#now I need to get a little sister for them

[venuslarkspur]

Can I please request a teen female reader (15-17?) who’s entered the games to help her family, like all the responsibilities have fallen to her after her dads death 🥺💕(ANY CHARACTERS WILL DO) ILY UR PINK HAIR FIC AS WELL)

Playtime’s Over.

Pairing(s): Squid Game Characters meet Fem!Teen!Reader, (ALL PLATONIC). Contains: Thanos, Se-Mi, Kang Dae Ho, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Hyun Ju, Park Gyeong Seok.

Summary: Them just doting on Teen Reader and wanting to protect her!

Note: This can be read as gender neutral as well! I didn’t really go out of the way to make it female looking back. NOT PROOFREAD I COULD NOT BE ARSED

Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of eating, VIOLENCE, family problems.

Thanos

- He immediately takes a liking to you and can straight away tell you’re not actually 18. (I’m with the firm belief this man would have a soft spot for kids)

- Forces the rest of the group to refer to you as “yeodongsaeng” (or little just sister) and it makes you feel loved, even though you know he’s full of shit , kids see everything.

- You swear that sometimes he thinks you’re his actual sister, with the way he acts towards you; others in the game constantly think you’re actual siblings.

- Nearly gives you some of his drugs before he remembers your age and tells you to scram and do your homework.

- Doesn’t let Nam-Gyu shit talk you, would sooner slap him on the head than let him do that, and firmly reminds him you’re his younger sister now as well. That thought of being his sister made you want to vomit, but you wouldn’t mind Thanos being your brother though.

- Bonding over your father’s not being around anymore! Even though your circumstances are very different.

- When 2 players are called In mingle. He hesitates, despite the drugs running through his system; he shouts at Nam-Gyu to go with Min-Su while he drags you into a nearby room. Dumbfounded you still were, as he picked you first.

- You had found someone, despite his countless flaws and bullshit. There was still someone, until there wasn’t anymore. And you were left alone again.

Se-Mi

- You’re the only one she’s letting call her ‘unnie’, very protective of you even before knowing your true age.

- If you need a distraction she will let you play with one of her rings while she asks you how school is and how you are doing.

- Very torn when she hears you’re providing for a whole family by yourself, wants to be there for you. Since you’re a kid with no parents to guide you here.

- Would give you her milk carton and egg. She doesn’t want it anyway just take it!

- Lets you trail after her like a duckling.

- Isn’t afraid to tell anyone to leave you alone if you’re getting picked on.

- Has an epiphany when she realised the reason your so good at the games is because it probably hasn’t bee long since you played them on the school courtyard :(

- Protects you in mingle, even though she knows she won’t always be able to keep you safe. But it ended up being her you failed to save.

Kang Dae-Ho

- Was the first person to jump in and help you when you were getting abused by one of the other players, an older man that you had pickpocketed quite recently; naturally, he longed for his revenge, firmly punching your stomach, you fell to the ground immediately; he grabbed your hair and before he could land a blow on your face another player stepped in.

- “Leave the kid alone.” Another man, younger this time whose number read “388” had jumped in to defend you. The older man backed off slightly, but still felt the need to verbally attack you. “You know this little bitch?” He spat out, locking eyes with you. “This kid stole cash from me!” He screamed pointing an accusatory finger at you. You weren’t denying, you hanged your head in guilt; even if you explained your circumstances, he wouldn’t care. “Maybe she did, but shes just a defenceless kid,, lay off.” and with that the stingy man trotted away, maintaining eye contact with you.

- Player 388 had checked up on you after that, since that day you were overly attached to him. Trailing after him, he didn’t mind at all not one bit. He told you he actually had several older sisters and it was nice to have a younger one for a change.

- He respects your strength and perseverance more than anyone, having to provide for an entire family when you’re just a kid yourself is TIRING work and unimaginable for him.

- Encourages you to make your own choices, like don’t pick “O” or “X” just because he did.

- Makes sure you are one of the first prioritised during mingle, he saw what happened to Young-Mi and couldn’t live with himself if the same happened to you. You do a lot of hand holding after what happened to Young Mi; he’s scared to let go.

- He hates seeing how little hope there is in your eyes for someone so young, it’s his personal mission to make you feel hope again.

Seong Gi-Hun

- Even though he’s kind of in his depressed era rn, all he sees when he looks at you is his daughter staring back at him. Acknowledges straight away that you’re only a bit older than her.

- It takes you a while to catch on, but you eventually realise why he’s protective of you. His own daughter wasn’t around anymore is the conclusion you came to, where she is or if she is you don’t know. Only that he must not see her anymore.

- scolds you quite a lot, telling you that you shouldn’t even be here anyway. That instead you should be doing your homework or studying for your next exam.

- When the cameras watch he has to distance himself from you, he doesn’t want the Frontman to know of his now emotional connection with you.

- You remind him of Sae-Byeok in an odd way.

- Would never forgive yourself if you died, you’d constantly be on his mind.

Cho Hyun Ju

- I can’t lie she initially tries to stay clear of you, she knows if she gets too attached and you die, she won’t be able to live with herself.

- But she can’t seem to get rid of you, you follow her around like a baby duck.

- You, Her and Young-Mi become like a sisterhood, she’s the oldest and you’re the baby of the group. You both call her ‘unnie’

- Young Mi gives you her food and Hyun Ju follows along and passes you some milk. Because you need it to be “big and strong”

- She has so many questions about how you ended up in here. Where are your parents? What are your family doing if you’re here? Shouldn’t you be in school?

- When Young Mi dies she gets very protective of you, she’s not losing you as well.

Park Gyeong-Seok

- Projection!!! He’s missing his daughter, you’re missing your dad! The perfect duo.

- On a serious note he hates how attached he is to you.

- You joined his group in the 2nd game and you played Flying Stone. He knows something was off about you, even putting on a tough exterior you seemed so childlike. When you confess your actual age he’s horrified, he didn’t want to believe it. How on earth are you in debt?

- He can’t believe you’re providing for a whole family. He struggles just providing for his daughter.

- Encourages you to hit “X”, trust me you don’t want to die here, you can’t help your family from your grave.

- If you seem a little hungry he offers you his food.

- You’re attached by the hip during mingle, you never left his side.

- He comforts you during the riot in lights out. Cradling your body, and running his hands through your hair to calm you down; wondering if this is how he’d hold his own daughter if she were here.

- You beg him not to go with the others in the revolt, he almost doesn’t. And later he’d wish he didn’t.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt4

See you soon

hey guys warning this chapter literally has none of the batfam here its highlighting reader being insterted into itsv-atsv

It has been a year since you had gotten bitten.

You were now 14

Since then you've lost a couple of people.

Your Gwen Stacy, who was instead named [REDACTED], was killed while you were trying to stop the green goblin.

You lost an officer you were close to. He died while protecting a kid.

You lost someone you considered an uncle.

You were tired.

Since then you've been training yourself, secretly fighting crime to not be seen by your family, and getting stronger in general.

Every day was sortve the same. Wake up, get ready, go to school, come home, eat, fight crime, sleep, repeat.

It all changed one day.

You had just gotten back from patrol.

You stopped 3 muggings and saved a cat from a tree.It was a slow day, thankfully.

You were doing your homework peacefully.

You were almost done with your algebra homework when suddenly a portal popped up right next to you.

You couldn't process anything as the portal sucked you up and took you in.

The next thing you knew, you were stuck in an alternate universe with other versions of you.

And you had to get home soon ASAP no rocky if you didn't wanna die.

And that be all fine and dandy.

Except you didn't wanna get attached to anyone.

You didn't want them to exclude you and you to follow them around like a lost puppy like you did with your family.

And guess what?

You did get attached.

Peni, a small kid who was in a tiny robot fighting, was like a little sister to you.

Peter B. Parker, ham, and Noir were all like uncles to you.

gwen and Miles were your cool older siblings.

You loved them.

And you hated that.

Because you knew deep down, you wouldn't get to see each other again.

You all were destined to be apart, due to your separate universes.

You got attached.

You were attached to noir and how his coat smelled like cigarettes and milkshakes.

You were attached to Ham and how he always cracked jokes when things got tense and awkward.

You were attached to peter b and how he talked about his past experiences.

You got attached to Peni and how she would use stickers everywhere.

You got attached to Miles and how stupidly awkward he was with Gwen.

You got attached to Gwen and how she gave you the advice you always needed.

Fuck.

You didn't wanna go back to the manor.

This is the happiest you've been in a while.

This is home.

You can go on patrol here without worrying that your family might see you.

You are constantly smiling and laughing with the people here.

You're constantly wishing you could stay here forever.

Other than the constantly painful glitching, you're so happy and excited.

You never wanna leave.

You were so proud of Miles and how he got everyone home.

You cried as soon as you landed back in your room.

You sobbed into your pillow. You're gonna miss them.

No one even noticed you were gone for a week.

No one noticed how bruised up you were.

No one noticed how sad you looked.

It's been 5 months since then.

You got invited to join the Spider Society.

Miguel saw you on patrol trying to fight an anomaly and failing miserably due to you never fully getting actual training.

You were trying! It's just that you didn't want your family to see you so its sort of hard to control a whole glitching green goblin...

Miguel took you into the spider society.

You saw peter b in Miguel's office and immediately tackled him into a hug and cried a little.

You learned that due to being a mix of two multiverses (Marvel and DC) your canon events were a tiny bit messed up.

Miguel explained everything, but everything was going through one ear and out the other.

You wondered if the others were here too.

You wondered if they missed you like you missed them.

Miguel could see how spaced out you were.

"What's wrong, Mija?"

"Are the others here? Like Gwen, Miles, ham, noir, and Peni? I know Peter's here, I saw him just now, but what about the others?"

He went on to explain how they hadn't been invited yet.

Later on, you begged him to at least invite Peni.

He couldn't resist your puppy dog eyes, so he said yes.

Since being introduced into society, you've slowly started getting used to just doing everything here.

You would go into Miguel's office for hours and hours just to be around him.

He was like the father you always wanted!

He would listen to you complain about your family, and he would always lend a shoulder to cry on.

On multiple occasions, he had to carry you back to your bed in your universe because you'd fall asleep in his office on the floor.

You both have gotten close.

Miguel was your emergency contact, always there when you needed him. Despite his intimidating appearance to others, he was never scary to you.

At one point you saw Gwen again, finally!

You were so happy! one step closer to getting everyone together again!

Slowly, you saw everyone again.

..Everyone except Miles.

You didn't understand, why not Miles?

You asked Miguel and he went on a tangent that did not make sense and went through one ear and out the other.

You did get to meet Pavitr and Hobie.

Pavitr was your twin! You guys had similar personalities and had twin telepathy.

You both were around the same age and everything!

Hobie is SO COOL!

He taught you how to play your guitar! You were finally getting a hang of it!

He was like the older brother you never had!

You wanted to be like him so bad!

When he and Gwen jokingly said they wanted to start a band, you wanted to!

A couple of months later, you saw miles again!

It wasn't in the best circumstances.

You had just gotten back from school. You were in your room scrolling on your phone, when suddenly your spidey senses tingled.

You saw Gwen hop out of a portal in the middle of your room.

"Hey! I kinda sort of need your help."

"what's going on?" you asked, tilting your head in curiosity.

Gwen went on to explain everything you missed.

From Gwen seeing miles to Miles tagging along onto Mamhatten in pavers universe, and then to Miguel's body slamming him into a train and calling everyone to chase him.

Jeez, you don't go to the society for one day and everything goes to shit.

You thought about it for a second, no one would notice you not being here for a couple of days, right?

"..alright, I've saved the multiverse once, I can do it again."

You sat up on your bed and grabbed your suit.

You grabbed Gwen's arm as she took you to a whole other universe.

After a lot of fighting, you all managed to save Miles's dad.

Seeing their family be happy together made you tear up in happiness.

They deserved to be happy.

After a lot of apologies from all parties, everything was still pretty awkward.

You've probably apologized to Miles over a million times despite him insisting it wasn't your fault.

Sure, you didn't help the others chase him, but you still didn't tell him about society.

Hell, you should've been there to defend him.

You should yelled at Miguel from the beginning over him not letting Miles in his exclusive clubhouse.

Instead, you were scared Miguel was gonna bring you back to the manor and disown you, even if you knew he would never do that to you.

You should've stood by miles from the start.

It's never too late to make up for everything.

oml this was kinda boring but i needed filler lol

honestly i might write a oneshot of all the spiderkids together

taglist (please tell me if i forgot to tag you!):

@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price with an equally Insane!Reader as him 🧚‍♀️✨

TW: Slight mention of faux miscarriage (honestly not that bad imo)

Price is a quiet man, a cautious and calculating man. Every action, thought and plan ever conjured in his sick mind has always been well thought out.

Even when he decided to cheat on his wife of 20 years with you, he thought everything. John chooses the right moments to cheat on his wife, strictly following his wife's schedule allowing him to sneak away without suspicion. He uses burner phones, makes reservations under fake names, hell John will even have a separate car to pick you up to drive you to motels and dinner dates. 

He’s a sneaky bastard that's for sure but cheating wasn’t his mistake. It was the mistake of cheating on his wife with you. 

The moment you found out that you were his mistress, you decided to take things slow. You never made John realise that you’ve found out the truth, letting him enjoy your body to the fullest as you stayed in blissful ignorance. 

Nights when John came to you became even more extravagant. Lingerie becomes more sensual, more for his taste. You take up the role of ‘wife’, fulfilling each aspect of John’s marriage that his actual wife lacked in satisfying. 

You’d cook him home-cooked meals, re-filled his beer for him, sucked his cock exceptionally well while he watched the footy match on TV. You let me fuck you, fill you up with his cum. You submit, willingly accepting all his flaws that John’s wife would nag him about. 

You became John’s ‘perfect little wife’. Not to mention you were younger, hotter and more lively- according to his words. 

His sense of security and trust bloomed for you and now it was time to break it. 

You find his address and go to his house when his wife opens the door and you happen to be looking for John. 

His wife gives you a weird look.

“Oh, I’m John’s girlfriend, well actually-” You smile at the Missus patting your belly. “Hopefully ���wife’ once I tell him about the little babe. And, you must be… his sister?”

You were fucking with her. You knew John didn’t have a sister but oh God, did you love how huffy and puffy the Missus looked. You feign a look for confusion as you tilt your head to the side. 

The Missus slams the door in your face and not a minute later, shouting erupts from inside of the house . Booming voices of the missus and John reverberated through the walls and is carried outside but the wind. 

All you do is simply get into your car and drive home. 

A few hours later in the dead of night, aggressive knocking can be heard on your apartment front door, you go to open it only to be met with a fuming John. Without even acknowledging you, he forces himself inside your flat as he paces around shouting and yelling at you as if you were the problem.

Once again you feign ignorance, walking up to him and hugging him from behind to still his movements while you nuzzle your face into his flannel clothed back. 

“I didn’t know, John. It was an honest mistake. I just… I needed to see you…” You whisper against his shirt, a sniffle follows. 

John sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “Is it true… are you…” his voice begins to shake.

You turn him around to face him, tilting your head up to look into John’s cerulean eyes as you give him a slow nod. 

“I didn’t mean to, John. I swear it just-” Your pleas were swallowed by John’s hungry kisses, desperation creeps into them as he tries to find any faults in your words. Alas, he couldn’t.

You kissed him back with the same fervour as he’s shown you clinging into his shirt and John makes his mind up right there. He was going to leave his wife and John was going to take care of you and the baby and this time he was going to do everything right. 

The following week, John files for divorce. A few months later, just as John and his Missus’ annulment was finalised, you just happened to have a miscarriage. 

There was no turning back from this now. John could go back to his wife as if she’d take him back but his one reason for committing to you was now gone. 

Oh well, not like the pregnancy was real anyway.

[mxtantrights]

Azriel is (secretly) in love with you

"If it were anyone else, you would let them go." you grumble.

Rhys sighs and sets down both his utensils. The table goes silent.

No one could get into a fight like the two of you. Perks of knowing each other since you were children. Rhys is like the little brother you never wanted, but really treasured. And you were like the older sister he never asked for, but really needed. Especially after his mother and sister were brutally taken from him and his father died.

Which is how you now that he's treating you differently. If it were Azriel or Cassian asking to go on this mission he would happy oblige. If it were Feyre he might hesitate but he would let her do it. Mor or Amren he would let them do it. Nesta, well he doesn't tell her what to do ever. And Elaine, if she wanted to do something like this you think he might watch in shock. Never mind the valkyries.

"So you understand, great." he says sassily.

You slam the table, "Stop being rude. I deserve to go on this mission. I deserve what I'm owed."

"What makes you think-"

"I'm owed the head of the man who massacred my family. I am owed Rhysand!" you shout.

"Maybe we can come back to this conversation-" Cassian starts.

You and Rhys look at him in an instant. "Butt out Cass."

Cassian puts his hands up in surrender. You grunt and apologize to him. He nods his head once and places his hands down. You look over at Rhys.

"I'm going. Whether you want me to or not. I'm not asking for permission." you speak.

You stand up from your seat and storm out of family dinner. Something you have never done before. You know how important it is to Rhys and it's important to you too. But you know that tensions are high and you might say something you can't take back.

Its a long walk to your room. And as you sit on the edge of your bed you can't help to think to yourself about the circumstances. If this were Rhys, if he could go after Tamlin you wouldn't stop him. You'd help him.

So why does he not want you anywhere near this?

Your door opens and you green yourself up for a fight, thinking it's Rhys. But when your eyes meet Azriel's you deflate a little bit. Actually a lot. You can feel the tears forming in your eyes.

"I'll ask him to put me on the mission. And then I'll winnow you in." he says.

You look at him in pure confusion. You can't believe what he's saying. Was Azriel...defying orders for the first time? You've never seen him do something like this. To offer you something like this?

"Az, you can't." you say.

"I can. If you agree." he says.

"Why would you disobey Rhys like that?" you ask.

He looks at you. His eyes are basically piercing into your soul. And while you look into his eyes you understand why he's not answering you. He's not saying anything but he's saying everything.

"You know why." he puts simply.

It doesn't surprise you. It doesn't come as a shock. You don't know why but with him standing there and looking at you, you feel it. What you've been feeling for a while underneath the surface.

And he doesn't say anything else. He leaves and shuts the door behind him. You sit there with nothing else to say either. You don't chase after him. You don't call out his name.

Azriel. It's Azriel. How have you been so blind this whole time?

[chaoticwriting]

FENTON CRIME FAMILY 4

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Damian straightens out his shirt a little as he stands in front of his siblings. He doesn't know why nor would he admit that he is a little nervous right now. They are currently at the theater room waiting for whatever Damian has prepared for them. Except for Dick and Jason, all of the siblings are here.

Tim: Would you explain to us already why you want us here?

Damian: Silence Drake. I am gathering my thoughts here.

Steph: Ugghhh, just tell us already. I am already close to cracking up Cass to confess who she is hanging out with.

Cass: No you aren't.

Steph: Yes, I am.

Duke: Umm, guys. I think Damian is ready.

Suddenly the lights turn off and the projector starts to show a slide show.

Damian: So, I thank each one of you for making time to come to this meeting today.

Tim:*Whispering* Oh wow, he must really need our help if he even thanks us for just being here.

Damian:*Glaring at Tim* As you all are aware, I am going out on an outing the day after tomorrow. Although I am sufficiently trained in proper dressing up, I would like to have a second or maybe third opinion.

Steph: You mean fifth opinion? Cause there are like 4 of us here.

Damian: It is a figure of speech, Brown. I'm sure you are not stupid enough to not know that.

Tim: I think he is trying to insult you but that sounds like a praise to me.

Duke: It's because you are a weirdo. How about we get back on track? So, what do you want our opinion on?

Damian turns the slide and a selection of clothes appears.

Damian: I need you to give me your opinion on which set of clothes are the most suitable for my outing.

Cass: What is the specific criteria for the selection?

Damian: I want the clothes to flesh out my features more.

Duke: As in making you look more handsome?

Damian: Yes.

Tim: Why do you need to look more handsome? I thought you are just going for some outing?

Steph: Shit! Don't you see it, Tim? He is going on a date. Look at those clothes. Those are the clothes that he only wears if there is a special occasion.

Duke: You are going on a date? With who? Does Bruce or Alfred know?

Damian: I already told Alfred about my outing. I am holding off on informing father of this event until there is any further progress. As for who, it is none of your concern.

Tim: Wait. Then why do you want our opinion on what you wear?

Damian: Because all of you have experience in relationships before. I would have invited Grayson if not for his fashion sense.

Duke: Fair warning, though. I am not good at these clothing things. It is usually Isabella that chooses my clothes.

Damian: Of course I know that. But given you are in a relationship with Ortiz for a long time already, I would assume her sense of fashion has already rubbed off a little on you.

Steph: Wait, so we are just gonna ignore that he is going on a date? Aren't any of you curious?

Tim: I already got her files. Name is Dani Fenton. 15. No school. Lives in the Bowery. Her sister is the therapist that Bruce is seeing. Has a brother. Her internet history is very clean. Like super duper clean. Almost tailored to make it seem like that.

Duke: Chances it is forged?

Tim: Likely. But I can't seem to find anything about her. Whether it is physical or online.

Cass: Are you sure she is safe?

Damian: Yes.

Steph: I'm not gonna stop you from romancing her but considering who you are the son of, we might need to prepare just in case.

Duke: Oh yeah. Hopefully she isn't anything like that. The last thing we need is another rogue in Gotham.

-Crime Alley-

Red Hood: So, why do you want to meet?

Spectre: I have information that you might want.

Spectre (Ellie) throws a file with a big red 'SECRET' on it onto the table. Red Hood picks it up and opens it.

As he flips through the pages, his breath becomes more ragged. His eyesight slowly turns more green and he could feel his blood pumping at a higher rate as his anger slowly builds up while reading the file.

Especially when he reads the part where they are part of the government. How dare the government do this? Not only are they killing people, they also label them as non living.

Red Hood: What do you want me to do with this information?

Spectre: It is up to you really. Since you are technically a hero, I decide to give this information to you first. However, do know that if you wish to take action, please do it quickly. A lot of "people" wish to have a piece of them.

After Spectre says that, she stands up from her chair and goes out of the room. Red Hood watches as the young gang leader leaves his office. Eyeing the file, he will call the Outlaw tomorrow. There is a government base to be blown up.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

A Morning In Berlin.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist !!

authors note - this is a sister chapter to this, you don’t necessarily need to read it 🩵

word count - 2k

in which, harry and madison are in berlin, whilst your back at home in the uk working, madison’s almost turning three in april, and harry wants to spend as much time with his two year old as possible.

The café hummed with the soft clatter of cups and quiet morning conversations, a welcome warmth against the crisp air outside.

Harry stood in line, his almost three-year-old daughter, Madison, nestled securely in his arms. Her small fingers played absentmindedly with the buttons on his coat as she rested her head against his chest, her curls still slightly tousled from the stroller ride.

He had already parked the stroller at a quiet corner table, making sure everything was set before stepping into the queue. Madison was getting tired, as her morning nap was soon approaching — her tiny yawns and slow blinks proof that the morning had been an adventure already.

The barista, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile, greeted them cheerfully.

"Good morning," Harry said, offering a dimpled grin. "Could I get a black coffee, please?"

Before the barista could respond, Madison stirred in his arms, lifting her head slightly. She rubbed at her sleepy eyes with her fist before peering up at the woman behind the counter.

“Wan… warm miiilk, peas,” she mumbled, her voice soft and dreamy.

The barista’s face melted into a gentle smile. "One warm milk? Of course!"

Harry pressed a kiss to Madison’s curls, swaying her slightly in his arms. "That sounds like a perfect choice, bug."

Madison hummed in agreement, already resting her head back against his shoulder, her little fingers now curling into the fabric of his sweater.

As the barista rang up their order, Harry chuckled softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his daughter’s breathing against him.

“Think you might be falling back asleep on me,Maddie-Moo’s,” he murmured.

Madison barely responded, just letting out a tiny sigh, perfectly content in her daddy’s arms.

Harry carried Madison over to their table. He carefully sat down, adjusting her in his lap so she was snug against him. Her tiny hands gripped onto his sweater, her head resting against his chest as she nursed her warm milk from the small cup the barista had given her.

Harry smiled to himself, brushing a few stray curls away from her face. He could tell she was getting sleepier by the second—her long lashes fluttered lazily, her little body melting further into his.

“Getting sleepy, bug?” he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Madison gave a tiny nod, letting out a soft hum as she sipped her milk.

Harry glanced down at his phone on the table and, with one hand, tapped the screen to call you. The familiar ringing tone buzzed in his ear for a few moments before the screen lit up with your face.

“Hey, love,” Harry greeted warmly, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You appeared slightly out of breath, your hair still damp from your workout, dressed in your gym leggings and an oversized hoodie.

“Hey, you,” you replied, shifting the phone in your hand as you locked the front door behind you. “How’s my little munchkin?”

At the sound of your voice, Madison stirred, lifting her head slightly to peek at the screen. Her face was still sleepy, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the café.

“Mamaaa…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fist.

You cooed, pressing your phone closer. “Oh, baby, you look so sleepy. Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

Madison blinked slowly, nodding as she leaned back against Harry.

“Had…. warm miiilk,” she said, her voice soft and drowsy.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“She’s just about ready to knock out, I think,” he mused, glancing down at her as she settled back into him. “Had a busy morning, haven’t we, Mads?”

Madison hummed in agreement, though her eyes were already drifting shut again.

You smiled, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the couch back home. “She looks so cozy. Wish I was there to cuddle you both. But I’m so glad you get to spend your time with her.”

These traditions were the moments Harry lived for.

Harry shifted slightly in his seat, careful not to disturb Madison as she snuggled deeper into him. Her soft breaths were steady against his chest, her tiny fingers still loosely gripping his sweater.

He glanced back at the phone, his green eyes warm as he smiled at you.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day then, love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You sighed, stretching your legs out on the couch.

“Nothing too exciting,” you admitted. “Gotta go food shopping in a bit. We’re running dangerously low on snacks.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Exactly,” you teased. “I’d never hear the end of it from you two if I didn’t restock the biscuits.”

He grinned. “You’re not wrong. We’ve raised Mads to have very high biscuit expectations.”

You laughed before tucking your feet beneath you. “And then after that, I think I’m just gonna curl up on the couch and watch some Netflix.”

Harry tilted his head. “Ooo, what’re you watching?”

“Dunno yet,” you admitted. “Might start something new, or I might just rewatch something comforting.”

Harry smirked. “So basically, you’re gonna watch Friends for the hundredth time?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight back your smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Predictable.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed. “What about you two? What’s on the agenda after this?”

Harry shifted the phone slightly, glancing down at Madison. “Well, before this one started dozing off, she was very adamant that we go to the toy museum.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s gonna love that.”

“Yeah, I figured we’d head over after she wakes up,” Harry said, running a gentle hand over Madison’s back. “She was going on and on about the dolls and the trains. Kept saying, ‘Dada, choo-choo!’ over and over.”

You laughed. “That sounds about right. She’s been obsessed with trains lately.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grinned. “She spotted one in a shop window earlier and nearly launched herself out of the stroller trying to get to it.”

“Oh god,” you chuckled. “Well, knowing her, she’s gonna try and bring half the museum home with her.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “I know. I can already see the puppy dog eyes she’s gonna give me at the gift shop.”

You smirked. “And you know you’re gonna give in.”

He scoffed. “Hey, I have some willpower.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because last week, she asked for a teddy at the supermarket, and you told me you ‘just couldn’t say no’ while buying three of them.”

Harry groaned, tilting his head back. “Okay, okay. Maybe I’m weak.”

You laughed. “You definitely are when it comes to her.”

He shook his head with a fond smile, glancing down at Madison, who was still peacefully asleep in his arms. “Yeah… but can you blame me?”

Your heart melted at the sight of them.

“Not at all,” you murmured. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Harry grinned. “She really does, huh?”

You nodded. “And I love watching it.”

He gave you a soft look, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on Madison’s back. “Well, she’s got both of us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” you agreed with a smile.

For a moment, you both just sat there, miles apart but completely connected. The love you shared, for each other and for your little girl, filled every space between you.

“Alright, love,” Harry murmured after a beat. “I’ll let you get on with your day. We’ll FaceTime again later, yeah?”

You nodded. “Definitely. Give Mads a kiss from me when she wakes up.”

“Already planning on it,” he said, his voice warm. “Love you, darling.”

“Love you too.”

After finishing his coffee, Harry carefully adjusted Madison in his arms before gently easing her into her stroller.

She stirred slightly but remained in a peaceful sleep, her tiny hands curled up by her face. Making sure she was snug, he pulled the blanket over her legs, tucking her in just right.

With one last glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Harry pushed open the café door and stepped out onto the crisp Berlin streets.

The city bustled with its usual morning energy—cyclists weaving through traffic, locals sipping their coffees outside tiny bakeries, and tourists snapping photos of the historic architecture.

Harry strolled along the pavement, taking his time as he pushed Madison’s stroller. He popped into a couple of small shops along the way, picking up a little toy train he knew she’d love and a book for himself.

The morning air was refreshing, and despite the gentle hum of city life around him, it felt peaceful—just him and his little girl, exploring together.

But as he turned onto a quieter street, a voice called out from behind him.

“Harry? Oh my God, it is you!”

He glanced up to see a young woman approaching, her phone already clutched in her hand.

“Hiya,” he greeted politely, offering a small smile as he continued walking.

“Would you mind taking a quick photo?” she asked, stepping closer.

Harry sighed softly, his tone kind but firm. “I appreciate it, love, but I’m just out with my daughter right now.”

He gestured slightly toward the stroller, making it clear he wasn’t in a position to stop.

The fan’s eyes flickered toward Madison before she pouted slightly. “Oh, please? Just one? I won’t be long, promise.”

Harry shook his head gently. “I’m really sorry, but I just wanna have a quiet morning with her.”

The fan huffed, clearly disappointed, but instead of backing off, she kept pace beside him. “I won’t tell anyone where you are, I swear. Just real quick?”

Harry exhaled through his nose, still keeping his voice steady. “I appreciate that, but no, not today.”

The fan groaned, frustration creeping into her tone. “It’s just one picture, though! I came all the way over here—”

A soft whimper cut through the air, making Harry immediately look down at the stroller. Madison shifted, her little face scrunching up as she let out a sleepy whine.

The noise, the persistent voice, the shift in atmosphere—it had disturbed her.

Harry’s brows knitted together as he crouched down, instantly switching his focus to his daughter.

“S’alright, baby,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket and rubbing her tummy gently. “Go back to sleep, love.”

Madison made another tiny noise before sucking on her thumb, her lashes fluttering as she tried to settle again.

Harry looked up, his expression now firmer as he turned back to the fan. “Look, I really need you to respect this. She’s just woken up because of all this, and that’s not fair on her.”

The fan’s face paled slightly, guilt flashing across her features. She bit her lip, glancing between Harry and Madison. “I—I didn’t mean to wake her, I just—”

Harry sighed, standing back up as he kept one hand on the stroller. “I get it, I do. But I’m asking you to please just let us be.”

The fan hesitated before finally nodding. “Okay… sorry.”

Harry gave a small nod, his jaw still tight. “Thanks.”

Without another word, he adjusted the stroller’s canopy slightly to block out some of the daylight and began walking again, keeping his steps slow and steady to soothe Madison back into sleep.

As he put distance between himself and the fan, he glanced down at his daughter, his expression softening instantly.

“Shh, it’s okay, bug,” he murmured, rubbing her little knee through the blanket. “Daddy’s got you.”

And with that, he kept walking, determined to make the rest of their morning as peaceful as possible.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Clingy Girlfriend (Grace Clinton X Russo Reader)

Summary: If is time England Camp and you finally See your girlfriend again. You two are doing Long Distance because she plays for Manchester United and you okay for FC Barcelona.

Warnings: some talks about siblings having to compete with one another, migraine, throwing up.

"Baby!" You hear Grace voice and then you nearly got knocked over because she was jumping on your back, but you managed to keep her up with your arms and steady yourself so you wouldn't fall.

"hey Love!" You said and smiled gently. "I guess asking If you missed me isn't necessary anymore after this!" You replied and giggled softly. Ella walked over with your sister.

"hey little Sis!" Alessia said and smiled at you.

"thank god you are here! Every day at practice she was talking about you y/n! It was getting annoying!" Tooney told you, playfully rolling her eyes.

"hey Less! Hey Ella! What can i say? I am amazing!" You let them know. Winking softly, obviously joking. "But on a serious Note, GracieBean? Where is my kiss?" You asked. Grace quickly got down from your back and turned you around. Kissing you softly. You kiss back and smile into the kiss.

"get a room!" Your sister yelled out, chuckling softly.

"These two in one room and the entire floor won't be able to sleep at night! They haven't seen eachother in a while! So they aren't sharing!" Leah stated, walking over. Smirking softly.

"hello Captain!" You answered teasingly. Hugging Leah, before hugging your best friend Hannah. "Hi Hampton!" You playfully said. "Hi little R." She answered, hugging you back. Smirking softly.

You shared a room with Beth while Grace shared one with Lucy. It did feel like the two were chosen to make sure the two of you didn't sneak into eachothers rooms. Both of you clearly weren't happy about this.

It didn't take long before there was a knock on the door of your room, which Beth opened and Grace walked straight past her, into your open arms.

"i needed some cuddles!" She informed you.

"you two saw eachother like 40 minutes ago!" Beth stated. "I know long distance sucks. But please remember to Focus on Camp too!" She added.

You and Grace look at her, frowning softly.

"playing for two different countries and making a relationship work is way harder then playing for two different Teams in the same country. Both hard but it's even more challenging for us." Grace explained. She sure didn't sound like a 21 year old. But more like someone in their 30s with way more life experience then she actually had. Same goes for you though. You are 22 years old.

"yeah Beth i agree. For you and Viv it's challenging, for us it's even worse." You replied and held Grace close.

"i know, i know." Beth answered with a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"we are very professional and when we are on the pitch or at practice we will be very focused!" You tell her gently. Offering her a small smile.

"okay good. i will be downstairs and play some games with some of the Girls. So you two can have some alone time, just remember we have practice in three hours." She stated and smiled at you before leaving the room. Leaving the two of you alone.

You cuddle with Grace, fingers intertwined. Kissing every now and then. Just enjoying eachothers company.

"i feel so lucky that i get to love you!" Grace told you. You smile at her.

"you are sweet Babe. But i am the lucky one! I can't believe how much love i always feel from you. You don't make me feel like i am second best or like i have to compete for favorite Russo." You explain to her. "I know it's not a competition and i am proud to be Lessis sister but it just sucks that people always seem to compare the two of us!" You admitted. She kissed your head. Holding you as close as possible.

"you two may be sisters but you both have your own personality! And you are different people! There shouldn't be people comparing you with one another!" Grace stated. "And if that helps, i like your sister but for obvious reasons you are my favorite Russo!" She added and smiled a little. You smiled back.

"i would hope so." You replied with a genuine giggle escaping your lips.

You two get ready for practice in your seperate rooms before meeting up with everyone else in the Hotel Lobby.

"the lovebirds actually managed to make it on time!" Tooney said teasingly.

"i am always on time!" You stated and chuckled softly.

"not always!" Alessia replied, teasingly.

"okay you two leave the little lovebirds alone!" Mary answered with a soft smile. You walked to the trainings pitch, holding Grace' hand while talking to Hannah.

You did some drills and partnerd up with Grace, no one was surprised about that. The two of you were working well together. It was like, you didn't even have to talk to one another ,but still managed to communicate with your eyes.

After that you did some practice games. 3vs3 and you played with Ella & Leah against Beth, Lucy & Jess. This was alot of fun and a good way to start of England Camp.

When practice was done you all went to shower and decided to meet up for Team Dinner later that day.

You got out of the shower and dried yourself off. Putting on some England shorts & an England Hoodie, before walking out of the bathroom and over to your bed. Beth went to take a shower next. You felt a migraine coming up so you took some meds, hoping you caught it just in time. But unfortunately around 10 minutes later you realized that it in fact was too late so the migraine was in full swing now.

You laid on your bed. Legs pulled up to your stomach. Eyes closed. Focusing on your breathing, wanting to breathe through the pain.

Beth walked out of the bathroom, dressed up in an outfit that was similiar to yours. She saw you lying there and knew right away what was going on. Having seen that many times when Viv had a migraine. Cause unfortunately the dutch Woman struggled with it as well.

"sweets, anything i can do?" Beth whispered out. You sniffle softly.

"can you get Grace for me, please?" You asked her.

"yes of course." She answered but closed the blinds before she left, walking to Grace' room. Lucy was the one who opened the door.

"what's up, Meado?" Lucy asked.

"is grace here? Y/n is asking for her. She is having a full on Migraine right now." The blonde answered.

"damn, poor, Russo!"Lucy stated, not having much time to say anything else because Grace was already walking past them. In a hurry to get to you. Beth quickly followed her. When the door to the room was opened you weren't in your bed anymore though. No both Grace & Beth could hear you throwing up.

"i will be hanging out with Leah, good luck!" Beth turned around and walked out quickly. She wasn't good with hearing people throwing up but always managed to pull through when it came to Viv.

Grace walked into the bathroom , kneeling down next to you. Rubbing your back and holding your hair. "I have got you babe." She whispered out.

After a few minutes you were finally done. Leaning against Grace.

"i am so angry with myself." You sobbed out. Grace was really confused, frowning softly.

"Love this isn't your fault!" She said softly. Kissing your head gently.

"feels like my body is betraying me! We see eachother only a few times a year and i now manage to ruin one of the times with a migraine. I am sorry Baby!" You sighed sadly and tried to stop yourself from having a full on emotional breakdown.

"hey stop. This isn't your fault! You didn't ask for that migraine!" She answered. Cuddling you and managing to calm you down. Helping you brush your teeth before carrying you back to bed. Holding you close. Laying down with you. You took a hold of her like a koala baby did to it's momma, but you didn't care how clingy you were right now. All you wanted was to be close to your girlfriend.

You ended up sleeping for the rest of the day, Grace staying with you the entire time. She even spend the night and Beth stayed with Lucy.

You felt much better the next day but everyone still was keeping an eye on you. Especially Grace but also your sister. It was good to know that you both were clingy. And neither one of you cared.

[alessandra-14]

A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait—the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways—what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've waisted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it—not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

[nymphaea-blue]

Oneshot - Rafayel would be good with kids.

Info : 1400+ word count, reader and Rafayel are dating, reader is referred to as a female, fluff, mentions of missing someone, perhaps hurt/comfort, small allusion to the possibility of having kids with him in the future towards the end, Tina is in fact made up and doesn't exist within Love and Deepspace lore.

Notes : Rafayel is giving me amazing older brother vibes and that's what inspired this ^^,

Rafayel would be good with kids.

Your coworker, Tara, has a younger sister named Tina that you were charged with taking care of because Tara was needed urgently at work. You didn't mind, she was your good friend and since her sister was around 7, you didn't think it would be a big issue.

The first hour or two went great, you two had fun and as it turned out, Tina was a great kid, pretty shy but smart and well behaved. Later on however, you got a call from Jenna, the situation Tara was tasked with investigating got out of hand and your team was needed ASAP to handle wanderers. 

You scrambled to find someone that would be able to watch over Tina, but everyone you thought about was sure to be busy… except one person.

“Hey cutie, missed me?” Rafayel picked up your call quickly, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of happiness at the fact it was you calling.

“Well yes, but I need your help… My friend left her little sister in my care but I'm urgently needed for a mission and I need someone to watch over her for a few hours. Would you be able to do it? Pleaseee?” You begged slightly on the phone, there was a slight worry and panic in your voice because time was of the essence but you were also worried about Tina.

“Hmm.. I dun know, what would I get from it, hm? My schedule is very busy, ya know.”

“I will buy you takeout and bring you more materials for paints. Please Rafayel, I need to leave soon!”

“Alright alright, I was just kidding, I would help anyways. Bring her over, I can play nanny for a few hours.”

As the doors closed and Rafayel waved last goodbyes to you as you hurriedly left, he was left alone with a little kid. Great, soo what now? He had no idea how to care for a child.

“Hey kid, what would you like to do? I got some books here, but I doubt you wanna read them.. they are pretty boring to be honest.” He asked in hopes of trying to figure out the little girl a bit more. She seemed very quiet ever since she entered the studio.

“It's okay, I got my own book, thank you sir.” Tina politely said before she went back to her book as she sat on the couch in Rafayels studio. She was a little shy, it was visible with how she tried to take as little space as possible and not make a sound, but he could work with that.

Rafayel nodded and went back to his painting for a while. He thought that perhaps giving the girl some time to warm up would be a good idea, though he kept an eye on her as well to make sure she would be alright.

After about thirty minutes, he stepped down from his high chair and went over to the nearby kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and he came back to the studio to hand one to Tina.

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously as he started to drink his own water. 

“... It's a book about wanderers.” Tina answered shortly as she stared at the glass he gave her before taking a small sip and placing it on a nearby table.

“Really? That's quite a topic. Are you interested in fighting?

“Not really, I… wanna be smart, like my sister. She works in the Hunters Association.” 

“Ah, that's quite a noble job. My friend works there too, she does a good job protecting the city or whatever but she doesn't have as much time to meet up with me anymore.”

“What do you do while you wait for her?”

“I paint. Commissions, art for exhibitions, her.. anything, really. Doing what I like is a great distraction.”

“... I don’t feel distracted.”

“Hm?”

“I still miss her… even though I do what I like”

There it was, she opened up a little. He thought that such a subject wasn't great for a young kid, there was bound to be a reason.

“Hmm, well do you really like reading this? Or do you like doing this because it reminds you of your sister?”

“I don't know…”

“That's okay. Missing someone can be horrible, especially with all the waiting. Take me for example, I'm not the most patient person in the world so it's horrible sometimes to just stay all alone while she's somewhere else. But in the end, when my friend does return, the feeling of joy is undeniable, and I think she would like me to be happy while I wait rather than be all sad and think of her.”

“.. So what should I do?” 

“Why don't you try something else? Like painting, for example.” Rafayel said as he got up and quickly gathered two small canvases, some paints, brushes and cups of water before returning to her side and sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Painting is a great way to pour all of your feelings onto one place, so you can focus on what exactly you feel. Then, you can show it, using colours, symbolism, texture - anything, really.” He explained in full focus as he talked about something he knew so well as he patted the space next to him to invite Tina to sit next to him.

“So.. how about instead of missing your sister, and thinking of what she does, you think of what you feel and what you want to do?” He looked at her when he said those words and extended a paint brush if she only wanted to accept his offer.

You rang the doorbell as soon as you found yourself in front of Rafayels house. It was late by now, the mission took much longer than expected, and you felt bad about leaving Tina with Rafayel for so long while you were the one who was supposed to take care of her.

He didn't answer, so you used the key you had and opened the door yourself. After you closed it and went into the living room, you saw Tina and Rafayel talking and painting while sitting on the floor. They were so deep into the conversation that they didn't even notice you at first, until Rafayel spotted you after a few minutes.

“Ah, there you are! Started to think you forgot about us. You took your sweet time.” He teased as he stood up and walked over to you while Tina continued her artwork. She looked much happier and energetic now, you noticed.

“I'm sorry… the mission was much more intense than we all thought. I brought you some food though! And I found some pretty flowers nearby as well, I thought you could make some nice colours out of them.” You responded as you handed him the payment for taking care of Tina. You felt bad but you hoped that it would be enough to make it up to Rafayel.

“Hmm..” Rafayel inspected the flowers, before he picked one up and then tucked it into the hair behind your ear. “I think this one should stay with you, it contrasts your eyes nicely.”

His smoothness somehow always threw you off guard, even after dating for a while. A small romantic gesture yet it made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for the food though, but I ate already. We had some seafood for dinner.” He said as he took the takeout bag from your hands.

“Really? You made food?”

“Why are you surprised? I can cook if I want to, besides, someone had to feed the kid since you left her all alone.” He said as he pointed to Tina.

“She wasn't all alone, she was under your care!”

Tina, who probably heard her name being called, soon ran up to you holding her masterpiece in her hand.

“Look what I made with uncle Rafayel! Do you think she will like it?”

“I know she will love it!” You said as you patted her head. Uncle Rafayel? That was a new one, she seemed to have gotten along with him quite easily.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Rafayel. You really did me a favour.” You thanked him as Tina was getting ready to leave his studio. You were quite happy because Tina looked much more open now, you wondered how he did it.

“It was no issue, really. The kid is smart, we just talked a bit and painted, I did nothing.” He said nonchalantly, though in your eyes - he did a great job. It was endearing almost, how easily he got along with her and even without much knowledge on kids, he did his best to care for her. Perhaps in the future, he would care like this for other kids as well.

[insomniadreamzz]

Is this real?

Arcane Alternate Ending Fanfiction

Contains Jinx x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, angst

Jinx can still remember the moment that made her heart shatter and the little glimpse of happiness in her fade away forever. You were about to help Vander with Victors help but the Noxians had to destroy your hope of a family reunion. The moment Isha grabbed Jinx‘s gun, rushing towards Vander and aiming to shoot, you running after the girl, knowing she meant so much to Jinx but then there was the explosion and Vi dragged her sister Jinx away from the explosion, wanting to save her.

The explosion was the last thing she remembered before everything went down. Jinx had lost the two people she truly loved and who gave her happiness for once. Now it was all gone and she couldn’t help but blame herself for this. She should have saved you and not letting Vi drag her away but all she could do in that moment was scream your name and scream for Isha. There was no point for her to keep going. Jinx gave up, letting the Enforcers put her into jail for everything she did in the past, paying for all her crimes. Being alone in that cold cell without shoes, without her belt weapons, it made her feeling lost. The silence was very loud, Jinx started hearing voices again, getting back to her old behavior since the two persons who silenced them are gone now.

She fumbled with her braids until she undid them fully, her long blue hair spread across the floor, fingers bloody by the non stop pinching on the skin around her nails. As if that wasn’t enough, Jinx even starved herself. The food wasn’t even disgusting at all, it was good compared to what you would get down in Zaun but Jinx had to will to live at this point anymore, spending the time sitting curled up in the corner, hurting herself and crying a lot until there were no tears left to cry anymore.

…

„Come on you can do this!“ You said as you carried the little figure in your arms, Isha’s and your own clothes being smeared with blood as you rushed home. You didn’t know what happened to the others, you only knew they weren’t here. Jinx wasn’t here. This didn’t matter right now, you had to focus on taking care of the girls wounds first and then think about finding Jinx.

Isha had a wound on her head and stomach but she wasn’t the only one being hurt. Since you tried to get the gun away from the little girls hands, the explosion damaged your hand. All that was left on your left hand now was only your thumb and ring finger, all the other three fingers got damaged too much, your small finger got blown off completely whily your index and middle finger got halfway blown off. These conditions you were in made it hard for you to take care of Isha’s wounds since you needed two hands. „Fuck!…“ You grumbled under your breath, ignoring your own pain as you focused on cleaning Isha’s wounds with your right hand.

„May I help you?“ A familiar voice echoed through Jinx’s hideout, it wasn’t your lover but someone you knew you could trust.

„Sevika!“ You shouted, tears in your eyes as you saw the older woman getting close to you. It was really her.

„Damn kiddo I know the feeling of losing limbs caused by explosions.“ She continued as she looked down on your left hand, making a hurtful expression, scrunching up her nose, knowing the pain.

„It don’t matter. Please take care of Isha first. I can use my right hand to stop the bleeding until you can help me wrap it up okay?“ You mentioned and Sevika just nodded, taking care of Isha‘s wounds. „Youre lucky. Her wounds aren‘t that deep but I guess she fainted from the shock which is understandable for a little girl.“ Sevika mumbled under her breath, soon finished cleaning the little wounds and wrapping them up before putting a blanket over her little body, then she focused on your wound.

You hissed every time the cloth with alcohol hit your wound, the stinging pain making you want to scream but you kept yourself back from that. It took Sevika a little time to wrap the bandages tight enough your hand so the blood will stop running, it hurt you but you knew it’s only for your own good. „Damn you really saved a life. I am proud of you.“ Your eyes widen at hearing Sevika saying this. You expected anything but that. „Thank you…I just couldn’t let this happen…but I need to find Jinx.“ You said and Sevika gave you a understanding nod. „Please take a rest. If not for yourself do it for Isha because she needs the rest. Then you can find Jinx.“

You weren’t satisfied with that, knowing Jinx was very unstable and might do something, you can’t let her think you are dead. „No Sevika I am losing time. Please stay here with Isha I beg you. Take care of her until I come back and I promise I will take Jinx with me.“ You insisted and Sevika just nodded in response with her arms crossed. „Fine but take care of you kiddo.“

…

Jinx heard footsteps getting closer, thinking it was just one of her hallucinations or a guard. She didn’t even care to look, keeping her head buried into her arms that rested on her knees. The only thing causing her head to snap up was your voice.

You felt your eyes water at the sight of Jinx being in there, all alone on the cold floor. It broke your heart. „Jinx…?“ You carefully said, her head snapping up to look at you, eyes wide, her dark makeup all messy under her eyes. She looked like she cried for days and you know she didn’t just look like it, she did cry for days.

„Stop…n-no. No you are not real.“ Jinx panicked, she already had a hallucination of Silco before and now you? No way she couldn’t take it. „Go away! I beg you get out of my head. I can’t do this anymore!“ She held her head, hands grabbing a fist full of her own hair as she shook her head, body shaking in fear.

„Hey…it is me. I am real. I know you think I died but I am alive, I am not dead.“ You tried to explain but Jinx clearly shut down. It was impossible to get through her like that so you used the keys Vi gave you and opened the door to her cell. Stepping inside, you saw Jinx looking up with fear at you which made your heart ache but you already knew her in that state so you did what you always do, being calm as you crouched down in front of her. „I will give you time. Just calm down…“ You said with a low, calm voice.

Jinx muttered something to herself, not really audible for you but you didn’t mind, staying there until she noticed you weren’t going to leave, making her slowly look into your eyes and then look down at your damaged hand. „You…are hurt…“ She mumbled and you gave her a little sad smile, nodding. „Yeah…the explosion caused it. I am sorry you thought we are dead. I wished I could find you earlier but…I needed to take care of Isha.“ You told her and when you mentioned Isha, Jinx‘s eyes widened. „Isha! Is she…?“ You interrupted Jinx with a smile. „Isha is alive.“ With that, Jinx cried but this time out of happiness as she leaned forward to hug you so tight, her fingers clutching onto you as if she was scared you would slip out of her hands. „God! I was so scared…“

You hugged her back, keeping your love as close as possible. „It’s okay Jinx…it’s all okay. Isha is with Sevika she is taking care of her while I went to search for you.“ You reassured her, happy tears running down your cheeks as well.

You kept staying in each other’s arms for a while before she pulled back, cupping your cheeks to admire you. „It is really you. You are real. You are not just in my mind right?“ Jinx was still not fully believing this. You out your hands on hers, keeping on smiling at her. „Of course it’s me. The real me.“ You said once again and there it was again, the happy spark in her eyes before she crushed her lips against yours, kissing you so deeply. You immediately kissed back and both of you shared a loving, deep kiss, never wanting to part again.

…

It wasn’t over yet. Jinx and you spend a lot of time preparing for the last fight after you got her out of jail. She was ready to use her knowledge for building things for good. After Jinx made sure to see Isha again, she got even more motivated. Her happiness came back again after the emotional reunion, having Isha back into her arms again, seeing she was doing well except the little scratches on her body. Thanks to you, she survived and all three of you were together now and Jinx swore to herself she won’t ever let anything part you.

Jinx made you mechanic fingers just like she had which was, like she said ‚something she can fix‘. And you loved them. You adored how much she wanted to help you and do good things, not only building weapons to kill.

„Now it’s time to kick some Noxian asses don’t you think babe?“ You heard Jinx‘s voice, turning from painting the last things on the balloon which will help this whole old fan to fly. When you looked at Jinx, your eyes widen. She literally cut her hair short, only her long bangs being left of her old hairstyle, you immediately noticed the little pink colour in them, referring to Vi. „Wow someone really want to change things up huh?“ You chuckle, loving to see your girlfriend like that, she looked perfect to you no matter which hairstyle.

„Yep! But we need to make some more changes.“ Jinx said with her usual cheery voice before she ripped your shirt, making a crop top out if it. „Wha-…“ You started to complain but she cut you off with a little kiss on your lips. „No talking toots! We need to focus.“ She said before taking off her own shirt, replacing it with her belt to cover her nipples and part of her breasts, leaving you speechless.

„No way you gonna look this sexy in front of Isha.“ You managed to say but the blush on your face told her you really liked the view and wanted to eat her and kiss all over her body but there was no time for it.

„Ah fine.“ Jinx was easy to convince which was a surprise but you didn’t mind. Instead you wrapped a bandage around her chest before spraying a pink ‚x‘ on it, smiling satisfied at your work. „There better.“ You mentioned and with that you brought her to another idea. You both ended up chuckling as you painted on each other’s bodies and clothes, leaving kisses every now and then. It was a beautiful intimate moment you shared, something that meaned even more than sex. It was just beautiful.

When both of you were finished with your little doodles on each other and making matching hoods for each other that looked like a shark which was her favorite, you finally were done to help the others getting rid of the Noxians which caused enough trouble between Piltover and Zaun like you already had.

„Are you ready my love?“ You asked and Jinx smiled with a nod before pecking your cheek. „Yes I am and I won’t let you out of my sight, we either win or die together.“ Jinx said but you shook your head. „We will live together. Both of us will stay alive I promise that.“ You stated, squeezing your lovers hand gently.

You were so ready for this.

[akawifeyy]

LOVELORN | smau pt.1 (AKA12)

description: kimi antonelli has known you ever since you were little, and he's always kept a safe distance. but it's getting harder and harder to deny the chemistry, and that he's head over heels in love.

tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader

face claim: daniela avanzini

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: i need kimi holistically... also this is part 1 / 3 fics!

@ yourusername: snapshots from the past few days 📸

tagged: @ olliebearman, @ f1

comments (752):

@ user1: captivating

@ user2: IDK if I wanna be her or with her

-> @ user3: sameee

@ olliebearman: It was nice seeing you again, lil sis

-> @ yourusername: i'm younger than you by three minutes, be so fr ✋🏻

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ kimiantonelli: Grazie Miami for everything! P1, can't believe it. Thank you all who helped make this a reality.

tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (1938):

@ yourusername: incredible driving skills, maybe you aren't just a pretty face

-> @ kimiantonelli: The pretty face is all you

-> @ user4: HELLO???

@ kimiantonelliupdates: TBT baby kimi, i can't believe he's all grown up and winning GPs

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ aka12lover, @ forzakimi & 3 others

comments (124):

@ user3: HE'S SO SMALLL AWEE

@ user5: yeah yeah baby Kimi's cute but did anyone also catch him flirting with Ollie's sister?

-> @ user6: They've known each other since childhood, we shouldn't be speculating on a romantic relationship that might not even exist. It's an invasion of their privacy, let them flirt and leave them alone

@ aka12lover: sooo cutie 😍

Interview with Kimi Antonelli (excerpt):

INTERVIEWER: So, you've known Ollie Bearman for quite some time, since your years together in Prema Racing?

KIMI ANTONELLI: Yes, we've been friends for years. I'm grateful, he's stuck with me through a lot of things.

INTERVIEWER: The Internet is abuzz with rumors concerning the two of you. You may have heard?

(Kimi Antonelli shakes his head.)

INTERVIEWER (clearing throat): Many fans think that you might be secretly dating Ollie's younger sister, Y/N. What would you like to say to them?

KIMI ANTONELLI: No, no. (laughter) If I were dating Y/N, I wouldn't hide it. She does not deserve to be kept like a secret.

INTERVIEW: So the rumors are false?

KIMI ANTONELLI: For the time being, yes. Unless she decides otherwise.

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: oh how i love imola 😇

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ olliebearman, @ f1

comments (356):

@ user7: orange looks so pretty on her 🥵

@ olliebearman: Thanks for leaving me halfway through celebrations. I know where your loyalty lies now

-> @ yourusername: sorry i had to piss 😭

-> @ olliebearman: Sureee 🙂‍↔️

@ kimiantonelli: Photo credits?

-> @ yourusername: my bad kimi

@ kimiantonelli: P3 in Imola! Lucky and thankful to be here

tagged: @ yourusername, @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (985):

@ user9: hello why did he tag Y/N 😣

-> @ user10: I'm gonna crash out if they're dating

-> @ user9: but remember the interview? why would he lie

@ olliebearman: Congrats mate!!

@ yourusername: as someone i know once said, "photo credits"? 🤨

-> @ kimiantonelli: Sorry, tesoruccia 😞

-> @ user11: LITTLE TREASURE??? guys i don't think they're kidding anymore

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

Text messages between Ollie and Y/N (2025):

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[oceantornadoo]

ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.

“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks. 

Thirty minutes earlier

For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.

Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over. 

“I am trapped, John.”

“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.” 

“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”

“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”

The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.

Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within. 

That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.

Now

“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.

The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.

MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.

“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.

“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.

“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.” 

John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution. 

“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.

“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation. 

“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.

“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”

-

“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”

John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.

“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.

“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.

Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.

As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.

“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you’re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.

“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.

-

Gaz was right. It only took an hour. 

But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.

John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia. 

They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife. 

They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.

“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention. 

“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”

-

“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.

You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.

It’s him. The General. Shepherd. 

Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.

“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.

“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words. 

“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.

“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.

When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?

Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.

It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally. 

You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.

“Fuckin’ bastard.”

-

Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats

Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL

Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY

-

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[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY EIGHTH; side b — strangers - ethel cain | f. harding x r

w; r is anna’s sister — but i do not describe physical attributes, slight unrequited love (not wholly), grief, doesn’t necessarily follow ‘nosferatu’ plot — besides the funeral of anna and the children. an; first work for friedrich!!! i am ABSOLUTELY awful at writing period pieces, so please forgive me if i actually butchered this :(

mixtape here!

The tears that had fallen down your flushed cheeks almost felt frozen against your skin. The funeral was just a sickening reminder of what once was, was now gone. 

Your sister had been one of your best friends in some of the darkest times of the span of your life, helping you cross paths with obstacles and holding your hand to reassure you she’d never let go. 

And once you’d found out you were going to be an aunt to two beautiful girls, you were elated — buy little dresses and shoes for both. 

Anna had won at life in every aspect. 

Including Friedrich. 

A man whom you’d spotted one morning while you’d gone for a walk. A man who’d caught your attention by how beautiful he was to you — sad blue eyes, dark hair, pale skin. 

You’d never hold anger for Anna for finding someone who loved her just as much as she deserved — even if you longed for that feeling. Even if you longed for who was showing her that love. 

Now grief is heavy in your chest. There’s something missing — and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think someone had stolen your heart. 

The Priest’s voice slowly fades out into silence, a ringing in your ear replacing the prayer. 

Please forgive me, Lord. You manage a small prayer in your mind, yet you have yet to blink away a blurry vision of the caskets being led away and towards their final resting place. 

Your chin quivers slightly, eyebrows pinching together in what could only be described as anguish from anyone who looks at you. You can feel the eyes of Ellen who looks drained and tired. 

You can’t manage to meet the eyes of anyone else. 

Once the Priest has closed the book in his hand, your feet are quick to walk away, not wanting to be there any longer than what you had to. 

A shuddering breath leaves your parted lips, a slight stumble in your steps. It seems like a never ending path towards the carriage. A gloved hand quickly reaches out towards the door, making you stop in your steps. 

“I need to make sure you get home safely.” 

Your eyes drift over towards Friedrich. His blue eyes pop out more from his bloodshot, teary eyes. Snow dusts the shoulders of his jacket and hat. 

Shaking your head, you look away quickly. “No. I will be fine.”

“This is not a negotiation.” 

Clenching your jaw, the door opens and his hand lands on your back to help you inside. Sitting down on the left side, he steps inside and sits in front of you. Once he shuts the door, the sounds of the horses trotting are muffled as the carriage begins to move. 

The weight of his heavy stare remains on you the remainder of the way, the nauseous feeling almost dizzying. It makes you bite down on your tongue slightly as your eyes remain on the bare trees as you pass. 

The inside of your home is warm. It was small, even if you could afford a bigger home, you had no one to share that with. A small one was just as good. 

Your back straightens when the door closes and you glance over at Friedrich who looks around the home. You look away and pull at your gloves. “I am home now,” You place them on the table along with your jacket. “You can leave.” 

It’s silent for a moment. Then you hear a small sigh. “Why are you trying to dismiss me? I am trying…” He trails off. You remain with your back towards him, picking at the skin around your nails. You flinch when his hand suddenly wraps around your bicep, turning you towards him. 

You look mortified, he notices. At that, he frowns and tilts his head when you look away, trying to follow your line of sight. “Why are you practically avoiding me? You can’t even look at me!” 

“Because looking at you makes me sick!” You finally snap, looking at him finally. Even if there was no reason to raise your voice, there also wasn’t much to push you over the edge at the moment. “I can not bear to look at you without…” You trail off, your chin quivering once again. 

Your hands lift to cover your face, a sob escaping once again causing your shoulders to shake and knees to buckle. 

Friedrich’s hands are quick to capture your sides, his own knees falling with you to the ground. Shaking your head, your hands push at his arms. “No. No,” Your voice cracks and wavers. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want you to touch me!” 

He allows you to push at his arms, yet he never relents. Once your clawing and desperate attempts to push his arms away, your own arms fall slowly against your side, your cheek pressed against his chest as you continue to cry. 

His hand lifts and holds the back of your head, a small furrow to his brows as his own eyes begin to water once again. Pushing your head back with his hand, you look up at him with a shuddering chest. His head tilts as he looks at you, eyeing the loose strands of hair that stick to your cheeks. 

Lips pulled into a frown, he pushes those strands away gently. Your brows pinch together and your eyes slowly close as your head turns. His thumb presses into the corner of your mouth — a gentle, soft press. 

In another timeline, this would’ve been what you wanted — the feeling of his breath against your cheek and the nudge of his nose against yours as his lips brush over your bottom lip. 

Shaking your head, you turn it quickly and feel as his nose presses into your cheekbone now. “No. I can not do this to my sister,” You whisper. “I can not do it to you or myself,” Your voice quivers. 

“You are only hurting, Friedrich.” 

“And so are you.” He whispers. Your head turns slowly, resting your forehead against his, nudging the tip of your nose against his softly. 

“I won’t do this,” You shake your head. “I…I love you. I always have. But if I allow myself what I’ve always wanted, I’m betraying Anna. I will not allow myself to give in to you.” 

His chin quivers this time, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stares at you quietly. Hand lifting slowly, you place it over his as your cheek leans into his rough palm slightly. 

His lips are shaky and the small laugh he lets out is more like a puff of air. “Can I stay just this one night?” He whispers. 

Staring at him quietly, your mind renders you speechless for a moment. If you say yes would you still be betraying your sister? Would that be giving in to something selfish? 

Turning your head, your lips press against his palm softly before pulling away. 

Anna. Forgive me. 

“You can stay.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[scary-grace]

sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise.  This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

[loveandleases]

Thinking of poor MC going around cancelling wedding plans and trying to see if they can get even a tiny bit of a refund (good luck with that)

MC: So I need to cancel my order/reservation/etc.

Organizer: Oh no, we are sorry to hear that. Was there a problem with our services?

MC: No, you were perfect. It's just that my now ex-fiancé(e) cheated on me with my sister, and now I'm technically homeless and petless so I'm just calling all the services we had used in our wedding plans to cancel them and maybe get even a bit of a refund even with cuts because I could use the money.

Poor organizer that didn't even ask for this, they just asked so they could write something down as explanation for cancellation:

(only feeling a little bit of author guilt over here after all the things i've done to mc.)

Yeah, MC did end up putting some money in when it came to planning. Not as much as a specific ex (Chris absolutely relied on daddy's money.) But enough that it puts them in a harder position. Em would have at least tried to help to some degree, and MC saved on photographer (perks of a photographer bestie.) But Cam will end up charging a huge ass cancellation fee (to Chris's card of course.) Going to need to send that poor organizer a basket of some sort.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever it is you’ve been doing

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Secret Date on the Kissing Booth bonus card and Date on the regular one

Rated: T

Tags: Omegaverse; Alpha!Steve; Omega!Eddie; Secret relationship, Courting rituals, Fluff

Notes: Set in the same verse as Whatever you want it to be.

Dustin Henderson is confused, and Eddie can tell that he's going to make it everybody's problem. 

He glowers at Eddie from under his hat as Steve herds his friends and him into the living room of Harrington Manor, frowns as they unpack their dice and gives snippy replies as Steve takes everyone's pizza order. He calms down a little after that, as they get started with their campaign, but by the time Steve returns with the food, his mood sours again. 

“Extra cheese and no pineapple for Wheeler,” Steve says, handing over Mike's order, then plops down on the couch, right next to where Eddie is sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “And these are for you.” 

Eddie blinks at the box that's shoved in his direction. Steve wiggles it, smile bright and eager. 

“Pizza knots with pepperoni,” he singsongs. Like he thinks it's charming. Like offering a guy greasy fast food in a soggy cardboard box and making bad sex puns is high-level seduction. 

The problem is it's working. 

“Keep your knots to yourself, Harrington,” he drawls, just for the heck of it, because the last thing that dork needs is to think he’s some sort of modern-day Don Juan. “I didn't order anything.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't stop smiling. 

“I know,” he says, opening the box and grinning at the audible rumble of Eddie’s stomach. “But I also know they're your favorite. C'mon, they're on me. We can even share if-” 

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Dustin blurts, slamming his hands down on the sofa table and sending their figurines scattering. 

Steve measures him with an unimpressed look and takes a bite out of his first pizza knot. 

“What d’you mean?” 

Dustin groans. Tugs on his basecap. Throws his hands out in a dramatic, all-encompassing gesture. Next to him, Lucas dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face.

“What do I- … This! All of this! Why are we holding Hellfire at your house? Why are you buying Eddie food? Why are you two suddenly joined at the hip when you were barely even acknowledging each other’s existence two weeks ago?”

Eddie trades a glance with Steve before he turns back to Dustin with blank stare. It’s hard, because the kid’s left eyebrow is twitching funnily and he needs to muster up all of his willpower to not burst out laughing.

“Okay? I don’t get it, Henderson.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees around half a mouthful of cheese. “You’ve been nagging me about what a great guy Eddie is for literal months, and now that we’re finally getting along, that’s also a problem?”

“I wanted you to be friends!” Dustin whines. “Not- … Not whatever it is you’ve been doing! Hell, the other day at the gas station, you bought him a pen!” 

“Because he always steals mine and I thought he might like it,” Steve shrugs. “It was shaped like a dragon and had those little sparkly stones for eyes.”

Eddie smiles at him. “It’s a very metal pen, thank you.”

“See?” Dustin blurts. “That’s exactly what I mean! Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were courting!”

Next to him, Mike rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, they can’t be courting. Eddie’s a beta.”

Dustin gives him an scathing look. “He dated your sister and she’s an alpha.”

“That was before she presented,” Mike retaliates. “They broke up after that.”

“Hey, shitheads,” Steve says, pointing his pizza knot at them. “I didn’t break up with Nancy because she presented as an alpha. And you don’t gossip about other people’s love life. Least of all while they’re in the same room.”

Dustin looks like he’s about to argue, but Steve draws himself up to his full height and crosses his arms. The warning rumble that bubbles from his throat is so low it’s barely even there, but it still has the desired effect. The kids deflate and avert their eyes. Which is just as well, because if they kept looking, they’d probably see how Eddie has gone suspiciously red in the face and has started squirming in his spot. 

“Jeez, okay,” Dustin mumbles. “Sorry, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “Now go back to your nerd game, I’d like you to go home at some point.” 

*

Mrs. Henderson swings by on her way back from work to pick up the brood, so Steve takes the empty glasses and pizza cartons to the kitchen while Eddie clears away the mess in the living room. He’s just assembled his notes on the campaign into something that halfway resembles a neat stack when a pair of arms wraps around his waist and pulls him back into a soft, warm body. Steve noses at the scent gland on his neck, even though there’s not much to smell now that Eddie is back on his repressants. Eddie still sighs and tilts his head to give him better access.

“Those little gremlins are too curious for their own good,” Steve mutters. Since his mouth is all but welded to Eddie’s neck, his voice comes out slightly muffled. It sends a pleasant shiver down Eddie’s spine and makes a familiar warmth stir in his belly.

“Tell me about it,” Eddie says, hands finding Steve’s and entangling their fingers. In the kitchen, some cheesy love song is blaring from the radio. Steve starts swaying the both of them to the melody and Eddie lets him. “You might wanna try and keep the sexy, macho, alpha act to a minimum though, if you don’t want me to pop a boner in front of our little sheepies. That, and the courting gifts.” 

“I’ve been so subtle about it,” Steve grouses, spinning him around and out before wrapping him back into his arms. “Goddamn pizza knots and pens. You deserve much better gifts. You deserve to be taken on proper dates.” 

“Hey now!” Eddie hits his chest. “Don’t insult the pen. I meant what I said, I like it a lot.”

Steve pouts, but his scent goes earthier and more intense, as always when he’s pleased. 

“Maybe we should just tell them,” Eddie mumbles into Steve's chest as they keep moving to the music. “They're two steps away from figuring it out, anyhow.” 

Steve gently pushes him away, so that he can measure him with a quizzical look. The pine needle note in his scent has gone sharper. More protective. Eddie realizes he's getting better and better at telling his emotions from these subtle shifts, even with his senses dulled by the meds.

“Would you be okay with that? You said you didn't want anyone to know.” 

Eddie shrugs. “They're a bunch of loud-mouthed little goblins, but they're good kids at heart. I feel like they'd handle it okay. And I'll probably need to come out about it at some point, if we want to continue this.” 

Steve frowns, unconvinced, folding him up in his arms and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. 

“When you're ready. When you're absolutely sure you wanna do this. Not a day earlier, okay?” 

A part of Eddie thinks he'll never be ready, but he knows that it's the scared and cowardly part that also thought he'd never open up to Steve. Another, more stubborn and possessive part of him wants to climb out on the roof and proclaim their courtship for all of this goddamn town to hear. Tell everyone that Steve is his just as much as he is Steve’s. 

What he does, in the end, is melt into Steve's embrace and kiss the junction of his neck and shoulder, grinning at the sharp intake of breath and distinct spike of arousal in his scent. 

“Okay,” he agrees. He'll be ready one day, and they'll figure out their way when the time comes. “But for now … take me upstairs?” 

More Steddie Bingo