

Mickey stops walking and gently pushes Ian up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand on his chest. Mickey says slyly, “Oh, you like me, huh? How much? D’you like me… this much?” Mickey plants a soft kiss on Ian’s neck.

“Umm, yeah, I like you that much,” Ian responds.

“Okay. What about… this much?” Mickey steps closer, placing his hand on the side of Ian’s face and softly kissing his lips, just barely slipping his tongue in.

“Mmm, yeah,” Ian replies once Mickey pulls away. “I definitely like you that much.”

Mickey steps right up to Ian, pressing his body into the wall with his own. Their faces are so close, they can feel each other’s breath hitching. He slowly slides a hand down the front of Ian’s jeans.

“You like me this mu-,” he doesn’t even have the words out before Ian is devouring him. Bodies pressed together, hands gripping each other’s hair, tongues tangled together.

Things are so intense that they didn’t realize that they have somehow moved and are now up against their across the hall neighbor’s door.

The next thing they know, they are both plummeting toward the ground. It takes them a moment to realize that their neighbor, apparently hearing strange noises coming from her door, had opened the door they were leaning against.

Ian is flat on his back on the floor and Mickey is directly on top of him. Their arms are still wrapped around each other and it’s blatantly obvious what they’ve been up to.

“Do you know what time it is? I thought someone was trying to rob me! Scared the life outta me!” a slender lady, likely in her late 60s who had clearly been in bed based on her attire, yells at them.

The two men scramble to their feet, Ian panicking when he realizes that at some point Mickey had managed to undo his belt and his zipper. His plaid boxers were on full display as well as an obvious display of what’s underneath them.

“We’re… so, so sorry, ma’am,” Ian says sheepishly as he pulls his pants closed. “It won’t happen again.”

Ian grabs Mickey by the jacket and yanks him out the door and across the hall. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the door as quickly as he can, the neighbor eyeing them suspiciously the whole time. Once she’s presumably satisfied that they do actually live there and aren’t burglars, she closes the door to her own apartment.

They stumble through the doorway, slamming the door behind them and Mickey bursts into laughter.

“Holy shit, that’s one way to make friends, Gallagher! Wonder how long it’s been since that woman’s seen a dick?” Mickey laughs, as Ian’s face turns the same color as his hair.

———

It’s been almost a week since Ian inadvertently flashed their new neighbor and so far, they’ve managed to avoid running into her in the hallway.

Saturday morning, Mickey is sleeping in and Ian goes for an early run. He sneaks out the door, hoping the lady across the hall is still in bed, and walks quickly down the hall to the elevator. He manages to evade her again but when he returns, she opens her door before he’s able to get his key in the lock.

“Well, hello there,” she says cheerily. “Long time no see, neighbor!”

“Um, hi there,” Ian nervously replies.

“So, the name’s Rhonda. I figure we should be on a first name basis, you know, since I’ve seen your penis and all.”

Ian blushes and chuckles uncomfortably, but for some reason, finds himself feeling a little less embarrassed. He likes this woman already and they’ve barely spoken. She seems like a pretty no-nonsense, calls a spade a spade type of person.

“Oh, uh, I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Well, Ian Gallagher, I was about to head out to the pool to get a little sun. Care to join me?” Rhonda inquires.

Ian looks down at his watch and figures Mickey will be asleep for at least another hour. And he does want to make friends.

“Umm, sure. That sounds nice,” he ultimately decides.

“Well, let’s get goin’ then!” she exclaims, linking her arm with Ian’s as they take off down the hall.

———

Once they reach the pool, they find two lounge chairs. Ian drags a patio umbrella over by his.

“Ginger,” he points to his hair. “I fry in the sun, even in the morning.”

Rhonda nods understandably as they kick back in their chairs.

“So,” she begins. “What’s your story, Ian Gallagher?”

“Umm, my story?” he answers, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s just met this woman and his “story” is… a lot. They’d be here all day if he told the whole thing. He decides to stick to the basics.

“Well, I’m from the Southside. Born and raised. Have a huge family, five brothers and sisters. Got married last year and moved here with my husband a couple weeks ago.” He decides that’s enough of an introduction for now.

“That’s all? That’s your story? I imagine it’s way juicier than that, but I get it. You don’t know me. I’m sure we’ll get to the good stuff eventually,” she winks after she says it.

This Rhonda, there’s just something so warm and vibrant about her. She has long wavy hair, white with a little gray mixed in. She has on a bohemian style dress and some turquoise jewelry. Ian imagines she’s had quite a life, well traveled and all that. Probably been outside of Chicago more times than he’s been to the Alibi. Her laugh is melodious, and her voice is cheerful and friendly. She’s one of those people you instantly like, that makes you want to open up and share your deepest secrets with.

“So that man that you were ravaging in the hall the other night. Your husband?” Rhonda asks.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s Mickey,” he replies. “Sorry again, about the uh, disturbance that night. We had just come from our first anniversary party and were, um, celebrating. Mickey planned the whole thing as a surprise for me.”

“A surprise anniversary party? Well your Mickey sounds like an absolute gem.”

“Yeah, he really is.” Ian can’t hide his sweet smile and look of adoration in his eyes. It makes him so happy when others notice the goodness in Mickey.

“So, how’d you two boys meet?” Rhonda asks, like she’s waiting for Ian to give her the real dish.

“Uh, well, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Grew up around the block from each other. I didn’t even know he was gay too until we hooked up as teenagers. The rest is sort of complicated, but that’s the gist of it”, Ian replies, and hopes that satisfies her curiosity. He’d love to tell her more but the whole unvarnished truth is a lot to unload on someone you’ve just met.

“Another Cliff’s Notes version, I see, but I’ll accept it for now,” she laughs.

Ian glances down at his watch and notices the time. Mickey is surely awake by now.

“Listen, this has been really great but I need to get back upstairs. Mickey is probably awake and we always make a big breakfast together on Saturday mornings. He’ll be pissed if I’m not there to flip the banana pancakes.”

“Oh I understand! This has been lovely and we should certainly do it again soon, Ian Gallagher!” she says with that cheery voice. Makes it hard to say no.

“Absolutely, Ms. Rhonda. That sounds great.” Ian rises from his chair and heads back inside, offering her a friendly smile that she returns.

———

“Where the fuck you been?” Mickey inquires as Ian walks through the door, not heated, just a question.

“Good morning to you too,” Ian replies teasingly. “I went for a run, then I was sunning by the pool with Rhonda.”

“Rhonda? Who the fuck is Rhonda?” Mickey asks, confused.

“Uh, the lady that lives across the hall from us.”

“The lady that liv- the one that caught us the other night? The one that saw you with your cock out?” Mickey is growing slightly agitated.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What’s she want with you? She tryin’ to pull some Mrs. Robinson shit on you? Saw somethin’ she liked?”

“Relax, Mickey. She’s just a friendly older lady. She didn’t do anything, we just talked for a bit. She’s nice,” Ian tries to assuage the situation. “Plus, you are aware I’m not attracted to women, right? And she’s old enough to be my grandma. Don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Whatever, man. Come in here and flip some fuckin’ pancakes.”

———

The next Saturday morning, Ian decides to skip his run and knock on Rhonda’s door to see if she wants to take a walk with him. He really enjoyed their chat last week; it felt good to talk to someone new, someone who had no preconceived notions about him or his life. He wanted to continue that.

He knocks on the door and Rhonda answers, dressed in lilac colored athletic wear, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was in remarkable shape for her 65+ years.

“Well hello, handsome. I was just getting ready to go do some yoga on the roof. Would you like to come?”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. “I was actually going to see if you wanted to come on a walk but yoga sounds nice. I’ve been wanting to try it but didn’t wanna go alone, and yoga’s not really Mickey’s thing so…” he drifts off.

“I have an extra mat, let me grab it and we’ll head upstairs!” Rhonda says cheerfully.

Once they’re all set up, Rhonda begins, ”I like to start my mornings with something called sun salutation. Do you know what that is?”

“No. I don’t really know anything about yoga, just that it’s supposed to be good for you. Always wanted to try it, especially since moving here. Show me?” Ian requests.

She walks him through step by step, reaching up to the sky and back down. They go through some basic flows, downward dog, warrior, tree pose, cat-cow. She makes sure he concentrates on his breathing.

“All done!” Rhonda chirps and they sit up from their final shavasana position.

Ian feels amazing. Relaxed and limber and strong. He’s surprised how difficult some of the poses are, especially because he’s always considered himself to be in pretty good shape. Yoga is definitely something he wants to continue. Rhonda really knows her stuff, too. Maybe he could convince Mickey to do yoga on the roof so he wouldn’t have to go to an actual class with people.

“Wow, Ms. Rhonda, that was incredible. I see why people love yoga. I feel amazing.”

“We can make this a regular thing, if you like,” she offers.

“Sure, I’d love that. Maybe I could bring Mickey sometime?” he asks.

“Sure thing, handsome!” She smiles at him.

“So, your Mickey. Tell me about him. What made you fall in love with him?” Rhonda asks casually, like she’s just making conversation but he knows she’s trying to dive deeper, get to know him better. He can’t figure out why she’s taken such an interest in him but she’s just so sincere. He can’t help but feel a connection with her.

“Well, Mickey is… complicated. He’s rough and tender. He’s vulgar and beautiful. He’s tough but so kind. He’s… everything.” Ian pauses and Rhonda doesn’t say anything, indicating she wants him to continue.

“He had a rough upbringing. I did too, actually, but not nearly as rough as his. I had druggy, absentee parents and was mostly raised by my older sister Fiona. Struggled to pay bills. Had to steal to survive sometimes. But Mickey…” Ian drifts off, not sure how much deeper he should go. There’s just something about this kind, welcoming woman in front of him that makes him want to open up. He wants to be careful though, as Mickey’s story isn’t entirely for him to tell. He wants to be respectful of that.

“Mickey was raised mostly by his dad who was in and out of prison. His dad was homophobic and violent and was awful to Mickey. Obviously he didn’t support us being together. Mickey had to hide who he truly was for so long which made it tough on our relationship. But we survived all that and Mickey now is just… he has rough edges. Anyone that is around him can see that. He’s Southside through and through. But when you really get to know him… he’s the best person I know. I guess that’s why I love him. Because he’s just… good. And he’s always had my back no matter what. He’s damn good in bed too, so there’s that,” he laughs.

“Oh trust me, I can tell you boys have no trouble in that department!” she cackles and Ian blushes.

Her tone turns a little more serious after that. “So when you say his father was homophobic and Mickey couldn’t be who he really was…” she leaves it open ended for Ian to fill in the blanks.

He sighs, “Yeah, um. His dad had threatened to kill him. And me. Actually tried, after our wedding. He caught us together once, years ago, naked in the living room. It was… really bad. Traumatizing but I won’t go into details. Mickey spent his whole life hiding deep in the closet because of his dad. My family always supported me and loved me no matter what, but Mickey didn’t have that. We had to hide our relationship for years which was tough. I just wanted to be a normal couple, be able to hold his hand in public, shit like that. But he was scared. Wanted to make his dad proud. He finally came out… I kinda pushed him which wasn’t my proudest moment. But he came out and his dad beat us up. It was awful, but he was out so it was kinda freeing too, I guess? I don’t know. Then there was my diagnosis in the midst of all this. I don’t really tell a lot of people about it but I’m bipolar. Did some crazy shit when I was in a bad manic state several years ago. Then spent some weeks in bed, couldn’t even get up. Mickey never left my side. I’m really not sure where I would have ended up if it wasn’t for him. He saved my life. I’m stable now, on meds that are working well for me. Plus Mickey is really good at picking up on shit, like if he thinks I’m starting to get depressed or something. He’ll say something or do something to help me through it, but like, subtle.” It’s all coming out like word vomit. But it feels so therapeutic at the same time, like just saying these words out loud lightens the weight of them.

“I don’t know. We broke up a few times over the years, forced apart by circumstances out of our control. Oh, and we were in prison together for awhile. We’ve been through some shit. We’d be here all day if I told you even half of it. But despite all that we found our way back to each other and never have to let go again.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

“On and off for ten years. Since we were just dumb teenagers, banging secretly in the walk-in cooler at work,” Ian answers.

“Well that’s one hell of a story, Ian. I’m sorry things were bad for so long but I’m so happy you are in a good place now. Your Mickey sounds just wonderful though and I can’t wait to get to know him better. Maybe we could do dinner one night! I’m a pretty fantastic cook.”

“That actually sounds really great, thank you. I’ll check our schedule,” Ian replies.

“Anytime next week works so just let me know.”

They get up and begin to roll up their mats.

“You know, I just realized,” Ian states. “I don’t really know anything about you. I’ve just been droning on about myself. What’s your story?”

“Oh, Ian. I promise, we can discuss my wild life at dinner,” she laughs.

“Sounds perfect,” Ian smiles.

———

“We gotta do what?” Mickey complains.

“We are going over to Rhonda’s for dinner this Friday. It’ll be fun. She’s wonderful. You’re gonna love her. She’s really excited to get to know you better.”

“Better? You’ve already fuckin’ told her a bunch’a shit about me, haven’t you?” Mickey grumbles.

“Listen, Mick. Yes, I’ve given her the gist of our lives and our relationship, nothing too in depth. I didn’t go into great detail about your history because I didn’t think it was my place,” Ian explains. “Just told her how rough we had it in the past. She’s just so kind, and she really listens, no judgment.”

Mickey hesitates. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But if this woman isn’t as amazing as you say she is I’m leaving. Unless the food is really good or there’s free booze. Then I’ll stay.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and gives him a hug, whispering a quiet “thank you” in his ear.

———

Friday is here before Ian knows it. He’s chatted more with Rhonda this week, seeing her for a few minutes in the laundry room, waiting for his clothes to dry. Then again out by the pool when he went to swim some laps. They were both looking forward to dinner.

“Mick, you about ready? It’s almost 7,” Ian yells back to the bedroom from the living room.

Mickey walks out into the living room wearing his black skinny jeans with the ripped knees and a gray long sleeved waffle knit shirt with his black boots.

“Wow, Mickey, you look really nice.” Ian walks up and kisses him on the forehead. “You smell great too, what is that?”

“Some cologne I found at some fuckin’ hipster shop the other day. Thought it smelled nice. Wanted to make a good impression on your new best friend,” Mickey states, with a slight hint of feigned attitude.

“You’re my best friend, Mick. Rhonda’s just a nice lady that I enjoy talking to and hanging out with. She’s definitely a friend though, the only friend I’ve made here and I really like her company.”

“If you insist. Let’s go, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

PART 2

[ggukcangetit]

Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix - JJK fic

title: Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix [Prequel to Crime & Punishment]

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: PG 13

warnings: language, y/n uses a pillow to deal with her frustration, not much else?

word count: 3.5k

summary: when your best friend, Namjoon, asks if a junior from his business ventures class can live with you till his lease comes through, you don’t think much about it. But one month with Jeon Jungkook proves to be extremely difficult because of how little the boy says but how much he seems to topple over without much effort.

a/n: this is the first fic for jungkook’s birthday! happy birthday to the bestest, most lovely, wonderful, soft-hearted boy out there. we love you, koo! wishing you happiness always <3

Before Jungkook

Namjoon is a great guy. He’s smart, funny, considerate, thoughtful, kind, and definitely one of the best looking guys out there. You love him, you really do. But there are times when you wish you could roundhouse kick his dimpled ass out of the window. And this would be one of those moments. 

“It’ll only be for a couple of months, y/n.” Namjoon sat down on the grass, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Seokjin reached over you and handed him the last neatly packed chicken wrap he had brought. “The lease at his old place ran out last week, and the place he’s going to move to doesn’t allow tenants before August. You’re the only one of us who currently doesn’t have a roommate.”

You frowned, the wonderfully seasoned chicken inside Seokjin’s wrap not really registering in your system. “Seokjin can’t?”

“You do know that I just graduated and will be moving to a different city in a couple of days, right?” He shot you a look and promptly flopped onto the grass dramatically.

“What about Yoongi?” 

“He’s moved in with his girlfriend.” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not read any of the messages in the group chat?”

“Jimin? Hobi?” You were desperate at this point.

“Hobi lives with me. And Jimin lives with Taehyung right now. But the two of them are planning to move into a new apartment before classes start in the fall and Jungkook will be staying with them after that! So what do you say?” Namjoon stared at you expectantly. “Can Jungkook crash at your place for the summer?”

If it were up to you, some random junior from Namjoon’s business class would not be crashing at your modest apartment while you slaved your ass off working part-time so that your job prospects would be minutely better at the time of graduation. But then - you stared at Namjoon’s inquiring gaze and Seokjin’s knowing eyebrow raise - it was never really up to you, was it? No. Somehow, all decisions in your friend group had become a matter of collective responsibility. Yoongi wants to buy a new sound system? Well, it must be compatible with the latest AR gaming technology so that Seokjin can come over and use it whenever he wants. Hobi’s ordering a designer jacket for his birthday? It can’t be orange because Jimin wouldn’t be caught dead wearing orange. 

And the list goes on…

What it ultimately came down to was that Jungkook would be staying at your place over the summer. If you said no, your friends would definitely understand… But you would feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the year. So-

“Thanks for letting me stay here, y/n.” Jungkook wasn’t what you had expected. Although you had received very contrasting, even conflicting, descriptions of him from your friends.

“He’s a shy guy,” Namjoon said while walking his bike out of the university courtyard. “Doesn’t speak to a lot of people easily.”

Seokjin, naturally, had said something completely different. “He’s the toughest guy I know. Dude could easily bench press us all at the same time.”

That had left you a little worried so, of course, you decided to speak to Hobi. “Jungkook? Haha! That guy’s really something else! He barely sleeps at night because he’s playing video games! And he’s a snack monster!”

Your mind immediately went to the basket of snacks you kept at your apartment. There was no way this guy would touch your stuff, right?

“Jungkook’s a total prankster!” Jimin giggled while sipping his iced tea. “You should see the stuff he and Tae get up to sometimes!”

“It’s no big deal.” Your reply lacked the minimal amount of enthusiasm required to not be considered a big deal, though. If Jungkook picked up on that, he didn’t say anything.

Week 1 with Jungkook

The first couple of days went by without any issues. He seemed like a quiet guy who kept to himself - so far Namjoon’s description had been the most accurate - and you supposed two months with him around wouldn’t be terrible.

That’s where you were sorely mistaken. Suddenly, you found the fridge full of banana milk cartons - not a few bottles, mind you, but a few cartons of banana milk. Every single cupboard in the kitchen was now stuffed with protein supplements, low carb snacks, and the entire country’s supply of instant ramen. Now, you didn’t have anything against instant ramen per se - heck, you really enjoyed the beauty of a quick delicious meal at the end of a long day - but this was pushing things a little. Because for every single instant ramen packet placed in the kitchen, something of yours had to be displaced rather dramatically.

For instance, you had woken up early one Tuesday morning, craving chocolate chip pancakes like nobody’s business. The chocolate chips were kept on the middle shelf of the third cupboard from the left - as they had been since you had moved in a year ago. You knew exactly where your things were placed and, having the unassailable confidence of an only child who has never had to share their space and now lives on their own as well, you opened the cupboard door without looking up. This was clearly not as smart a decision as you had imagined because a ton of instant ramen packets came cascading down on your head. 

Jungkook came rushing out of his bedroom, alarmed by the sound of loud and colourful cursing coming from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?!”

The look on your face was probably one Seokjin would have laughed at until he had tears in his eyes. But Jungkook, completely unacquainted with your temper and the peculiar things that set you off, looked like he had just found out that he was allergic to both banana and dairy. Actually, he looked more like Hobi the day he had come home to find Jimin and Taehyung working on the latter’s art project which had resulted in the most tragic paint spill on the most beautiful white carpet in the history of college roommate sagas. 

“Oh shit! The ramen- I’m so sorry, y/n!” Jungkook ran towards you to try and help. Unfortunately, he was both hesitant to physically check if you were okay and eager in his desire to make things alright, resulting in a collision which sent you hurtling towards the ground in what would have been an extremely nasty fall. To Jungkook’s credit, he had some insanely rapid reflexes and managed to catch you before you hit the tiled floor and cracked your skull open. 

There was a brief moment between when he wrapped his arm around your waist and when your brows furrowed in annoyance, where you caught a whiff of his apple-scented shampoo and noticed the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose. 

Cute.

You wriggled out of his hold and fixed him with a look that, hopefully, conveyed that you were supremely displeased with his ramen placement without actually having to tell him off. 

“S-sorry about that.” The look had done its job. Jungkook quickly gathered up the fallen ramen packets and stuffed them into the nearest drawer - which then could not be closed.

“How much ramen do you have…?” Your annoyance was replaced with sheer curiosity at this point.

“Oh, uh… I won a gaming contest and the first prize was a year’s worth of instant ramen.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

You sighed. “Come on, let me show you the extra storage space behind the shoe cupboard.”

Week 2 with Jungkook

Jungkook wasn’t a loud and inconsiderate roommate. In fact, after the ramen debacle of the first week, he had been coexisting with you quite beautifully. Sometimes you would cook dinner, curse at the fact that you had to cook dinner, and then secretly cherish the absolute delight on Jungkook’s face as he ate the dinner you had cooked. Other times, he would tap into his self-proclaimed noodle know-how and whip up some sort of deluxe instant ramen dish, which always turned out to be heavenly and it was all you could do to stop yourself from moaning in pleasure while you both slurped the noodles.

Then, of course, were the times when you ordered takeout, and somehow attracted all the ravenous souls present on the group chat. It didn’t matter whether it was sushi or tacos or fried chicken or pizza or chinese or even a batch of mini donuts from the tiny shop opposite your apartment - all six of them invariably came knocking a few minutes before the food was delivered.

“Gguk, how’s the summer internship going?” Yoongi was holding his third slice of pizza, sitting on the floor with his legs spread haphazardly. This was one of the rare times when he had dropped by for a random friday hangout - his friday nights were usually reserved for his girlfriend. 

Jungkook looked up from the game he had been playing with Taehyung and Seokjin. “Oh, it’s fine. The usual internship bullshit.” He let out a small winner as his car flew past the others just before the finish line.

“This damn game is rigged,” muttered Seokjin. “How come nobody but Jungkook ever wins?”

“That’s because you suck, Jin!” Jungkook ducked out of the way as Seokjin reached out to punch him. “Face it, racing games aren’t your thing.”

At the other end of the room, Hobi was dozing off at the dining table while Jimin and Namjoon played their 9th game of Go Fish. Yoongi bit into the pizza and motioned Taehyung to get him a beer from the fridge. 

“We should go clubbing.” Taehyung’s impulsive and, frankly, terrible ideas were usually a result of a three-game losing streak. If there was anyone who hated losing more than Seokjin, it was the raven haired guy with soft curls falling on his forehead, staring at all of you with his piercing gaze.

“I’m exhausted. I had classes from 9-7 today,” said Namjoon, waving his hand dismissively.

“I work on Saturdays, Tae. You know that.” Seokjin got up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m going to head out now.”

“The rest of us can go then.” Taehyung was nothing if not persistent. 

“Hobi’s passed out already. And Soya’s waiting for me at home. So I’m going to drop him and Joon at their place, and then head back myself.”

These negative responses did nothing to deter Taehyung’s determination to go clubbing, which meant that you found yourself smooshed into the back of an uber with Taehyung and Jungkook as Jimin sat shotgun. Not only did you absolutely hate clubbing, but the fact that both Jungkook and Taehyung were very well-built, muscular guys, meant that you basically had one butt cheek of space to sit on.

“You okay?” asked Jungkook, before the four of you walked into the club.

“My left butt cheek is asleep, but otherwise all good.” He giggled at your response, gently laying a hand on your back so that you wouldn’t be separated from the group.

An hour later, you were completely certain of three things.

First off, there was nothing in the world that could make you enjoy clubbing. Not the location, not the music, and not the people you were with. Secondly, the three boys you were with not only had devastating good looks, but also managed to shake up the club with their crowd-pulling dances. Jimin’s style relied heavily on his seductive hip movements while Taehyung was destroying everyone with his smoldering expressions. Jungkook, meanwhile, was running completely on an adrenaline rush, and matched Jimin and Taehyung move for move, adding a sexy amount of aggression to the dances as well.

And finally, Jungkook, despite his muscles and dancing and adrenaline, liked to cuddle when he was extremely exhausted and had someone in his vicinity. That someone happened to be you that night as you came back to the sofa to find him curled up into a ball, his mouth slightly open as he slept peacefully. Your mistake was trying to place a blanket on top of him because you soon found yourself being pulled into his embrace as you became Jungkook’s personal cuddle pillow. You could say that you struggled for a long time, trying to break out of his grasp but he was just too strong for you, so you eventually gave up and fell asleep while cuddling with him on the sofa.

But then you would be lying. 

Week 3 with Jungkook 

Not that you would ever admit it, but Jungkook had a very pert bottom. As bottoms go, his was definitely somewhere in the top tier. The general consensus on campus was that Jimin and Taehyung were the usual contestants in the battle of the first-rate bottoms. But those of the general consensus had clearly never seen Jungkook in skin-tight jeans, kneeling on the floor while trying to reach for the remote that had fallen under the sofa. 

“You’re zoning out again!” Seokjin was seated opposite you and snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You know I hate being ignored, y/n.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you…” Your cheeks colored as you tried to rid your mind of the images of Jungkook from that morning, reaching for the highest shelf and flashing a beautiful strip of impeccably shaped abs.

“Tell me you aren’t daydreaming about Jungkook’s ass.”

“I am not daydreaming about Jungkook’s a-” You closed your mouth quickly, slapping Seokjin’s arm for good measure. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Work’s so boring and you’re so predictably entertaining, y/n,” he grinned and bit into the chocolate cupcake in front of him. “I miss seeing you everyday.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled.

“Nah, but seriously, Jungkook’s a solid guy - pun completely intended.” You rolled your eyes as he snickered at his joke. “You two would be good together.”

“You’re well aware of my stance on people setting me up, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“No one’s setting you up. I’m just saying -” Seokjin popped the remaining half of the cupcake into his mouth - “if there’s potential, you shouldn’t stop yourself.”

Unfortunately, any potential that may have been present, completely fizzled out when you got home that afternoon. You had made one thing perfectly clear the day that Jungkook had moved in with his stuff - your snack supply was completely off-limits. Yet here you were, staring at a near empty basket while Jungkook lounged on the sofa with chocolatey fingers and an empty chips packet lying on the table. 

Pert bottoms definitely did not trump snack supplies - as Jungkook found out the hard way when a pillow came crashing down on him with the wrath of all your ancestors combined.

“Y/n! What the fuck?!” he yelped, ducking from your well-aimed blows.

“My snacks! They’re off limits! Asshole!” You punctuated each word with a smack of your pillow.

“Stop! Stop!” He grabbed the pillow from your hands and threw it as far as he could. “I’m sorry! I was really hungry and there wasn’t anything else at home!”

His stupid big doe eyes were just too damn sincere and you felt yourself deflating and sinking into the sofa. After making sure that you wouldn’t attack him again, Jungkook sat down beside you, nudging you softly with his shoulder. “I was going to go to the asian store once they open in the evening. Do you want to come with and help me replenish the snack supply?”

You huffed in annoyance but gradually rested your head on his shoulder. Jungkook had lived with you long enough to know that that was a yes.

Week 4 with Jungkook

Choosing movies to watch over dinner was always something you struggled with. Not when you were alone. No, you knew exactly what you wanted to watch. Your Netflix suggestions were appropriately lined up with crime dramas and sci-fi thrillers. It was only when there was someone else watching with you that the situation became contentious. Namjoon had a penchant for documentaries, and Hobi and Jimin liked watching musicals. Seokjin refused to watch anything even remotely close to a horror film, and Yoongi and Taehyung always voted for heavy art films. And Jungkook-

“I am not watching Titanic.” You settled into the sofa with your bowl of pasta, reaching forward to grab the soda can on the table.

“Come on, y/n! It’s a classic!” Jungkook whined. You had realised that the boy whined a lot over little things like movie selections and waking up before 8 am. “A tragic tale of true love.”

You snorted into your food. “True love would’ve been if they’d both survived.”

“You’re so cold.” There it was, the infamous Jeon Jungkook pout. It didn’t make an appearance often, but when it did, you found yourself growing weaker and much more likely to give in to whatever stupid thing he wanted.

“Fine. Put it on. But don’t blame me when I end up scrolling through Instagram the entire time.”

“I won’t,” he grinned and sat down next to you. The sofa dipped considerably and you found yourself sliding towards him involuntarily. It wasn’t that this position was uncomfortable - you were actually really fond of unwitting physical contact with your friends. The only problem was the way your heartbeat quickened every time the unwitting contact was with Jungkook. 

By the time the movie was over, Jungkook’s nose was running. It was no secret that he cried during sad movies but you still loved teasing him about how easily characters brought him to tears.

“Damn, look at you crying over Jack and Rose. They’re just fictional characters and Rose didn’t even die! What would you do if I was in their place? Would you cry over me too, Gguk?” You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“No.” His reply was firm and you wondered if he had been offended this time.

“No? Why not?”

“I’d never let that happen to you.”

You could safely say that you had never bolted to the bathroom as quickly as that moment, splashing your cheeks with cold water to bring down the flush.

This wasn’t the only time Jungkook had left you completely speechless, however. He ordered takeout much more than you did, not having time to cook much because of his internship. And his takeout orders usually consisted of either pizza or fried chicken. On most days, you were done with dinner by the time he got home and ordered takeout.

On one such day, you looked up from the spreadsheet you had been working on, your stomach clearly unsatisfied with the grilled cheese sandwich you had eaten a couple of hours ago. Making your way to the kitchen, you rummaged through the contents of the fridge, huffing in annoyance as you found nothing suitable for your current hunger-related dilemma.

“Do you want pizza? I’ve finished but there are a couple of slices left.” Jungkook pushed the box towards you and turned his attention back to his phone. It was a veggie supreme - something that Jungkook always ordered.

“How come there aren’t any olives?” you asked, knowing that that particular pizza store always put olives on their veggie pizzas.

“I asked them to take out the olives.”

“Why? I thought you loved olives.”

“I do. But you don’t eat olives.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment. “But you ordered the pizza for yourself…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want the olives to stop you in case you wanted to have a slice.”

He hadn’t looked up during the entire conversation but you could see the way his cheeks turned pink and how he kept tugging at his ear. You, yourself, felt your heart soar and bit into a slice of pizza - trying to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading on your face.

After Jungkook

It turned out that Jungkook didn’t need to stay at your place for more than a month. Jimin and Taehyung had somehow convinced their landlord to allow them to move in a month ahead of the designated move-in date, which meant that you were once again living alone. 

It was weird. There was a lot of space in your cupboards once again and the fridge didn’t always smell of chocolate shakes and overripe bananas. You were also free to choose whatever movie you wanted to watch with dinner. But something still felt amiss…

You sighed and reached for your basket of snacks, frowning as your fingers swiped at thin air. Your eyes widened as you glanced at your previously well-stocked supply of snacks, noting the distinct lack of at least 75% percent of its contents.

“JEON JUNGKOOK!”

please leave a comment if you enjoyed this story!  tagging @holynamtiddies​ , @hauntedlilies​

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter Thirteen

The morning of Lysandra’s stakeout

Aelin awoke to someone tracing circles on her thigh. She mumbled, annoyed to be awoken but aroused by Rowan’s methods.

“Four more days until our peace is over,” he whispered in Aelin’s ear.

“No,” she muttered back. “You can keep me here until work starts again, even after the damned party. They will not destroy my sex life. There will be peace, I assure you.”

Rowan chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Aedion might not approve, though.”

Aelin sighed. “I can’t even talk about Aedion right now. Or anybody. Just touch me.”

Another laugh came out of Rowan. He leaned down and kissed her eyelids, which were still closed. Then he trailed his mouth downwards. When Rowan reached her breasts, Aelin arched into his mouth. By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, she was wide awake.

Of course, before Rowan could actually do anything, Aelin’s stomach growled. He chuckled against her skin. “I’ll make pancakes.”

“I’m not hungry.” A lie, but Aelin wanted him to go farther.

Just because the world hated her, Aelin’s stomach made another noise, louder this time. Rowan just smirked at her and got out of bed.

Aelin sighed in resignation. She climbed out of bed and grabbed one of Rowan’s shirts out of his dresser once again. This one had a big University of Wendlyn logo on it.

Upon entering the kitchen, Aelin found him with flour splattered all over the counter and Rowan himself attempting (and failing) to pour mix into a bowl without spilling it. How long had he been in here? Two minutes?

“Looks like I’m not the only one who struggles making breakfast,” Aelin commented as she took in the sight.

Needless to say, they decided to go out for breakfast. Aelin liked to visit cafes with good coffee. That was her only standard in a business, really.

Rowan was reluctant to try one, but he relented, and they walked down to the parking lot. As they exited the building, Rowan stopped her to press a quick kiss to Aelin’s lips.

She grinned. “What, can’t bear to go five minutes without a kiss?”

He grinned right back at her. “You know I struggle.”

Aelin chuckled softly. Then she leaned forwards and kissed him deeply. Her tongue slid into Rowan’s mouth and he groaned. His hands gripped her hips, then slid down to squeeze her ass.

Rowan pulled back. “And I’m not the only one who can’t keep to themself, apparently.”

“I did it for you, darling. Wouldn’t want you to go through withdraw.”

He snorted and took Aelin’s arm. They walked to Rowan’s car. He insisted on driving, declaring Aelin was the most likely person he knew to have deadly road rage. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m excited for the Christmas party,” Aelin said as they drove. “I know it might be weird for the others comprehending our scandalous affair, but I always have so much fun at those things.”

Rowan chuckled. “We always get pretty wild at those things. Remember the roads were bad one year, and no one could drive so they all had to come?”

“Ah. That one.”

“What does that mean?” asked Rowan.

Aelin sighed. “I brought Chaol to that one and I had to spend the whole night listening to him complain about how irresponsible we are. That was the night I broke up with him and told him to go away halfway through the party just so I could enjoy the rest of it.”

A snort from Rowan. “How considerate of you, dear.” He looked over at her to see her glaring at him. “And how exactly were we being irresponsible?”

“Drinking, telling inappropriate jokes? Good lord, they’re like adults or something.”

“Ah, yes, Chaol was the stuck-up goody-two-shoes.”

“Yes,” Aelin said. “He swore off all alcohol, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he lectured everyone else about drinking. And he actually followed the rules.”

“You don’t?”

Aelin grinned. “Hell no. What fun is life without a little rule-breaking?”

They pulled up at Aelin’s favorite cafe and got out. Rowan continued at they walked in, “I have to wonder how you got a respectable job sometimes.”

“Well I never got caught, obviously. Don’t tell me you’ve never misbehaved.” She sat at a table by the window.

Rowan sat as well. “Perhaps bent the rules. Oh, and there was the time I crashed my father’s car into a stop sign when I was sixteen.”

Aelin gasped. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Well I obviously didn’t mean to.”

“Idiot. I stole my uncle’s car one time to go joyriding with Aedion and I didn’t crash it. He never even noticed it was gone.” Aelin smiled proudly.

Rowan laughed. “Well we can’t all be as perfect as you.” A grin from Aelin.

-

The four days passed quickly enough. Before she knew it, Aelin was standing in front of the mirror at Lysandra’s apartment with Lys and Manon. The three of them had wanted to prepare together, as everybody not going to the party had already left for the holdiay and they were the only women.

Once they got ready, Aelin was going to drive over to Rowan’s and pick him up. Despite his reluctance to let her drive, Aelin told him he was being dumb and that was that. Lys and Manon were carpooling together.

Aelin was frankly quite annoyed with her cousin. She had told him to ask Lysandra to the party, but he told her Lys didn’t like him like that and he’d just ruin their freindship. After years of flirting and mooning over each other, Aelin could only sigh.

So there they were picking out dresses from Lysandra’s stash. Lys had always liked to shop, which resulted in a closet full of unworn clothing, perfect for special occasions.

“What do you think of this one?” Aelin asked, holding up a silver dress.

Lys squealed. “That would totally show off your legs, not to mention give Mystery Man a nice view of your assets.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Manon snorted. “Just pick something for me. I couldn’t care less.”

Aelin ended up with the sparkly silver one, Lysandra with a bloodred dress with a slit in the side showing off a scandalous amount of leg, and Manon with a black dress. Manon may not like to pick out clothing, but she could certainly wear them well. Hers hugged all her curves, contradicting the modest length.

“I hate to be smug,” Lysandra said, her tone saying quite the opposite, “but we ladies look fine as hell.”

Manon just tilted her head in thought. “I need to borrow this again next time I go to a bar.”

Aelin smiled. “Time for makeup.”

-

An hour later, makeup was applied and hair was done. Aelin drove over to Rowan’s both excited and nervous to tell the other three.

Aelin found Rowan sitting at the counter wearing a suit - one that made him hot as shit. Not that he wasn’t already. She was annoyed to find how moony she had become. Rowan was a bad influence on her.

“Hello. Ready to get beat up?” Aelin greeted.

Rowan raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“What, you don’t think Aedion’s going to be okay with his dear friend ravaging his dear cousin?”

Rowan snorted. “Gods help us. You look great, by the way.” Indeed, his eyes were roving over her body in approval and lust.

“Put the bedroom eyes away, darling. We have somewhere to be.” Aelin grabbed his arm and dragged him off the stool and towards the door to make her point.

“Gentle as ever, I see,” Rowan said dryly, holding his shoulder.

Aelin rolled her eyes and muttered, “Wimp.”

They went down to Aelin’s car and headed towards the three men’s, only one of which was actually in attendance.

They pulled up outside and started for the door. “Oh gods Ro, I shouldn’t be, but I’m terrified,” Aelin stated.

“Me too. I should have prayed.”

“Are you religious?” Aelin asked.

“Well, no, but you never can be too sure.”

Aelin scowled. “I am not a coward,” she muttered. Then she stormed up the sidewalk, leaving Rowan to try and catch up.

Aelin opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“Hey,” said Aedion as she walked in. Lys and Manon were sitting on the couch sipping beers.

Manon frowned. “Where’s the boy?”

Rowan walked in the door just then.

“Oh, hey Rowan,” Aedion said, then turned his attention back to his sister. “Um, Aelin, where is your boyfriend? He didn’t, er, dump you, did he?”

“Way to put it lightly,” Manon murmured.

Lysandra was staying oddly silent.

“Um.” Aelin couldn’t get any words out.

“Not a coward, huh?” whispered Rowan beside her.

Aelin scowled. “Shut your mouth, Whitethorn.” Then she forcefully grabbed his hand. “Surprise,” she said, deadpanned, looking at her friends.

“What.” Aedion was frowning.

Aelin frowned right back at him. “I said, ‘surprise.’ Whitethorn and I are fucking.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Dating.”

“Right, that.”

Lysandra burst into laughter.

“Something funny, Ennar?” Aelin was definitely in a mood at this point.

Lysandra smiled sweetly, attempting to staunch her giggles. Then she pulled out her phone. And clicked something. And held it up for all to see.

“Damn it! You’re a fucking stalker! I knew you would!” Aelin exclaimed.

Lysandra grinned at her. “I told everybody else, too. Payback.”

Rowan sighed.

“Wait.” Aedion spoke. “Hold on a minute.” He looked to be short-circuiting. Then he turned his gaze to Rowan. “You’re the one who’s been defiling my little sister?”

Aelin, Manon, and Lys all burst into a fit of cackles at this.

Rowan looked nervous. “Um. I am... not defiling her. I’m...” He turned to Aelin. “Help me,” he whispered.

Aelin sighed. “Aedion, don’t kill him. Rowan, grow a pair, would you. Lysandra, stop being a stalker.” Then she yanked Rowan to the couch and pulled him down next to the ladies.

“No, we are not done with this conversation,” Aedion declared. “Give me that.” He took Lysandra’s phone out of her hands and studied the picture. “It sure looks like you’re defiling her to me.”

Aelin sighed in resignation. “Fine, I’ll admit it. He’s ravishing me. You need to make it up to me, Ro, by fighting for my honor.” Aelin liked to be dramatic.

Aedion looked inclined to agree. Rowan seemed rather alarmed. “How about no?”

“Scared, Whitethorn?” Aedion asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Fight, fight, fight,” Lysandra chanted.

Manon snorted. “Are we in kindergarten?” Then she joined in, as did Aelin.

“Alright, ladies, that’s enough,” Rowan said.

“Hey now,” Lys objected. “You can’t have a proper party without a fistfight.”

Rowan scowled. “I am not fighting anybody. Aedion, please don’t murder me.”

Aedion frowned. “I’ll have to think on that one. And why the hell is this happening, anyways? You two loathe each other.”

Aelin smiled. “You don’t need to like someone to want to date them.”

“Great to see how much you care for me,” Rowan grumbled.

“Aedion, dear, you should be happy about this,” Aelin said. “You trust Rowan not to, I don’t know, break my sensitive, little heart. Although, let’s be honest; I’m much more likely to break his.” Rowan elbowed her.

Aedion sighed heavily. “I suppose I can accept this... relationship.” He made sure to add, “Difficultly.”

Aelin smirked. “And if he hurts me, you’ll hunt him down and chop him into itty-bitty little pieces, yes?”

“Of course.”

Aelin could tell from Rowan’s frightened expression he could see that Aedion was dead-serious.

Manon spoke up for the first time since the revelation. “It’s about time, I say.”

Everyone looked at her. “What?” asked Aelin.

Manon grinned. “Oh, didn’t Whitethorn didn’t tell you?” Aelin was confused. She looked over at Rowan, who had paled.

“Um, Manon, no. Don’t do it,” Rowan pleaded.

“Yes, Manon, please do it,” Aelin demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This is what you get, pretty boy,” Manon said, “for not telling me about this. Guess what a drunken Rowan told me three years ago?”

“Who knew you could be so dramatic,” Lysandra grumbled. “Just say it.”

Manon gave a feline smile. “He said, if I recall correctly, ‘Manon, help, I’m in love with Galathynius.’”