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sherewrytes · 2 months ago

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A Christmas Surprise

Day 4 of posting everyday until Christmas!

Ony x reader

The house was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace and the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. OJ and your daughter, Rummie, were tucked snugly in their beds, their little faces glowing with the excitement of tomorrow’s festivities. They had both spent the evening baking cookies with you, their laughter filling the kitchen as flour dusted every surface.

Now, with the kids asleep, the real work began.

You and Ony sat side by side on the living room floor, surrounded by a fortress of brightly colored wrapping paper, ribbons, and boxes. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warm, twinkling light, casting shadows that danced along the walls. Ony’s shirt was discarded somewhere behind the couch, leaving him in just his sweatpants. His dark skin seemed to gleam under the soft lights, his muscles flexing as he carefully wrapped a gift.

“Baby,” he murmured, holding up a clumsily wrapped box. “Tell me this don’t look too bad.”

You laughed, reaching over to smooth out the crumpled edges of the paper. “It’s perfect. The kids won’t even notice—they’ll tear through it in two seconds flat.”

He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “You always know how to make me feel like I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That’s because you always are.”

For a while, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the snip of scissors and the rustling of paper. Every so often, Ony would glance over at you, his gaze lingering longer than necessary.

Finally, you caught him. “Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

He shrugged, a small grin playing on his lips. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout how lucky I am. Look at you, sittin’ here, makin’ this house feel like magic every damn day.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “Oh, Ony…”

“Don’t get all teary-eyed on me now,” he teased, though his voice was soft, full of love. “I’m just sayin’—you make this house a home.”

You set down the gift you were wrapping and crawled over to him, settling yourself into his lap. His strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close. “We make this a home,” you corrected, your voice barely above a whisper. “Together.”

He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there as he sighed contentedly. “Together.”

After a few more minutes of cuddling, you reluctantly pulled away. “Okay, we still have a lot to do before Santa gets here.”

Ony chuckled, helping you to your feet. “Alright, let’s get these gifts under the tree. And then… maybe we can have a little more alone time before the kids wake up.”

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “You’re insatiable.”

He smirked, pulling you close for one last kiss. “Only for you, baby. Only for you.”

With the last gift tucked neatly under the tree, Ony brushed his hands together and leaned back on his palms, surveying the pile of presents. “That’s it,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. “Now, you should head to bed, babe. I’ll finish up the rest.”

You frowned, giving him a playful glare. “What ‘finishing touches’? We’ve done everything.”

He smirked, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Don’t worry about it. Go on, get some sleep.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously but let him guide you toward the bedroom. “Fine, but don’t stay up too late.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “I won’t. Promise.”

You climbed into bed, exhaustion finally catching up with you, and before long, the soothing hum of the holiday music playing faintly in the living room lulled you to sleep.

Morning came all too quickly, and the peace of dawn was shattered by the excited squeals of your children.

“Santa came! Santa came!” OJ’s voice rang out as he climbed onto the bed, shaking your arm. Rummie, giggling uncontrollably, followed suit, her tiny hands patting your face as she chanted, “Presents, Mommy! Presents!”

You groaned, cracking an eye open to see their excited faces. Ony was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed with a wide smile, watching the kids with that unmistakable look of love.

“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh, sitting up and ruffling OJ’s hair. “Let’s see what Santa brought.”

Ony stood effortlessly, lifting OJ into one arm and scooping up little Rummie in the other. She squealed in delight, clinging to his neck as he carried them both toward the living room. You took a moment to freshen up, splashing water on your face and brushing your hair quickly before heading out.

When you stepped into the living room, you stopped in your tracks, your mouth falling open.

The entire space had transformed. Garland lined the mantle, shimmering with golden lights. Stockings, perfectly filled, hung neatly in a row. The tree, which had been beautiful before, now glowed with a renewed brilliance, the ornaments catching the light in a way that made the entire room feel enchanted. Even the dining table was set with festive place settings and a centerpiece of fresh pine and red berries.

Ony stood by the tree, helping the kids sort through their gifts, his face lighting up every time they held something up with excitement. He caught your gaze and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“When… how did you do all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged casually, though you could see the pride in his eyes. “Had a little extra energy last night.”

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as the kids tore into their presents. “It’s perfect, Ony,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just taking in the warmth of the scene around you—the laughter of your children, the glow of the tree, and the quiet strength of the man beside you. It was more than a holiday. It was home.

After the kids had unwrapped their mountain of presents and were happily playing with their new toys, Ony handed you a sleek, red gift bag. "Your turn," he said, grinning.

You eagerly pulled out the tissue paper, revealing a box. Inside, there were two Jacquemus bags—one in a soft pink and the other in classic black. Your eyes lit up, and you couldn’t help but squeal.

“Oh my God, Ony! You got them!”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch with his arms crossed. “Yeah, but I still don’t get why you wanted these lil’ ass bags. What can you even fit in there? Lip gloss and five dollars?”

You burst out laughing, clutching the bags to your chest. “It’s not about what they hold, it’s about how cute they are! Fashion, babe. You wouldn’t understand.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. Keep opening.”

Next, you pulled out a larger box. As soon as you saw the Diesel logo, you gasped. “No way,” you murmured, tearing into it. Inside was the Diesel handbag you’d been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t gotten around to buying.

You threw your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“I gotta take care of my girl,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled you in tighter.

Your turn now. You slid a big, wrapped box toward him. “Alright, your turn to be spoiled.”

He raised an eyebrow as he tore into the paper. The moment he saw the Off-White red Jordans, his eyes widened. “Yo!” he exclaimed, pulling one out of the box. “You serious? These are fire.”

You laughed at his excitement. “Had to get them for you. Been talking about them non-stop.”

But you weren’t done. You handed him another box. He opened it quickly, and when he saw the PS5 Pro and the 2K bundle, he damn near lost it.

“Babe!” he shouted, looking from the box to you. “You didn’t. The 2K25 bundle? And TopSpin? You know how long I’ve been waiting for this!”

You grinned, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. “You’re welcome.”

He shook his head, grinning ear to ear. “Man, you’re the best.” He set the boxes aside and pulled you into his lap, his hands on your waist. “Might’ve just made this the best Christmas ever.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his. “Same, baby.”

He chuckled, glancing over at the kids who were still engrossed in their toys. “Now we just gotta wait until they crash so I can test this out.”

You laughed, feeling warm and content. The gifts were amazing, sure, but nothing could beat moments like these.

Ony’s grin widened as OJ tugged on your hand, insisting, “Mommy, look under the tree, not just around it!”

You gave your son a playful squint, crouching down to search the base of the tree more thoroughly. Your hands swept through the remaining tinsel and stray bits of wrapping paper. "Sweetheart, there’s nothing—"

You trailed off, turning around, ready to explain your thoroughness. But the words caught in your throat when you saw Ony.

There he was, down on one knee, holding a small velvet box. Inside, nestled on a cushion of soft fabric, was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen—a radiant-cut diamond framed by a delicate halo of smaller stones. It sparkled, catching the light like it had been waiting for this very moment.

Your heart stopped, then raced as you stood, hands flying to cover your mouth. "Oh my God, Ony," you whispered, tears already welling in your eyes.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes filled with a tenderness that made the entire room fade away. His usual smirk was replaced by a rare, earnest smile, one that told you how much this moment meant to him too.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “We’ve built a beautiful life together. You’ve given me love, two amazing kids, and more happiness than I ever thought I deserved. I can’t imagine spending another day without knowing you’re mine forever.”

OJ and Rummie clapped their hands excitedly, their little giggles filling the room as they bounced on their toes, sensing the importance of what was happening even in their young minds.

Ony reached for your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “Will you marry me?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you nodded fervently, your voice breaking. “Yes. Yes, of course, I will.”

A chorus of cheers erupted from your kids, their excitement contagious. Ony slipped the ring onto your finger, and it fit perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. He stood, pulling you into his arms as you laughed and cried all at once. His lips found yours, sealing the moment with a kiss that spoke of promises and forever.

“You did all this?” you murmured against his lips, glancing at the sparkling decorations and the tree that now seemed to hold more magic than ever.

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “Had to make it perfect for my queen.”

The kids rushed forward, wrapping their little arms around your legs, and Ony scooped them up effortlessly, holding OJ in one arm and Rummie in the other. “Alright, family,” he said, his deep voice warm with pride, “looks like this is a Christmas we’ll never forget.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by love, you knew he was right.

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #sherewrytes #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #ony smut #aot x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #black tumblr #black reader #icymi <3

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sad-girl-hours23 · 2 months ago

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If It Weren't For Second Chances, We'd All Be Alone

@118dailydrabble Day Ten: Pole

Bucktommy (technically, but Buck is not present)

Tommy's in the Han’s kitchen playing Rummy with Howie, Maddie, Karen, and Hen, but can’t help sneaking glances at the living room, where Evan’s watching Polar Express with the kids. Some people (Howie) might say he’s smitten.

Tommy says, “if it’s okay with you, I want to take the kids in a helicopter to see the Christmas lights.”

Hen and Karen share a look. Hen says, “That’s fine with us. Denny and Mara would love it.”

“I think that would officially make you Jee’s favorite uncle,” Howie says.

Tommy laughs, a little dizzy at being called uncle.

Maddie smiles. “You have our blessing.”

He tries not to overthink her word choice.

He marvels at ever having walked away.

Also on AO3

#118dailydrabble #bucktommy #tommy kinard #howard han #maddie buckley #karen wilson #hen wilson #bucktommy fic #I've been fighting all day with this prompt and fic and gone through several iterations but it is what it is #sad-girl-hours23 118 daily drabble

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vanillablankcanvas · 11 months ago

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Part 6 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10

Trolls - having an egg on the way is known as an 'Eggnancy" 😂

BroZone - when the brothers weren't sure how to reconnect, they ended up playing rummy together.

Bruce - has attempted to set up John Dory on a date with Brandy's sister.

Bruce - kept having kids because he and Brandy wanted at least one daughter. When they finally had LaBreezy they decided to stop.

Bruce - learned to surf to get Brandy's attention when they first met. Ended up falling in love with surfing before Brandy fell for him. 😁

Clay - the Putt-Putt Trolls didn't have a sad book club as they had no books! After the reunion Clay was very excited about the vast new collection of books he could get his hands on!

Clay - finds out that he was Poppy's favourite Brozone member when she was little and doesn't he just boast about it any chance he gets!

Clay - for Clay to finally forgive John Dory, JD agreed to perform for the brothers+Poppy and Viva in ONLY the funderdrawers. "Do you feel like you're having 76% more fun yet John? Cause I am!" *Camera snap*

John Dory - he doesn't let it show but his ears are constantly twitching to check for danger, a side effect of living in the wilderness alone for so long.

John Dory - sworn off ever having children.

John Dory - pretty scrappy at self defence, can hold his own when boxing.

Floyd - did a few red carpet appearances during his solo era, he felt very out of place. @ssippingwaterfalls 💕

Floyd - after the Mount Rageous incident he gets a little bit reckless without realizing it. He has an "I just survived death so cliff jumping isn't scary anymore' kinda attitude.

Floyd - can read palms and tarot cards.

Branch - Kismet were the ones that originally got him hooked on ring pops.

Branch - learns phrases in other languages to build relationships with subgenre tribes of Trolls. E.g the K-Pop and Reggaeton Trolls.

Branch - started building the bunker while he was still living in the group home with other Trollings.

Poppy - wishes that Branch would initiate physical contact more often.

Viva - calls the older brothers Mr.Bruce and Mr.JD (Clay told her to)

Rhonda - when she was a baby she was more like a big suitcase than a vehicle.

Bonus

Cooper - is actually smarter and more capable than he let's on (quote from Brooklyn 99, "If people knew how smart I was it would be harder to control them.")

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls branch #trolls clay #trolls movie #trolls brozone #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #broppy #brozone

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dragons-hoard-of-fandoms · 5 months ago

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(Murder Drones Episode 8 spoilers!)

Space. The final frontier.

Poor robo-roaches always getting tossed around and killed.

They just left Braiden and Rebecca's corpses there??

Honestly the Teacher is such a mood, I can't believe I never realized it before.

Solvedcalculus reference???

Nori you can't say that this is a Christian Minecraft server.

It's amazing how they're able to make her still convey emotions when she's only got one eye.

YES HE SAVED HER BUT ALSO WOW THAT WAS FAST

Well she did tell you to "Die Mad" about it, so...

Kiss. Kiss! KISS! KISS!! KISS!!! KISS!!!! KISS!!!!!

New cute date idea: Skydiving from space and burning up in the atmosphere together <3

THEY ARE DATING THEY ARE CANONICALLY DATING!!!!!!!!!!

Why no kiss tho :(

Dang it, that was Thad's only good pipe.

V IS ALIVE AND SHE RODE IN ON A SENTINEL I THOUGHT WE WERE JUST JOKING ABOUT THAT

AND IT HAS A LITTLE COWBOY HAT

SHE WAS LIZZY'S SECRET FRIEND AND SHE DID THAT ONE MEME

No!! Bad dingo!!! We do not eat our friends!!!

IT'S DOING THE WALL-E FIRE EXTINGUISHER THING

So did J know the whole time or was she kept in the dark at first and only recently found out? Not entirely clear on that.

You really think it's not gonna dispose of you once all the universe is dead?

V SAID BITE ME

I was fully expecting her to chuck N into the core for a second there. But TBH I don't think continuing to destroy the planet is gonna fix it.

THEY'RE SO CRINGE IN A COOL WAY I LOVE THESE STUPID DORKS

THE CAPTIONS SAY SOLVER CONFIRMED THAT IS NOT CYN

"Okey."

STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP

Y'know J thinks pretty highly of herself for someone who's literally never killed a single person on-screen in the entire time that this show has existed.

Huh, I guess those theories about Uzi not having a core icon were wrong.

You get a panic attack! You get a panic attack! EVERYBODY GETS A PANIC ATTACK!

Wait which part of this is the trap?

FREAKIN EXCUSE YOU DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT I JUST TOLD NORI THIS IS A CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER THERE WILL BE NO SWEARING

Uzi is not beating the bisexual allegations.

SHE IS CANONICALLY CRINGE AND FREE

Nori I don't think most people call their daughters "babe."

"...'Kay."

Playing Nightcore during a final battle is the most anime thing ever.

And the J abuse continues.

*teleports behind you* Nothin personnel, kid.

Okay bye J, thanks for literally nothing.

SECRET HANDSHAKE N YOU'RE SUCH A DORK

THEY'RE SO STUPID I LOVE THEM

YOU STOPPED TIME???

SHE LITERALLY ATE A BLACK HOLE???

😦

Thad is confirmed the coolest dude on Copper 9.

Sorry y'all, Khori divorce real.

Man Teacher don't wanna deal with none of this, same TBH.

Everybody gangsta til the cowboy robot dinosaurs start driving buses

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!!!

Nah you're not damaged you're just autistic and edgy.

Polyclue shippers low-key getting fed tho.

HE'S BEING SUPPORTIVE AND TEACHER STILL DON'T WANNA DEAL WITH THIS

HE CALLED HER HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!

My heart goes out to all the Doll fans, y'all got done dirty. 😔

He's learning how to draw anime!!! His art is getting so good!!!

He finally got to play rummy with the WDF!

They're gonna passionately make love on that bed later.

Wow what did Rachel ever do to you. Also who's Rachel.

THE NUZI-VIZZY DOUBLE DATE FEATURING DINGO AS THE FIFTH WHEEL

THAT'S THE REAL CYN YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME THAT ISN'T THE REAL CYN FINALLY FREE OF THE SOLVER AND LIVING IN UZI'S TAIL UNTIL THEY CAN MAKE A NEW BODY FOR HER

IN YOUR FACE EVERYBODY WHO SAID LIAM DOESN'T LIKE HAPPY ENDINGS!!!!

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yeah-thats-probably-it · 5 months ago

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“Have you ever noticed,” I said, “how a swan’s eyebrows sort of meet in the middle?” “I have had every opportunity of observing all that there is to observe about swans.” “Gives them a sort of peevish look, what?” “The look to which you allude has not escaped me.” “Rummy,” I said, rather warming to my subject, “how bad an effect family life has on a swan’s disposition.” “I wish you would select some other topic of conversation than swans.” “No, but, really, it’s rather interesting. I mean to say, our old pal down there is probably a perfect ray of sunshine in normal circumstances. Quite the domestic pet, don’t you know. But purely and simply because the little woman happens to be nesting⁠—”

Featured in the latest Letter Regarding Jeeves is this tendency of Bertie's that I find very endearing, but I'm not quite sure how to put it into words. It's in the specific way his mind wanders, I think, with that sort of insuppressible curiosity he has about the world around him. He's in this very unpleasant situation, but he doesn't want to just say "this sucks" and hunker down and wait for it to stop raining in sullen silence. He thinks the swan looks funny, and wonders what's going on in its life that's making it Like That, and is thinking about the swan like it's a person, and he wants to muse out loud about these things and kind of thoughtfully poke at the problem from every angle to find what's funny or interesting about it.

Most people aren't willing to play ball with him when he does this, preferring to be upset about the problem instead of entertaining diverting trains of thought about it, but Jeeves always is, which is another reason neither of them can ever live with anyone else

#we’ve all heard the ‘jeeves is autistic' hypothesis now get ready for the 'bertie is autistic' hypothesis #letters regarding jeeves #jeeves books #jeeves and wooster #very good jeeves #jeeves and the impending doom

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doumidas-whumps · 1 month ago

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shanghai rummy (part 1)

masterlist / part 2

Sonny meets his master's friends.

this is before sonny came into mr. oz's hands. a whole lotta backstory.

cw: BBU/pet whump, kneeling on rice (that's right another rice related punishment), non consensual touching (not sexual)

A couple of ice cubes hit the edge of the tray and bounced to the floor, scattering across the tile. “Damn it,” he muttered.

Sonny could feel the exact moment his mistress directed her sharp gaze at him, almost like a sixth sense. “Clean that up,” she snapped. “And watch your mouth. Honestly. How hard is it not to drop everything?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” came his automatic reply. He picked the ice up with his bare hands, feeling the cold wet shock on his fingertips. He tossed them into the sink and swiped a paper towel over the floor.

As he straightened back to standing, Ms. Han looked over her shoulder. “Did you wipe the floor? I don’t want wet socks.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

She went back to ignoring him and continued arranging her charcuterie board, which Sonny much preferred. She seemed to revel in criticizing him, and her bite was even worse than her bark.

Her slaps may sting, but they didn’t bother him much. They weren’t even close to what he endured in training. Her true punishments were deceptively harmless and usually humiliating. Last week she made him kneel on uncooked grains of rice. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done to deserve it.

He had been confused when she made him change into shorts, and upon returning downstairs he was only confused further by the pile of rice on the living room floor, starkly white against the glossy brown finish. She ordered him to kneel on it. Forty-five minutes. He thought it was stupid at first, but he realized what he was in for as soon as he set all of his weight onto his knees. It hurt like hell, and what made it worse was when she had him hold his arms straight out in front of him and placed a heavy dictionary on them. It wasn’t even a minute before his arms started aching.

She stayed in the room most of the time to keep an eye on him. She put on a record and busied herself with her latest embroidery project while Sonny suffered in the corner. He tried distracting himself with the scratchy tunes from the record player, but they weren’t much help. It was agony.

At one point she left to do something else and Sonny took the opportunity to lower his arms— carefully, so the dictionary wouldn’t hit the floor with a thump that would surely give him away. It was a welcome reprieve, but it only made it harder to raise them up again when he heard her approaching footsteps.

Eventually she took pity on him, only because his arms had started to tremble so violently that the book might fall off. She put it back on the shelf and let his arms hang at his sides. They were sore from wrist to shoulder. Most of his attention went to the pain of his knees, which by that point felt like two burning open wounds. Sweat prickled all down his neck.

His master came home not long before the forty-five minutes was up. When he saw Sonny kneeling there in the corner all he said was, “What did you do this time?”

Sonny remembered how his face burned. He had almost expected him to put a stop it, to tell his wife she was wrong for doing this to him, but he said no such thing. He stayed there for as long as Ms. Han wanted him to. He was embarrassed his master even saw him like that, with his red face and rice-dimpled knees. He tried so hard to please him, and most of the time he thought he succeeded. Not with Ms. Han, though. She was frustrating. She was impossible to please.

Sonny pulled himself out of the memory, emptying the rest of the ice cubes into the tray. He refilled the mold with water and carefully carried it to the freezer, not letting a single drop spill over the sides. Right as he closed the freezer, his master wandered into the kitchen.

“How’s it going?”

“What do you think of my spread?” asked Ms. Han.

Mr. Han peered over her shoulder at the arrangement of cheeses and meats. “Looks good,” he said. Sonny doubted he had much of an opinion, but the answer seemed to satisfy her.

“Have you vacuumed the carpet yet?” he asked Sonny.

“I was just about to,” he said. “I did the ice cubes already.”

“Great. Thanks, son,” he gave Sonny a firm pat on the back as Ms. Han sighed heavily. “He’s not your son,” she said. It seemed like they were always rehashing this.

“I know that. It’s a term of endearment,” Mr. Han said. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with it.”

“Because I swear you treat him better than you treat your actual children.”

He seemed to contemplate this. “He doesn’t disappoint me as often as they do.”

Ms. Han sighed again and Sonny unsubtly coughed and wiped at his mouth, trying to hide his smile. He hadn’t yet met any of their three adult children, but his master had told him plenty of things about them.

Ms. Han whipped her head around. “I can hear you laughing.”

The grin slid off his face. “Sorry, ma’am.”

———

His master and his friend Manuel were in the backyard admiring the new grill Mr. Han bought a few days ago. Mr. Han left Sonny with instructions to open the door for his two other friends who should be arriving shortly. “And for God’s sake,” his mistress had added, ��Don’t let Klaus track mud inside the house.”

He had just finished vacuuming the living room carpet and was busy winding up the cord when there were a few rattling bangs at the door, like someone was slamming their entire fist against it. Sonny poked his head into the foyer. Through the slim frosted glass windows on either side of the door he could see the hazy silhouette of someone outside. They seemed to see him, too, or at least a blob of color that was him, because it looked like the silhouette waved.

He opened the door, revealing the man on the doorstep. The first thing Sonny noticed was the large cowboy hat on his head. The man seemed a little taken aback to see him, dark eyebrows raised above his pale eyes. “Well, look who it is! You’re the new boy.” His nose was sharp and crooked, and he had a pale scar on his lip extending into his short brown beard, a mark where hair didn’t grow.

“Yessir, that’s me.” Sonny opened the door wider and stepped to the side. The man took this as an invitation to come in, stepping on the mat. Sonny eyed the streaks of mud left by his boots. This must be Klaus. “You can leave your shoes by the door, sir,” he said.

Klaus looked down at his boots. “Oh, yeah. They both got pissed at me last time.” He removed his hat and hung it on a row of hooks, then stepped out of his boots and kicked them to the side. Sonny resisted cringing at the scuff left on the wall.

“Is Manny here already? I thought I saw his truck.”

“Yes, sir. He’s in the back with Mr. Han. I can take you to them, if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s alright.” He padded past Sonny in the direction of the living room. Sonny followed him.

“Would you like something to drink, sir?”

“I could go for a beer.”

Sonny went to retrieve one from the kitchen. Ms. Han was absent, and her charcuterie board was sitting in the fridge covered by a loose sheet of plastic wrap. When he returned to the living room, Klaus was reclined in one of the armchairs and had his feet up on the ottoman. His sock had a hole in it, revealing a small circle of white skin on the ball of his foot.

Sonny tried to hand him the beer, but Klaus didn’t extend his arm to meet him. It remained relaxed on the arm of the chair. Sonny had to step around the ottoman to press it into his waiting hand.

As Sonny stepped backwards, Klaus suddenly jerked forward and his other hand shot out, pinching Sonny’s soft side. Sonny jumped away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His hand flew to cradle underneath his ribs where Klaus pinched him. It was still cold from the can of beer, cold enough to feel through his thin shirt.

Klaus was laughing. Sonny stared at his flashing white teeth. It reminded him of one of the handlers who liked to put his hands on him. He always found his startled reactions hilarious. Sonny could never stop his eyes from going wide. He still felt the phantom press of fingers.

“I’m just messin’ with ya,” Klaus said between laughs. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Sonny only backed away further, closer to the vacuum that was still sitting abandoned in the middle of the room. He needed to finish with the cord, then he could take it with him and leave.

Klaus seemed unvexed by his lack of response and pulled up the tab on his beer, cracking it open. He took his first sip, peering at Sonny over the can with his blue eyes.

Sonny crouched and grabbed the cord, trying to conceal his shaking hand.

“So,” Klaus said. “Do you have a name?”

“Mr. Han calls me Sonny,” he said without looking up. It wasn’t exactly his name. It was more like a nickname that stuck. Mr. Han took so long trying to decide what to name him that he never really ended up getting named at all.

“Sunny? Like sunshine?”

“No sir,” Sonny said. “Like…” Like someone’s kid? “Spelled with an O.”

“Ahhh… empty nest syndrome.” A few months ago, before Sonny arrived, Mr. Han’s youngest child left for her first year at college all the way in California. Mr. Han had mentioned this offhand, then regarded Sonny strangely. “You’re probably about the same age,” is what hesaid. Sonny had been thinking the same thing. He imagined what it would be like if he was the one going to California instead. He tried picturing what it would be like to stand on the beach and see the Pacific Ocean with his own two eyes.

“So, what are you supposed to be? Like, a butler or something?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“Damn. Okay. Fancy.” Sonny finished looping the cord on the vacuum and heard Klaus take another sip of his drink. “I haven’t introduced myself yet,” he said. “I’m Klaus.”

Sonny finally looked at him. He was holding his hand out like he expected Sonny to get up and shake it. Sonny made no move to do that. “C’mon,” Klaus said. “I promise I won’t pinch ya again.” He winked.

Knowing it was incredibly rude to refuse a handshake, and that it was a punishable offense, Sonny resigned himself and rose to his feet. Just as he was about to cross the room, Mr. Han and Manuel entered. Klaus dropped his hand.

“Hey,” Mr. Han greeted. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Your pet opened the door for me.”

Sonny caught Manuel’s eyes bounce between them. “Are you being nice?” he asked.

Klaus shot him an exaggerated smile, showing off all of his weirdly white teeth. “Me and Sonny are getting along great. Ain’t that right, Sonny?”

An automatic, “Yes, sir.” Not really.

“Cute name, by the way,” Klaus said.

Manuel huffed and Mr. Han cast a sidelong glance at Sonny.Sonny hunched into himself a little, feeling like he shouldn’t have told Klaus. But what else could he have said?

“It’s a nickname,” said Mr. Han.

“Uh-huh.”

Three crisp knocks sounded through the house. All four of them perked up. “That must be Parsa,” Mr. Han said. To Sonny, “Would you get the door?”

Sonny dipped his head in a bow and obliged, heading to the foyer. He was grateful to escape the room, though he still needed to put that damn vacuum away.

The sun had fully set since he let Klaus in, but the porch light was on. He could see Parsa’s dark silhouette through the window. He opened the door.

The guy had to be at least six feet tall, if not taller, meaning Sonny had to tilt his head up to look him in the face. His deep-set eyes were in shadow, but Sonny could see them give him a once-over, bottom to top. He suppressed the shiver that wanted to wash over him.

“Hello,” Parsa said. He looked over Sonny’s shoulder in the direction of the living room. The muffled voices of the others floated through. “Am I late?”

“No, sir. Mr. Klaus just arrived a few minutes ago.” Sonny stepped aside so Parsa could come in and shut the door behind him. Parsa slipped his shoes off without needing to be asked, neatly placing them beside Klaus’ mud-caked boots. He made no move to go further into the house. He just stood and watched Sonny, who was feeling more awkward by the second.

“The rest of them are in the living room,” he said.

“Hold on. I want to talk to you.” Oh, Jesus. “So you’re Dave’s new pet?”

“Yessir.”

“How much did he pay for you?”

“Uh.” That wasn’t a question he was expecting. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. You could ask him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously I could ask him if I wanted to. What company do you come from? Are you from that W.R.U. place?”

“No, sir.” And thank God for that. Sonny had known a few transfers from there and the consensus seemed to be that their training was even worse than it was in the Barn, which Sonny had a hard time even imagining. That, and one of the W.R.U. guys he knew had a serious superiority complex. So fuck that guy. “I’m a product of W-Barn.”

Parsa’s head bobbed in a nod. “What’re you trained for?”

“I’m a domestic companion trained to perform various household tasks.”

“I see.” Parsa stared at him impassively for a few uncomfortable seconds. “You can call me Mr. Osmani. Or Mr. Oz, for short. That’s what my own boy calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Osmani it is. Sonny didn’t want to associate in any way with belonging to him.

part 2

———

taglist: @ziptiesnfries

#the word of the day is dramatic irony #whump writing #whump #pet whump #bbu #carewhumper #conditioned whumpee #ficmidas #solitaire #sonny oz #grace han #david han #manuel gomez #klaus fischer #parsa osmani #so many characters....

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

Note

About rummy saying behave

I think James and sirius would step in witha uhoh just to tease and then you get in more trouble for pouting the rest of the night😂

You’re tired, in your luteal phase and you’re cranky beyond belief but Remus is having none of your behavior.

You’d been mouthing off at him all day while he��d been trying to help. Subtly at first but it had amped up when James and Sirius got to his dorm.

Remus had been patient, he’d be understanding- he’d done everything to accommodate you but you’d still chosen to be bratty.

He understands, really he does but when you start grumbling under your breath and swearing at him he loses all of it.

“Dove, behave.” The words are low and grumbly, a sort of sound like rolling thunder.

You don’t take into account the warning in his tone and mumble before you can really think about your actions, “Or what, Remus? What’ll you do?”

Sirius smirks and James winces, both aware of what’s going to happen next.

“Bedroom, now.”

You don’t even have time to argue when Remus when you get on the bed. He’s silent as he flips your skirt up and slaps his palm into the flesh of your ass.

“I don’t want to hear a sound from you.”

Ten minutes later, your ass is sore and Remus has you changed into pyjamas. “You gonna be good now?” You nod, sniffling as he lets you lead the way back to the living room.

“Got an attitude reset, brat?” Sirius teases as he notices your pouty lips and tear stained face.

He and James have since started a game of Mario Kart in your absence.

James gifs his chest, “Leave the poor girl alone Siri, she’s already been punished.”

You begin to grumble under your breath when Remus quirks an eyebrow at you from the kitchen.

“Dove,” it’s all the warning you need because you slink into the sofa, hiding a wince as your ass rubs against the seat. “Good girl.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic

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13atoms · 3 months ago

Text

just me, in all of my plain jane glory (Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle)

Stuck on the train home, it's just Lucy and Lockwood left overtired and awake. [3.6k]

Contains: hurt/comfort, pre-relationship locklyle, imposter syndrome, body image issues, very brief suicidal thoughts but in a jokey Lucy way, overtired agent babies, train journey, lucy stealing lockwood's hoodie

every time I start struggling with confidence at work I write a locklyle fic. also I’m sorry if this is too political but #ReNationaliseTheRailways

It was customary for Lockwood and Co. to economise on travel wherever possible – as much as Lucy could tell it embarrassed Lockwood and his posh sensibilities. She’d never minded much, the back of a private car or a first class carriage would only make her feel uncomfortable. Trains, then, became a staple part of their larger mansion-clearing jobs.

By now, there was a pattern to the way they travelled. Bustle onto the train with bags reeking of lavender and metal, dump everything on a table surrounded by four seats facing inwards. Letting George sprawl out across two seats guaranteed that no other passenger would dare to join them. With rapiers at their sides and the clink of chains as the train rolled along, being recognised as agents tended to keep the seats around them empty. Lucy liked the window seat, resting her head against the window and watching scenery rush past her. Lockwood liked being between Lucy and the aisle. George could sleep anywhere – and he did. Often slumped over the kit bags. Overall, catching trains was one of the more well-oiled parts of their operation.

They could always rely on strangers to stay away from them. On George getting a kip ten minutes after they’d left the station. On Lockwood buying them a round of tea and biscuits from the trolley. The trains themselves, though, were less predictable.

Lucy had never thought of the Peak District as particularly far north, but returning from clearing a particularly aggressive Phantasm from Haddon Hall was proving the longest journey she could recall them taking. Through driving rain, their bus to the station had never materialised, so Lockwood had furiously called a taxi, who insisted on extra pay to transport three soggy, sweaty agents. No one had slept the night before, because the job had taken so long, and they’d only made their train because it was late. A blessing, until a technical fault left them stationary at sunset between Derby and Leicester.

A barely-comprehensible voice over the Tannoy told them that an engineer wouldn’t make it out until curfew lifted. Lockwood had found the conductor, offered to escort the engineer himself, and returned rejected and sulking to their empty carriage.

The three of them had played rummy for a bit to cheer him up, cards splayed across the table as night fell outside the window. It was getting cold. Noises and movement outside were enough to make Lucy jump. After twenty minutes their game of cards had fizzled out, and Lockwood hadn’t found anything particularly interesting to read aloud on his second perusal of The Times. After the conductor wandered through with the paltry remains of the first-class catering (and another thanks to Lockwood for his offer), Geroge had fallen dead asleep. Lucy watched him with envy, contemplating opening a fourth shortbread biscuit. The night was so absolute that she couldn’t make out the bushes outside anymore.

Lockwood slumped backwards, toeing his shoes off and resting pink-sock-clad feet on the seat beside George. He sighed, and rubbed a thumb between his eyes.

“I need to fucking learn to drive,” he sighed.

“We live in Central London,” Lucy pointed out.

He shrugged.

“Well we work in the middle of nowhere. What kind of outfit are we, if we need picking up at the station?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

“You only turned 17 last month.”

Lockwood said nothing, which was as close as he ever got to ceding an argument. They’d spoken for a while longer, first about how they’d get home. Then about how much they wanted showers, and about how jealous they were that George could sleep anywhere. Then, they’d fallen silent for a while, though Lucy knew he was still awake.

“Can you see if my coat is still wet?” she murmured.

It was no surprise, when Lockwood reached over to feel the material, that it was.

“Sorry Luce. I’d give you mine, only…”

The thing wasn’t waterproof in the first place, and still dripped into the luggage rack.

“Of course. Thank you, though.”

“’S okay.”

He watched her for a while, and it only made Lucy feel colder as she tried not to shiver.

“I have a spare hoodie. It’s been worn, but…”

“That’s okay.”

He rummaged around for the hoodie, and made a show of straightening out and folding it just so she could clumsily pull it over her head. Wearing two jumpers, Lucy was sure she looked ridiculous and bulky, but she didn’t care. Copying Lockwood, she shucked off her trainers. Lucy pulled her feet up, jamming her legs between her chest and the table, and finally stopped shivering.

His sleeves were too long, and she pulled them down over her hands, feeling like a kid again, stealing her big sisters’ clothes. Though she could never remember noticing the smell of another person as much as she noticed that Lockwood’s hoodie smelled of him. She tucked her chin into the neckline, feeling the fabric over her chin and her lips.

Because she was cold.

No other reason.

When Lucy looked up Lockwood was watching her, his face not quite reaching amusement. His eyes were too wide. The frown lines had disappeared from his forehead.

“Sorry, I’m stretching it.”

“No!” He insisted, moving his hands but not reaching for her, “No, sorry. Keep it. I’m just tired.”

“Right…”

She settled back in the seat, pulled the hood up, tried to rest against the window before changing her mind. She’d fallen last night, and not had a chance to examine the huge bruise on her hip except for under the fluorescent light of the train toilet. It ached as she shifted her legs.

“I really am so jealous of how he sleeps like that.”

“It’s like a superpower,” Lockwood agreed.

Neither of them slept well. Lucy knew that. She often heard him creeping down the stairs, or turning over and over in bed in the late night silence of the house.

“Maybe he’s drunk or something.”

It was a stupid comment, and Lockwood didn’t pretend to laugh.

“That would explain it,” he murmured.

She liked having the hood up. Liked being in Lockwood’s clothes. Liked that he was there, with her, sharing time with her that George didn’t get. She also knew those were dangerous thoughts.

“There’s one thing I’ve never understood about you, Lucy,” Lockwood said suddenly.

He was nervous to ask the question, and it made her stomach swoop.

“One thing?” she mumbled, aware of how little she wanted George to wake up and interrupt.

It was the exact type of comment George would make.

“Well. More than one thing. Though I do hope I understand you a bit, I mean, we are…”

He trailed off, and Lucy wondered what he’d been about to say. Colleagues, probably. Or something dafter. Housemates.

“Are you going to ask me, then?”

He wasn’t sure how to find the words. Lockwood leant out from his seat, one long arm bracing himself against the seat opposite as he took another sweep of the train, checking it was empty.

“I know you don’t like me talking about you to the press.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, and groaned just to make him laugh.

“I know! I know,” he insisted, “but you’re so powerful. Types 3s, your listening… This could all be easy for you. And you’re spending an evening trapped on a broken-down Off-Peak train without dinner.”

“We didn’t get lunch, either,” she pointed out, and regretted it when that line reappeared between his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just teasing, don’t be so soft.”

She was ignoring his question. Thinking about it. Or, rather, about why he’d asked it.

“I know,” he said again.

For a while longer, Lucy looked at the Caledonian Sleeper advert on the wall opposite. Scotland looked nice. She’d never been.

“I just don’t want to see myself in the paper,” she told him.

“I literally do not understand that.”

She knew he was joking, but she’d always suspected Lockwood really didn’t understand.

“Just… I already hate seeing photos of myself with the level of press we do get. And my mum… she’ll see it at the corner shop and buy a copy just so she can tell all her friends I’ve only got here by sleeping around or lying or something –”

Lucy stopped herself. Checked if George was awake. Looked straight ahead at the picture of a castle on the Caledonian Sleeper advert. Lockwood wasn’t saying anything, and she thought maybe if she kept speaking he’d never say anything.

“She always reckoned Mary was the prettiest of us, anyway. No idea why they’d waste ink on that one.”

“Luce –”

“No, it’s fine. I know I shouldn’t care what she’d say. I mean, I might be wrong, even –”

Lockwood’s hand found her arm. Lucy’s head ached. She realised that if she breathed wrong, she’d start crying.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “I think I’m overtired.”

“You can’t be serious?” he asked, and she had no idea which part he meant, so she didn’t say anything. “Lucy…”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry, I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“No, I’m glad you brought it up. I just… no, sorry. I really can’t understand it. Your mum wouldn’t say that.”

When Lucy laughed, it was wet, and she brought her sleeved hand to her nose.

“No offense, Lockwood, but she very much would.”

“Can I hug you?”

She leant into him, and focussed everything she had on not crying at Lockwood’s arm wrapping around her shoulder. George’s curls were splayed out on the kit bag, his face indented from one of the buckles pressed into his forehead. Lucy was careful not to jostle the table. This was mortifying enough. If George woke up now, she’d have to throw herself onto the tracks.

Lockwood was bonier than Norrie, but not by much. He was warm. They were at a different angle, but even sitting side by side and through a hoodie, she recognised the curve of his cheekbone resting against her forehead. She couldn’t see his face at all when he spoke.

“I’m sorry you think that.”

“I don’t think that, Lockwood. It’s dead true.”

“Well then, I’m very glad you’re here with us. And I hope I’ll never have the displeasure of meeting her.”

“You’d beat her in a duel.”

Lucy tried to joke, but the words fell flat. Her lungs ached for air, but a gasp would be the start of sobs. And she was hoping the hoodie might be maintaining some of her dignity.

“I think I forget, sometimes, because of my parents…” he trailed off. He was heavy against her, “I always imagine anyone with parents is really lucky.”

He meant so well, she hardly had it in her to tease. Stitches were breaking, and Lockwood was offering her an open wound.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe, because I was so young… but I don’t think they’d have ever said anything like that. No one’s parent should.”

Lucy didn’t say anything, she wasn’t sure what she could say. Lockwood was talking more candidly now.

“I wonder if we’d have ever fallen out.”

“I bet fourteen-year-old Lockwood would have gotten into some good screaming matches with them, about sleeping in and cleaning your room” she teased, before backtracking, “but they sound like they’d have always forgiven you.”

“Jess said she’d never heard either of them raise their voices.”

Lucy swallowed something thick and uncomfortable in her throat.

“They sounded really special.”

He nodded, silently, and moved away from her for a moment to clear his throat. In the reflection of the train window, she could see his eyes swimming.

“I hope you don’t believe a word of it, Luce. I’ve never seen a picture where you don’t look beautiful.”

“Yeah, why do you think we never take photos,” she snorted.

“We should take more.”

Lucy inhaled, frustrated, but let Lockwood indulge in his fantasy. It would soon be forgotten. She thought George might have a camera – but fortunately film was strictly saved for taking photos of illegal sources that Flo stole. And maybe the odd photo of Flo.

“You don’t believe I will,” he said.

“I just hate it when the press takes photos. I don’t want to have to see my mug on some paper on a train,” she gestured at Lockwood’s copy of The Times, folded and discarded. “And then they’ll just make up gossip, to try and get a scoop… I saw what happened to Marissa, and she was like some… model.”

Lockwood mock-gasped, though she could still hear the thickness of tears in her throat.

“Lucy Carlyle, reducing a woman to her looks – you of all people, Luce –”

She shoved against him, and then let her shoulder stay pressed to his. Lockwood didn’t flinch.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. Besides, I’ve seen the poster in your old wardrobe…”

“I’d rather have a Lucy Carlyle poster.”

“Ew.”

Even as she let her voice fall flat, Lucy could feel the blush threatening her cheeks.

“Not like that!” He was insisting, “I had a Tom Rotwell poster too. Agents I admired.”

“I’m not judging, Lockwood… whichever way you swing.”

It was Lockwood’s turn to squirm, even though they both knew she didn’t mean anything by it. Lucy used her secret window-reflection trick to watch his mouth fall open and closed again. He moved away from her to throw his head back against the train seat.

“I’m trying to be sincere, and you’re being mean,” he complained, voice sotto as midnight approached.

When his head lolled towards her, all soft eyes and long lashes with dark smudges settled beneath them, Lucy couldn’t stand to keep eye contact.

“We should get posters made. Best looking agency in London, I reckon,” he drawled.

Now Lockwood was being mean. Or delusional, maybe. He had the capacity for either.

“We absolutely shouldn’t.”

“I think they’d do them as a Sunday special in The Spectral Scene.”

He was smiling now, all sharp white teeth, and Lucy hated how he could control her moods so quickly.

“A whole new generation of teenage Anthony Lockwoods could have us on their walls,” he teased, head lolling against her shoulder in exhaustion.

“We absolutely should not do that. Besides, I don’t exactly look like an agent. I’m not sure anyone would want me on their wall.”

Lockwood’s mood shifted again, and brought hers with it, right into the realm of deadly serious.

“What the hell does that mean? You’re the best agent I’ve ever worked with.”

“You know what I mean,” she waved him away.

“No, I don’t. You don’t really mean what you said about your mum? About photos? Jesus, Lucy.”

“I know it’s not all about looks, but I guess… I’m not Marissa.”

Lockwood was about to interrupt, but Lucy spoke over him.

“I know, but you’re the only person who thinks of me like that.”

“And George.”

“Well yeah, George. But that’s because of you.”

“It absolutely isn’t, Luce. He’s worked with you as much as I have, he knows how good you are.”

“I’m not… I don’t know. Sometimes I just wonder if I’ve gotten lucky, over and over again… I make mistakes literally every day. You said that yourself – that I’m volatile and insubordinate and overly-emotional –”

“I don’t remember ever saying that! Ever! And even if I had, you bloody well shouldn’t believe it. You saved Lockwood and Co., we’d… we’d be nothing without you.”

Poorer, that voice in her head reminded her, they’d be financially poorer without you, Lucy. He’s worried you’ll leave again, and that then people won’t book Lockwood and Co. for their big spooky houses. No wonder he wants you in the newspapers.

She often wondered if Skull had left his jar and moved into her brain. But no, that was all her. All the weakness that lived up there. Kat wasn’t like this. Flo wasn’t. Or George. Or…

“If I was really as good as Marrisa, I wouldn’t find this all so… hard,” she snapped.

“Maybe you find it hard because you beat yourself up over every little mistake!”

Lucy didn’t speak. Not for a while. She felt like Lockwood had physically stuck a hand through her ribcage and into her heart. The tears were back, after she’d tried so hard to keep them at bay. She looked at the Caledonian Sleeper poster. Thought about running away on it. Things had worked out, the last time she bought a train ticket and didn’t look back. She’d had less to lose, then.

Or maybe not. Lockwood knew now. That she wasn’t as good as she projected. The girl who lied about her Grade 4 and was the most powerful listener since stupid bloody Marissa Fittes, and goaded a ghost in a jar all day. She’d never earned this. Wasn’t anything special. If she was put in the newspaper, they’d all know. The whole of London would see right through her, and they’d find out about the Mill, and about her family, and every single time she’d not been good enough.

Lockwood was overtired and exasperated. So was she. Her heart ached where he’d stabbed at it with his fingernails.

“Goodnight, Lockwood.”

She turned away from him and tried to settle in against the seat. She wished they’d turn the emergency lights off. Her stupid face was looking back in the window reflection. Plain. Puffy with tears. Stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured finally, and one hand resting on her bicep. In the reflection, he was looking right at her, “I only mean that I hate it when you’re so hard on yourself.”

Yeah, well. I don’t need you being hard on me too.

Lucy couldn’t say anything out loud. She was too busy trying to level out her breathing, sobs coming with heaves of air that made her lungs ache as she tried restrain herself from making a sound.

“God, Lucy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for all of it…”

“It’s not your fault,” she choked out.

This was all her fault, and now she was making it his problem. She tried so hard to be easygoing. To pick her battles. Keep all of this away from him. Away from Geroge. From everyone. This deserved to be locked up in her attic room, or her grimy little Zone 3 bedsit. Lockwood was starting to cry.

“Tell me how to make it better,” he begged, but Lucy shook her head.

She glanced at George, checking he was still asleep. This was mortifying.

“I just want to go home.”

“Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry,” he paused, “do you mean… London?”

They both froze. Lucy felt her stomach plummet. She didn’t have anywhere else. Wasn’t Portland Row her home? Lockwood’s hands were shaking. She didn’t know why.

“If that’s… if that’s okay,” she choked out, and Lockwood relaxed visibly.

“Of course! Of course it’s okay. More than… Portland Row is your home as long as you want it. Of course.”

“Oh. Good.”

He didn’t ask his time. Didn’t move slowly to avoid the table. Lockwood threw himself around her and dragged her closer and held her so tight Lucy finally believed she was never going anywhere.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know… I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”

“God Luce I thought you were leaving again. Please, I don’t… I don’t care about the press. I was just asking.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this, Lockwood, I’m sorry. I just can’t see myself…”

“It’s fine. I don’t care about the papers. Ignore me, I never should have brought it up. Besides, I like seeing my face enough for the both of us, I think.”

When Lucy laughed it was wet and snotty and the best thing Lockwood had ever heard. He was no stranger to fear and relief, each time they captured a source both emotions chased each other through his veins. But this was potent. Something he’d never replicated anywhere other than Lucy. She was the scariest thing in the world.

He saw George’s eyes crack open, and slip closed again with an understanding nod. Surprisingly tactful.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, high on adrenaline and entirely delirious, “I’d buy a poster of you. I’ll put it on my bedroom wall now.”

“Lockwood,” she whined, “shut up.”

“I’m buying a polaroid camera.”

“Don’t be gross.”

She was joking. He knew she was. His chest clutched with fear anyway.

“No, I mean… like the photos you have with Norrie. I love those. You look so beautiful in them. Happy and real, laughing.”

When Lucy agreed, she didn’t mean it. But Lockwood had her pulled to his chest and she was wrapped in his hoodie and he had told her (in a rather indirect way) that he thought she was beautiful, so she let it slide.

“Do you think you can sleep like this?” she asked.

“Yeah, probably. Why?”

“Good. I’m really comfy. Is that weird?”

“No! Not at all. Definitely sleep, if you can.”

He didn’t care if he slept. She was still here. They’d fought, and he still wasn’t sure why, but she was still here. Her eyes were slipping closed, and selfishly, he didn’t want her to go yet.

“Luce?”

“Hm?”

“You’ll have to give me your family’s address – I need to have a stern word with your mother.”

Lucy snorted. He didn’t need the address, it was on her Grades One through Three certificates. She liked the idea of it though, showing up in his suit with all his posh charm and repressed anger. Lucy had never needed saving, but she’d love Lockwood to give her mum a bollocking. The fantasy followed her all the way into her dreams, and she wondered if Lockwood could tell somehow, with her head against his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her on a stationary train.

#13atoms #lockwood and co fic #locklyle #fic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle fic #hurt/comfort

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keyforshort · 9 months ago

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Dimension 20 Live Highlights

*Spoilers*

Cast was;

Murph - Riz/Kugrash

Emily - Ylfa (Jet cameo)

Zac- Pib (Pis)

Ally - Kristen

Siobhan - Ruby

Setting - Unsleeping City

Pib oneshotting Don Confetti by eating him and becoming the new Don

Yfla and Ruby immediately play fighting but also kinda real fighting and being unsure of what was happening

Pib: "Wait am I the adult here?"

Pib and Ylfa both thinking the Bodega was Ylfa's grandmas apartment

Ruby commanding the sweets aisle

Lemone coming to life and Gilear (who was a table) making him his bitch

Epona holding a table at gun point and Riz not reacting until remembering it was Gilear

Pib pretending hes a New York native

Riz almost getting oneshot by a disintegration ray until zac reminded him of uncanny dodge, and then getting swapped out for Kug anyway

Riz's reaction to gettting disintegrated was just "ow"

Kug and Pib going for each other almost immediately (I didnt realise Riz had left because Murph started hissing)

Ylfa trying to play Gin Rummy with everyone she meets

Ylfa beating La Gran Gata at Gin Rummy

Pib and La Gran Gata having the most instant flirty energy

Ruby asking everyone if they're Ceresian and Ylfa thinking she means lesbian

Ruby being Ylfa's lesbian awakening

Wally thinking he's in Die Hard

Ylfa holding Chunggledown Bim's ass cheeks closed like a vice

Kristen elbow dropping table Gilear because she misunderstood a plan

Pib getting shoes and renaming himself Pis (and regretting it immediately because the audience would not let it go)

Pissandra

YLFA ADOPTING AURORA NEBBINS

Kugrash kept turning people into reverse centaurs

Aguefort saying "You guys do the plan, while me and Babayaga do something else" "what?" "SOMETHING ELSE"

Chungledown Bim getting a nat 1, Siobhan getting up and spinning in a circle celebrating like 10 times before realising no one else got up at all

CDB getting another catastrophic failure, Brennan sitting on the floor in reaction to it

The cameramen struggling to get Ally in frame when they all got on tbe floor together. Finally getting them in frame and then they FUCKING MOVED AGAIN

La Gran Gata calling him Pib, the audience yelling "Pis!" And the LGG going "No, PUSS IN BED MOTHERFUCKERS"

Jet lives

Will add more if I think of them

#dimension 20 live #d20 live spoilers #d20 dublin

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scope-dogg · 1 year ago

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Some generic thoughts I’ve recently had about AC6 lore lately after seeing other people’s commentary:

I think it’s notable that 621 is a 4th gen enhanced human on a meta level - while human augmentation is a constant across AC and very common in mecha fiction as a whole, arguably the most famous and one of the most memorable examples is that of Four Murasume, the cyber newtype from Zeta Gundam. In fact “cyber newtype” is a bit of a translation liberty, in Japanese it’s “kyouka ningen” ie. Enhanced human, the exact same term AC6 uses. I think this is notable because Four lost her memories and identity as part of the process, and thus her number and the facility where it was performed became her identity. In my head canon 621 is the same, and as such when Walter refers to them by number it’s not meant to be a slight - he probably has nothing better to call you.

On a related note, emotional instability is noted as one of the side affects of gen 4 augmentation, which may be another call-out to Four’s character, as drastic changes in personality and emotional outbursts were the result of her piloting the Psyco Gundam. It’s also notable that Iguazu is also gen 4 and I think this accounts for why Iguazu is the way he is and probably also why Michigan puts up with his shit to the extent that he does. If I’m thinking along the right lines it probably recontextualises his obsession with you as less pathetic and more tragic - it might be less that he’s just a salty little bitch and more that he has a serious mental illness due to the augmentation. It would also put him in line with the characters of Ypsilon and Rada Niva from Votoms, two other enhanced characters that were similarly insecure and/or obsessed.

If you manage to lose to Invincible Rummy in the grid 86 mission, he immediately starts begging for Carla to reward him with coral. This makes it seem like she’s exploiting Rummy’s and probably the rest of the Dosers working for her through their addiction, highly predatory and immoral behaviour if I’m reading it right.

Open Faith, V2 Snail’s AC, uses predominantly needle-like weapons, some of which use electrical discharge which is kind of like AC6’s version of poison. The cone snail is a marine snail that poisons prey by shooting a poison barb into its prey before devouring it. The laser lance he uses is even shaped a bit like a cone snail shell.

V1 Freud is the most notable user of the laser drone back weapon, that’s an obvious fallout to funnels and other remote controlled “bit” weaponry, which is one of the signatures of the Gundam series. This is usually used to denote characters or technology that goes above and beyond the norm, such as powerful newtypes, or technology that emulates their capabilities. AC6 subverts this in that Freud, as far as I know, is one of the only AC pilots in the game, and certainly the only one amongst the Vespers to have no augments at all, which means that he’s operating his bits on nothing but raw talent - the game even draws attention to this through Carla’s dialogue. With this combined with the fact that he’s rated as the number 1 AC pilot on Rubicon really draws attention to what a monster the guy must be (even if his actual fight doesn’t quite live up to his reputation.)

#armored core #mecha #respect the robot

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via-l0ve · 2 years ago

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could you right a fluffy drabble with Ponyboy hosting a chaotic sleepover with greaser gang anf fem! reader please ? ;000 reader is hinted to have romantic feelings for Dally

a/n: i love these types of requests! i did a short prompt at the beginning and then i popped some headcannons at the end. i hope you enjoy :) i was giggling writing this lol.

warnings: swearing

Sleepover (Gang hc’s + slightly romantic Dallas!)

“hey! hey y/n!” You turn around and see Ponyboy running over to you. School had just been let out and you were headed back home.

“hey Pony, what’s up?” you smiled at him as he finally caught up to you. His hair was messy from the slight windy weather in Tusla; he combed it back with his fingers. He gave you a small grin.

“I’m throwin’ a slumber party tonight at my house! you gotta come y/n, it’s gonna be so fun! besides, you’re the life of the party, wouldn’t be as fun without ya.” he smiled, obviously excited as he explained at all to you.

“sure, pone i’d love to. what time? the whole gang gonna be there?” you asked, smiling at him.

he nodded. “yep, all of the guys and I. around six probably, think we’re gonna order pizza or something.” he shrugged.

“all of the guys?” i blushed a little. “i mean.. even dallas?” i asked, trying to play it off as if it was nonchalant

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, y/n. even Dallas.” he smirked.

“so you’ll be there?” he asked with a smile.

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you responded, smiling at him

“good! it’ll be fun!” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and left, leaving you to go home and pack a bag.

Once you get to the house chaos endures

All of the guys are crowded around the table, playing cards and betting their money on stupid bets that Two-Bit and Darry win constantly

“i’m losin’ all my goddamn money cus’ of ya!”

“sorry Steve, not my fault you suck at rummy.”

*throws all of the cards.*

after losing all of their money, everyone decides to make some food (despite literally having ZERO idea how to cook!)

It eventually breaks off into a bake off between

Y/n, Dallas, Johnny, Ponyboy

Steve, Two-Bit, Darry and Soda

Darry was dragged into this and since he knows how to cook somewhat you and dallas were cussing and so competitive because “they can’t have a good one on their team!! ADVANTAGE!!”

So you paired darry with the worst trio imaginable

The kitchen catches on fire because Two-Bit dropped some grease on the stove and everyone started screaming and Steve grabbed a towel and threw it on top of the flame to suffocate it and then the towel got CHARRED and darry had to unleash half of the fire extinguisher onto the stove.

Dallas grabbed you and literally yanked you to the other room bc god forbid you get hurt

darry to two-bit afterwards:

everyone had to take a break after that.

anyways, Two-Bit got banned and became the judge after the small fire and you guys continued to make food.

Ponyboy mistook the salt for sugar and Dallas smacked him on the head after he realized and it was too late because Johnny already mixed it in and you just looked scared bc how tf were you supposed to win now

Little did you know that sodapop and steve literally forgot to put eggs in?? and Darry didn’t catch them??

But anyways Two-bit absolutely GOBBLES up the cookies you guys made and then immediately spits it out because of the overwhelming amount of salt

And he can’t even eat the other cookies because wtf is that

After cleaning up and being very aware of the stove, you all move into the living room and ponyboy goes

“guys i got you all gifts.”

AND THIS MF PULLS OUT MATCHING PJS :(

The entire gang is going 👁️👄👁️

meanwhile you’re literally

“that’s so fucking cute.”

let’s be honest they prolly look like this:

Two bit def wanted the dress

Dallas, steve and darry were all very adamant to not wear any of them

You easily convinced Dallas

“please? we’d all look so good.”

“…fine, y/n/n.”

awww he loves you

sodapop also definitely wore one of the dresses and steve wore the footie pj’s and they matched

you guys went to the DX all dolled up in your matching pj’s and you bought a ton of shit like candy bars and cigarettes and beer and energy drinks

you guys go back home and decide to call three different pizza places and see who can deliver the fastest

(no one thought of the outcome of having like 10 fucking pizzas to eat)

but anyways Pizza Hut was the fastest

Dallas dared steve that he couldn’t chug a beer and eat four pizza slices in four minutes

he did it and the outcome was dallas losing five bucks and steve spending an hour in the bathroom frantically yelling “IM DYING!”

Johnny wants to watch a movie and is indecisive and eventually gets all the boys arguing about what to watch so you and Dallas sit back and eat your candy and watch them all scream and argue over which shrek movie was better (Two-Bit is FRANTICALLY arguing that the third one is superior.)

after they decide on a movie and steve emerges from the bathroom, you pull out facemasks and force everyone to do them with you

you sit on dallas’ lap to put it on him and he’s lowkey blushing and loving your touch but he’s too tough he won’t say anything

but he’s literally looking at you like 🥰

you didn’t tell the guys that the masks were peel offs and you got to watch them all go through the five stages of grief as they ripped the masks off

ponyboy is SCREAMING

literally flabbergasted

Steve is begging sodapop to take it off for him because “it hurts less when someone else does it.”

Two-bit can barley breathe because he’s laughing so hard

Darry is js grunting and i feel like he peeled his off before it even dried so now his fingers are sticky and he’s having a fit

Johnny is the quietest one but he got some in his eyebrow and the YELP he let out when he YANKED IT

Dallas is literally labor breathing “hee-hoo hee-hoo.” lookin ass

you’re literally dying because wtf is happening

after the boys go through their traumatic experience, you all cuddle up and watch your movie.

Darry is the first one to fall asleep and Dallas and you gang up to draw on his face

someone totally drew a dick on Darry’s poor face and when he wakes up and sees this huge weiner drawn on his face he is going to murder

Johnny is out next and he gets the whole treatment of face drawings

i feel like when ponyboy falls asleep steve pours water on his face and he wakes up like moms when their kids wake them up for a drink of water

terrifying.

Two-bit is drunk off his ass bro💀💀 someone get this kid a tranquilizer bc holy fuck

at like 2am he’s talking some shit about interdimensional aliens and it’s lowkey scary

someone put him down.

Steve clocks out and he’s using sodas face as a pillow and sodapop is just enduring it.

Eventually only you and dallas are left and you guys are sitting next to eachother

you pass out and unconsciously cuddle into him and he literally melts

he wraps his arms around you and puts his chin on ur head and passes out

the gang def takes pics of you guys all snuggled up when they wake up

#the outsiders imagines #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #the outsiders #luv u mwah #thank you sm for this request

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sourlemonsprout · 1 year ago

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gn!reader x Alphonse

Word Count: 1,078 (This piece briefly references the "Summer Eve w/ Your Pastel Punk Boyfriend" vid from like 4yrs ago.)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Music?" Al cocked his head slightly.

"Yeah! Remember when we got ice cream the other week? At the beach, you said if I was interested we could hang out sometime. Your suggestion of lying around and listening to music actually sounded really nice. That is if you're cool with that?" you said, your eyes scanning around the store, lightly bitting at the corner of your bottom lip.

oh-

"Uh yeah, yeah! That would be cool. I close up shop in a little over an hour. Is that alright?" He asked, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Sure thing! I'll come back then!" You said, waving as you headed out the door.

fuck they're cute

The shop had been a wasteland the rest of the day, so Alphonse eventually decided to close the shop a little early. The second the doors were locked and lights were out, he scrambled to clean his apartment. The clothes on the bedroom floor got kicked into the closet. The dishes beside the kitchen sink were cleaned in record time. Just before he heard a knocking at the shop's doors, he was able to tidy up the living room area. Taking a deep breath, Al ran his hand through his hair and glanced around the apartment one last time before answering the door.

"Hey there, come on in," he motioned inside.

"Again, feel free to grab anything you'd like from the shop," he said, locking the door once again behind him.

"Thanks, my day was kinda shitty, so I appreciate this," you admit. As you pass the rows of shelves stocked with delicious sweet treats, you snatch a KitKat from a basket as you walk beside Al to the back door.

"Oh, sorry to hear that. Did you wanna talk about it…?" He offered.

"Nah, it's not that serious. I just wanna chill and forget about it," you say, chomping directly into the top of the KitKat bar, which makes Al chuckle and admittedly cringe a little. You pause for a moment once you've reached the vaguely familiar living quarters you visited once before. Absentmindedly, you chew at your lip, taking in the apartment properly this time. Alphonse briefly looked around the room before his eyes landed on you. He can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to his cheeks as he watches you bite your lip innocently. As nonchalantly as possible, Al ducked behind you and made his way over to the kitchen. Now out of sight, a deep breath to regain his composure.

"Make yourself comfortable! I'm gonna grab some water. You want anything to drink?" he called out.

"I'm alright, thanks!" you call back, oblivious to Al's fluster. You wander over to the living room and sit in front of the couch on the carpet with one leg up and the other crossed underneath. You watch Al enter the room carrying a deck of cards, a baby blue speaker, and a glass of water. Upon reaching you, he places the water down on a little coffee table and hands you the speaker to which you're making little grabby hands.

"I thought it'd be fun to have something to do while we listen to music." Al gestured to the cards in his hand. As you eagerly queue up a list of songs, Alphonse begins to shuffle the deck of cards.

"So what games do we know how to play?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Crazy Eights, Slap Jack, Rummy, Black Jack, uhh… Go Fish?" he reeled off.

"Ooo, it's been a minute since I've played any card game," you pondered your options for a moment.

"Let's start out with Crazy Eights, I definitely know that one!" you decide. Alphonse deals out seven cards each, his head nodding in beat with the song pouring out of the speaker.

The first few turns passed slowly as you both sorted your cards and got into the rhythm of the game. Alphonse found it silly how much strategy you were trying to implement in a game he believed to be mostly chance. After several rounds of skill, luck, and shit-talking, you were both tied.

"We need a tiebreaker," you declare, reaching for the deck of unorganized cards.

Al sarcastically said, "Obviously, the town would be devastated if we didn't determine which of us is the Crazy Eight's champion," rolling his eyes with a grin. Thus began an intense game (mainly for you) for the crown and title of official Crazy Eights champion.

Rolling the bottom of your lip under your teeth, you surveyed your cards intently, plotting your next move as if money were on the line. Alphonse smiled softly as he watched you concentrate. His heart flutters at the way you nibble at your lips, causing them to swell and redden. Your expression delates with defeat and your eyebrows furrow as you realize you have to pick up cards from the draw pile. A warm bubbly feeling swells in Al's chest, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to lean across the table and kiss yo-

"AH HA!" You shout triumphantly, making Al jump slightly at the sudden outburst as you proudly display an eight or spades.

"I call clubs babyyyy," you declare smugly, knowing damn well Al didn't have a single club card in his hand. Alphonse chuckled as you slid the entire draw deck towards his side of the table.

"You're something else, you know that?" he shook his head, drawing his seventh card.

As the night wore on, you and Alphonse continued to play card games and listen to music, occasionally pausing to chat about life and share stories. Any tension or fluster Al once felt had melted into a comfortable ease, it felt lovely to open up to someone like this again. As the clock struck midnight, you both decided it was time to call it quits.

"Thanks for tonight, Alphonse. I had a lot of fun," you said, standing up from the floor to stretch.

"I did too. We should do this again sometime," he replied, walking you to the door.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his eyes meeting yours.

"Goodnight," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through your body.

As you walked home under the beautiful night sky, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face. Maybe there was something there between you and Alphonse, something worth exploring. Only time would tell, but for now, you were content basking in the glow of a wonderful evening.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The End!

Thanks again @sleeplessdreamer14 for the req/idea! <3

I'm not exactly sure why this is the story route I went down, but I must really want to play a card game or something considering this is the second piece I've written where card games are involved lol.

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice stuff #yuurivoice alphonse #alphonse yuurivoice #yuurivoice fanfic #writting #fanfic #fluff #yv fanfic #yuurivoice listener #first request!#yuurivoice fandom #lip biting #sourlemonsprout

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straykids-97 · 1 year ago

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Letters to the Moon

“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows anybody.”

Changbin likes to push you until you're flustered. Until you feel like you can't take it anymore... But then pull you back and keep you where he wants you...

Warnings: Strip poker, gambling games(poker and rummy), mentions of drinking, teasing, mirror sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), slight choking, size kink, (Duh, it’s Changbin), lmk if I forgot anything! (Also, it's kinda edited, kinda not so there are probably errors lol)

Word Count: 3.04k

Knowing Seo Changbin had changed your life. You didn’t know how to truly exist without him at this point. It was like he was everything you were missing, everything you could have dreamed of. Wrapped in a sweet little bow, hiding in a box was the sweet, doe-eyed, giggly man you had come to love so much that it hurt. You were addicted to his angelic smile, his teasing manner, and his morals. He was strong in every sense of the word. Changbin knew when to push and when to pull. He was an equal giver and equal taker. That also meant that sometimes, he pushed a little too hard, and his sportsmanship borderlined bullying.

Such was the fate of your weekly game night.

You hold your head in your hand, cards in the other, sighing in defeat. You sort of regret teaching Changbin poker. He was quick to learn, and even quicker to start beating you. You had only one once, and that was because Changbin got up to get the pizza at the door, and you peaked at his cards while he wasn’t looking. You were convinced that somehow he had to know what was in your hand. But, even after repositioning so that you were out of the way of your living room mirror, he still bested you.

He clapped his hands together, pumping a fist in the air as he boyishly giggled, “I win. Yes!” He happily took a massive bite of the pepperoni pizza as you tossed your cards onto the table, frowning. “This isn’t fun if you’re always winning.” You grumble. “It’s fun…” he trailed off, reaching over and putting another piece of pizza on your plate, “For you.” You drag the plate across the wooden coffee table and heave a tired sigh.

You both eat in silence for a while until Changbin holds up a finger, “What if we play a different game.” You give him an annoyed look, “What kind of game?” You watch as he pulls out his phone, a devilish smile on his face. His phone screen illuminated his thick, black-rimmed glasses as he flipped through his phone to find what he was looking for. You narrowed your eyes and watched him cautiously as he held his phone over the table for you to read. Grabbing the sleek device your mouth falls open as you read the game that he had looked up.

“I heard someone talking about it once… And I've thought about asking you to play ever since you taught me how to play poker.” You can’t believe your eyes or your ears. Changbin was proposing that you two play strip poker. There was silence for a moment before you scoffed and handed him back his phone, “In order to play that kind of game, it would have to be sorta even. You’re winning all the time. I would be naked before you even have your shirt off.” You watched as his face fell a little, “But… What if we play a different poker game? That way you have a bit of an advantage.” You pursed your lips in thought. He had a point; but an unfair point… But was it really unfair when he just learned how to play poker a few weeks ago and was now beating you left and right?

“Fine… We’ll play rummy. Same rules, sort of.” You snatch the deck and begin to explain the rules of the all-to-familiar game. “Alright, let’s start.” You pull out your phone and start a tally for points. “So, if I get more points, I win the round?” He asked, making you nod. “Yes. Since we’re playing by points and not by who goes out.” He bobbed his head, “Alright…” He shifted his hips, resting his weight on his elbows as he studied his cards.

The first round went to you. Finally. You grin and tap your chin as you look at your boyfriend, thinking about what you want him to take off first. “Pants.” You decided, swiping the cards to shuffle. You watched as he rose to his feet and quickly untied his black sweatpants, shoving them down his legs. “Always pants with you.” He snorts, folding them nicely on the edge of the couch and settling back on the floor. He adjusted his glasses and he took a sip of his drink, dragging his cards to his awaiting hands, looking at them as you looked at yours. You try not to let it show that you have no hope of winning unless he somehow gives you something.

Which he doesn’t.

You sigh and toss the cards in the middle pile. Changbin leaned against your gray couch and cocks his head forward, scanning your figure shamelessly You feel your face heat up, and you think that maybe having those mixed drinks probably wasn’t helping. “Take off your bra.” He demanded. You can’t help but giggle at his request, thinking he make you take your socks or pants off like you did him, but no.

You reach behind your body and unlatch your bra. You pull the gray fabric out from the collar of your shirt and gently place it beside Changbin's pants. After he dealt the cards, you see that this would most likely go in your favor. Or at least you thought, but Changbin managed to win purely on points. You grumble and gather the cards to shuffle as he leans back, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and eyed you. “Pants.” He ordered, leaning forward to gather his cards as you stood up and shimmed out of your tight yoga pants, sloppily folding and putting them on top of your bra.

Two more rounds went by and now Changbin is in his boxers and the only thing left covering your body was your baggy t-shirt. It was really his, but you wore it. You gently placed your panties on the pile of clothes and huff. Whoever wins this match, remains clothed. You rolled your head around on your shoulders, “Alright, deal ‘em.” You wave your hand at your boyfriend who chuckled at your antics. Without saying a word, he slides your five cards across the table.

You quickly flip the cards and you try not to let your face show it but you only need one card to lay down. In a matter of two rounds, you could very well be out. You glance up at Changbin as he arranges his cards, his dark eyes flicking up to you as he adjusts himself so he is more comfortable on the floor. He must have a good hand, you think as he flipped the cards over. A seven of spades, just what you needed. But, it was his turn. So, he takes a card from the deck and places a nine of diamonds on the pile. You take a quick glance at your hand and slowly reach for the cards, swiping the two cards off the table and placing the seven down next to the six and five of spades. Discarding the 10 of hearts in your hand, you settle against your couch, looking at the two cards in your hand. The nine of diamonds and the 3 of clubs. You could use them as trash cards if you needed to.

You watched as Changbin swiped the 10 you just put down and monitored as he tossed three cards on the table, a set of 10s. You bit your tongue, he’s already got more points than you by double. Then, to your shock, he places a 4 of spades down, playing on your 5 and tossing the random card in his hand in the discard pile. You groan, tossing the two cards in your hand on the table. He grinned at you as he swiped the cards off the table, “I win.” You sighed, standing up to collect your clothes to put into the dirty laundry, not wanting to stick around for the gloating part.

“Where are you going?” he shouted from the other side of the couch. You turned to see him kneeling on the couch, hands on the back of it, eyebrow raised as you stood at the edge of your hallway. “To put my clothes in the laundry?”

“I believe I won,” he began to say, launching himself over the back of the couch, his biceps flexing at the movement. “So, that means I get to see you naked.” He quickly swiped the pile of laundry from your hands. You put your now empty paws on your hips, “Changbin-” You start to complain, but he tutted at you. “Ah, ah,” he holds up a finger, “rules are rules.” You glared at him, “Are you serious?” He bobbed his head once, “Of course I am.” He took a step back, “Shirt.” You huffed, slowly reaching for the hem of your shirt but then stopped, “I don’t have to do this. You already won the game.” You try to turn and begin to wave him off but he’s quick to catch your wrist. You yelp in surprise as he tugged you to his chest.

“You can’t cheat me out of my prize.” He hummed, backing you against the hallway wall. You hit the wall with a thud, “Changbin, stop. You’re not being fair.” You whined as he slid his hands under your shirt to your hips. “Fair? You’re the one who’s whining and complaining about not winning.” He playfully snaps at your nose and you lean away, gripping his wrists, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You retort as dryly as possible, trying not to squirm as his hands begin to wander up your sides. He pauses for the briefest of moments, quirking an eyebrow as his tongue prodded his cheek. You knew that look, that was his, “Oh, really?” look. You start to protest but Changbin is faster and stronger than you are.

Before you could process what he was doing, he had your shirt over your head, and hands pinned to the wall using your shirt. You pant, lips parted as he leans into your face, his free hand coming to trail soft, teasing traces against your jaw. Changbin twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, biting his lip as he giggles, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about… stop being so coy.” You stare at him for a few moments, “You just wanted to get me naked.” You watch as a seductive grin spreads across his face, air sucking through his teeth as he pinned your hips to the wall with his. “I always want to see you naked.” He hummed, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw.

You can’t contain the shudder that rips through your body as he laps at the skin of your earlobe. Your brain starts to turn to mush the moment his hips grind against yours, and you try not to turn into putty in his hands, but it is hard.

He dropped your hands and you instantly tossed your shirt to the ground, wrapping your arms around his neck. Changbin tapped your thighs, signaling you to jump up. You oblige without having to be told again, and he catches you, wrapping his hands around the backs of your legs. You whimpered in his mouth as he carried you back to the couch, tossing you onto the soft surface.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching intently as he stripped his boxers off, tossing them off behind him. He pressed into your body, causing you to shudder. He grins down at you, “Since I won, I think I should get a bonus.” You roll your eyes, “You’re pushing it, mister.” You warn, making him chuckle. “Hear me out,” he presses a soft, heated kiss to your lips. You wanted it to last, but he of course has other plans. You groan, “Binie-” You start to complain but he only pulls away for a moment. He shifts so that you’re on top, his back resting against the back cushions of your couch.

You never were on top. Changbin always wanted to be top, not that you were complaining, man knew what he was doing. You frown down at him, “Changbin, I don’t know-” You start to worry but his lips on yours stop you from continuing. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, the other ghosting down your side to your hip. The hand that was around your neck gripped you tightly, and he growled into your mouth, “I won, so I decide what my prize is.” You shudder at his dominance and let him guide you down to his length. You fist the fabric of the cushions as he groans, thrusting up softly as you settle against his hips, completely stuffed full of him.

You gasp when he pulls your hips a few inches, scooting his to the edge of the couch for balance. He looks up at you, lust in his eyes as he bites his bottom lip. He slowly rolled his hips upward, and for the briefest of moments, you both go rigid. Changbin’s fingertips dig into your hips, making you squirm to adjust. “Fuck,” you whimper as he tests the waters, rolling his hips up again. You pant into his shoulder, making him groan, “Baby…” he groans, wrapping his arm around your waist. He held your body close to his, burying his face into your hair as he found a steady rhythm. You mewl into his skin, digging your fingers into his sides as he began to thrust harder.

You panted heavily into his arm, “Binie,” you whined, shuttering as he groaned, “Fuck, this is-is amazing.” He praised, gripping your ass cheeks, pounding up into you. You moan, pulling away so you can balance yourself using the back of the couch. You glance down at him to see that his gaze keeps bouncing between your breasts and behind you. You nearly ask what he’s looking at but when you twist your head you see exactly what he was talking about.

Normally, Changbin can’t get enough of your breasts. He’s normally licking, nipping, and sucking at your nipples and the skin surrounding them from the moment you get your shirt off. The only other thing that could rival them was your ass. He swore from the beginning he was an ass man, but these days, he wasn’t so sure. It was too cute to see the visual of him being torn between watching your ass bounce in the mirror or your breasts bounce in his face. He whimpered, his face pressing into your side as he pulled you into his body, angling his hips so that he could thrust deeper into you.

You forget every thought as you stare behind you in the mirror, watching as he fucked into you from beneath you. The sight alone could make you- you squeeze your eyes shut, your breath catching in your throat as you come. You let out a soft squeal of ecstasy as you shatter, earning a low moan from Changbin.

He thrusts into you a few more times, drawing out your orgasm until you were shaking. He pulled himself out of your weeping hole and you protest, “Changbin-” You stop when you feel him push on one side, pulling on the other. You turn around in his grasp and let him position your body how he wants. Your feet were on either side of his spread legs, and you were leaning against his tacky chest.

You could die with how exposed you were, the reflection of your bodies in the mirror showing how filthy Changbin really intended to be with you tonight. He wastes no more time and guided himself back into your cunt and you let your head lull between your shoulders. Changbin wraps a hand around your throat, growling into your neck, “Don’t stop looking.” He demanded. You shudder, holding his hips as you look forward. Changbin looked determined as his free hand snaked between your spread legs to your clit, causing you to yelp as he rubbed soft, slow circles. Compete the opposite of how he was treating your pussy. You emit a low, pathetic whine as his thumb and fingers press into your neck, your head spinning lightly as you squeeze his cock, coming yet again, as if on demand. Your nails dig into his skin, surely leaving marks that he’ll hear about later.

He didn’t care about that right now. The only thing he wanted more than anything in this world was to watch you come undone on his cock until you were screaming, begging, pleading for him to stop. But he knew how far to wind you up before letting you go.

He was good at that.

He doesn’t stop those sick movements, alternating releasing the pressure from your throat and rubbing your clit faster when he did. Building you up to watch you fall off the edge of bliss each time in the mirror.

You feel him twitch and he lets out a sweet melody of curses and moans, before biting your shoulder and coming inside you. You watch as his hips stutter and falter altogether. You both pant for a few moments and then he lazily pulls his cock out from inside you, slumping against the couch. He pulls you off his lap and crawls up the length of your body until his between it and the back of your couch. “Fuck.” He panted, placing his hand on your stomach and nuzzling your neck. All you could do was nod, too fucked out to really form words yet.

He noticed, chuckling at you, “Aw, too hard?” You shake your head at him, “No,” your voice is froggy and rough from the amount of breathy moans and pants that he drew from you. You clear your throat, “No.” He grinned at you wickedly, “Then, you wouldn’t mind a round two?” You groan, “Oh no,” you push him away as grinded against your hips, “I don’t think so.” He glowered, “Aw, why not?” You shake your head, not looking at him. “I don’t think so, not tonight.”

“In the morning then?” He asked, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You roll your eyes at his ravenous hunger, “The morning is a different story. We’ll see how sore I am.”

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