#man haven’t done a tag game in a long while

[nosolaceofastraightanswer]

lemon outside my bus stop (??), bubblegum my stuffed giraffe listening to my brother’s tyler the creator vinyl, shake shack my beloved, trader joe’s cookies in bed, strawberry juice for lemonade i made, flowers outside the underground hallway at my school!!

@stdneyelyse @strawbes @nirby-wirby @creepy-not-crawly @waitupimalittleslower @princessofshazabah

@sealapocalyptic whoo i'm late

6 pictures without me in them

obligatory kitty. e-reader where you can't tell from the picture but it has a very cool grainy display. a quick painting i did when i crashed a workshop my friend was hosting. himemiya anthy doodle. a window at night. cool glass buildings

@nosolaceofastraightanswer @baltears and @siph-by-induction

anyone else can join in too!!

[nadvs]

the power play (part one)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

tags college au. fake dating. grumpy athlete/sunshine tutor. reader is bubbly, talkative, and passionate about literature. very slowburn. he falls first. alcohol use. suggestive moments, but no smut.

power play (noun)

an offensive tactic in a team sport; a deliberate attempt to manipulate someone.

════════

You hoped it wouldn’t feel the way it used to, but as you sit in the stands behind the home bench next to Lyla, it’s all the same.

You’re watching Beck zip across the ice with a painfully familiar sense of longing hammering into your chest. Falling for him always felt inevitable; you just didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be there to catch you.

When you and Lyla became friends in the ninth grade, you quickly grew close to her family, spending more time at their house than your own, tagging along to watch her twin brother’s hockey games.

The more you got to know Beck, the more you fell under his spell, charmed by his warmth, by every part of him that made him the most captivating person you’d ever met.

He stole your heart. Considering the way he treated you, you were sure you’d stolen his, too.

You spent most of last semester helping him with a class, even though you were in the same overwhelming throws of being a college freshman. Every study session in his dorm room drifted by with an undercurrent of certainty that he felt something, too.

It crushed you to realize that it’d all been in your head. A few weeks ago, you’d met him after his final exam, which he said he knew he nailed thanks to you.

You thought he was finally going to make the move that felt like it’d been hanging over you for years. But all he did was pull you into a side-hug and say, “You’re more of a friend to me than my own sister.”

Thinking about it still makes you cringe. You hate how weak you feel ruminating over this, trying to get over someone you were never even with.

It’s a Wednesday night two weeks into the spring semester, and you’re at the first home game you’ve been to in a while. Although you’ve always loved the loud, buzzing atmosphere of a hockey game, you’ve been staying far away from the campus arena and the man who hurt you.

You haven’t spoken to Beck. And he hasn’t reached out. What he did was an indirect rejection, his way of saying, It’s obvious that you like me and I need you to know once and for all that I don’t like you back.

Since then, every time your best friend has asked you to come to games or parties, you’ve told her you’ve been too busy, using your new position in a tutoring program as your excuse.

You prefer a distraction from Beck, and helping other students with a subject you’re passionate about has done the job.

But you can’t blow Lyla off forever, so now, you’re sitting with her in the stands among a small crowd of spectators.

The championship season begins in a month. Every seat will be full then. But you wish more people were around now. You welcome any noise to drown out your thoughts.

Everyone else cheers when Beck smashes the puck against the back of the net, securing the team’s first goal. You find it hard to join the celebration. Even though you’ve always thought of him as kind, you wonder if he could tell how much you liked him. If he consciously led you on.

For years, you’d watched him date other girls, hoping he’d finally realize you were the right one for him all along. You daydreamed far too much about him, imagining that he’d become your first boyfriend and take you on your first date and give you your first kiss.

The alarm blares to signal the end of the second period, pulling you out the haze you’ve fallen into a thousand times since that day in front of his exam room.

“You want to get some snacks?” Lyla asks.

“Sure,” you reply, doing your best impression of a girl with nothing weighing on her.

Once you walk up to the end of one of the arena’s concession stand lines, Lyla recognizes the people standing in front of you, greeting both girls with smiles and hugs.

Through introductions, you learn that Emma and Gabby are friends Lyla made at a party last semester. After some small talk as the line shuffles forward, Lyla points back to the rink.

“The seats next to us are empty if you want to sit with us,” she offers.

Emma and Gabby happily join you as you settle back in your seats soon after. You gaze ahead at the empty rink as they chat, the 3-1 score glaring above the ice in red neon numbers.

“No way the coach isn’t chewing them out right now,” Lyla says with a shake of her head.

“Why do you know on the team again?” Emma asks.

“My brother, Beck,” Lyla says. “You?”

Emma’s mouth twists into a tense smile.

“My ex,” she says, her voice lowering. “I wish he didn’t play, because I actually really love coming to these games.”

“Bad breakup?” you surmise.

“Brutal,” Gabby chimes in. You can tell by her expression that she’d supported her friend through the fallout.

“I just don’t want him to see me here and think it means something,” Emma sighs. “If he thinks that I want to get back together, it’ll be a disaster. We broke up a month ago and he’s still bothering me.”

You hardly know this girl, and you know her ex even less, but your reflex is to feel bad for him. You’re well acquainted with the pain that comes with caring about somebody who doesn’t want you.

“Oh, yeah,” Lyla remembers. “Rafe, right?”

Emma nods.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs.

The three girls share a knowing look, something unsaid passing through them.

You don’t know much about Rafe. On the rink, he’s a strong, aggressive defenseman, a sophomore who spends more time in the penalty box than any other player. You’ve seen him at a couple of parties, too, but never exchanged any words.

You don't understand the girls’ tense reactions to the mention of his name.

“What am I missing?” you half-whisper.

“You’d be missing nothing if you actually came to the parties I invite you to,” Lyla teases.

You can count on one hand how many parties you’ve been to since you started college. But it works for you. A party every few weeks is enough.

“I come when I can,” you reply, nudging her playfully. “Fill me in.”

“He’s a trainwreck,” Emma explains to you. “He has a million red flags that I ignored because I thought he was hot. Literally all we ever did was fight.”

“Yeah,” Lyla huffs, raising her brows. She looks at you. “Maybe it’s actually a good thing you don’t come to every party.”

You consider their words. They must have had a penchant for making a scene, shamelessly arguing in front of a crowd.

“I couldn’t take how mean and moody he was anymore. I dumped him and he won’t let it go.” Emma breathes a laugh. “It’s pathetic. He even called me crying the other night.”

Again, a confusing pang of sympathy for him hits you. It has to be your own heartbreak influencing you. You can’t imagine you’d normally feel bad for a guy described as having a million red flags.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“I’m over it,” Emma says carelessly.

“He’s not,” Gabby murmurs.

The players storm out on the rink again moments later, blades slicing the ice. They’re all so fast and powerful, and knowing that Rafe, the most forceful one of the group, is going through a version of the pain you are is oddly comforting.

A couple of minutes in, he gets thrown into the penalty box for charging an opponent. He skates to the opposite side of the rink, Cameron stitched across the black polyester of his jersey.

He stares at the floor as he waits out his penalty, tense, still. You think that if someone who looks so big and strong can hurt just like you, maybe you’re not as weak as you think.

════════

Rafe swings open the library entrance door with a scowl, irritated as hell that he has to be here. It’s annoying that the athletic department gives this much of a shit about players’ grades. Rafe knows he’s one of the best on the hockey team. He wishes that were enough.

Freshman year was fine, but he barely made it through last semester. He just failed his first assignment in a half-term literature course that was supposed to be an easy A.

Coach wasn’t pleased, saying it could screw up his GPA and deem him ineligible to play. Rafe tried to convince him that he’d do better on the next one, but Coach set him up with a tutor, unwilling to hear him out.

He’s already hardwired into a constant state of anger. Life has always been a storm, and now more than ever, there's no refuge in sight.

He's dealing with a coach who has no hope in him, on top of a painful breakup, on top of a shitty loss last night, on top of the fact that now he’s being forced to talk to a stranger about some boring book.

He can’t catch a break.

He looks at the email on his phone again. Study Room 205. He eventually finds the open door and taps his knuckles on it to get your attention.

You lock eyes with the person you’ve been waiting on for the last ten minutes. You had no idea who was coming up to meet you – just that the athletic department set it up.

But you know him. Or of him, at least.

A second ago, you were thinking about how you’ll have to ask whoever you’re meeting to be on time for future sessions. Now, your mind is consumed by the harsh words you heard about him last night.

“Hi,” you say politely. “Are you here for Lit Arts?”

He nods tersely in confirmation, stepping in. He drops his bag onto one of the empty chairs surrounding the square desk in the middle of the small room. You introduce yourself and when he sits down diagonally opposite to you, he murmurs, “Rafe.”

Discomfort swirls in your stomach. You’d heard something so personal about him at the rink, gazed at him in the penalty box from a distance, feeling like he’s a kindred spirit, and now you have to pretend like none of it happened.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” you ask.

He realizes he’s seen you before. He can’t figure out where.

“Yeah.”

“I was at the game last night. Tough loss.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically. You clear your throat, figuring it’s best to skip the small talk.

“I took this class last semester. I know exactly how the prof grades, so you’re lucky to have me in your corner.”

Rafe is many things right now. Lucky isn’t one of them.

“Do you have your laptop?” you ask.

He unzips his bag and pulls out his computer.

“You can go to the course portal,” you tell him. He lets out an exhale as he navigates to the webpage. You lean closer to make sure that the class is currently on the book you brought with you.

You pull out your copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, page edges littered with different colored sticky tabs.

“Did you get a chance to start the book?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He’s not hiding that he really doesn’t want to be here. Nonetheless, you’re determined to crack him.

“Do you have a copy of it?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, picking up that he planned to coast through the class, not even bothering to buy and read any of the books.

“Do you like reading?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says with a grimace, as if he’s offended you’d assume that.

“You might like some of the books on the syllabus. This class is a lot of fun.”

“Fun,” he echoes with a stare that makes him look like he wants to bolt out of the door he just came through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you reply with a smile. “Your idea of fun is skating around and getting slammed into walls. I should be the one judging you.”

He gazes at you like you’re from another planet, blue eyes hard on you. It’s nothing short of amusing.

You pull his laptop closer, hovering the cursor over the ‘My Grades’ tab, and ask, “Do you mind if I check how you did on your last assignment?”

“I bombed it,” he says.

As you gaze at the screen, Rafe clues in on where he’s seen you before. With one of the team’s freshmen.

Varsity athletes who live on campus are lumped together in the same dormitory block, and he’s seen you hanging around with Beck, going in and out of his room.

He wouldn’t consider Beck a friend. He’s a teammate and at best, an acquaintance. The guy’s a kiss-ass to Coach, and does everything by the book, skipping most parties and never drinking.

It makes complete sense that a rule-follower like Beck would date a good girl like you. Who the fuck calls a class fun?

You click to see his failing grade percentage for the first assignment of the semester in bolded red.

“Did you get any feedback on where you went wrong?” you ask. You know he’s going to shake his head before he does it. He doesn’t seem to care at all. “You have a whole semester to get your grade up. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” he replies stiffly.

“Well… maybe you should worry a little bit,” you say lightheartedly. “I know your coach is serious about grades.”

Rafe figures you must have heard that from your boyfriend. Maybe Beck took this class, too. It’s popular among busy student athletes because it’s supposed to be an easy way to fulfill a humanities credit.

He could just convince Beck to give him copies of his assignments. He’d have to change stuff around, but at least he’d get out of tutoring.

“Did you help Beck with this class?” he asks.

You’re taken aback by the sudden reminder of him, brows knitting together, a shift in your breezy demeanor.

“You’re his girl, right?” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“No. We’re– we’re friends.” You chew on your bottom lip. Tutoring is supposed to be a distraction from Beck, not the topic of conversation. But your curiosity burns in you and there’s no chance of putting it out. “Did he talk about me or something?”

“No,” he says, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I just figured ‘cause you’re with him all the time.”

“Right,” you say. All the time. Like a lost puppy, no doubt. Embarrassment pricks at your skin. “I helped him with another class. We’re friends.”

Rafe cracks his first smirk since he walked into this stuffy little room. You said friends twice, both times with uncertainty.

“You sure?” he chides.

“What?” you say stiffly. “Yes. I am.”

You crack open the book.

“So, A Portrait is about a man named Stephen who navigates the idea of identity,” you say quickly, trying to shake off your nerves. “We should look at the discussion question.”

You shut the book abruptly, then turn your attention to the laptop.

“You need to write a 1,500-word reflection for each book,” you ramble. “You’ll do better if you find a personal connection to the text. Maybe we start there.”

Rafe watches the nervous way your eyes dart around the screen as you scroll. His joke threw you into a tense, awkward panic that he has no interest in being around.

“You can relax,” he says. “I don’t care if you like him.”

You don’t look at him. You thought you were relaxed.

“Well, I don’t.”

You scroll to the question, one word in particular striking you.

What role does Emma play in Stephen’s growth and how he defines himself?

Of course. As if you needed another reason for this to be even more awkward.

Seeing Rafe’s ex’s name makes what she’d told you about him echo through your head again. Despite his teasing, the sympathy you felt for him comes back tenfold.

You know things about him that you shouldn’t. You feel a responsibility to balance the scales, but the air is too tense, the unfamiliarity too uncomfortable.

“Did you take a look at the question?” you ask.

He shakes his head, still slouched back. At this point, his apathy is starting to get to you.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be here, but could you please try to meet me in the middle?” you say.

Rafe’s lips pull into a firm line, but he relents and leans closer to look at the screen. His body goes cold when he sees her name. He’d rather not be reminded of the girl who broke his heart right now.

“Emma is Stephen’s love interest,” you begin, trying to act like you don’t know a thing about his past relationship. “He sees her as something she’s not.”

You leaf through the book, finding a note you’d written in the margin.

“She represents idealization,” you read. You look up at him again. “Stephen sees by the end that she’s just a normal person, not this perfect girl he thought she was for so many years.”

You open a blank document on his laptop.

“We can write up some notes to start us off,” you say. “This prof grades high when you relate to the text. He likes the sentimental stuff, so until you read the book, that’s what we’ll have to work on.”

You chew on your lip again, unsure if you should bring up what you heard in the stands. It feels unethical either way.

“It doesn’t have to be a person,” you say. “It could be a place or an experience. Have you ever thought something was great and then realized it wasn’t?”

Rafe’s stomach is in a knot. The thought of being tutored and having his hand held through a class was bad enough. Now he has to get into his feelings with you?

“I don’t know,” he says.

You look at the blinking cursor, your head cocked in thought.

“Maybe relating it to a person would be easier, then?” you ask.

Nothing can make this easier. Rafe rakes his hair back, gazing down at your hands stalled over his keyboard.

“I get that this is awkward,” you say. “But it doesn’t have to be anything super personal. You could even make something up if you want.”

He only purses his lips, eyes fixed on your hands, as if he hopes you’ll give in and just do his work for him.

You take a deep breath and interlace your fingers on the desk. You figure that if you’re a little vulnerable, he might be, too.

He’s unknowingly feeling the same pain you are and saying the truth out loud to someone who gets it might even be a relief. There’s a risk of it getting back to Beck, but something tells you Rafe’s not much of a gossiper anyway.

“To be honest, yes, I like Beck. I thought he felt the same, but he doesn’t. Between you and me, sometimes I think he took me for granted and led me on. I idealized a friendship and it ended up hurting me. If this were my assignment, I’d relate to the book with that.”

Rafe is thrown off by your sudden honesty. It’s actually refreshing, considering all the bullshit he’s been dealing with lately.

He looks at you wordlessly.

“It’s just an example,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I did well in this class because I found pieces of myself in every book. All you need to do is read the material, find something you can relate to, write a decent report, and you’ll get a good grade. Well, that and prepare for the midterm and the final.”

“This class was supposed to be easy,” he finally says under his breath.

“Can you let me know when you’re going to be done complaining?” you ask playfully, looking up at the clock. “It’s been five minutes and you’re still going.”

Rafe huffs an almost-laugh. He adjusts his posture again, pulling at the collar of his hoodie.

“You really don’t have to be specific,” you reassure him. You tap your fingers over the keyboard again, just light enough to not press any buttons. “If you can relate the character of Emma to someone, you don’t have to say their name.”

Your eyes stay glued to the screen, your shoulders stiff as you wait. You’re acting weird again. The way you said Emma’s name looked like it pained you.

And it dawns on him.

“Should’ve known she’d talk shit,” he realizes. “What’d she tell you?”

“What?” you say, meeting his gaze.

“What did Emma say about me?” Rafe drawls, his deep voice reverberating through you.

Your lips part, but words refuse to form. For a guy that doesn’t like to read, he’s very good at doing it to you.

Rafe leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. You can now see what makes him so intimidating on the ice. Every edge of his face is sharp now, apathy replaced with intensity.

“Nothing,” you reply. “It’s not my business.”

How did he not clue in before? If you run in the hockey team’s social circle, of course you heard about their breakup.

Emma never cared to keep things private. And you’re so willing to share your own personal stuff because you know more about him than you’re letting on. Because you pity him.

“Come on,” he scoffs, frustrated.

“I met her at the rink last night. She just mentioned you used to date.”

He shrugs impatiently, a silent request that you keep talking. You sigh.

“She said she likes coming to games, but it’s hard to because her ex is on the team.” You grimace. There’s no way you’d actually tell him all of it, all of the insults she muttered. “It’s not worth repeating, but… basically, she told me she broke things off and you won’t move on.”

Rafe nods, lips twisting. The way she’s been ignoring his texts and his calls to try to fix things stung enough. Talking to strangers to embarrass him hurts on an entirely different level.

He didn’t know Emma could be this cruel. This is mortifying. He’s done trying to make things work with her. No matter how hard the loneliness is hitting him.

You slide the book across the desk towards him, desperate to move past the tension.

“You can start reading,” you say. “And you don’t have to buy any of the books. I’ll just lend you mine. I’ll get some notes down for you to work from and you can do the personal connection part on your own.”

You start to type and immediately wonder if he’ll drop the class. You’ve never had that happen with someone you tutored before, but you wouldn’t blame him.

It must feel crappy to hear from a girl you don’t even know that your ex is saying bad things about you. A girl that you have to see every Thursday afternoon for the next three months.

Rafe cracks open the book in the middle to fan through the pages, a weight sitting on his chest. The pages are worn, words underlined, notes scribbled in the margins.

“You put this through the washing machine or something?” he murmurs.

“I’ve read it a few times,” you say simply. You keep typing.

Emma said he’d called her crying. It’s hard to imagine the man sitting next to you crying. It’s weird knowing something about someone that they wouldn't want you to know.

Rafe’s already bored with the first sentence. It’s long and confusing and completely uninteresting. His eyes drift up, absorbing the way your face softly creases in concentration as you type.

Now that you’re not talking at a thousand words a second, he can actually take you in.

You’re the type of girl he’d approach at a party. There’s no doubt about that. But once you’d start yapping about reading like you just did, about finding pieces of yourself in a book, he’d find a way out of the conversation.

Playing hockey at the college level is demanding; he likes the other things in his life to be fun and easy. Keeping up with a girl like you and pretending he’s interested in whatever you’re rambling about would be neither.

As he studies you, he doesn’t get why Beck friendzoned you. You’re pretty. And you’re the same type of person as Beck: straight-edge and so cheerful it’s annoying.

Rafe is typically one to outright say what he’s thinking, but he has the restraint to keep the idea he just had to himself. He needs to sleep on it. He’s done some crazy shit since Emma broke his heart and he’d rather not add to the tally.

You notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

“You’re not thinking of dropping the class, are you?” you ask.

“No,” he says. His eyes stay on you for another beat, then find the words on the page again.

════════

You thought Rafe came to your first session in a bad mood. Compared to how you feel right now, he was peachy.

Lyla called you on your way to the library and mentioned in passing that her brother asked about you last night. She said Beck seemed like he missed you, all sympathetic when he asked, is she doing okay?

She’s oblivious to the real reason he brought it up. And it’s irritating. Because he doesn’t even ask you himself. Because he’s right. He knows that his passive rejection left a wound.

“You’re on time,” you say in surprise when Rafe saunters into the study room.

“You talk a lot,” he mumbles. “I’m not interested in a lecture after you told me not to be late.”

Despite your bad mood, you crack an amused smile. You’d ended last week’s session telling him that tardiness was not only disrespectful to you, but to his own academic success. He rolled his eyes, but he clearly listened.

Rafe settles in the same chair as last time, holding your copy of the book he was supposed to read.

“Did you read it?”

“Mostly.”

“What’d you think?” you say with hope.

“Boring.”

“Fair,” you say. You gesture for his laptop. “Let’s see how far you got on the report.”

Your brows drop in disappointment when you see how much he added to the file. It’s a bunch of pasted summaries and disorganized thoughts, taking up only half the page.

You eventually reach the end of your hour-long session and have him read over the assignment one last time before submitting it. You check the syllabus to confirm what the next book is, then shut his computer.

“Try to have more for us to work with next time,” you tell him. “And you should have the next book totally read by then, too, okay?”

You hand him your copy of Pride and Prejudice and push your seat back, ignoring his frustrated sigh.

“You talk to Beck lately?” he asks after a beat.

“What?” you say, face screwing up. You’re reminded all over again of what Lyla said. “No. Why?”

“You’re still pissed at him,” he says. He’s confident, coming to the conclusion himself instead of waiting for you to admit it.

“Why are you talking about this? We had a perfectly nice hour together,” you try to joke.

Rafe finally gives a voice to what’s been swirling in his mind since last week. He’s used to being mad, to feeling spiteful, but the way his ex broke his heart has never made him want revenge more. He wants to hurt her as badly as she hurt him. He wants to make her regret leaving him.

“We should get back at them,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” you say, your chin dipping as you stare at him.

“Hear me out,” he tells you. “We’re going to keep seeing Beck and Emma around, right? We could make it look like we’re better off without them. Make them jealous.”

You squint, waiting for the details. Rafe draws in a sharp inhale.

“She said I’m not over her, right? And you said he took you for granted. If they think we moved on, I bet at least one of ‘em will realize they fucked up.”

You consider it. Admittedly, making Beck think you’re perfectly fine – no, thriving – after his rejection is enticing.

“Okay, how do we get back at them exactly?” you ask.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck. It’s the first time he seems kind of nervous to you.

“We pretend we’re together,” he says.

“You and…” You look over your shoulder, because he must be talking to somebody else who snuck into the room at some point. “You and me? Together together?”

“I know. It wouldn’t ever happen.”

You can’t even be offended. He’s right. He’s a skilled hockey player and undeniably good-looking, but that’s where the compliments end.

Two afternoons of working together and making small talk have shown you that you have nothing in common. And frankly, while you do laugh off his bad attitude, it gets on your nerves.

A relationship would never work, let alone even begin.

“But they don’t know that,” he continues. “All they’ll see is that someone they lost is happy without them.”

Your mind starts racing. The years of pining over Beck, the pain of his rejection, the frustration over him asking his sister how you’re holding up. They’ve all left cracks in your heart.

The more Rafe thinks about rubbing his happiness into Emma’s face, even if it’s bullshit, the more he hopes you’ll be on board. But you’re not saying a word.

“If you’re not in, fine,” he sighs, pushing his chair back to start to leave. He should have figured you’d be too uptight to do it. “I’m just saying I bet you wouldn’t hate making Beck sweat.”

He stands up, but you hear yourself say, “Wait.”

Then you hold out your hand.

Rafe breathes an amused chuckle, flashing the first sincere smile you’ve seen on his face, when he realizes what you’re doing.

Your hand slips into his, touching for the first time to seal the deal and shake on it.

“This is insane,” you say. “Count me in.”

next >

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[dearlenore]

ARREST ME BUT MAKE IT SEXY • S.REID

SUMMARY: The team successfully arrests a murder suspect—only to realize they’ve just taken down a highly respected FBI agent from another unit. Furious that they’ve blown her undercover mission, she decides to make their mistake their problem. After all, if they’ve already ruined her op, she might as well have a little fun with it.

PAIRING: agent!fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a lil shit lmao, season12!spencer, use of y/n, heavy flirting, criminal activity, dirty jokes, use of my love, baby, sweetheart and cutie, bauteam is kinda stupid (sorry lol)

a/n: rushed + editor is occupied for the foreseeable future</3

w/c: 0.8k

THE INTERROGATION ROOM was unbearably tense, but not for you. You sat comfortably in your chair, wrists still cuffed to the table, fingers idly tapping out a rhythm. Across from you, the BAU team filtered in and out, their patience wearing thin with each passing minute.

Hotch was the first to take a crack at you.

“Do you know why you’re here, ma’am?” he asked, voice as steady and unreadable as ever. He leaned against the table, watching you like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

You blinked up at him, then let a slow grin spread across your lips. “No idea, sir,” you responded in an exaggerated, mocking tone, leaning back in your chair to mirror his stance.

He exhaled sharply, sliding a set of crime scene photos in front of you. The images were gruesome—bodies left in precise, calculated poses, signs of struggle, but no obvious traces of the killer. You studied them, but only for a moment.

“Tragic,” you mused. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“You were at the scene,” he said.

You tilted your head. “So were a lot of people.”

“An hour before the body was found.”

“Maybe I was just getting coffee.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. He was looking for cracks, a sign that you were lying, but all he found was amusement. You were enjoying this.

A minute later, he sighed and pushed back from the table. “I’ll give you time to think.”

“Oh, how generous,” you cooed, watching as he left.

“Bye handsome!”

Next was Morgan.

He didn’t even sit down. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking you up and down with the kind of exasperation reserved for people he really didn’t have the patience for.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered.

You grinned. “I just love a good misunderstanding. It’s like a game except you’re waisting my time. Then again I’m a salary employee soooo…”

“This ain’t a game,” he said. “You were at the crime scene. You have connections to known criminals. You disappear off the grid for weeks at a time. And you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?”

“Connections to criminals?” You gasped dramatically. “You wound me. What next? You’re going to tell me Santa Claus isn’t real?”

Morgan let out a long sigh. “Man, I really don’t like you.”

“That’s okay,” you replied easily. “Not everyone has good taste.”

Morgan gave you one last irritated glance before pushing off the wall. “I’m done here.”

Emily took a turn after that, but she only lasted ten minutes before giving up, muttering about how you “liked messing with them too much” and “needed to be someone else’s problem.”

And so, that’s how you ended up with Spencer.

He was quieter than the others. He sat across from you, his fingers tapping against the table, observing rather than accusing.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, he said, “You’re making a lot of references that only someone with a specific academic background would appreciate.”

You tilted your head. “And you caught them. Very impressive, Dr. Reid. I knew someone would appreciate my sense of humor someday.”

Spencer didn’t react to the compliment. “You want us to doubt our conclusion, but you haven’t provided a solid alternative explanation.”

You leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “Maybe because it was super obvious and all of you have college degrees..”

He frowned. “Then tell me—what were you really doing at the crime scene?”

You sighed, pretending to think. “You’re the profiler, you tell me.”

“Seriously?” he sighed.

You grinned. “Oh, come on, doctor. You of all people should appreciate a good intellectual challenge.” You dragged out his name, watching with satisfaction as his ears turned a little pink.

“You’re trying to manipulate the conversation,” he said slowly.

You let out a laugh. “Manipulate is such a strong word, I just like hearing your voice.” You coo.

Spencer swallowed.

Before he could respond, the door swung open.

“Hotch,” an analyst panted, holding up a phone. “We, uh… just got a call from her unit chief. And he is furious.”

A pause.

Hotch took the phone and pressed a button, putting the call on speaker.

“Are you all out of your damn minds?!” a voice roared. “Do you have any idea what you just ruined?! She’s one of ours! Let her go. NOW.”

The room went silent.

Morgan groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

You stretched your arms out dramatically. “Well, this has been fun.”

Hotch sighed, rubbing his temple. “Uncuff her.”

The moment your wrists were free, you rolled them, wincing slightly. “That was so unnecessary.”

Morgan shook his head. “You should’ve just told us.”

You scoffed. “Please! Your work was lazy at best, I even looked like a federal agent. Damn that dress code…”

As you stepped past Spencer, you leaned in just enough for only him to hear.

“Thanks for the chat, genius,” you murmured. “I would say next time we won’t need the handcuffs but what’s the fun in that.”

Then, without another word, you walked out, leaving behind a stunned team and a very, very flustered Spencer Reid.

[strawberry-eden]

violence solves (most) problems — danny johnson x reader

↪ summary — you're relatively new in the fog, having been here just long enough to get a hold on the working order of this place when you catch the unfortunate eye of the most obsessive man on the planet, who decides that you're going to be his newest plaything.

or, your first encounter with the notorious ghostface killer goes very poorly.

↪ tags — canon typical violence, swearing, crack treated seriously, blood & injury, obsession at first sight, gender neutral pronouns/description for reader, no use of y/n, and danny's weird way of flirting

↪ word count — 2.4k

a/n: i wrote this originally way back in february but i found it again and figured i would share with the class. inspired by a cool piece of art i saw on twitter that ended up spiraling from there. enjoy!

The cold air of Mount Ormond ski resort bites angrily at your bare face, your shallow breaths manifesting in puffs of white fog as you fight to keep giant spidery talons from spearing through your torso. A low, guttural growl sounds from all around you and nowhere all at once, your arms shaking from effort as a particularly hard shove from the entity forces your hooked shoulder to shift, sending a ripple of white-hot agony through your body. “Fuck!”

This is your first match of the day. Not a single generator has been done and none of your teammates have been hooked yet. If anybody is coming for you, you can’t see through the cage the entity’s talons have created around you, itching to close in and take you back the campfire. You’re half tempted to let her do it.

You barely register the second pair of hands that appears and bats her away until they’re gently pulling you down from the hook by your armpits, holding you up until you’re steady on your feet. You blink away a few stray tears to look up at the face of your savior. “No offense, kiddo, but you look like shit,” says Bill.

You almost shrug instinctively but stop yourself last second. “A little bit taken. I feel like shit,” you mutter. He shoots a cautious glance over his shoulder, then takes you by the arm and leads you away from the hook towards a safer spot to patch you up. You can’t help but flit your gaze all around the area, searching for that haunting white mask or floating strips of leather, wondering if you’re being watched from somewhere.

Bill catches your paranoid expression and frowns. “Christ, what’d you do to him?”

Unable to hide your frustration, you round on Bill with an exasperated cry, “I don’t know! He just—” You make a vague gesture. “Set his eyes on me and decided he wanted me dead! I haven’t even touched a gen yet, for fuck’s sake.”

Bill pulls you behind a boulder secluded somewhere in a corner of the resort. You squint at the shape of the killer shack some ways away, trying to get your bearings. Bill whistles lowly. “Maybe he’s just trying to get an easy win, then. Lord knows it’s working. The rest of us are struggling to keep up.”

You collapse into a bloody pile into the snow, leaning against the rock and pressing a hand against your wounded shoulder while he pops open his medkit. “Yeah, well. I’m still pissed about it.”

“Oh, we all are,” he replies. “Nobody likes being down a teammate this early on. You got anything to help you out?”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “What?”

He raises a grayed eyebrow. “You know, like that trick David pulls to endure pain, or how that girl Laurie hides glass in her sleeves. They teach you any of that?”

“Uhh… No?”

Bill curses under his breath. “You’re kidding, right?” He curses again, louder this time when you shake your head. He digs into one of his many pockets, pulling out something that he clutches tightly in his palm, then motions for you to extend your hand. He places something smooth and warm into it, closing your fingers around the object. “Hide it well, okay? If he sees it, it’s game over. And make sure you don’t. Miss. That was my second chance, and I’m giving it up so you a better shot. If you end up fumbling, I’m never gonna let you live it down.”

Bill holds your gaze until you give a slow nod, retracting his hands as he returns to rustling around the supplies in his medkit. When you open up your fingers, you are greeted by your own reflection looking back at you from a small, sharp piece of glass. It’s almost shaped like a knife if you turn it right. “What do I do with it?” You ask curiously.

Bill wheezes out a laugh. “Stab him with it, obviously.” You bite back a painful hiss when he begins stitching your wounds back together, which he apologizes for under his breath. “But don’t just swing it around all willy-nilly, you gotta wait until he isn’t expecting it—like when he’s got you slung over his shoulder like a sack of meat thinking you’re gonna be an easy kill. Then, you take your opportunity to prove him wrong and stab it right into his shoulder. Always shocks ‘em so bad they drop you then and there. Gives 'em a taste of their own medicine, which they don’t like too much, y’know?”

You stare thoughtfully at the shard. If it’s such an effective tactic, then why in the world hasn’t anybody told you about it? You can’t help but feel a bit betrayed.

“Doesn’t always work, though,” he says, pulling the question straight from your mind. “After a while, they start to expect it, which means you gotta change it up. Start playing stealthier, like Zarina or Jake—the guy’s got an iron will. Real impressive. I have no idea he’s even hurt until I realize he’s left a streak of blood halfway across the map.”

This is all too much information to ingest when you feel about five seconds away from dying via blood loss. “Got it,” you mumble breathlessly.

Bill blanks at you. “You didn’t retain a thing I just said.”

"I got all the important parts."

“Sure you did,” he huffs. He starts opening up some gauze, when all of a sudden, his head shoots up and his whole body goes rigid. Bill’s wide eyes find your alarmed ones, and all that he’s able to get out before all hell breaks loose is, “Run.”

There’s an almost imperceptible rustle of clothing that doesn’t reach your ears. You’re frozen in place, barely given enough time to register the command as you watch him jump to his feet. “What?”

“God damnit, kid, I said run—!”

“There you are,” a third voice purrs, and you barely get a glimpse of the knife that glints maliciously at you just before it’s buried in Bill’s back. The hoarse scream that’s torn from the older man’s throat echoes hauntingly in your ears as it digs in deeper, forcing him against the ground. Dark red splatters across the snow when Ghostface violently wrenches it out of him.

Your shoulder cries out as you feebly scramble backwards, every little cut and bruise on your body flaring in pain as you awkwardly clamber back to your feet. Ghostface steps clean over Bill, who groans in pain on the ground, and the shard in your sweaty hand suddenly feels a thousand times heavier.

You can hear the simper in his voice when he says, “You didn’t forget about little old me, did you?” He wraps his gloved fingers around the bloody knife, wiping it clean with one swipe. “Oh, darling, I’m hurt.”

You’re running before you even know it. The cold air stings your lungs with each intake, your muscles burning with every step. You don't have a clue where you’re headed until you’re tearing through the killer shack, narrowly avoiding crashing into the generator that sits in the middle. You don’t need to look to know that he’s right behind you if the sounds of crunching snow and throaty laughter are anything to go by, and when your bare fingers find the splintered slab of wood sitting against the doorway, you waste no time throwing it down behind you.

You stop and turn to shout obscenities towards your assailant, but he’s nowhere to be found. You blink, and a knife is suddenly jammed between your ribs. “You should really look behind you sometimes,” Ghostface says coolly, pressing the blade deeper in emphasis and relishing in the way you whimper in pain. “Maybe you would have actually seen me go around the side of shack. Kind of embarrassing to fall for that, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

He tsks, ripping the knife out of your side and effectively taking away the only thing keeping you upright, letting you fall to the ground in a bloody heap. You look up at him through hazy eyes, looking like a dark mist against the pale gray sky, the screaming white mask being the only thing to come into focus. “You know, I don’t usually do this—”

You watch as one of his hands dives underneath his cloak, searching around for something for a solid five seconds until he pulls out a small handheld camera with a muted A-ha!

“—but I like you, so I’m willing to make an exception.”

“An exception?" You spit out a wad of blood and saliva. "What the hell are you—”

The air is unceremoniously knocked out of your lungs when he plops himself down on your stomach, knees caging you in and pinning your hands against the snow. You flinch when the glass shard hidden in your sleeve pinches the skin of your wrist.

Gloved fingers firmly grip your jaw and force you to turn toward the camera lens as he leans in close, the scent of cheap cologne assaulting your senses and filling up your head. You swear the smell alone would kill you before he ever could.

“Smile,” he breathes into your ear, and you’re blinded by the flash that goes off when he clicks the camera. You’re busy recoiling in the aftermath while he gazes quietly at the picture in the viewfinder, blinking away the green and purple splotches in your vision. Still gripping your jaw, he forcefully turns your head to show it to you.

The picture looks about exactly how you’d expect it to turn out. You're staring wide-eyed at the camera in shock and fear, blood seeping from your various wounds and soaking into your clothes. His mask takes up the entire left side of the photo, but if you look hard enough, you think you can spot a pair of dark eyes staring into the lens—they’re squinted at the edges, like he’s actually smiling underneath it as he casually holds up a peace sign.

"Say, you weren't a model or anything before this, were you? 'Cause damn." He lets out a low whistle. "This one’s definitely going in my collection.”

He takes one last, long look at the picture before tucking the camera back into his coat and stands, allowing the blood to resume flowing through the veins in both of your arms again as they’re overcome by that numb, prickly feeling. Too hurt and exhausted to resist, you limply allow him to maneuver you into a sitting position, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he effortlessly hauls you up onto his shoulder.

"Alright, playtime's over," he huffs. "Duty calls, blah blah blah, you know how it is. Ain't no rest for the wicked."

Something smooth and sharp slides into your palm from the depths of your sleeve. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in it’s surface, you let out a gasp that Ghostface assumes must be from the sight of the giant meat hook that appears at the corner of the shack, because he gently pats the backs of your thighs in what you assume is meant to be reassurance.

"Now, don't you worry, sweet-pea," he says, “the next time you and I get matched up, I promise I’ll play nice. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll even let you escape, yeah?” He laughs, and you can feel it vibrating through your ribcage. “After I kill your friends, of course.”

You grip the glass so tight in your palm, it digs into your fingers, drawing blood. You see your own eyes staring back at you through a thin stream of red, wild and angry and terrified, Bill’s words bouncing around in your skull as you raise the shard and slam it hard into the back of his shoulder, digging in viciously and twisting.

He inhales sharply, hands immediately losing their grip on you as he drops down to one knee, letting you slide off of his shoulder and land face-first in the snow. You push yourself up to your hands and knees, then to your feet, and glance nervously over your shoulder.

You meet those same eyes that had peered gleefully at you in the picture, no longer hiding behind that wretched mask as it lays by your feet in the snow, but they’re not squinting like they were before. They’re wide, pupils shrunken into tiny pinpricks as they bore into you, nostrils flaring and lips curling into a grimace as he reaches behind him and rips out the glass. Blood sprays from the wound in an arc, a fury so deep and animalistic roiling in his guttural tone as he ...

... Laughs.

Something dangerous glitters within his irises as he turns to face you. What catches you most off-guard, though, is that he's actually handsome underneath the mask—he's younger than you thought, with long lashes and full lips. A tiny scar marks the corner of his mouth, and it stretches slightly as he bares his teeth in a wide, manic grin.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He drops the glass shard and stands, and you're screaming at your body to move, but you can't. You just watch as he slowly reaches out to collect his mask and knife, refusing to take his eyes off of you even once. It's like it's just his gaze keeping you pinned. "The gift that keeps on giving?"

A loud buzzer sounds from somewhere in the distance. You flick your gaze away for just a moment to check which direction it came from, and by the time you look back, he's already secured the mask back in place.

"I'll tell you what," he begins, tilting his head at you curiously. "Let's make a bet. If you can last until your friends get alll the gens done, I'll let you go."

You swallow thickly. "And if I can't?"

Silence. You don't need to see his face to know that he's smiling. "You wanna find out?"

Strangely enough, a part of you almost does.

He lunges then, but you’re already on the move, adrenaline as well as an odd cocktail blend of terror and exhilaration pushing your body past its limits in a last-ditch effort at escaping this trial with your life.

You probably won’t, but you’re definitely gonna give him a run for his money—you figure that you've earned at least that much.

[inactiveobeymeblog]

The Brothers Cock Warming M!MC

Probably has been before but oh well. I wanted to add my own little pizazz to it. Also not a lot of male mc.

Tags: the brothers are on the receiving end, cock warming, praise kink, degradation kink, office sex, male mc/AMAB reader, teasing, and edging. Read at your own risk!!

Lucifer

This man is so hard to get away from his work

He’s practically married to it (and maybe Diavolo)

The moment you walk into his study he immediately tried to dismiss you, thinking you are one of his brothers

Boy was he ever so wrong

“Luci.” You would call out

His head immediately shoots up and he drops his pen

He would be so happy to see you he wouldn’t be able to help the corners of his lips curving upwards

You’d walk over to him and waste no time in kissing him

He’d kiss back and your plan is set in motion

Time skip to when you’re shedding his clothes off of him

If you really want him to cockwarm you, you have to get him in the mood

It’s pretty easy to do, too

Start by slowly undoing his tie and slowly unbuttoning his vest while softly kissing his nape

He’ll get impatient but he’ll also be curious

“You know, I haven’t seen you all day. I’ve missed you.”

Find any excuse to praise him

Whether if it be complimenting his looks or complimenting his behavior; it gets him riled up and ready

But what he doesn’t expect is when you both are only sitting there, cock fully sheathed inside him

He gets confused but catches on pretty quickly

He picks up his pen gets back to work

But let’s be real here

He’s not getting anything done

Not when you have the chance to screw with him in the best way possible

You’d start by wandering your hands all over his body while nipping at any reachable exposed skin

Then you’d move on to shifting slightly on purpose so you’d move inside him

You’d continue this until he gets fed up

“You’re being very annoying today.” He’d say a few minutes before he rides you completely

He’d get so lost in the feeling of you filling him up he forgets about his work for the rest of the day

He’s not going to stop riding you until you beg for mercy

Prepare to have a sore dick the next day

Mammon

Finding Mammon is easy

But if you can’t find him, just text him a “I need you. Come here now.” And it doesn’t matter where he is, he’ll be there in 2 minutes flat.

You get straight to the point

You tell him to undress while you sit in his bed, watching him obey your command

You find it endearing

So you reward him by stuffing him full with your cock

“Look at you taking me so beautifully. So perfectly. Almost as if you were meant for this.”

Praise him but lightly degrade him if you want to reward him

But if you want to punish him? Don’t say anything and watch him squirm on your unmoving length

But it’s only a matter of time before you snap and can’t handle how hard he’s clenching you

Before you knew it, Mammon was on all fours getting pounded into his own mattress

You love the noises that come from his mouth so much you have to praise him for it

“Such a good boy. Taking me with such little effort. Such a good boy for me.”

Praise him and he’s spilling on the sheets while screaming your name

It’s long last an hour before you finish inside him

You love him so much you found it in you to clean up everything (and find a healing spell of some sort bc let’s be honest here. He’s ruined.)

When you’re done with aftercare, you pull the second eldest close to your chest and fall asleep until you wake up a few hours later to do it all over again

Mammon loves it when you do that

Leviathan

Levi lost a bet against you while playing a video game

He lost and now he has to face the consequences

Sitting on your cock while he plays a game with a few online friends

Oh, and open mic, too

“I might not be at my best this time, guys.” He’d say as the round starts bc he knows you aren’t letting him off easy

He lost, remember?

For the first game you’re completely content, but the second game you get a little more teasing

You start lightly rocking your hips upward and running your hand gently up and down his waist, sometimes squeezing

Each time you do, Levi tries to compose himself by sharply inhaling and keeping his voice down

The next couple games you’re now thrusting a couple inches inside him, enjoying the way he struggles to focus and keep quiet

The next few games you’re now kissing up and down his exposed back while still pumping the same two inches inside him at the slowest pace you could manage

It was starting to make him squirm under you and letting out small breaths and quiet whimpers

You both stay like this until his friends go offline and Levi crumbles as he switches to his demon form

He’d somehow turn around with you still inside him and start bouncing away

His tail comfortably wraps itself around your leg and his hands are on your chest

Each time Levi lowers himself, you raise your hips to meet him halfway

You hit his sweet spot every time

It’s only a small amount of time before he’s gone and spills over both of your chests

You flip him around and start pounding into him

A few thrusts later and you’re stroking yourself, shooting onto his balls

You both quickly recover and clean up before you play another game with him

Levi would be distracted the entire time as he replays what happened mere moments ago in his mind

He looses again

Satan

This nerd immediately knew what you were trying to do

So he wasted no time in tying you to his bed and siting comfortably down onto your length with a book in hand

You’re still inside him when he lays back against your chest while reading the rest of his book

He could spend hours just sitting on your dick and you’d be helpless just laying there, hard, inside him for hours on end

Eventually though, he’d get bored and turn his body around to face you, book placed down beside you

“I’m going to make you feel so good you will never want to leave.”

He’d say something so hot you twitch so violently inside him he squeaks quietly

You find it cute

But your little smirk turns into an open ‘O’ when Satan brutally starts bouncing

He’s slamming himself down so hard you’re moaning with him

He wouldn’t stop there either

He’d play with your nipples, pinching and licking them whenever he wants

It’s not a shocker when you’re the one unloading inside him first

Your mind gets so clouded with lust you start to raise your hips in time with Satan’s bounces but the demon wouldn’t allow it

He’d force your hips down and get even more rough, his ass jiggling from how much force he’s using

You cum a second time before Satan cums once

Taking advantage of Satan’s brief break, you take the moment to look down at yourself

Your chest is cover with bite marks and hickeys

The same goes for your stomach, except it’s now coated with Satan’s cum

You’re hard again inside him and Satan smirks

“I’m not stopping tonight. I’m going to put you in a wheelchair by morning.”

He wasn’t wrong

You could barely feel your legs and it felt like yo were missing your pelvis completely not to mention how sore your dick was

You’d wait awhile before attempting something like that again

Satan comes up with an idea to wear cat-themed lingerie next time

He’s sure you’d get a kick out if it

He’d have a blast showing it off to you before brutally riding you all night again

He’d accidentally rip the fabric of the lingerie and get sad

He was really happy with the look of it too

Oh well

He’ll buy another piece

Asmodeus

If you thought you’d be in control, you’re sorely mistaken

Similar to Satan, he’s tying you up to his bed

But he’s not just going to cockwarm you

He’s going to edge you beyond humanly possible

He’d start by rolling his hips in a circle before rolling them up and down

Then he’d wiggle his ass a little and delightfully watch you squirm under him

He repeats this more than enough times to start getting you to beg

He hears you but ignores you

He’s too busy with rolling his hips and sucking your nipples and cupping your balls

He’d pleasure you until you feel that knot in your stomach tighten

Then he’d lift himself off your dick and sit on it until you start pouting

Then he starts the process all over again

This time he starts touching himself

He strokes himself in time with his rolling and your moans and desperate cries for more

But he ignores you and says not until he’s climaxing on your chest

And so that’s exactly what happened

He moans your name and spills on your stomach, some shooting onto your face and chest

He licks his mess up before lifting himself off your cock and crawling backwards while still making eye contact with you

Before you know it, your cock is in his mouth as you’re face fucking him stupid

Your length reaches the back of his throat and he happily accepts it

Asmo’s throat game is god-tier

He knows when to swallow around you and when to use his tongue

It’s not long before you’re spilling everything you’ve built up down Asmo’s throat

Asmo smiles and licks his lips before undoing your bindings

“Let’s do that again sometime. I enjoyed it.”

Beelzebub

If Beel is going to cockwarm you, it’s with his mouth

You’ll most likely find him in his shared bedroom (alone most of the time considering Belphie doesn’t sleep in one spot too often)

You find him there and you lean against the door, watching him finish the last of his midnight snack

You smirk to yourself and muster up the most not-sexual tone you could manage

“Still hungry? I have a snack just for you if you are.”

You’d walk over to him and sit down on the bed and he’d look at you with a confused look

He looks adorable when he does that

You lean back with one arm supporting you and use your other to lift your shirt up and all Beel could do to respond was nod with a smile

And getting on his knees in between your legs

You both have done this a handful of times before, he knows you like it and he’s happy doing it for you (he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel aroused himself)

So Beel got to work immediately

Undoing your belt (if you have one on) and unzipping your pants to pull your hardening length out through the hole

Beel grabs the base of your shaft before licking your tip

It takes all your strength not to fuck his face

Then he engulfs your entire length in one go, down his throat

Your hand immediately finds is way to his hair and your hips start to grind against his throat

You can’t help but groan when he swallows around you

The warm wetness of his mouth combined with how skilled his tongue swirls around you send heatwaves throughout your loins

You get to full mast after a couple minutes of throbbing in Beel’s throat

By now you’re panting lightly and running your hand through his orange locks

“You’re so good at this, Beel. Oh Shit. Can I?” You’d ask him and he’d hum around you, giving permission

Then, next thing you know you’re holding his head with both hands as you fuck his throat

Surprisingly, no matter how hard you go, he never chokes or coughs

He just swallows all of you

And the thought of that is what sends you over the edge and you’re unloading down his throat

You collapse on the bed behind you

Beel will patiently wait for you to recover before you sit back up again and kiss him

You cup both of his cheeks with your hands and kiss him with such fever it almost felt like a desire. A desperate need

You pull away and grin

“My turn, babe.”

Belphegor

Belphie loves to cockwarm you

It doesn’t take up too much energy and he doesn’t have to do much

You two are normally cuddling when this happens

You spoon him as you two nap on his bed, still inside him

Usually, quite surprisingly, Belphie is the one to wake up first

And being the little shit he is, he loves to mess with you

So he’ll start slowly rocking his hips back against you to wake you up

Once you are awake, you hold him closer to you

“You’re being naughty today, Belphie.”

So you start rocking your own hips against him as you reach around and cup his balls with your hand

Belphie makes little, quiet sounds as you tease him

“So full, love. We’re you having a nice dream?”

You start to whisper dirty things in his ear and he starts to moan more freely, albeit quiet

You still love to here his voice

While still cupping his balls with your hand, you use your other one to stroke him

You stroke at a painfully slow pace, making Belphie thrust himself lightly into your hand and back against your cock

You start leaving kisses on his neck and shoulder, sometimes biting

Over time, you slowly start to increase your stroking pace and thrust speed

The combined pleasure from your cock and you stroking him soon sends him into his climax, spilling onto your hand and the sheets below him

You soon quickly finish off as you pick up your pace thrusting inside him

When you pull out of him, you turn him to face you and you kiss him

“You did wonderful, love. Like always.”

You smile and kiss him again

“So did you.”

Belphie’s words made you feel butterflies in your stomach

He was so cute

It almost makes you want to smother him with kisses

Oh wait

You can

And you do

You kiss him until both of your lips are numb

“I love you, Belphie.”

“I love you, too.”

End.

A/N: Sorry if there’s any typo’s! This took me several days to make considering I didn’t have any motivation to continue working on it until now (and I don’t have the energy to revise and edit any of this). But it’s here and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if y’all want more or not. I’m always open for requests! I tried to keep everyone canon-accurate so I hope it is. Thanks for reading :)

[wirywyrm]

I want to share more stuff about my Tav, but I’ve been too busy to draw as of late, and even then, I still haven’t shared much about his character beyond the surface level. He has depth- I swear 🥲. I’m just more confident when it comes to making silly little doodles than actually writing/depicting compelling character interactions. I have so many comic scripts and unfinished wips…

ANYWAY. I saw this OC tag game circling around that was originally made by Clericblood and figured it would be fun to fill out, + it gives me an excuse to info dump about Arthur some more. So, here's some more info about my Tav.

General:

Name: Arthur Tavener Alias: Tav Arthur goes by “Tav,” an abbreviation of his last name, Tavener, as a nickname instead of “Art” or “Arty” because he lost those other nicknames to the fey. A piece of advice Arthur would give is don’t get drunk in the woods, and especially don’t play a game of cards with a suspicious man you encounter while drunk in the woods. Gender: Cis Man Age: 45 (≈29 physically) Spoken Languages: Common (Faeruni), Dwarfish (Dethek), and Elvish (Espruar). Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Occupation: Adventurer. Arthur’s background is listed as an entertainer, but he wasn’t famous, wealthy, or part of a band, circus, or actor troupe. Arthur was more or less a traveling busker. His main revenue was whatever coins people would toss him after a performance. So, apart from entertaining, he’s done his fair share of odd jobs and quests to get by.

Favorite: 

Colour: Red Entertainment: Playing card & dice games, sharing stories, reading. Pastime: Journals, restores/mends old books, practices playing the lute, and hums or whistles pub songs, bard tunes & sea shanties. Foods: No strong preferences, he will eat literally anything. Drinks: Cider, Ale, & Tea.

Have They…

Passed University: No. Arthur spent a couple years studying at the bardic College of New Olamn, but dropped out before he graduated. Had Sex: Yes. Although he hadn’t had any long-term relationships prior to Gale. Had Sex in Public: No. Gotten Tattoos: Yes. Arthur has three tattoos. One on his chest, one on his left arm, and one on his lower back. Gotten Piercings:Yes. His ears are pierced. Gotten Scarred: Yes. Arthur has plenty of scars from beast & blade alike. Although only below the chin. He takes particular care to heal any injuries that would result in facial scars, as he doesn’t want to come across as intimidating or unapproachable. For the same reason, he also doesn’t typically introduce himself as an adventurer or sell-sword (because given what the average dnd party gets up to on the Swordcoast, they probably have a very mixed reputation). Had a Broken Heart: Yes. Arthur’s lost a fair amount of friends and family over the course of his life.

Are They…

A Cuddler: Yes. Scared Easily: Yes. Arthur is often scared, especially given the scenarios he’s regularly placed in during the events of BG3 (& even before that), but he does his best to hide it. Arthur will grit his teeth and grin through the most terrifying situations- cracking jokes even when wounded. He prefers to not worry others and keep spirits high. Even if, as a result, he’s neglecting his own well-being. Jealous Easily: Somewhat. Arthur will get jealous when it comes to certain things, but he rarely acts upon that jealousy. He particularly gets a little petty in the company of nobles, sorcerers, and those Arthur believes have had things handed to them on a silver platter. However, getting to know someone will change his opinion of them regardless of any initial jealousy. For example, Arthur liked Wyll despite Wyll being the son of a duke, both due to Ulder Ravengaurd's history as the son of the blacksmith from the lower city and Wyll’s as a folk hero / The Blade of Frontiers. Trustworthy: No. Arthur is unquestionably good aligned, but I would not consider him entirely trustworthy. Arthur primarily trusts his own judgment when making decisions. Even in the case of his party members, if he suspects their end goals do not align with his own and he cannot persuade them to change course, he will potentially go behind their backs or act against them. He’ll actively manipulate, lie, steal, and backstab if he thinks it’s necessary. To answer the question more plainly, if your character is good, yes, you can generally consider him trustworthy; if they’re more neutral or evil, absolutely not.

Family: 

Sibling(s): He probably has several half siblings, but there aren’t any he personally knows.  Parents: Beatrix Tavener, Human (F), Lorin Goldwalker, Sun Elf (M). Although Arthur’s relationship to the guardian-figures in his life is complicated. Arthur’s mother died when he was young. His father was a deadbeat. He was taken in by a party of adventurers for a time. Then, he was primarily raised throughout his teens by his grandparents. Who- are not around anymore given they were human, and Arthur’s over 40 years of age. Children: Maybe? (I’ve been debating wether or not Arthur and Gale would adopt Yenna- the girl who can stay in your camp/get kidnapped by Orin in Act 3). Pets: Formerly. Arthur used to have a dog named Japer. He probably wouldn’t be able to keep Scratch, or the grown up owl bear cub, due to city laws in Waterdeep. Us & Shovel are more like summons. Grub would count - if he adopts Yenna. Lastly, Tara would not allow Arthur to call her his pet. Gale Could. Tav would have very cross tressym he’d have to appease.

[clockwork-ashes]

thank you @olenvasynyt for the tag! this was so fun :)

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 

160,904

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

if i count one-shots??? 15 fics. without them??? only 4!

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

oh goodness, i really haven’t completed any of my multi-chapter fics this year LOL i have 5 ongoing ones (that i hope will be finished in 2025).

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

my favourite thing that i wrote this year i think has to be my erisweek2024 series of one-shots!!! i put a lot of time and thought into light the fire bright and i was SO happy with the final outcome!

outsider was also one of my favourite one-shots that i wrote! it was the first one i put up on ao3 and i was just super proud of myself for putting it up there :)

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

definitely something lonesome just because of the time loop aspect!!! it’s a lot of fun, and i like it being just a little darker than everything else i’ve written!!!

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

this has got to be all you have is your fire. it’s my first attempt at writing a romance-centred fic that follows a plot, and without everyone who read it and let me know they liked it, i would have given up writing it entirely!!! i was surprised that people were reading it, and the initial reception is a huge motivation for me to continue with it <3 thank you lovely readers!!!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

maybe prince of ashes??? that fic is old and i posted it onto ao3 really quickly just to have it up there LOL so it makes sense that it went under the radar!!!

8. Who is an artist that inspired you

so many!!! especially @works-of-heart, @velidewrites, and @elleybug!!! there’s MORE but if i’ve reblogged your work, you have 100% inspired me <3

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

i just have so many (and i’m sorry to those i forget)! definitely @zenkindoflove really inspires me with her amazing works (with elucien and also with eris x alexius). the relationships just feel SO real in your stories <3 @the-darkestminds also is just so talented, the angst in autumn’s shadow is unmatched!!! @olenvasynyt has the most amazing fic for anyone looking to read about lucien (i cannot get over your portrayal of jesminda it’s too perfect). then @separatist-apologist and @crazy-ache with their legendary elucien works!!! i feel like lots of authors inspire me, and the list will be too long if i keep going, but if i’ve ever read something, it has instantly inspired me as well!!!!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

new to me because i still feel like i’m new around here LOL but @dusk-muse is just SO talented, and @jon-snows-man-bun has such a unique and interesting take on the hewn city (it’s perfect). @avabrynne is INSPIRATIONAL just has all the best au ideas and writes so manly wonderful fics!!! also i LOVE @missfckingfortune and @jules-writes-stories and @nocasdatsgay and @lovely-vanserra-sunshine and @cauldronblssd!!! so many amazing authors in the ACOTAR fandom!!!

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

no collaborations, but that’s mostly just because i’m very shy LOL

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

just posting anything at all is what i’m proudest of!!! it’s a big step for me, i like not being completely perceived, but just writing and reading fics and interacting with people on here and ao3 is something i’m glad i’m doing :))

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

that it’s okay to post something that isn’t perfect is probably the biggest one. it’s a huge relief to realise that the people who read what you write know that what you share with them is being done for fun!

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

i have to really think about this one because i truly don’t know LOL my one and only piece of advice is to have fun with what you’re writing because if you are enjoying the process and having a nice time creating the story you want to tell, then that’s a success! taking a break from writing projects is okay, and taking your time with things is okay too!!! and as someone who is super shy, i always try to encourage people to just share!!! the experience has been so fun and i’ve really enjoyed writing this year :))

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

just to keep writing and to finish AT LEAST one of my wips!!! i like the idea of wrapping things up when i write, i just have trouble executing (i’m working on it tho).

no pressure tags: anyone mentioned and anyone who wants to join!!!

[holdinbacksecrets]

smitten

college soccer player!jeonghan part 3

part 1 part 2

“hey, i haven’t seen you all day.”

your roommate stands in the doorway to your bedroom, finding you at your desk drowning in assignments and the final draft of your midterm.

“i was at the library all morning trying to get this paper done. is everything ok?”

she’s wearing a blue bow identical to the one left on your dresser that morning. her skirt matches its deep shade, and you realize it’s quickly approaching 7pm.

“of course! it’s game day. i wanted to tell you you don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to. hana—i think you know her… choppy bangs, green eyes—apparently she’s smitten, so she wants to join me or us if you’re still interested.”

lia’s eyebrows raise, and you can tell she’s hoping you’re still interested, but she’s worried about dragging you along while on pursuit of a boy as if that would ever bother you, as if your own footsteps and love-covered fingertips haven’t submerged into your own version of a boy pursuit.

“i am. i was going to take a shower within the next ten minutes. we still have an hour right?”

she smiles, nodding excitedly. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

“before you go, who does hana like?”

lia’s smile widens, and she runs her fingertip along the length of your door, swiping vibrant blue polish across a striking white. “jeonghan.”

your heart sinks and melts into the acidic jealousy existing in the pit of your stomach. jeonghan? jeonghan… of course.

you feel deflated as you approach the bathroom, reaching for your towel before switching the light on.

the last thing you want is for this to get complicated. if hana makes a move, what are you supposed to do? for all you know, you’ll be standing beside the girl for two hours, listening to whatever smitten sounds like and pretending you didn’t dream about the same man the previous night or stare at his message about bandaids and lollipops… smitten.

shampoo stings your eyes while you contemplate sharing your own feelings for jeonghan with lia. she’s pushed you a little bit, knowing your history of having interest in athletes, but the years of your friendship have taught her a few things. those things include only sharing what you want to and keeping things close to your chest. your heart is as far from your sleeve as it can get, tucked away safely in the dark warmth within your chest. of course jeonghan has started to shine rays of light, creating beautiful sunbeams and beginning to swell what’s been hibernating in its safety zone.

lia is perched at the bar stool eating a bowl of cereal when you leave your bedroom. she quickly takes a look at your outfit, happy to see a bow of your own pinned to your jacket. your denim shorts have blue ruffles stitched along the curve of each pocket, and you can feel the familiar rush of anticipation. nothing beats an october night, with its comforting chill and the scene of a game only a short walk away. you look forward to these evenings all year. jeonghan is the best part, unexpectedly so.

“i didn’t touch the honey bunches of oats. there’s only enough for one more bowl if you’re hungry.”

“thanks, lee.”

you top the cereal off with milk and eye your roommate nervously, hoping she’ll pick up on your desire to say something. you’ve never been good at sharing feelings, especially when you’re afraid of stepping on another’s toes.

“i can feel you staring me down. is there something on my face or on your mind?”

lia palms her bowl, bringing the ceramic to her lips to savor the perfectly sweetened milk before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“this season, i’ve never felt like your tag along. you like seokmin, but i’d still go even if you didn’t. even if i didn’t like someone else on the team, i would still go.” members of your family have played the sport for as long as you can remember. in your life, fall doesn’t exist without a soccer ball.

lia doesn’t jump in. you hoped she would push you just a little further, but this is all on you.

“yoon jeonghan is in my environmental ethics course, and we’ve established some kind of unexpected friendship, but my feelings are stronger than that. about hana… i don’t know if there’s anything going on between them. the last thing i want to do is make anyone uncomfortable or embarrass myself.”

lia smiles, but you miss the softness in her expression, watching your cereal float instead.

“you don’t need to worry about hana. she picks a new guy every week, and she’d certainly turn her focus to someone else tonight if you tell her about jeonghan.”

lia taps the counter, earning your gaze. “thank you for telling me. i’m trying to keep my composure, but please know i’m internally squealing and running around the counter to hug you. now, finish your cereal. i’m sure someone is excited to see you.”

the sun begins to set as you walk through campus. you can see the lights from the field come into view, and lia squeezes your hand. she’s always been a cherished friend and supporter, and relief has embraced you knowing the feelings you’ve kept quiet are now a secret shared.

hana is standing beside the ticket counter and waves when she notices the two of you. not a single speck of blue is found on her outfit, but lia quickly pulls a bow from her purse, securing it in her friend’s hair.

after the three of you have paid, hana asks where you two usually sit.

“this one likes to sit at the top so she can see the entire field.” guilty.

“the boys can see you better from the front.”

lia bites her lip but guides the three of you to the middle row, keeping the viewing peace.

both teams are warming up, and your eyes settle on the field while hana and lia chat beside you. you catch bits of the conversation, amused by your roommate’s monologue about how much seokmin’s hair has grown since their last home game.

then, you see him, and your lips part. you lean forward and zero in.

he’s mesmerizing. watching him feels like the sweetest treat.

his dribbling matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, and your lips spread into something consumed by pride, admiration, and hopeful desire.

his confidence has never gone unnoticed, even in its subtly, but it radiates when he’s wearing cleats, his uniform and is existing on the forest green turf.

you’re silent for the first quarter, clapping when it’s appropriate to do so, mouthing calls as the referees blow their whistles, nodding along to the ones you deem just.

the second quarter is smooth. your team is taking the lead: 1-0, and the reaction from lia at the sight of seokmin’s assist is something worth remembering.

she kissed your cheek, asking twice: “did you see that?!”, before heading down the stairs for popcorn.

hana slides across the bench to close the space between you as half time starts. her voice is just above a whisper, “lia told me about jeonghan, so any cheering i do tonight is for choi seungcheol.” she sends you a wink and you nod, feeling a weight leave your shoulders.

during the final quarter, the blue hawks are sailing, and you nearly miss it. your eyes were fixed on the bag of popcorn only seconds prior, but you see him when you’re pleased with the amount of the salty snack in your cupped palm.

it’s jeonghan’s corner kick, in the corner closest to you, and you see him search the stands before landing on your figure. he smiles, and brushes his fingers across his shirt, mirroring where your bow is clipped to your jacket. cute, he mouths before turning to face the field again.

“holy shit.”

“he’s all yours, babe.”

after the game has ended, students start to leave while others who know players stick around, creating small packs around the fence. the three of you stay in the stands until the team exits their huddle.

hana waves quickly, sending you a knowing wink before running down the bleachers. lia pats your knee. she practiced words of admiration for seokmin that morning in the bathroom mirror. you give her a final good luck before she sets off down the metal stairs.

time ticks by and it’s just you now. the soccer fans have left, and jeonghan is one of the last players on the field. you watched him take the bag of soccer balls to the shed behind the field, finding yourself admiring the stars while you waited.

the sound of your name shifts your stare, and you find him leaning against the railing.

“i should’ve given you my practice jersey.”

you stand and descend the bleachers, approaching the man with reddened cheeks and messy hair.

“what would that’ve made me?”

he smiles, and you want him to say it.

“i imagine you’re going to be much more than a good luck charm.”

“you don’t need one.”

“i have my superstitions.”

“oh really? do you have a couple marbles in your pockets?”

jeonghan’s cleats meet the pavement, and he waits for you before heading toward the main campus.

“i didn’t think about that.”

“i guess all the marbles are in your schedule…. probably wouldn’t do you any good to keep more in your pocket.”

“mmm, i think you’re on to something.”

“and i guess if i keep coming…”

“if you keep coming, we’ll keep winning, and eventually i’ll ask you to go on a date with me.”

“but you’re going to keep it open— unknown and leave me with anticipation.”

jeonghan laughs— no, it’s more like a giggle that penetrates your skin and finds the shelter where your heart lives, shining the most light it’s seen since you experienced the ocean three years ago.

“i’m not going to leave it open.”

he stops beneath the streetlamp. you’re in front of snow hall, where this all started.

“saturday night, can i take you on a date?”

his eyes are sparkling, and this man has far more than sunbeams. he has stars too.

“yes, of course you can.”

“as long as you’re alright with comedy shows.”

“i’ve never been.”

the look in his eyes is intriguing, and you have no doubt you’re about to be introduced to something magical.

“boo seungkwan knows how to put on a show, and i cannot wait to take you.”

his gaze shifts to the bow on your jacket, and you swear his expression melts. sore muscles are easy to ignore when you’re in front of him with exciting possibilities existing in your eyes and smile.

he’ll certainly fall in love with you.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 34

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Thanksgiving is just around the corner and Reader is planning Talia and Jamal's wedding when unexpected news happen.

Tags : Angst

TW : Mention of drug use - Mention of pregnancy

Author's Note : I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

Y/N’s POV

Ever since Marshall had informed you that Kim would be there for Thanksgiving, you were a little bit freaked out. However, you didn’t really bring up the topic, and neither did your boyfriend. After the conversation, you spent a few days pondering whether or not you should try and escape the situation. Not being American, Thanksgiving wasn’t important to you anyway so you wouldn’t mind skipping it or celebrating it the same way you had done since you came to the US - with Talia and Jamal. 

When you moved to Detroit, you quickly befriended Talia at the beginning of the school year. You were planning on spending your first Thanksgiving in your dorm room, on your own, watching a crappy movie and eating ramen, but she wouldn’t have it and invited you to spend the day with her, her boyfriend and her family. At first, you declined the invitation but she basically forced you to go and that’s how you met Jamal, as well as Talia’s mother and her three sisters. You got along with everyone and had an official, standing invitation for every holiday, your best friend’s family being just as warm and welcoming as her. Even when you were with your ex, you spent Thanksgiving with Talia. This year would be your first time celebrating it with someone else. When you told her about the change of plans, she was happy for you but made it clear that you would be missed. To be fair, you would miss them too. You didn’t know too much about how everyone else celebrated Thanksgiving, but Talia’s family certainly made it fun : everyone would spend the day cooking together in a relaxed atmosphere, making jokes, dancing to some 80s tunes and playing board games. 

You didn’t mind skipping this in order to celebrate with the man you loved, but knowing his ex-wife would be there certainly made you reconsider. However, he made it clear that he was looking forward to celebrating with you and told you how important it was for him that you be there. 

It’s a family holiday, he said. We’re officially living together, it doesn’t make sense to spend it apart, Y/N. We’re family, now. 

We’re still very new, you reminded him. What will your family think ? 

As far as they’re concerned, you can do no wrong, he chuckled. Apparently, they’re all relieved that my grumpy ass found someone who is actually willing to put up with me. And they all know and like you already. 

Except for your ex, you pointed out. 

Is that what it’s really about ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You sighed and did not reply. Part of you thought that it was a good thing that Marshall and Kim were on friendly terms, for the sake of their daughters. It was a proof of maturity on their part and you had heard enough stories from your friends with divorced parents to know that it was actually a good thing. Everyone would like for their parents to be able to get along after a divorce. But being the partner of someone who was divorced made it a little challenging. After all, no one expected to spend a holiday with their boyfriend’s ex-wife, let alone relished the idea. 

I told you it will be fine, he said as he hugged you from behind while you were doing your skincare before bed. And it’s not just her, anyway. Everyone else will be there. 

Yes but she’s the only one I haven’t met yet, you said sheepishly. What if she hates me ? 

Why would she hate you ? He scoffed. 

Because I’m your girlfriend… Duh ? 

Look, Y/N, he said as he took your hands in his. Yes, Kim is my ex, and yes, we have a long and complicated history. But any form of romantic feeling between us is long gone. There won’t be any jealousy… On her part, at least. 

The end of his comment made you raise an eyebrow. 

You think I’m jealous of her ? You asked. 

I don’t know, he said with a smile. Are you ? 

I guess not, you shrugged. I do have many questions, though. 

So we’re gonna have that talk, huh ? He asked with a sigh. 

Do you mind ? 

No offense, babe, but even if I did… I know you well-enough to know that you’d toss and turn all night, and you'll drive yourself crazy and me as well. I love you, and I want to get some sleep tonight, so for both our sakes, let’s get this over with, he chuckled. 

Thank you, you said shyly as you felt your face redden a bit. 

You both sat in bed and you were nervously tugging on your nightgown, not really knowing where to start. 

I don’t have all night, though, he said playfully. Just ask your damn questions, babe. 

Did she sleep here ? You asked, as it was the first question that popped into your head - hell, maybe you were in her spot ! 

In this room or in this bed ? He asked. This is the master bedroom, so yeah, we slept here. The bed and mattress are new, though, if that’s any comfort. Next question ? 

Do you miss her, sometimes ? You asked nervously. 

He glanced at you and shook his head with a smile. 

What kind of question is that, Y/N ? He simply asked. Really ? You’re asking me if I miss her ? 

Can you blame me for wondering, though ? Everyone knows she’s the love of your life, your high-school sweetheart and stuff… 

Everyone also knows that our marriages were utter failures and that we drove each other crazy, he stated with an eye roll. 

So you never think about her ? You asked. 

That’s a different question. Of course I think about her often. 

Often ?! What the hell did he mean by that ? As he saw the expression on your face - that probably resembled that of a deer in headlights - he let out a laugh. 

I told you, babe, we have a history and three daughters, he said. Of course I think about her, whether it’s something about the girls or simply memories. I can’t erase twenty-plus years from my brain, you know ? But it doesn’t mean I miss her. I used to, for sure, but I don’t. Not anymore. You can think of the good times you had with someone without missing the relationship. 

I guess, you said. How do you feel about her now, then ? 

I mean… She’s the mother of my children and that will never change. In that regard, I respect her, because she’s doing her best to be a good mom, too. I might not always agree with her, in fact there’s a lot of shit we disagree on, but she’s high in my esteem. Also because she put up with a lot of me and my shit, he said. 

Do you have feelings for her ? You blurted out before you were able to hold back the words. 

As soon as you spoke these words, he frowned and shook his head. He sighed and took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. 

I just told you I don’t miss her, he said. So no, I don’t have feelings for her. Not romantic, at least. I do have affection for her, though, in a way. I care for her and I don’t want anything bad happening to her. If she ever needs me, I’m here. I told you before - whether we like it or not, Kim and I will always be family. So I will always be there to support her. 

You nodded, a bit lost in your thoughts. He pulled you in his arms and leaned in, his forehead resting against yours while his piercing blue gaze held yours. 

I need you to understand something, baby, he said. Nothing I’m saying here affects the way I feel about you. Just because I care for Kim doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You are the woman I love and the one who makes me happy, and no one will change that. 

Ok, you said as you nodded softly. I love you too, you know ? 

And even if she did hate you, which she won’t, you’re the one person I chose to share my life with. Whether anyone likes it or not, you are my girl and they have to respect that. And I know she does, he said. 

Ok, you said. Does she know that we live together here ? 

She does, he  nodded. 

And that I’m… You know… Younger ? 

Yes, that too, he chuckled. I mean, I told her about you before so she knows a couple of things. She knows your name, your age, what you do in life, part of our story and, most of all, she knows I am head over heels in love with you. 

When did you tell her all that ? You asked, a bit surprised. 

I talked about you on a couple of occasions, he explained. When we got together, and a couple of months after our breakup, too. We don’t speak or see each other too often, but we keep up with each other’s life. 

He was smiling, which was sort of reassuring. His transparency made you feel at peace and, even though you were still a bit anxious, you eased up. You smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. 

Thank you for reassuring me, you said softly. I think you got yourself a night without me tossing and turning. 

Good, he chuckled. I get how weird it must be for you, you know ? But I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just Thanksgiving. 

You smiled and nuzzled his neck as he held you in his arms, tracing circles on your shoulder. 

I love you, Marshall. 

I love you too, Y/N. And I’m really happy we’re celebrating our first holiday together, he added. 

That’s a milestone, you said. 

The first of many, many more, he said with a smile before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

So… What does a typical Thanksgiving look like in the Mathers household ? You asked. What should I expect ? 

Just classic Thanksgiving stuff, you know ? He shrugged. 

Well I only ever celebrated at Talia’s family’s, so… I don’t know, you chuckled. In my experience, it involves Talia’s mom preaching about how good God is and the blessings he gives, lots of cooking, lots of eating, board games and Talia’s sisters arguing over who Jamal prefers ! 

Sometimes I forget you’re not from here, he chortled. No preaching here, but lots of eating, just hanging out together, talking, watching movies, playing games… And I have my basketball tradition with Nate. 

Let me guess ? You usually win ? You asked with a grin. 

I lost the last one, actually, he chuckled. But I’ll definitely humiliate him this year. I have a lady to impress, I can’t lose. 

If you win, I’ll give you something to look forward to, you said teasingly. 

Like what ? He asked with a smirk. 

Win and you’ll see, you replied with a wink. 

I have an entire week left before the game, he said. Believe me, I’m going to train for victory. 

You giggled and kissed him softly before turning the lights off. You were a little reassured and figured that, even though your first Thanksgiving with him would be a bit stressful, you would get to admire him all sweaty on the basketball court and that would be absolutely worth it. 

In the week leading up to Thanksgiving, you were busy with wedding stuff and maid of honor duties. Talia and Jamal had yet to set a date for the wedding but that didn’t prevent your best friend from giving you tasks such as browsing ideas, looking at dress designers and searching for venues. You gladly obliged : you had sent out a few applications for jobs but you hadn’t gotten any answers yet and you were starting to get a bit bored. You would have gladly taken care of the house or garden, but there was staff hired for that and the only thing you could do to help around the house was to cook dinner for Marshall when he came back from work. You enjoyed it but it was clearly not enough to fill your days and you were starting to feel like one of those rich, bored housewives. Helping Talia with the wedding was a welcome distraction and you took the task with the utmost seriousness. You had always been a sucker for weddings and you knew full well it would be the only one you would get to organize so you decided to enjoy it. Every day after she got off from work, your friend would come to your place and your living room was soon filled with bridal magazines and moodboards for what was set to be the wedding of the century. Jamal’s work as a renowned beatmaker allowed them to have a very comfortable lifestyle and he had made clear that, whatever Talia wanted for the wedding, she would get. And she happened to have expensive taste, as well as a never-ending guest list. 

I will never find a venue, she loudly complained. I either hate the places we’re looking at, or they’re simply not big enough. 

You let out a sympathetic laugh. With the immense guest list they had, it was no surprise that finding a venue would be challenging. It seemed like every single person they had ever met would be invited. 

We will find something, you said with a smile. Or maybe you could try and shrink the guest list ? 

Jamal put you up to this, didn’t he ? She sighed. He keeps on telling me that we should keep it small. If it were up to him, we would elope… 

That could be super romantic, you know, you said tentatively. I mean… How many people on your guest list do you actually keep in touch with anyway ? 

I want my princess wedding, she said. You don’t know what it is. You’ll see when you get engaged ! 

I’m not getting married, you reminded her. Marshall doesn’t want to get married. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. 

I can’t believe you’re willing to accept that, though, she said with an eye roll. You, of all people, not getting married ? 

You know I’m a sucker for weddings and all things “traditional family”, you chuckled. But I’d rather never get married and be with Marshall than the other way around. He means more to me than a dress I’d wear for a day. 

You know I love Em, but I just don’t get it, she shrugged before munching on a cupcake you had baked earlier. He’s old, so I get the “not wanting kids” part. But you moved back here for him and you decided to give up on kids to be with him, so the least he could do is put a ring on it, you know ? 

We just got back together, you giggled. And don’t get me wrong, if he asked for my hand, I would say yes. I mean, he is the love of my life. But he seems pretty adamant. And as long as I’m with him, I’m good, so really… Doesn’t matter. 

Still… I never thought you would be ready to renounce marriage and children for any man. 

You could absolutely see where Talia was coming from. You had spent countless hours talking about wedding stuff, since the two of you had met. You had actually bonded over your love of romantic movies and series and watched countless wedding-related TV shows. But you had made your choice and you understood that Marshall didn’t want that. And after all, he was right : you didn’t need to sign a piece of paper to be in a loving, committed relationship. As long as you got to experience life with him and make great memories, you were happy. And as for the fun you would have had planning your own wedding, you would live vicariously through Talia, who would be the most beautiful bride. The conversation shifted and you got back to your order of business : the wedding. You looked at venues while she took a fun break and looked at the Vera Wang website.

I’m going to be sick, Talia muttered after a while. 

Come on, you chuckled. The bridal collections can’t be that bad… 

No, I’m really feeling sick, she said before running to the bathroom. 

You heard her puke profusely and looked at the plate of cupcakes. She had eaten about half a dozen. You had eaten a few yourself, though not nearly as much, and you were feeling fine, so you doubted that your baking was actually to blame. When she came back from the bathroom, she looked rather ill and tired.  

Do you want some tea ? You offered. 

Yes, please, she said in a croaky voice. 

Lay on the couch, I’ll make it. Do you think you caught a stomach bug or something ? 

I don’t know, she said in a small voice. Maybe it’s my period ? I’ve been waiting for it to actually come for a while. 

Wait… You’re late ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You stared at her in disbelief and started to put two and two together. In the past days, she had complained about being tired and bloated, but you didn’t think too much of it. However, now that you knew she was late, it made you think of your own symptoms, from when you were pregnant. That’s how it had started after all : feeling tired, hungry and bloated, with a bit of morning sickness to top it off. 

I can’t be pregnant, Talia said with a terrified look on her face. My mother gave me enough shit about living with Jamal before being married, she will kill me if I have a baby out of wedlock. 

Maybe it’s just a false alarm. You’re using protection, right ? You asked as you tried to reassure her. 

Of course, she said. I mean, except once, but what would be the odds ? 

When was that ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Hum… The night we got engaged ? She said nervously. 

You opened big eyes. The night they got engaged was the night Jamal brought condoms to your room. And doing the math, it would make sense and explain Talia’s period being quite a bit late. On some level… You were the one who stopped taking the pill after your breakup and your best friend might as well be the one who ended up pregnant. You convinced her to take a pregnancy test and the two of you ended up driving to the nearest pharmacy, buying one from every brand. When you got back home, Talia was shaking with nerves. 

You’ll be fine, you said as you gave her a hug. You guys have been together for ages and you guys have talked about having kids before. You know he will be supportive. 

I know but… Right before the wedding ?! She asked nervously. That was not the plan, Y/N. I wanted to look good in my dress, I wanted to show off my figure in a bikini on a Hawaiian beach for my honeymoon… 

Only one way to find out, you said. Now, go and take the test ! 

In true bestie fashion, you sat on the tub while Talia was peeing on the stick. She handed it to you during the mandatory three minute waiting period. You had been there before and you knew damn well how she might be feeling. You held her hand and started to feel overcome with nerves, as well as many other emotions. You were probably a bad friend for this, and you would never confess to feeling this way, but deep down, you were feeling envious. You were content with your life, but some shameful part of you felt like you would have been in her place, if you hadn’t broken up with Simon. You would most likely be engaged, maybe with a rainbow baby on the way. In a way, you were envious. Of course, being with Marshall was everything you wanted and you loved him more than hypothetical plans of having kids or getting married, and Talia was more than deserving of these things, but it was stronger than you. When the alarm on your phone rang, both you and Talia took a deep breath. 

I can’t look at it, she said. 

You sort of have to, you pointed out. You have to know, right ? 

You look at it and tell me. 

You nervously took the stick and looked at it. Two lines. Positive. 

You’re… pregnant, you said in a blank voice. 

She gasped and looked at it herself. She freaked out and refused to believe it, trying to convince the both of you that it might be a false positive and she ended up guzzling almost a gallon of water and taking another test. Then another one. And another one. Of course, all of them had the same result : your best friend was definitely pregnant. 

I’m pregnant, she said in disbelief. I’m really pregnant.

How are you feeling ? You asked. 

I… I can’t believe it, she simply said. I am pregnant. 

She stared at the numerous tests on the sink and put a hand on her belly. She stared at you as tears welled up in her eyes. 

I’m pregnant, she repeated. 

Look, if you don’t feel ready, you can absolutely…, you began. 

No, she said. I think… I’m happy. I’m having a baby with the love of my life. I’m so happy. 

She took you in her arms and held you tightly as she sobbed with happiness. You were emotional - for a lot of different reasons - and you felt a tear roll on your cheek. Talia was the kindest soul you had ever met and you had absolutely no doubt that she would be an amazing mother. She was already so good at taking care of people. 

You’re going to be a splendid mom, you said softly. That baby is going to be so lucky. 

You’re going to be the best aunt, she said emotionally. 

And Jamal is going to be the greatest Dad on earth ! 

Oh my God, I have to tell Jamal ! She said. And my mom ? Do I call my mom ? And the wedding ?! What do I do ?!?! 

You could see her go through so many emotions at once. You tried your best to reassure her and walked her through what she needed to do. First, you told her to go home and break the news to Jamal before telling anyone else. Then, she would have to make some medical appointments to ensure everything was alright with her pregnancy. As for the wedding, you assured her that, whether they wanted to elope or wait until after the baby was born, you would do your best to make sure her dreams came true and that she would have the most beautiful wedding. Whatever she needed, you would be there for her. She hugged you tight before leaving your place, making you promise that you would not tell a soul, not even Marshall. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Marshall sighed in relief as he drove past the gate of his property. The past few days at the studio had been pretty rough : nothing seemed to be going right and it was starting to get on his nerves. The week had started with an artist postponing a recording and writing session they were supposed to have together, as well as a sample clearing issue. However, there was a bigger problem : whenever he wanted to write, he couldn’t bring himself to. Whenever he jotted down some ideas or words on a page, everything felt insanely corny or simply wrong. He knew that was to be expected, though : whenever his personal life was peaceful, that’s when he found it harder to write and, right now, things happened to be going great at home. Every morning, he woke up with the biggest smile on his face, happy to be with the woman he loved. She was truly amazing and he loved living with her. She was easy to get along with and she took care of him by cooking, baking and providing him with comfort whenever he needed. There was literally nothing for him to complain about and, deep down, maybe it was what was lacking. When they were broken up, he was hurting and felt like shit but at least, it was a familiar feeling. As hard as it had been, he had learned to thrive on sadness, hurt, anger and resentment. Happiness, on the other hand, felt foreign to him, especially when it was this peaceful and domestic. There was always this irrational part of him that felt like it was too good to be true and was in panic mode. When he was with Kim, this kind of calm, peace and happiness only meant a storm was coming and that he was about to be brought to his knees. Same when he was a teenager living with his mother : when things were going great, it always meant drama was coming their way. So, obviously, he had developed trust issues and always felt odd when things were going good. Of course, he loved being with Y/N and he would not have it any other way. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety. 

When he got home, he found Y/N reading yet another bridal magazine on the couch while a documentary was playing on the living room TV. He immediately joined her and pulled her in for a hug. Her presence was just what he needed. However, she seemed a bit more distracted than usual. 

How was wedding planning today ? He asked as he settled and pulled her legs over his knees. 

Eventful, she replied. 

Really ? What happened ? Did you argue about the color of the bridesmaids dresses ? He chuckled. 

No, no, she said. I mean, whatever, it’s not really interesting. 

Are you alright ? He asked. 

Yeah… How was your day ? 

She seemed a little nervous and preoccupied, but he figured that Talia was probably to blame. Jamal’s fiancée was amazing, but she did keep Y/N busy with wedding planning and he knew that she was definitely the type to turn into a bridezilla. He told his girlfriend about his day and a meeting he had about upcoming performance dates. He was set to be a headliner for Lollapalooza, not only in the US but also in Europe and South America. He tried to focus on the positive and keep his writing struggles to himself. 

How would you feel about coming with me for Lollapalooza ? He asked. 

I don’t know, she shrugged. 

Come on, he said with a smile. It could be fun. I don’t want to be away from you for too long. And you could also enjoy the festival, see concerts, and we could travel a bit between the performance dates and make it romantic. What do you think ? 

That could be fun, she agreed. I don’t know if I’ll be free, though. 

I think Talia can do without you for a little while, he chuckled. 

No, I meant… From work, she corrected. In case I find something, you know ? But maybe Talia will need me too. I don’t know. 

We’ll see, he said with a smile. Are you sure you’re ok ? You seem… Gloomy ? 

I’m fine, she shrugged. Sorry. I guess I’m just under the weather. 

You’re working too hard for this wedding, he said as he took the magazine from her hands and pulled her closer to him. Come here. 

She hummed and buried her face in his neck. They cuddled in this position for a while and he started to relax. The warmth of her breath on his skin was doing a good job soothing him and making him forget about the frustrations of the day. From the day she walked into his life, she had been a peaceful presence for him and getting to come home to her in the evening was a blessing he was definitely grateful for. He enjoyed being in a bubble with her and being able to forget about the pressure of his work. They didn’t need to speak, her mere presence in the room and her touch were enough for him to be able to ease up. 

I missed you today, he said as he kissed her temple. 

I missed you too, she replied. 

If you didn’t have that appointment tomorrow, I’d take you to work with me, he continued. I could use your hugs throughout the day. 

What appointment ? She asked, seemingly confused. 

Your OB/GYN appointment for your contraception. Isn’t that tomorrow ?

Oh, right, she said sheepishly. I forgot about that. 

Are you ok, babe ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. I mean… If you don’t want to take the pill, it’s fine, we can stick to condoms. 

No, no, it’s not that, she replied. 

What’s wrong, then ? 

Nothing, she said. Sorry. Mind if I go lie down before preparing dinner ? I don’t feel too well. 

No, of course not, he said softly. Do you want me to come with you ? 

Don’t worry, she said. You can stay here. 

She got up and kissed his cheek before heading to their bedroom. Something definitely seemed off. Ever since they got back from Europe, she had been in a rather good mood, even considering the situation with her Dad. Now, she almost seemed depressed and he had no idea why. He decided to let her rest, figuring that she was probably just tired or that her period might be on the way. A couple of hours later, he went to see her and ask if she was hungry. She immediately offered to cook something for him, even though she didn’t plan on eating, but he told her not to bother. Y/N was laying in bed, wearing one of his tee-shirts, doom scrolling on her phone, the preoccupied look still on her face. He kissed her and went to the kitchen for a quick sandwich and a can of diet coke. When he was done, he threw his can in the trash and saw three sticks that looked all too familiar : pregnancy tests. Ever since he got back with Y/N, they’d had protected sex and, on one occasion when the condom broke, she had gotten emergency contraception. There was no way she could be pregnant. So why the hell had she taken these tests ? In a matter of seconds, his heart had started pounding in his chest. He nervously grabbed one of the tests, hoping it was negative. But there were clearly two lines. Positive. So were the two other ones. He felt terrified and dizzy. That had to be a nightmare. He could not have a baby. Not at fifty-two. Not when he had sworn that he would not have any more children. If anything, he was the last person on earth that should have kids. He loved his daughters, obviously, and even though raising them was his biggest accomplishment, it was also the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Seeing the two lines on the pregnancy tests gave him flashbacks of all the sleepless nights he’d had, tossing and turning, doubting himself and being terrified to mess things up. There was no way he would be able to do it all over again. Now that his daughters were grown-up and out of the house, he wanted to take it easy, enjoy life with Y/N and be able to do whatever he wanted. The last thing he expected was to change diapers, get up in the middle of the night and just struggle all over again. He took his face in his hands. He could not do this, and especially not with Y/N. She had not even been sober for two years. He had been there with Kim and he knew what it was like to see the mother of his children relapse and struggle with sobriety. No kid ever deserved this and he was simply not strong enough to raise a kid with another addict. Not again. He tried to pace himself but he couldn’t. He had to talk to her. He did not understand. Why hadn’t she told him she was late ? When did she take the test ? Why didn’t she tell him she was pregnant ? He had so many questions. He grabbed the sticks and walked to the bedroom to confront her.

Please tell me it’s a prank, he said as he walked in. Please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me they’re fake. 

Fake what ? What prank ? She asked as she looked up. There’s no prank. 

So it’s real ?! He blurted out. How long did you think you could hide this from me ?! 

Hide what from you ? She asked as her eyebrows knitted. 

THIS ! He yelled as he threw the pregnancy tests on the bed.

He was livid. His anxiety had simply turned to anger. The idea that she could have the audacity to pretend not to know what he was talking about was driving him crazy. Had she even taken the plan B pill ? He couldn’t think straight anymore. He felt betrayed and trapped. He could see her face change as she saw the pregnancy tests. Her face started to crumble and tears started to roll on her cheeks. But if she thought he would fall for it, she was wrong. No amount of crying would work and she was not getting away with it. 

Don’t even try that shit with me, Y/N, he said coldly. You don’t get to pretend you have no idea when I’m talking about when I just found these fucking pregnancy tests. And you don’t get to cry when you’re the one who tried to hide that shit for me. What were you fucking thinking ?! Were you waiting for the legal delay for an abortion to be over ? For an ultrasound to soften me up ?! 

W-What ? She asked. No, Marshall, it’s not… 

What is it, huh ?! Fuck, we talked about this, we fucking broke up over this, so don’t tell me you didn’t fucking know how I feel about having kids, he continued. I’m not having another kid. Especially not with you. When you get to the doctor tomorrow, you better ask him to point you to the nearest abortion clinic ! 

She stared at him in shock. Her mouth was slightly open, she was still crying but she looked in disbelief. What was she thinking ? That he would jump up at the news ? He shook his head and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It’s Talia, she said. She…

Of course it’s Talia, he scoffed. Of course your stupid friend put you up to this. Do you know the number of times she told me to suck it up and agree to marriage, babies and shit and get you back ? I gotta hand it to her, she’s fucking persistent. Though I must admit I didn’t think she would put you up to this. 

At this point, he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying, just spitting his words in a spiteful way. As seconds went by, he was getting more and more worked up. He didn’t care about this pregnancy. He did not want to. He simply refused this possibility. There was no way he was having another baby. He loved Y/N but there was no way he would have a kid with her. 

You’re not the first person to try this with me, you know ? He spat. I should have known better. But you’re the last person I would have expected to try and fuck me ovI- 

I’M NOT PREGNANT ! Y/N finally yelled before throwing the tests back in his face. 

You’re not ?! He asked in disbelief. Whose fucking tests are they then ?! 

TALIA’S ! TALIA IS PREGNANT,  YOU ASSHOLE ! NOT ME ! 

He felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him. He didn’t realize he needed to breathe that much, but it felt like he had a whole bottle of oxygen poured into his lungs. He felt at least thirty pounds lighter. Y/N, on the other hand, looked absolutely livid. And why wouldn’t she ? He realized he had basically insulted her, blinded by anger. As his mind got a little clearer, he recognized he might have gone a little overboard. 

Thank God, he sighed. Babe, I…

Cut it, she said as she got up from bed and started to leave the room. 

Wait, he pleaded as he grabbed her arm. 

She jerked her arm and groaned before going to the corridor. He followed her, trying to apologize and get her to talk to him. 

Y/N, I’m sorry, he said sheepishly. 

Please, she scoffed. You’re not sorry. 

I am, he assured her. Nerves got the best of me. I’m really sorry. 

Well, at least I got to know what you really think of me, she said. 

Where are you going ? He asked as she went down the stairs. 

On the couch. I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t sleep in the same room as people who think I am capable of betraying them, she spat. 

I didn’t say that, he defended himself knowing full well he had, indeed, said that. 

You did, Marshall, she said coldly. You literally said I tried to fuck you over. And not only do you think I am a terrible person, you also insulted my best friend. 

You’re not sleeping in the living room, it’s stupid, he said. 

Well I would have appreciated waiting until tomorrow to gather my things and figure out my next move, she pointed out. 

Your next… Y-You want to… leave ?! 

She did not answer. She only shrugged. Her demeanor and gaze were cold. She was clearly pissed, understandably so. But… Leaving ? She couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t lose her. He had promised to himself he would do everything in his power not to. The idea of her leaving put him in a state of panic and brought him back to their breakup, to that fateful Saturday morning, over pancakes, about seven or eight months ago. 

You can’t leave. 

Why should I stay ?! She spat. Why should I stay with someone who thinks I am capable of betraying them ? 

I didn’t mean that, he pleaded. I panicked, I’m sorry. Babe, I love you. I know you’d never… Fuck, I… Don’t leave me. Please. 

Let’s be clear, she said as she looked at him dead in the eyes. The only reason I’m still standing here is because my best friend is telling her future husband that they’re having a child and there is no way in hell I’m ruining that moment for her. Otherwise, I’d be over there and back in my old room already. 

Don’t do this, he said on the verge of tears. Please don’t leave me. I just… You seemed a little off, today, and you said it had been eventful, and when I saw the tests, I… I don’t know, I panicked. 

The reason I was off is because my best friend just told me she was pregnant, you dumbass ! She yelled. I was off because I had to stand in my own bathroom and hold these fucking pregnancy tests and see that they were positive and they’re not mine ! 

She was starting to cry again. She mumbled something in French and went to the living room, as he followed in her step. She sat on the couch and brought her knees to her chin. He stood there, watching her. 

Just leave, she said. 

No, he replied. I want to talk about it. I want to make things right between us. I’m so sorry… 

You want to talk ? Let’s talk then, she said sarcastically. You said you’re not having another kid, especially not with me. What was that ? 

I just don’t want more kids, he said evasively. I’m in my fifties, I’ve had three daughters, I don’t want more. 

I know that, she said as she rolled her eyes. And I respect that. But answer the damn question, Marshall. What did you mean about me ?! 

It doesn’t matter, he pleaded. It really doesn’t. You don’t want a kid, do you ?! 

Believe me, the last thing on my wish list is to have a baby, especially with you, she replied. 

Then it doesn’t matter, he simply said. I was out of line, I shouldn’t have accused you and I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed, I’ll make it up to you. 

Just say it, she said firmly. If you don’t, I swear to God, I’m packing a suitcase, calling a cab and booking a hotel room. 

I meant addicts like us don’t get to make that kind of mistakes, Y/N, he sighed. Addicts are shitty parents. I should know. 

Wow, she simply scoffed. 

She was staring at him with a look of both pain and disdain. He had obviously struck a chord. She closed her eyes and sighed. 

Why do you even bother with me ? She questioned. Why did you take me back ? 

What do you mean ? He asked nervously. I love you, I want to be with you. 

Why would you want to be with someone who you obviously think is not good enough ?! That’s just stupid, she pointed out. Why bother ? 

What ?! No, Y/N, I don’t… Of course you’re good enough. 

You know, I’m fine with your choices, she said with a hint of sadness. I respect that you’re done with marriage, and that you’re done with having kids. But you thinking I shouldn’t get to have children ? That fucking hurts. 

I’m sorry… 

STOP ! She screamed. You’re not sorry. I was ready to renounce having kids. Because I love you more than any unborn child. But do you even realize how much it hurts to know that if I had actually gotten accidentally pregnant, the person I sacrificed everything to be with would not support me ?! 

He felt his heart strain a little. Seeing the pain on her face made him feel like the worst asshole in the world. To be fair, if she had actually been pregnant, he would have supported her. Sure, he thought abortion would be a better option, but he would never force her. If they had been in that situation - and thank God they weren’t -  he would have stood by her side and supported her to the best of his abilities. He had simply been mean and stupid. Once again, anger had gotten the best of him. 

I would have been there, he said. Of course I would have been. I love you, Y/N. 

But you think I would be a shitty mom, she pointed out. 

I’ve seen addiction ruin families, he explained. It certainly ruined mine, in more ways than one. 

You still think of me as an addict, don’t you ? She asked on the verge of tears. No matter how long I can stay sober, you think I can’t be trusted ever again ? 

I-I don’t know, he replied honestly. In my book, an addict is an addict. I still think of myself as an addict. It doesn’t mean people can’t improve or recover but… It’s tricky. But I love you. I love you more than life itself, baby. 

She looked at him and simply shrugged. No matter what he said, he got the feeling that it would not matter much. He hated that angry side of himself. It wasn’t the first time that his anger got the best of him and ruined everything. He had been to therapy for his anger for years but, right when he thought he had made progress, it had to come and bite him in the ass once again. 

Please talk to me, he begged. Please say something. 

I have my appointment tomorrow morning, she simply said. I’ll pack my things when I get back. I will be out of here by the time you get back from work tomorrow.

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @wikiangela 😘

Haven’t had the brain capacity to get much writing done since Friday, but I did manage to tippity type a little something something for LA Lonely 🏙️ . So have some of Buck’s inner self deprecating thoughts.

Prev snippet here

As the weekend rolls into Monday, Buck tries not to think about Eddie but somehow the guy has burrowed under his skin, an itch that Buck can’t scratch. He finds himself doing a double take at every fit, 6 foot brunette man that he encounters while on a call, both disappointed and relieved that they aren’t who he’s hoping for.

Not that he’s hoping to run into Eddie again. The guy didn’t leave his number or take Buck’s, and Buck’s been playing this game for so long he knows what that means. Because Buck is only good for one night, maybe a weekend if he’s lucky. No one wants to take a chance on him.

He’s used to it, so he doesn’t understand why he can’t get Eddie out of his head. The sex was good - incredible actually - and Eddie was hot. And kind. And his smile could light up an entire room. And Buck really needed to get a grip.

Eddie had his fun and then he left. Just like everyone else.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @lover-of-mine @wikiangela @wildlife4life @athenagranted @watchyourbuck @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @goforkinard @bigfootsmom @bidisasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @evankinard @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @tizniz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @shortsighted-owl @sibylsleaves @donationwayne @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 @king-buckley @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @neverevan @nmcggg @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @monsterrae1 @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz and as always, anyone who wants to join in and share something -> consider this your official tag.

Also sorry if I forgot anyone .. there’s been a few url changes and it’s gotten a bit confusing 🫤

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Intertwining Symphonies || Chapter 1: Sunday at the Park with Robyn

Summary:

A small mishap at the park leads to new friendships and an invitation.

Note:

I originally wrote this as a gift to @patchyegg87 <3

I hope you like it, too!

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,293

Square/Prompt: B2 - Free Space |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Family, Family Fluff, Ice Cream, Friendship, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Kid Fic, Single Parents

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59036896

—

“Can I get both vanilla and chocolate?” Robyn was practically bouncing on his heels, barely holding himself still enough to stay in the queue with Hob.

“Of course, duck,” Hob smiled at the sight of his son still bursting at the seams with energy even after running around the park for almost an hour already.

Hob had packed the usual snacks for Robyn, but today an ice cream truck stopped by and his son practically dragged him over.

It was finally their turn to place their order, and Hob ordered a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate in the biggest cone size available.

As he got his wallet from his pocket, something blunt hit the back of his head.

“Ow!” Hob instinctively put a hand up to where the pain was beginning to sting and turned around to see what happened.

A man wearing a black shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows was jogging towards them. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said in a voice deeper than Hob would have expected and picked up a blue plastic Frisbee from the ground. “My son and I had been playing. Please, let me pay for the ice cream,” he took his wallet out.

“What? No, that’s not necessary,” Hob quickly paid for it himself and handed the cone to Robyn.

“Are you okay, dad?” Robyn asked in concern as he took it.

“Yeah, no harm done,” Hob smiled at his son before turning to the man. “Really, it’s alright.”

Their small group moved to the side when other people queued up at the truck, then a boy with fair skin and raven hair ran up to the man and partially hid behind him, peeking up at Hob.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” he mumbled.

“This is my son,” the man put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s our first time playing Frisbee and I’m afraid we require much practice.”

“I didn’t mean to throw it so far,” the boy looked down at his shoes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hob said reassuringly. “My son hit me with a baseball once while we were playing. That’s just part of it.”

“Ooh! Can we play Frisbee with them, dad?” Robyn asked through a mouthful of chocolate ice cream. “We’ve never played that before.”

Hob looked at the man questioningly. Robyn had played with other kids at the park before, but none of them looked as shy as the boy did.

The man looked down at his son. “What do you say, dove? Would you like to play with them?”

The boy nodded with a small smile. “Yes. I would.”

“Yay!” Robyn cheered, raising his arms in the air.

“Hey, careful not to spill your ice cream,” Hob chided fondly.

“I’m Morpheus,” the man held out his hand. “This is my son Orpheus. And yes, I am aware of our awfully similar names,” he smiled.

Hob shook the man’s hand and returned the smile. “That just means it’ll be easier for me to remember. I’m Hob, and this is Robyn.”

“Robyn with a Y!” Robyn declared, already halfway through his ice cream cone. “I know a spot where we can have lots of room to play. Come on, before the other kids arrive!” He ran off towards a clearing in the park.

Orpheus looked up at his father questioningly, who smiled and nodded. Then the boy took off after Robyn.

“You’ve really never played Frisbee before with your son?” Morpheus asked as they followed their kids at a more leisurely place while keeping them in sight.

Hob shook his head. “Nope. We played catch and baseball, but we haven’t tried Frisbee yet. What games do you and Orpheus usually play?”

Morpheus fell silent for a moment, his long eyelashes catching the light of the sun as he blinked. “I have not had much opportunity to spend time with him. Until recently. All games are still new to us.”

Hob could sense that there was a story there, but he had no business prying so he just offered an encouraging smile. “Great, there’s a lot to discover. Let’s start with Frisbee.”

So they did; Hob and Robyn against Morpheus and Orpheus.

It seemed that Orpheus had already learned a great deal from his mistake earlier, as he was much better at it now and the disc rarely got too far away whenever it was his turn to throw.

Robyn was the better catcher. He had more than enough energy to dive and jump just to catch the disc, though he often got too excited whenever it was his turn to throw and his aim went wide.

Hob and Morpheus weren’t much good at either throwing or catching, but their children didn't mind and in fact even evidently enjoyed seeing their dads fumble.

Hob shared the biscuits and fruit juices that he packed, which kept up morale and started a conversation between Robyn and Orpheus about their favourite snacks.

Afterwards, Hob and Morpheus sat on a bench to catch their breaths while their children played with the others at the playground.

“I cannot remember the last time I ran around so much,” Morpheus said before taking a sip from a water bottle. “Children truly have an indefinite repository of energy.”

Hob chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead with a hand towel that he always brought whenever going to the park. “You don’t need to tell me. I’m glad that those two are getting along well, though.”

Morpheus nodded. “Indeed. It is good to see Orpheus so cheerful.” A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched his son laugh brightly while on the seesaw with Robyn.

“He would remember this, you know,” Hob told him. “You brought him to this park. He would ask you again, and you’d have more time to spend together.”

“I certainly hope so. After the divorce, I got so caught up in my work that he often stayed with his mother. It’s only recently that I…” Morpheus trailed off, fidgeting with the bottle cap. “I apologise. I do not intend to spring this all upon you.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Hob reassured him. “I’m divorced with Robyn’s mom too, and at first it was challenging to figure it all out. But you’ll get there.”

Morpheus looked at him, then at his backpack of provisions. “You seem to be rather well-adjusted now.”

Hob chuckled. “It just takes practice, my friend.”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly to the side. “We are… friends?”

“Um…” Hob blinked. “Yeah, if you want to?”

“Dad!” Robyn came running towards them, towing Orpheus in hand. “Can I invite Orpheus to my birthday next week? I wanna show him my comics!”

Morpheus turned to Hob in surprise, looking just as uncertain as Hob felt when Robyn asked if they could all play Frisbee.

“Of course you can, duck,” Hob smiled at his son and Morpheus. “Orpheus can bring anything he wants to show you, too.”

“Father!” Orpheus’ face brightened as he seemed to realise something. “I wish to have Robyn listen to our song! He said they have a piano!”

“Oh I can’t play it,” Hob quickly said, smiling sheepishly. “It’s my mum’s. We have it in our house because she was a pianist, and she still likes to play whenever she visits.”

Morpheus’ expression was fond. “I play the piano as well. If you would allow it, I can play Orpheus’ song so he may have Robyn listen to it.”

“Sure, no problem!” Hob said perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He loved music, and shared Robyn’s excitement with making new friends. “Um, should we exchange numbers, then? I’ll text you the address.”

“Of course,” Morpheus smiled as he took out his phone. “It’s what friends do, is it not?”

—

Note:

Probably the most chill Dreamling fic I've written so far. They deserve to relax and have fun every once in a while~

Chapter title is from the musical "Sunday in the Park with George".

—

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[eternaproject]

eterna but the context went down with the ship

here are some out of context quotes from eterna because i love to have fun

No crate is safe from BigDick6969’s rampage, not even mine.

“You look less sexual than usual,” I tell the hallucination. “Thank you…?”

Know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, as the ancient poem goes.

(I didn’t eat the wax, by the way.) (Not after last time.)

Mommy’s Special Juice hadn’t done anything to deserve the torturous shit-kicking Janice’s eyes were delivering.

“This is Chia, my very sexy and smart lover with whom I share a deep, spiritual connection. Did I mention how hot and cool and brilliant they are? Which comes in handy a lot, because I am very stupid and bad.”

Super foreboding. Very atmospheric. Five stars.

 I think Chia would call him “new money”. Chia has called him a “pathetic, limp-dicked, capitalist fuckwad”, whatever that means.

And, better yet, just to the right of the me-shaped hole in the gray cobblestone is a perfectly good, unlocked door that I definitely could’ve opened instead of Kool-Aid man-ing it through the lovely stonemasonry I just destroyed.

You know what? I think I hate tunnels.

Goddamn, though, like seriously. I go without food or water for, like, forty-eight hours and I’m clipping through walls and drinking random glowing juice.

So I guess I get to figure out what long-term consequences that’ll have. Science! Wow!

I mean, what do I know? I’ve never had a dungeon before.

Though, does she still want to kill me? We haven’t discussed it in a while, so I can’t be totally sure.

“The rations are gross and also not shaped like cute little faces.”

I mean, I’ve only met, like, two children before, and we were not particularly close. I’m pretty sure I robbed one of them.

I guess she’s freaking out because she’s never teleported before. Haha! Loser!

“I didn’t know it could get bigger! Neat!” They pause. And then, defeated, “That’s what she said…”

“Clay, this is so very sweet of you, but I really need you to kill this monster right now.”

kinda wanna make this a tag game tbh!!! so i'm tagging @of-potions-and-blades-official, @sarnai4, and @did-i-do-this-write!!

Eterna is a queer sci-fi fantasy about heroes, villains, and the terror of falling in love. Follow this blog for more!

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #5 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: your school holds a practice match with kyoto, and two second-years give your team a little trouble.

word count: 3k

cw/tags: language, jjk volleyball au, mentions of food and eating, eventual best friends to lovers (not this chapter BUT WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS I SWEAR), satoru pulls another your mom joke

note: HERE IT IS the long awaited part 5 :D introducing hitter!todo and setter!kamo to rival your fav hitter/setter duos on the tokyo team. long chapter, sorry in advance but i hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated !! thank you for all of the support you've given this series :)

“We haven’t held a practice match with Kyoto in years, right?”

“That is correct.”

“And, in that time, have they ever had a different coach?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, I was just–”

“They’re wondering why ol’ Yoshinobu looks like he was present for the Big Bang.” Your team’s captain finishes your explanation from behind you, much to the amusement of Yaga. You meet his gaze incredulously, silently asking why he wasn’t with the rest of the team warming up. He shrugs and gives you a signature lopsided grin that makes your heart do a somersault. “You’re not wrong, though. That man has more wrinkles than a wet paper towel.” 

Your coach draws his mouth into a tight line to suppress a chuckle. “I cannot disagree.”

“Yaga!” A surprised laugh finally slips past your lips while Satoru settles into his place at your side, casually stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His electric-blue eyes survey the players running serve drills, cool and calculated. “Yuta’s floats have improved tremendously,” you comment, and Satoru hums in agreement. His eyes narrow on a ball striking the top edge of the net and barely falling over to the other side. You feel Yaga intake a deep breath in preparation to yell directions, but Satoru beats him to it, airily reminding Yuuji to take a running start before jumping. Your eyebrows subtly raise in surprise seeing him take initiative and you can’t help smiling at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“Shouldn’t you be on the court, capt–” His head snaps in your direction, laser focused on the last word that you cut off just in time. His eyes twinkle with arrogant satisfaction and you stick your tongue out defiantly.

“What was that, my lovely manager?” He cups his hand to his ear and leans in closer, movements animated like a cartoon character. 

You push his body away but he doesn’t budge. “I was asking why you’re not on the court warming up with the rest of the team, stupid.”

He hums skeptically. “Sure.” You roll your eyes and shake your head slightly in exasperation, wishing again for that I am done with Gojo Satoru bumper sticker. Yaga shoots Satoru a look over your head that makes him recoil a little bit, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re really wondering, I’m reading Kyoto’s players.” 

“The third years?” You nod toward the tall players slamming powerful serve after powerful serve toward your team’s side. 

“No, they haven’t been a threat since I was a first-year. Their serves are intimidation tactics.” Your eyebrows furrow confusedly and you track Satoru’s dark eyes. “I’m reading them.” His fingers rest on your head and gently rotate your gaze to two players leisurely prepping serves. In any other situation, you’d swat his hand away, but he was surprisingly correct. It hadn’t occurred to you to analyze the other team; your focus was preoccupied on the improvements of your own players. But, now that they were directly in your line of sight, you were able to properly deduce why Satoru had taken interest in them. “See ‘em now?”

“Yeah, I do.” The one closer to you was an average height but built. Thick, corded muscle ran over his biceps and calves, flexing as he stretched his neck and legs. He bounces the ball he holds on the ground a few times, clapping to himself routinely. Then, when a scan reveals none of your players are watching him, he fires off a serve neatly landing on the backline of the court. Your players don’t blink an eye as they’re still focused on warming up, but you finally understand why Satoru was watching him. His serves were like a bullet, precise and gone in a blink as if he teleported the ball wherever he wanted. 

“Who is he?”

“His name’s Todo. One of two second-year prodigies that’ll carry Kyoto to Nationals if we don’t stop them first.”  

“He’s that good?”

“Him and that one, over there.” He points to a player tucked into the back corner of the gym, spinning the ball on a delicate finger. He was one of the tallest on the team but you didn’t notice him because of his place in the shadows. Cloudy gray eyes shined as his captain announced the start of spiking drills and you gasped when he set the ball with accuracy nearly on-par with Satoru. The ball moved in a straight, unwavering line, like an arrow that halted just in time for a hitter to punch it over the net. “That’s Kamo. Megs and I have known him since middle school. He’s talented, though his family is a little wacky.” 

“Satoru, you can’t just say things like that,” you whisper, begging him to drop the volume of his voice a little.

He doesn’t. “It’s true. Some relatives kicked him and his mom out when he was little.”

“What does that have to do with volleyball?” 

“Nothing. It’s just trivia. We’ll be fine, either way.” He smirks down at you and you understand. Even if he was reading the Kyoto team, he wasn’t worried. He was confident and self-assured as always, but had a certain determination in his eye that told you he wasn’t going to hold back despite it being a practice match. His lean bicep bumps your shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if you’re nervous, I’ll just piss off Suguru again. Get him fired up, you know?”

You shake your head adamantly, one hand coming up to cover your face as you squeeze your eyes shut at the memory of running practice in Yaga’s absence. “Please do not. I don’t want to have to drag you out by your earlobes again.” 

“You had to do what?” You and Satoru both stiffen, completely forgetting that Yaga was listening to your conversation the entire time. You attempt to stutter out an explanation while your captain makes a quick escape, bowing unceremoniously in salute and running to join the rest of his players. Soon after, Satoru is pulling the team into a huddle, murmuring warnings about Todo and Kamo and reminding everyone that they’re paying for dinner if they lose. However, instead of groans and protests, you watch Satoru light a decisive fire in his players’ eyes by encouraging them to try the new techniques they’ve been working on.

“If you fail,” he said, “that’s okay.” A lanky arm slapped Suguru on the back and another pulled a tense Nanami closer to his side. “We’ll be here to support you. So, don’t lose.” The team’s fists punch up into the air and you beam at their earnestness. Yaga seemed pleased as well, muttering something under his breath about someone finally getting through his stubbornness. 

Kyoto wins the first set, but Tokyo pulls back ahead to snag the second, leaving the third set as a tiebreaker. Between scribbling point counts and player stats in your notebook, you keep a keen eye on the two players Satoru was talking about earlier. Todo was a talented player, though he had an odd habit of clapping for himself before every serve. You also caught Megumi scowling as Todo talked up Yuuji between plays, catching parts of their conversation revolving around tastes in women and TV shows. Kamo, on the other hand, was relatively quiet. He didn’t speak unless it was a recommendation on strategy or directing the ball to a hitter. Megumi was competing head-to-head with Kamo often, despite Satoru’s attempts to draw attention away from his underclassman. He had a weird fascination with Megumi, you could tell, as he targeted him for 90% of his spikes. Todo and Kamo proved to be a threatening duo in the same way Satoru and Suguru or Megumi and Yuuji were; to your amusement, they also bickered just as much. 

During the last break before the third set while you hand out water and towels, Suguru follows behind you like a duckling, waiting for you to have a moment to talk. 

You catch his eye over your shoulder as you drop towels into the laundry basket. “Did I forget that special flavor thing for yours again? I swear I remembered to put it in because of the one that goes in Satoru’s.” 

“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He crosses his arms and his sharp eyebrows pull together in deep thought, taking a deep breath. 

You tilt your head to the side curiously, concerned about what was irking him so much in the middle of a match. “Is everything okay, Su?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” You raise your eyebrows in anticipation of his explanation. “I was just wondering what you said to Satoru that made him like…that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like acting as a serious captain.” 

“Oh.” You’re speechless for a moment, unable to string together a satisfactory answer. “I just told him that he needed to try a little harder.” It was the truth but for some reason, you still felt you were holding something back. 

“For your sake?”

“No, for the team’s sake. Why would it be for my sake?” Suguru is silent, eyes widening ever so slightly like he’d accidentally revealed a secret, glancing behind you at the open air. You feel confident enough to press further. “Suguru, why would he try more for my sake?” 

In a blink, he schools his face into careful blankness, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t know. It was a weird question, sorry.”

“What was a weird question?” Satoru’s voice pipes up from over your shoulder and you jump. “You can’t be asking people weird questions, Suguru. It’s impolite.” 

“You don’t even know the question, idiot.” Indignancy washes over Suguru’s blank features. “What would you know about manners?”

“Ask your mother what she thinks of my manners–”

“Can we please not do this again?” Your hands press against their chests and you laugh nervously. “It’s a miracle all three of us survived last time.”

“Fine. After all…” Satoru’s voice drops to a menacing volume. 

“Kyoto has a set to lose.” 

The third set made you slightly dizzy as both teams were losing stamina. You didn’t know much about Kyoto when it was exhausted, but you knew your team when it was down. Yuuji’s serves started getting closer to the top edge of the net again, Megumi’s sets were messier, and Panda’s blocks were increasingly hole-filled. Suguru glared across the court at the other team, moisture glistening on his forehead from effort. Even Nanami was winded, wiping sweat from the lenses of his glasses and shaking his head furiously to force his mind back into the game. Your team played their hardest, as did their opponents, but a glance at the score showed 12-10 in favor of Kyoto. With only a handful of points left to win, it looked like Tokyo would be paying for dinner. 

Still, as much as they tried, Kyoto was no match for Satoru’s sheer will. 

Where the rest of his team was panting and on the brink of collapsing, Satoru was just getting warmed up. His serves were at their most powerful and his sets stayed accurate as Kamo’s declined in quality. His fists opened and closed as the score tied up at 13-13, a habit he only did when he was ready for a fight. Megumi pulls a ridiculously successful dump that has you cheering from Yaga’s side, pulling Tokyo ahead 14-13. With the last point on the line, you caught Satoru muttering something in Suguru’s ear, to which Suguru’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head no, continuing to protest at Satoru’s back as his captain broadcasted a hand signal you’d never seen before and prepared possibly the last serve of the match. 

“It’ll be fine, Suguru! We’re the strongest!” He reassures his nauseous-faced hitter as his opponents snicker, and gives you a quick wink before serving the ball at 45% of his power. Your eyebrows skyrocket in shock as Kyoto receives it easily and makes to tie the score again. What the hell was he doing? Was he purposefully trying to tie up the score? Kamo smirks as he gives a practically perfect set to Todo, who blasts it straight down. You flinch and wait for the gut-churning sound of the ball hitting the floor, but it doesn’t come. Yuuji’s forearm slides under the ball just in time, and he rolls to the side. The receive isn’t the cleanest, dropping toward the middle of the court. 

“You better know what you’re doing!” Suguru calls after his captain, who sprints from the back left corner diagonally toward the net. Suguru mirrors this action from the right corner and like a machine, they screech to a stop in the middle and use that momentum to throw themselves up toward the net. With a mischievous grin, Satoru calls out Inumaki’s name, who’s already in the air from the backline as the ball carefully falls into the libero’s outstretched fingers. 

Your body finds itself standing on its own as Inumaki sets it right to Satoru’s open palm where your captain pulls the nastiest cross shot you’d ever witnessed. Your throat rips a shocked scream that blends seamlessly with the rest of the players’ exclamations of awe. Yaga’s mouth hangs open like a fish, as does Yoshinobu’s while your team swarms around their captain. Suguru, from the other end of the net, appears on the verge of passing out but still finds his hand proudly clapped with Inumaki’s. When Satoru’s eyes find yours, you can’t remember the last time he smiled at you so blindingly, nor can you remember a time beaming just as happily.

He skips the joint dinner between Tokyo and Kyoto, humbly excusing himself when you leave and announcing something about walking you home safely. He falls into step next to you, shoes tapping on the sidewalk in sync with yours. 

“You’re not gonna get dinner with the team?” You ask, well aware that he wouldn’t have attended unless you were there too. 

“Meh,” he drawls. “Yuuji can fend for himself for a night against Todo, and Megumi needs to learn to play nice with Kamo.” 

The corner of your mouth turns up and you find yourself admiring the way the moonlight glittered in Satoru’s eyes. “You say as if they’re your children.”

“Are they not? I am a single father.” 

You giggle. “Yeah, you definitely are. I just didn’t think that, with your extroverted ass, you’d skip an outing with such a large group.”

His mouth quirks carefreely, beautiful eyes tracing constellations in the night. “We have a tradition, don’t we?”

“Oh, you’re not going to ask that one person I got mad about the other night?” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, and Satoru points at you accusingly. 

“So you were mad! I knew it!” 

“You brought up replacing me with some random stranger; of course I was mad!” You point back at him, poking his chest. He cries out in fake pain, flailing his limbs like an octopus. “I like spending time with you, you know. Even when I don’t tell you.” Your voice trails off and you look anywhere but his face, embarrassed. 

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, I know. For the record, I like spending time with you too.” He exhales tiredly. “Why’d you think you’re the only one I wanted to get dinner with tonight?”

“Because you like me better than everybody else,” you croon, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. You expect him to recoil in faux-fear; however, your heart skips as he steps closer and peers down at you. 

“Exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.” His voice is soft with something like exasperation, but the tenderness is gone in a snap. “However, I’d like to do something different tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Depends on what it is. Are you going to make me eat something I don’t like?”

“No,” he replies, drawing out the last vowel for emphasis. “I’d never.” You look at him skeptically, remembering the time he made you eat a barbecue-flavored cricket. The memory must have occurred to him at the same time and he matches your skeptical expression. “Don’t look at me like that; you said you liked it.” Your mouth opens in retaliation, but he isn’t finished. 

“Let’s go somewhere nicer tonight, not just shitty fast food.”

“I thought you loved shitty fast food.”

“I do, but today is a day of celebration! It demands a different meal than burgers.” He cringes and sticks his tongue out in mock disgust. 

“So, what? You want slightly more expensive burgers?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” He runs an elegant hand through his hair and you fight the sudden urge to weave your fingers in his. “Let’s go somewhere nice. I’ll even pay.” 

You scoff. “With what money?” He’s quiet again, tilting his head back and forth like a kid caught with too much candy. You understand without a word, mainly because this situation occurred once before. “Satoru!” 

His arms gesture to open air defensively. “It was right there!”

“You don’t remember the last time you stole it?”

“If I recall correctly, he wasn’t that mad that I borrowed it.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was there with you, and don’t try to say it was borrowing! If you weren’t related to him, it would be considered theft.” 

“What dear old dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, babe.” Your face heats at how easily the pet name slips from his pretty mouth and you pray he doesn’t notice. “So? What do you say? I promise to take full responsibility and also eat anything you don’t like.” His finger crosses an “X” over his heart and you can’t resist the genuine excitement on his face. 

“Fine. But I’m paying for dessert.”

He stamps his foot in childish protest. “That’s not how this–”

“I don’t care if it’s not how it works, Satoru. Consider it payback for not asking that rando to dinner.” 

Even after he walks you home and leaves you a smiling, feeling-filled mess at your windowsill, you’re left wondering who that mystery person is.

[lingeringmirth]

BOOBIES!

written for ‘top’, the ay prompt of @steddiemicrofic wc: 510 | rated: m | tags: female steve harrington, thirsting eddie munson, robin being so done, a poor tube-top used for nefarios purposes | cw: none

A/N: I actually have no idea how popular tube-tops actually were in the 80's, but this idea wouldn't leave my head.

Eddie's thirsting contained under the cut, unlike Stephanie's breasts.

-

Stephanie Harrington is wearing a tube-top and Eddie is not equipped to handle it.

He’s thought, erring heavily to his detriment, that he’s finally gotten over his crush. Yet, it’s now the summer of 1986 and he’s survived a mob and Vecna, but it’ll be Stephanie who’ll be the death of him. He is just a man after all.

Her scars are in full view and she’s not at all self-conscious about them, not in the way Eddie is over his own. She’s also softened a bit, allowed herself to indulge. Her breasts have never looked better… or more likely to pop out from her tube-top, the fabric holding on for dear life.

Eddie hopes he’s there when they do and feels only a bit ashamed over it.

The worst thing about it all is that Stephanie knows exactly what effect it has on him. But she hasn’t said anything. It’s just all long glances, sighs and leaning juuuuust a bit too far forward, showing off her cleavage, the tops of her full breasts aching for freedom, biting her lip.

She even goes as far as eat ice cream messily, letting it melt and trail down her forearm, then, seemingly clumsily raising it up and licking it off her wrist and… dropping most of it onto her front.

’Whoopsie! I’m so clumsy!’

She’s affecting an innocent air, like she’s a ditzy teenager, not a hardened monster-fighter-veteran who bears her battle scars unself-consciously and looks insanely hot while doing so.

Eddie sees Robin putting her face in her hands and muttering to herself behind Steve. He thinks he hears her say ’Unbelievable! Still no game.’

He disagrees with the latter.

Stephanie’s been eating vanilla ice-cream with sprinkles and the way it’s melting in her cleavage, saturating her yellow top, making her nipples grow hard makes it look like she’s been…

Their eyes meet as she looks up, two fingers in her mouth, like she’s been licking them clean even when they both know she hasn’t and Eddie’s instantly hard and…

He grabs her by the arm and starts dragging he back into his van, the back has pillows and he’s just a man, not a saint, not in the presence of those breasts in that top.

They don’t even make it to the van when it finally gives up the ghost and Stephanie’s beautiful full breasts pop out. They’re beautiful. Eddie wants to put his face between them. They haven’t even kissed, or talked about their mutual attraction and all he wants it to kiss those breasts all over, suffocate under them.

He does, presses her back against the shade-side of the van and bends down to press a kiss first to one, then the other, while Stephanie has her fingers in his hair and isn’t pushing him away, rather draws him closer.

But they’re out in public and someone could come at any moment, so they tumble inside the van, which is stifling hot, but has a prone surface they can indulge themselves on, which is just what they do.

[devildom-moss]

i’m being so serious when i say i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your levi n diavolo threesome hcs since i read them. like i never even considered that possibility but now they are it for me and i’m frothing at the mouth at the fact there isn’t anything else about the two out in the wild. u have ruined me </3

I'm both flattered and sorry. I'm actually going to take off the rest of August, and I know you didn't ask, but I would like to leave you with a few more Levi x Diavolo (x MC/reader) thoughts as a little gift for making my day (and as a bit of an apology). It's not super organized, but I hope it will bring you some comfort in the Levi/Diavolo content desert we find ourselves in. I'm sure there is some, but I can't promise the harvest is bountiful.

A few more Levi x Diavolo x gn!MC headcanons

(NSFW) (NSFW tags: poly, all of them being verse, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public, cosplay, mild cuckholding and degradation, brief mention of Levi calling Diavolo "daddy")

Imagine Levi playing online games with Diavolo and MC. If MC is with either of them (probably Levi), they’ll just start teasing the demon while he’s gaming. If it’s Levi, he’ll be too flustered for anything other than moans and whines to leave his lips. The jealousy and lust will build in Diavolo from the other end until he can’t resist touching himself either. “Fuck, Levi, keep moaning like a desperate slut for me. Don’t stop, MC. I want to hear our baby boy cum.”

But if you’re gaming right next to Diavolo and you start to touch him, he’ll make a point to groan loudly into his mic. He wants Levi to know exactly what you’re doing to him. “You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you, MC?” he’d ask with a chuckle. Levi will start to tear up immediately – jealousy, anger, and need swirling around in his head. Should he stop and give you two some privacy? Do you even want him to listen? A part of him can’t resist staying around. It’s so hot (quick aside, but this man probably loves him some audio porn). His uncertainty is eased when Diavolo calls out to him, “Leviathan, don’t you dare even think about leaving the chat. Touch your pathetic cock (or cocks) while I use MC’s pretty mouth.” At the sound of Leviathan removing his pants and the soft, humiliated whine that leaves his lips, Diavolo offers him the smallest amount of praise. “Good boy.”

Alternatively, Diavolo would also be down to tease MC while gaming. If he feels like being cruel, he might tease Levi over the headset about how good he’s making them feel – how skilled his tongue and hands must feel compared to Levi’s.

Or on days when Leviathan won’t leave his room, MC texts him a message that says “open this alone” before sending a picture of Diavolo face down in his bed with another text that says, “About to ruin the future king. Want in? Come to the castle. Hurry.”

Diavolo dressing up in Ruri-chan cosplay like he did in the anime, and Leviathan’s eyes burning holes into Diavolo’s skin. Diavolo can tell that he’s done it now. He asks Barbatos to leave the room and tells him that he’ll meet him back at home. “Should we call MC?” / “Don’t be in such a rush. I’m not eager to share this sight with anyone.”

Alternatively, MC and Diavolo encouraging Leviathan to cosplay as one of his favorite characters for a convention, only to realize after the outfit was sewn and tailored that Leviathan meant that he wanted to dress up in a particularly revealing alternate outfit for that character. Neither MC nor Diavolo can restrain themselves, but Leviathan insists that he should at least get to wear his outfit to the convention. He worked so hard on it. And they wait exactly that long.

Levi gets to walk around in his cosplay for a while with MC; Diavolo is always somewhere nearby, but not close enough to draw too much attention. It’s inevitably Diavolo who decides that Levi has had enough of the convention. He pulls him into some dark corner or a bathroom and teases him until Levi’s precum is staining his cosplay. Levi begs him to at least wait until they’re back home. "Please, Diavolo, not here, please? Daddy?" Depending on his mood, Diavolo will either deny Leviathan that comfort and have MC makeout with Levi to shut him up while Diavolo has his way with him or he’ll grab MC and Levi and take them back to the castle. Barbatos was not pleased with the surprise dry-cleaning bill (less because it was expensive and more because he deduced what happened when he picked up the outfit).

Levi hiding snacks from Beelzebub in his room because they’re Diavolo’s favorite and he likes to offer Diavolo snacks as part of aftercare. Similarly, Diavolo has copies of Leviathan’s favorite anime and games specifically for aftercare purposes.

Leviathan nearly faints when he sees that Diavolo has a picture of Levi and MC (that they had sent him during their last date) saved as his phone background. He screams and buries his face in Diavolo’s chest (or MC’s – if they’re nearby) when Diavolo tells him, “You’re both adorable. How could I resist?” Speaking of, Diavolo would probably demand selfies anytime he knows Levi and MC are on a date (the spicier, the better).

[gumdefense]

Tag game: tagging 9 people you want to know better ! Tagged by @kill-vonkarma-again which is so sweet thank youu <33 I haven’t done one of those in forever, I’m assuming I just answer the questions lol

Favourite colour: blue ! I just like it

Currently reading: yeahhh I need to read more. I haven’t in a while. But the books I have open at the moment are The Origin of Species (Darwin), King Solomon’s Ring (Konrad Lorenz), and The Rise and Reign of Mammals (Steve Brusatte). Also I wanna get started on The Vinyl Detective (Andrew Cartmel), which I impulsively bought browsing a bookshop

Last song: Yuve Yuve Tu by the HU. If you like metal I definitely recommend them they’re really good !

Last movie: Shaun of the Dead for like… the 50th time. Favourite movie of all time which I so recommend. Been obsessed with it since I was like, 11 ? Do not show that movie to the 11yos you know though. Probably too gory and sweary

I recommend the whole cornetto trilogy !! Since this is an ace attorney blog, I’ll especially give the pitch for Hot Fuzz, since that’s what most similar lol. It’s a romcom disguised as a buddy cop, which is also a murder mystery, and also a love letter to action movies and buddy cop movies, and is just fantastic. Murder, absurdity, pun names, gay, social commentary, it’s got all you love in aa !

As a little explanation if you don’t know anything about the cornetto trilogy (I’ll take any opportunity to ramble about it): it’s 3 comedy movies directed by Edgar Wright (Scott Pilgrim, Baby Driver), cowritten by him and Simon Pegg (Benji in the mission impossible movies), and starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost (you might know him as Santa in the 2014 Doctor Who Christmas special). First came Shaun of the Dead in 2004, then Hot Fuzz in 2007, then The World’s End in 2013. Shaun of the Dead is a romzomcom (romcom with zombies), generally considered a classic in horror-comedy. Hot Fuzz I’ve explained. And The World’s End is an alien invasion during a friend group’s pub crawl, sadly not as known/popular as the other two but it’s also absolutely brilliant and deserves more love. The three movies have nothing to do with each other (on the surface. You can argue they’re connected by themes but this is already long) so you can watch them in whatever order you want, or only two, or one, of them. Though of course I recommend them all in the order they came out bc 1) they’re all fantastic 2) i just find it interesting to see the progression of direction and writing over time. But do what makes you happy ! Also, warning, they’re all gory sweary etc, and have some outdated jokes, but if you’re into ace attorney you’re used to that lol

Anyway-

Last series: started catching up on Doctor Who today finally !! Last I had seen was Jodie Whittaker. The Donna episodes made me close to tears like 5 times and I’ve only had Fifteen for 2 episodes but I’m already completely enamoured with him. And if podcasts count as series I’ve been listening to Sherlock and Co which you should listen to it’s really great really good Sherlock Holmes adaptation !

Sweet, savoury, spicy: I have a reeeally bad sweet tooth. Love savoury and spicy too of course, if you ask me what I want for a meal I won’t say sweet, but…. I fucking love sweet things man

Craving: last question reminded me of blueberry muffins and chicken tikka and now I want both

Tea/coffee: I don’t drink either tbh but I like tea while I dislike coffee (except if it’s a coffee-flavoured sweet)

Currently working on: aha. This reminded me I need hobbies. I haven’t drawn in a while, I should get back to that. I have this very detailed zelda ace attorney crossover au if that counts, been doing lots of drawing and research and thinking. Also I’ve been doing statistics about ace attorney, and been planning to work on statistics about the cornetto trilogy. I just like stats <3 but yeah tbh most of the working I do is study related less hobby related. I should dedicate more free time to things that enrich my brain

That was fun ! Thanks again for tagging me I’m touched <3 and I like getting to know you better ! Frankly I’m a bit scared of tagging people, I’m too shy for that, sooo this is an invitation for anyone reading this to do it ! Consider yourself tagged. Though I will tag @purpleleavesday bc that’s not scary <3