#posting this a bit early because I need to run off to a hair appointment!

[seiya-starsniper]

Another Corintheus prompt for you! Enjoy <3

A is tied to an altar as a sacrifice to demon!B. More than taking their life, B is interested in taking their body.

Okay so, I had a goal in mind to keep all my birthday celebration prompt fills around 1.2k words and then....and then. This one happened 🤣🤣🤣

I'm such a sucker for human sacrifice AUs though, really I shouldn't be surprised this got to 3.1k words!

Anyways, hope you enjoy friend, thanks for the prompt! ���

[AO3 Link Here]

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Dream had always known that his life was not his own. He was born solely to die, to be sacrificed, so that the rest of his village may live.

He’s not bitter about it — not entirely. It meant that he could do as he pleased, that he had no responsibilities other than to keep his purity intact. Instead of toiling on the fields or being forced to learn a trade, he could simply shut himself inside and read to his heart’s content. It was lonely sometimes, having nothing but books and the occasional visit from his siblings for company. But anything was better than having to face the pitying looks of the other villagers whenever he took a rare walk into town. 

On the day he’s set to be sacrificed, Dream goes easily, dressed in white, his long black hair held back in an elegant braid. Dream had not been allowed to cut it his entire life — another thing the villagers insisted he needed to keep pure for the demon to work their magic. Dream is not entirely sure he believes that his hair has anything to do with protection magic, but he’d followed directions anyway. It was one less thing to worry about in the grand scheme of things. 

His mother cries, of course, but his father does not. He merely reminds him of his duty, and claps him on the shoulder. His siblings were not allowed to be at the summoning ceremony, so they had all given him their goodbyes the night before.

The priests sit him at the center of the oblong marble altar, and because Dream is so pliant they do not bind him to it. The altar is cool beneath his thighs as Dream sits upon it, his legs just dangling over the edge. The sacrificial robe is wound tight around him, but it is so thin Dream still shivers in the cold temperature of the sacrificial room. He wishes they had dressed him in warmer garments. What a silly thing to be concerned about in his last moments of life. 

When they are satisfied with his placement, the priests perform the summoning ceremony, then leave as soon as the energy in the air begins to change. Dream debates whether he wants to close his eyes or face the horror of his death head on. He ultimately decides to face his fate with eyes wide open. It isn’t long before the smell of brimstone and fire fills his nostrils and soon the candles flicker rapidly as blackened smoke begins to fill the room. 

When Dream comes face to face with the monster that means to kill him, he’s struck by how beautiful the creature is. The demon wears the skin of a man, and a well dressed one at that. He’s tall and clean shaven, with straw-blond hair that is cropped in a modern manner that Dream has only seen on visitors who’d passed through his village on their way to the city. The suit he wears is modern too, white and sleek and well-fitting. Atop his face sits a pair of glasses, with lenses so dark they obscure his eyes entirely. 

When his gaze lands on Dream, his lips pull back into a menacing, almost feral looking smile. Dream feels very much like the sacrifice he is at this moment, a helpless lamb laid out to be feasted upon by a hungry lion — a lion who is very much stalking towards his trapped prey. He seems to cross the room in just a few wide strides, and then he is face to face with Dream. 

“Well, well, well,” the demon says, raking his gaze down Dream's flimsily covered body. “Aren’t you just the prettiest sacrifice I’ve seen in the last century.”

Dream cannot help but stare himself. The demon is even more beautiful up close, and still manages to stand a head taller than him, even with Dream propped on the table. He leans down after a moment, as if to whisper a secret into Dream's ear. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” the demon purrs. Dream shudders as the demon’s tongue flicks out to lick at the shell of his ear. He remembers how his mother had told him that demons were lustful creatures, that they were known to ravish their victims while they killed them, some even going so far as to desecrate the corpses. She had never mentioned that the demons themselves would inspire lust in a human though. But perhaps this situation was just unique to Dream. 

“I am Dream,” Dream answers, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. The demon's mouth is still close to his ear, so Dream clearly hears the sharp intake of breath, followed shortly by a chuckle full of warm breath that causes Dream’s entire body to jolt. It's cold in the summoning room, but this demon is warm, and Dream is struck by a sudden desire to touch, to test and see for himself just how hot this creature’s temperature runs. 

“Yes, you are a dream indeed,” the demon tells him, pressing one final kiss to Dream's ear before he steps back to take in the look of Dream once more. Even though Dream cannot see his eyes, the rest of the demon’s expression is clear. He's leering and Dream cannot help but feel self conscious as the demon's gaze sweeps hungrily all over his body. Dream’s robe is thin and short, barely long enough to cover the tops of his knees. He feels as though he may as well be naked already. 

“Oh we're going to have so much fun, little Dream,” the demon says with a grin, before he takes a dagger with a long, straight blade out from within his suit jacket. It gleans in the lowlight of the candle and Dream shudders when he sees it. He knows the next part of the ritual well. The protection ritual for the village requires demon magic and human blood. Dream had been chosen because he’d been born on the night of a lunar eclipse. He doesn’t think it necessarily makes his blood any more magical, but the village had always sent sacrifices born on the eclipse, and the protection had always held, so here he was. 

As the demon approaches him, Dream’s breath hitches in both anticipation and dread. He decides to bare his throat to the demon, giving him easy access to the vein he’d heard produces the most blood. He’d read too that a cut to the throat was the quickest way to death. Perhaps if he makes it easy for the demon, his death will be quick and mostly painless. 

He tries not to think of what the demon will do with his body once Dream is long gone. 

“I am ready,” Dream declares, hoping he doesn’t look too frightened. “Take all the blood you need from me for the ritual.”

“Oh aren’t you lovely,” the demon replies, running the flat of the blade along Dream’s neck. Dream stills his breathing entirely, afraid to move. Then, suddenly the blade is gone.

“But I don’t need blood from here,” the demon says, grabbing Dream by the wrist. “This will do just fine,” he adds, right before he cuts a straight line across Dream’s palm.

Dream inhales sharply and tries to jerk his arm back as the pain of the cut hits him, but the demon is stronger than him, and so his arm remains immobile. Blood flows freely down his hand and onto the altar, and then suddenly there is a bowl beneath his wrist, gathering the liquid. When it is filled to the brim, the demon begins to chant in a language that Dream does not know. He finally releases Dream’s wrist, and Dream presses the sleeve of the robe to his still injured hand, not knowing why he’s even trying to stop the bleeding. 

All at once the room is shrouded in a bright light, and then the chanting from the demon stops when it disappears. Dream looks around and sees that the summoning room is now bathed in a scarlet glow, a light he is intimately familiar with. It is the magic of the barrier that sits over his village, and Dream knows right away that the ritual has been successful.

“That’s it?” Dream asks, incredulous. All that magic for so little blood? There is still more seeping into the sleeve of his robe. 

“That’s it,” the demon replies with a sly grin, then adds, “I never needed a whole human body to perform the protection ritual, just a little bit of blood. Not my fault your people misunderstood my instructions.”  

“Then where have the other sacrifices gone?” Dream asks. Could he still walk out of this alive? Start over, go home, could he still—?

“Oh I still killed them,” the demon laughs as he wipes his blade down with a cloth before putting it back in his jacket. “But that was mostly for fun.”

“You,” Dream gasps, and for the first that is truly afraid. “Is that what you plan to do to me?” If it was, why pretend to let Dream live at all? Were his mother’s stories true then? Was the demon going to merely play with him and then kill him? Did his sacrifice mean nothing at all?

“Well, that depends,” the demon says, shocking Dream out of his terrifying thoughts. 

“On what?” Dream all but demands. 

“On whether you’d prefer to die, or ride my cock,” the demon tells him bluntly, the leer now returning to his face. “And if you’re especially good at it, I could make you immortal too. Would you like that sweetheart?” he asks, leaning in close and licking his lips, once again reminding Dream of a predator. “How would you like to be a demon’s cock warmer until the end of time?”

“I—” Dream swallows as a litany of filthy images rush through his mind. He'd been ordered to keep his body pure his entire life for the purposes of the ritual, but his mind was an entirely different story. He'd consumed plenty of erotic literature, mainly snuck in to him by his sibling Desire, and so he wasn’t naive to what the demon was offering him. But everything he’d read had been about pleasure between humans. Would it be different between a human and a demon? What if the demon didn’t even have the same anatomy as a human’s? Would it hurt more than—

“Chop chop, honey,” the demon says, snapping his fingers in Dream’s face, breaking the man out of his reverie. “Fuck or die, what’s it going to be?”

Dream swallows hard, then makes his decision. He wants to live, he realizes. Desperately so. He hasn't lived for himself his entire life and he — he wants to decide something for himself, for once. He drops his sacrificial robe, lets the cloth fall just past his shoulders, exposing his neck and chest to the cold air. The demon’s tongue darts out to swipe at his top lip once more, and he looks even hungrier now. 

“Take it all off,” the demon commands. Dream does, tossing the bloodied robe to the floor. Before he can look up at the demon once more, he finds himself suddenly pushed onto his back on the cold marble, the demon's entire body now pressing down on top of him. He claims Dream’s mouth in a hungry kiss, and Dream moans at just how warm the creature feels on top of him. 

“You can call me Corinthian,” the demon tells him right before he bites down on Dream’s collarbone. “I’d be very pleased to hear you to scream it as many times as you like while I’m fucking you.”

Before Dream can reply, the demon brings his injured palm to his lips, licking at the open wound. Dream gasps as his blood smears across the Corinthian’s face, making him look even more like a wild beast. Dream belatedly realizes the action has stopped the pain in his hand, and when the blond drops it, Dream realizes the wound has closed.

“How—” Dream starts to ask, but his lips are claimed once more by the demon’s mouth. Dream thinks there must be something wrong with him to find it so arousing that he’s kissing a creature whose mouth is filled with his own blood. When the Corinthian’s tongue pushes for entry, Dream’s lips part easily, and the taste of his own blood mixed with the demon’s saliva makes him dizzy. 

Dream writhes eagerly beneath the Corinthian body, the roughness of the man’s clothing an exquisite friction against his naked skin. Then suddenly, the clothing seems to melt off all at once from the demon’s body, leaving him bare. Dream gasps as he feels the demon’s cock, his very human shaped cock, press eagerly into his thigh.

“Clever trick, right?” the Corinthian chuckles into his mouth. “Next time, I’ll let you pull them off me yourself.” 

“You—ah,ah,” Dream moans as the Corinthian wraps a hand around his cock. “You seem to be a creature of many talents,” he finishes, panting as the demon strokes and teases him. 

“If you were impressed by that,” the blond grins, “then you’ll really like this.” The Corinthian mutters something under his breath, and suddenly the hand around Dream’s cock is wet. Dream curses.

“Like that, sweetheart?” the Corinthian croons, knowing full well what the answer will be. 

“Yes,” Dream moans, arching his back and thrusting his hips eagerly into the demon’s hand. “Please—gods—I—”

“Yeah?” the Corinthian replies, his smirk wicked as his hand stops moving, right before it leaves Dream’s cock completely. Dream whines and thrusts his hips upwards, trying and failing to regain that delicious friction.

“Why—” he starts but then the Corinthian shushes him with a finger on his lips.

“We’re just getting started, little Dream,” is all the warning Dream gets from the demon before he feels a finger press insistently at his entrance. 

Dream tries to wriggle himself away from the foreign sensation, but the Corinthian uses his free arm to pin his hips down.

“Ah, ah,” the Corinthian chides him gently. “There’s nowhere for you to go darling.”

“It feels weird,” Dream grumbles.

“It won’t for long,” the Corinthian promises.

He’s right. The Corinthian eventually gets one finger inside him, and it doesn’t take him long to find the bundle of nerves Dream had only previously read about in stories. The pleasure that washes over him is indescribable. Dream now knows why so many have chased the pleasures of sex at great personal cost; anything that felt this good could easily become an addiction. 

The Corinthian teases Dream’s hole the same way that he did his cock, bringing him right to the precipice of pleasure and stopping just short of Dream’s release. He does it again with a second finger, and by the third finger, Dream thinks the demon means to torture him forever like this, witholding Dream’s pleasure just out reach until the end of time. The Corinthian’s fingers suddenly withdraw all at once from inside him, and then the demon is nudging Dream up into a sitting position. It’s at that moment that Dream remembers the Corinthian had wanted him to perform a certain task. 

“Up you go, sweetheart,” the Corinthian says, moving to lie down on the same spot where Dream had previously been. Dream climbs into the demon’s lap and positions himself right at the tip, breathing slowly and deeply, before he starts to nudge the Corinthian’s cock inside him. 

The stretch burns, and Dream feels tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as his body struggles to adjust to something larger than three fingers inside of him. Every inch that breaches inside him makes Dream feel as though all the air has left his body. He feels so full, so hot, so overwhelmed, that he doesn’t know what to do, other than push through the discomfort. He’d made his choice at the beginning of this. He’d read in his books that this was supposed to hurt at first. He can do this. He will do this. 

After what feels like an eternity, Dream’s hips finally go flush against the Corinthian’s, and he exhales sharply as he tries to adjust himself. The Corinthian barely gives him a moment to breathe, before he thrusts up without warning into Dream. 

Dream screams and sees stars flash behind his eyes. The Corinthian sets a brutal rhythm beneath him, and Dream cannot do much at first besides take it and brace himself on the demon’s chest. The discomfort soon gives way to pleasure, and it isn’t long before Dream finds himself moving in time with the Corinthian thrusts, seeking his own pleasure on the demon’s cock. 

“Fuck you’re so tight, little Dream,” the Corinthian pants as he speeds up his pace beneath him. “Oh, yes, I’m absolutely keeping you.”

Dream yelps as the demon hits that bundle of nerves inside him. He's here again, at the precipice of pleasure, he can feel it. Dream lifts his hips up slightly higher than before and then slams them down forcefully, drawing a guttural moan from the creature beneath him.

“Corinthian,” Dream moans as the demon's cock hits that sensitive spot again. He moves his hips faster, desperately trying to hit that spot as many times as he can manage. “Corinthian!"

“Touch yourself,” the Corinthian commands, sounding just as out of breath as Dream feels, “and tell me again who you belong to.”

“You!” Dream cries, placing a hand on his cock and stroking himself desperately. “Corinthian, I am yours I'm—!” 

Dream screams as his orgasm rips through him, his cock spilling between their bodies. The Corinthian growls and then Dream is suddenly on his back once more, the marble no longer cool but hot against his back as the demon thrusts greedily inside him. Dream cannot do anything but helplessly whine and clutch at the Corinthian’s shoulders, the pleasure soon giving way to an overstimulated pain. 

The Corinthian roars as he comes inside Dream, his come wet and hot as it fills his insides. Between one blink and the next, Dream is no longer in the summoning room, but in a dimly lit bedroom, his back now pressed against silk soft sheets and pillows.

The Corinthian's cock is still inside him. And still hard.

“Welcome home, little Dream,” the demon croons into his neck. “Hope you're ready for round two.”

[xxstorywriterxx]

Your local barista / Part 9

Larissa Weems x fem reader fanfiction

You´re a barista working at Weathervane. A tall blonde, beautiful woman comes in from time to time to get a coffee and talk to you. She seems nice at first but after a while you find yourself wondering if you could become more than friends?

Thank you so much for your support! I´ll try to post updates every week!

Link to the following chapter is at the bottom.

Warnings: a little smut at the end

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Larissa Weems opened the door to the Weathervane with a bright smile on her red lips. She wore a coat-like dress, her hand with red painted fingernails was holding a black purse, her hair was pinned up as usual and she had big black sunglasses on her nose. Even though it was still quite early in the morning, the sun was already out and flooding the entire town with warmth. "Good morning to you too, my Love!" You got around the bar and headed towards Larissa, who had placed her handbag on a chair. She took off her glasses when you came nearer and placed her hands on your waist. "It´s so good to see you!" Her voice was quite and low as she looked you up and down, causing you to shiver. You looked up to the goddess. "I missed you so much!" You looked at her lips, smiling. Right now you wanted nothing more than to finally feel the softness of those red and juicy lips. You wanted to taste her, to be as close as possible to your greatest desire and weakness. She bit on her lower lip just before she pressed her´s against your´s. You felt like flying as soon as you smelled her bloomy scent and tasted the strawberry balm on her mouth.

Ever since you had spend the night at Larissa´s apartment two weeks ago, you were pretty much insepreable. Due to your work schedules you only slept at each others houses on the weekends but Larissa came to the cafe extra early in the morning and you opened it an hour earlier than usual, just so you could have a reason to be together. On days you were missing each other the most you delivered her coffee to Nevermore, causing the two of you to run late to various appointments and workshifts but it was absolutley worth every second of it, especially because of little intimate sessions you shared. She made you feel happy and safe, as if you were walking on clouds. You couldn´t remember the last time you were in love with someone the way you were with Larissa. Of course you hadn´t told her yet. It was way too early to do so and never the right moment anyway. But you planned on confessing to her soon. You dreamed of a future together and couldn´t wait for it to finally happen.

When you stopped kissing she sat down on a chair, you brought her the usual morning coffee and got next to her. She drank it with a satisfied look on her face. "I have to be honest. The only reason I´m with you is your great coffee and the opportunity to get one every morning." She smiled at you. You let out a dramatic sigh. "I knew from the start you were just using me!" Then the two of you started to laugh. Larissa was so beautiful when doing so. She reached over to you and grabbed your hand. Her skin was so soft. You just stared at each other for some time before Larissa continued talking. "I was thinking. How about we take some time off? Just us. We could do a little trip on the weekend. I own a cabin near a lake only a one hour drive away from here. It could be our first holiday together!" "Wait, you own a cabin?" Larissa laughed at your stunned face. "Yes, I do. I bought it a few years ago and when I need some alone time I go there over the weekend. So, what do you think?" "That sounds great! I haven´t been on a holiday in ages!" "Alright. Then it´s settled. We wanted to spend this weekend together anyway. How about we head off right away?" You raised her hand to your mouth and kissed it. "Sounds perfect to me." Larissa looked at you happily. "Great. Let´s drive there on Friday after work. I´ll pick you up at your house." "Alright! I can´t wait to spend some time with you away from home." She leaned over to you and gave you a kiss. "Me neither, Darling."

The next few days were passing slowly. You got more and more excited to head off with Larissa. Time seemed to be standing still except when you spend time with her. Your best friend Isaac was almost as excited as you were, when you told him about the two of you being away for the weekend. "It´s the perfect opportunity to tell her about your feelings!" Isaac said on Thursday after your shift. He had picked you up and you went grocery shopping for the trip. "It´ll be so romantic. The two of you alone in a cabin. A beautiful blue lake outside the window. A hot fire burning in the fire place. You all cuddled up on the sofa." You had to laugh. "Oh, please. Sounds like you would really want to go instead of me. Also you just described the perfect Hollywood-cliche romance." "But maybe it is! I mean, look at you! You´re going out with the most gorgeous woman ever. You fell for her ages ago and when you finally got the courage to make the first move she even liked you back! You two get along so well. You have the same sense of humor, you really appreciate each other and you share some sort of tragic youth." You giggled at his last sentence. "Trust me. You two seem like a couple straight out of a movie." You grabbed a bag of crisps from a shelve. "Maybe you´re right. But still. We´re just people. I mean, we´re going on a holiday. Nothing special." Actually, it was something special to you. And Larissa really wasn´t just a normal person to go on a trip with. Your stomach was full of butterflies as soon as you even thought about leaving with her tomorrow. But of course you wouldn´t tell Isaac about that. He didn´t have to know how deep your feelings for Larissa actually were. "'Nothing special'. Just listen to yourself. Who would actually say that about their first trip with their partner? You´re so in love, it´s ridiculous." "Sh, Isaac. Would you shut up about it already? Besides we haven´t... we haven´t labelled us as anything yet." You blushed a little. "Are you joking? Are you telling me that you don´t know wether you are a couple just because you haven´t 'confirmed' it yet?" "Well, ugh, yes?" Isaac looked at you, shocked. "Unbelievable. Y/n you really are unbelievable." "What? What do you mean?" "Oh, just pull yourself together! You two are in love. You spend as much time together as possible. I saw the way she looked at you, the way she stroke your cheek. Everytime the door to the Weathervane opens you look disappointed when it is not her who is walking in. And now, after like what? Two weeks of dating she invited you to her private cabin? Just finally admit it. You´re a couple. You don´t necessarily need words for that. You just feel it." You thought about his words for a moment. "You´re a wise man, Isaac." He sighed and grabbed a Dr. Pepper. "I know."

On Friday you were barely able to focus on work. All you could think about was your weekend with Larissa. You couldn´t eat during the day because you were so nervous about being away with her. When your shift finally ended you rushed home and took a shower. You got ready and changed into a comfortable but classy outfit. You finished packing your bags and waited for Larissa to arrive. After a few minutes your phone started buzzing.

'I´m waiting downstairs for you, Love! XX'

You felt your stomach going crazy reading her message. You grabbed your stuff and rushed out of the door towards Larissa´s car. It was very different from the car she drove for Nevermore incidents. Her private car was a black sports car with tainted windows. It looked new and expensive. You put your bags into the trunk and opened the door to the passenger seat. You glided onto the clean beige leather seat. "Hello, Darling!" Larissa purred. She grabbed your chin and kissed you. You felt your entire body shiver. When she topped kissing you she stayed close to your face, staring at your lips. "Ready to set off?" she almost whispered. The only thing you could do was nod. She stroke your cheek, then leaned back into her seat. She started the engine and before you knew you were out of town and down the highway. "How was your day?" you asked her, still feeling a bit nervous about spending the days away with Larissa. How stupid, you thought to yourself. "Oh, it was just a normal school day, as always. But I have to admit I was quite excited the entire day. I´ve been really looking forward to our weekend. I could barely think of anything else the entire time." She gave you a bright smile and suddenly you were able to relax more. Larissa being excited as well made you feel less embarrassed. "Me too actually," you admitted. "My shift didn´t seem to end. It was horrible. I´m so glad I´m finally sitting in your car." Larissa moved a hand away from the steering weel and placed it on your thigh. "I feel the same way." She smiled while looking at the road. You felt your ears getting hot.

The entire drive you talked about funny and annoying work stories, laughed about the two of you being distracted because of each other at work and then listened to some music. As it turned out you both enjoyed a similar taste in music, which was a pretty good mix of everything. Florence +the Machine, Elton John, Beethoven, Miley Cyrus and Marina and The Diamonds were only a few examples. You enjoyed the ride so much that you were almost sad when you arrived at the cabin. The sun was going down behind the trees surrounding the building. It was made out of stone walls with wooden accents and had big clean windows. Only a few feet away was a big beautiful lake, in which the sun reflected in different shades of Red, Yellow and Orange. A stone path reached right from the three parking lots in front of the building up to the front door. "Wow," was the only thing you were able to say while you were staring at it. "How come your 'cabin' is ten times bigger than my flat?" "Because I worked hard and I am a few years ahead of you." Larissa gave you a kiss on the head and walked ahead of you, carrying both of your bags inside. When you walked into the house you started staring again. It smelled just like Larissa inside. Bloomy with a hint of Vanilla. Downstairs was a big living room with a huge fire place and a TV above. A big white rug was placed in front of it an a few feet away was a beige sofa. Many bookshelves were placed at the back of the room and through the window you could see the lake. Next to the living room was a big kitchen from which you could also see the lake. A bathroom and a small office were on the other side of the house. Upstairs were the master bedroom, with a view over the lake of course, two big bathrooms and two smaller guest rooms. "This place is insane!" you said coming downstairs. Larissa had started a fire in the fire place and handed you a glass with red wine. "I´m glad you like it. It is very important to me that my partner feels welcome and safe in my home." You had just started nipping on your wine but let it sink. "Your partner?" "Partner, girlfriend, whatever you wanna call it." Larissa shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her wine. Then she realised your surprised face. "Are you ok, Love?" "You... we have never called each other... partners. Or anything like that." Larissa got worried and placed her glass on a small table in front of the sofa. "I´m sorry, did I got too far? I just thought that... you know, it would be the only appropriate thing to call ourselves but if you´re not ready to do so that´s fine but-" You rushed forward and hugged her tight. She placed her head on top of yours and pressed your body against her’s. Then you gave her a long kiss. She was so perfect. "I love it. I´m so glad you said it. Because I didn´t want to make you uncomfortable calling you my girlfriend. I was so unsure if you would like it." Larissa looked at you for a few seconds. Then she burst into the most beautiful laughter. You blushed a little. "Oh, shut up!" "No, no y/n. It´s just... we´ve been acting like a proper couple for the last to weeks, we know we like and care for each other. We fucked multiple times," you felt a shiver running down your spine "and you thought I wouldn´t want to be called your girlfriend? That´s so-" "Embarrassing?" "It´s cute!" She gave you a hug, then started kissing you. The kissing turned into a proper make-out session and before you knew you were laying on the rug in front of the fire place. "About us having sex multiple times..." you said with a dirty grin on your face. "Yeah?" Larissa´s eyes were dark, full of lust. "How about we do some more?" You felt your face getting hot. Your lips were wet from Larissa´s kisses and you had a few little bites down your neck. "Mh, that´s what you need right now?" Larissa´s voice was dark. She placed one hand on your inner thigh. "Oh, yes. Definetly." You grabbed one of her ass cheeks. Her entire body was slightly shaking. "Well, in that case..." She said, taking her shirt off, revealing your greatest desire. Her body.

[theitalianscribe]

Flashback to the time I saw a hot air balloon museum and came up with a steampunk lost prince Welcome to Dreamworld AU

I'm going to paste the first half of the notes here because the Prince of the Skies au still lives in my head rent free but I want to do some formatting before posting all of my notes.

I feel like this will be a mix between Castle in the Sky and Anastasia. 

Also it is in the skies because hot air balloons are really cool and I want to read more stories about adventures in the skies. 

So there is this kingdom I have yet to name that is somewhere in the sky. It is magical because why not. The kingdom is plagued by a beast made of shadows that takes the form of a horse. To free the kingdom, the Lost Prince must be returned. 

Wiatt is tasked with finding the Lost Prince and guiding him back to the kingdom. He knows what to look for and a way to both confirm the prince's identity and restore his magic. There is a series of trials that the one worthy of the throne can pass. It is a coming of age ceremony/tradition for the new ruler to complete the magical trials and prove their worthiness. 

The story could start with Wiatt in a village on the ground. He has a perfectly fine life here, but he needs to find the prince of the skies and how can he do that from the ground? {This also leaves for me to put character cameos if I can't find roles for everyone in the cast.}  

Wiatt ends up aboard the ship named The Oddity, a slapdash ship housing a mix of people from all over the world. At the head are three people: Oliver Acrimony, Sara Covetman, and Lewis Bright. Oliver is the pilot. He steers the ship on paths he hopes will have treasures he can use to give his twin siblings a comfortable and safe life. Sara is the ship's designer/technician. She drew up the plans for this ship and has modified it to keep it flying. This ship is her baby and you best not mistreat it or you will have to answer to Sara and her plethora of tools. The crew's efforts are led by Lewis Bright. By day, he keeps the crew running and commands their attention with his sparkling personality and even more dazzling smile. At night, he captivates everyone's attention by telling stories. 

Wiatt sees Lewis and thinks he is practically glowing. This is definitely the Lost Prince. He is practically a celestial being, he must be meant to lead the kingdom in the sky. (This deduction is totally sound and definitely isn't influenced by his immediate crush, what are you talking about? Look at how he is a natural born leader who definitely didn't have to work to gain his self confidence and the trust of his crew.) Also the one clue Wiatt has is that the prince has brown hair and wears glasses. Since this guy screams prince material, lives in the skies, {and some third thing I forgot because I woke up at 4 today. Maybe that he looks familiar to Wiatt,} Wiatt asks that he take Lewis to these trials and bring the prince back to the Kingdom in the Sky. 

As they fly, Wiatt has to earn his place on the ship. He is appointed Sara's assistant and finds he actually really likes tinkering and doing mechanic/engineering work. Sara and he do not get along at first. There is a rivalry. Also, Wiatt wants to take Lewis away and Sara sees him and Oliver as her closest friends/brothers.

---

This seems like a good stopping point. I have more notes but they bounce around a bit and got disjointed. Low amounts of sleep plus getting up early to see hot air balloons made my adhd at peak performance that day.

Here are some other notes before I close the post off for now:

The group of Lewis, Sara, and Oliver would be called either the Oddity Trio, the Founder Trio, or something that references the word Founder. I don't know if this will even come up in the story.

Sara can fight. She teaches Wiatt to fight. I feel like her fighting style would be more improvised weapons and throwing knives, but also....girls with swords???? Yes???? I don't know if Alyssa is on this crew or if Carly is. 

I just want to have Wiatt and Sara have a training montage where it goes from Sara fighting Wiatt and enjoying having something to lorde over him to him working hard to learn to defend himself to her admiring his tenacity to them bonding and having a sort of rivalry that becomes friendly over time. 

If Carly and Lewis are both the adopted kids of Eric, learning to sword fight is a requirement. Carly tells Wiatt he has to beat her for her to allow him to date Lewis. Wiatt knows that Lewis isn't a prize and this is his call, but he also knows that this is Carly's way of feeling she has control.over the situation. He asks Lewis if he can teach him, but Lewis says that would be cheating to learn through him specifically and tells him to learn through Sara. 

I don't know if Wiatt actually beats Carly, but putting up with Sara that long takes dedication and tenacity. Plus, anyone that can put up with Sara and not leave (or be offed. I don't know if killing happens in this au, but they are maybe sky pirates so...?) is pretty good for Lewis. He's earned her approval.

Wiatt is a refugee from the Kingdom in the Sky. He and his dad left when Wiatt was very young. There is this entity of shadows and stars and magic that I've been calling Dark Horse. I'll go into it more later, but I decided that he is keeping everyone in the kingdom in line by trapping them in a sleep like state. They are all dreaming and the entity has the ability to see into all their dreams and even can turn the dreams into nightmares. When the Dark Horse came about, Owen grabbed his son and ran.

Owen is the one who told Wiatt about the trials.

I am playing with the idea of Lewis having magic and what that magic can do. Maybe he can float, can make himself glow and be more noticeable?

It might be cool to have Wiatt have prophetic dreams or maybe he gets dreams where he sees what is happening in the sky kingdom.

[ironwitchau]

A continuation of this post. Because I got bored and people leave me alone with pen and paper. Oh well. I might keep updating this, so if anyone is interested and want to be alerted when this specific au gets updated, let me know.

---

Leaving The Nest:

Prim & Proper was a store in the Night Market that had a physical building, making it unique from the other shops.

A casual player wouldn't find the little shop until the Golden Arc had neared its climax and the Unity Arc was about to hit full force. At that point the shop was all but closed and the owner had joined the Oracle Coven. This led people to believe the shop could never be accessed but in truth, much like the Night Market itself, you merely needed to be careful.

Luz didn't like going to the market. She was always nervous that she would go to the market on the day the plot started and she would run into the Owl Lady. Today however she didn't have much of a choice. Raven had all but forced the girl to take the day off. Something about overworking herself, Luz didn't really care. The only good thing about the day off was the quest.

[Leaving the Nest: spend at least an hour out of the store

Rewards: 1000 EXP, +1 reputation with Raven, ?

Fail: -2 reputation with Raven]

The question mark made Luz take the quest. Usually that meant some rare item or a skill she couldn't get otherwise. So Luz accepted and now walked the Market in search of Prim & Proper.

While the average player may think Prim & Proper was used as a hint of what was to come, a player of Luz’s caliber knew that you could find the store earlier in the game and buy some enchanted items. And because it was a building, rather than a tent, it was open during the day, hidden behind an illusion.

[It is a regular building, no magic detected]

[Observe!]

[Someone lives here, no magic detected]

[A skill has leveled up!

Observe: 9 → 10]

It was great her skill had leveled up so much in the past hour but where the hell was the shop?! It probably didn't help that Luz gained the detecting magic bit around three levels ago.

[Observe!]

Likely she would have to go back and [observe] some buildings again. Just to make sure she co-

[Illusion magic has been placed over this building]

Or not. Luz squinted her eyes and noticed a light blue tint on the two story building. Had she not been looking for such things, Luz never would have thought the building was out of place. The illusion seemed to flicker as she focused on it, revealing a familiar sign. ‘Prim & Proper’.

[New skill unlocked!

Illusionist’s Eyes (Passive) Lv 1/100:

The ability to see an illusion for what it is. No one can fool you. The more you focus the more the illusion falls apart]

That could be useful if she ever ran into an Illusionist. She blinked the pop up away and entered the store.

The demon atop the door shrieked as its tail was pulled with the door opening. Luz winced at the sound. She hated it when playing the game and she hated it now.

The shop was mostly empty, no one out front. The only evidence that someone was there was the bustling noises coming from the back of the store.

“Hello?” Luz called. Something fell and there was a yelp. She felt bad for startling whoever was back there, likely Prim herself.

A short old woman with auburn hair walked out and glared at the teen through squinted eyes. She tensed and gave a sheepish smile.

“Go away.” Prim commanded. “I’m busy and closing right now.”

“I can’t even browse?” Luz tried, a bit shocked that Prim was closing so early. The Night Market wasn't for a few more days, so there was no need to close so early.

“No, I don't have the time. So unless you have an appointment, get out.”

“Can’t I just look? It’s bad for business if you don't, right?”

“I already said I don't have the time. I need to get some supplies for a customer with an appointment.” She stressed. Luz hummed and grinned.

“If I got the supplies for you, will you let me browse?”

Prim paused.

[To convinced Prim, user needs to have 10 or higher in Charisma

You have: 13

Passed]

Oh thank god for that. Prim looked her up and down. “You have an hour to get me what I need. Let me get you the address.”

Luz mentally cheered as a screen came into existence.

[Secret Quest Unlocked!

A New Fit: find Prim’s supplier and bring her order back within an hour

Rewards: 2000 EXP, +5 reputation with Prim, +2 reputation with supplier

Fail: -5 reputation with Prim, Coven Scouts are alerted of your presence

Accept?

Y/N]

‘Yes!’ Once she had the paper with the address she was out the door, ignoring the small stopwatch that appeared in the corner of her eye.

---

Maybe having to deal with the scouts wouldn't be so bad? She should have realized how familiar this part of the market was or that the two had to have known each other somehow.

The Human Collectable stand was the exact spot that the slip had led her to. And running the stand was a pale woman with gray hair, golden eyes, and a gold fang that stuck out of her mouth.

[Observe!]

[Name: Edalyn Clawthorne, ?

Species: witch, ?

Titles: The Owl Lady, Cursed One, ?]

That was it. The world hated her, and was laughing at her despair. This was the second plot-important person she met and had a bigger role than Amity.

Maybe she could get out of this without being dragged into the Wrath Arc. Do whatever she did with Amity and hope for the best. She just had to act natural. Luz could do that.

The human shoved her hands into her pockets and approached the Owl Lady. Gold eyes seemed to brighten as Luz glanced over the stand.

It was implied in-game that Eda’s human collectable side hustle only stayed in business because Trash Slugs ate the items and the witch raided their dead bodies. It was never explained how human things got to the isles but there was no technology more advanced than a typewriter. Some fans created theories as to why this was.

Luz’s favorite was that there was once a portal to the human realm that got destroyed before the game began. There wasn't any evidence of it but that never stopped her in the past. Speaking of typewriters, a dark blue one sat front and center of the stand and Luz was tempted to buy it.

“300 snails.” Eda said, so suddenly that Luz almost jumped.

“What?”

“300 snails for the oversized clicker.”

“Oh, no.” Luz shook her head and dug the paper Prim gave her out of her pocket. “I’m running an errand for Prim.”

Eda took the slip from her and gave Luz a side-eye. The human stood there hoping her stimming didn't come across as nervous. Curse her ADHD and lack of Gamer’s Body.

“I didn't realize Prim had a go-for.” She finally said.

“It’s hopefully a one time deal.” Luz responded.

“What? Don't want to be fraternizing with a wanted criminal?”

Luz eyed the Coven Scout that passed then warily. “More like I don't need the attention.”

Eda laughed, “I like you, kid. Give me a sec.”

The witch slipped into the tent as a new screen appeared.

[+3 reputation with Eda]

How the hell did that happen? She thought reputation could only go up from quests. She couldn't think of it much as Eda came back holding a box with fabric sticking out. “50 snails.”

“Oh, come on! Hasn't Prim paid already?”

“Pay on pick up or delivery only.”

“Damn you, Owl Lady.” Luz grumbled as she dug the requested amount out of her pocket. She slammed it onto the table and took the box.

‘For the clothes, for the clothes, for the clothes.’ She reminded herself.

---

“I’m back!” Luz called as the demon shrieked again.

“Just a moment!” Prim yelled back. There were soft, hushed voices before the witch entered the main store. “You get everything?”

Luz placed the box onto the counter. “Of course, but maybe tell me your supplier is the Owl Lady next time. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

Prim looked over the box's contents, ignoring Luz. That was fine because it allowed Luz to look at the various pins on the counter.

[Observe!]

[A flame pin: 

A small pin with a flame design on it

Effect: boosts fire magic by 20%]

That could be helpful when she got a fire glyph but now? Useless.

[Construction pin:

A pin in the shape of the Construction Coven symbol

Effect: construct time is shorten by 16%]

Also useless to her. There had to be something.

[Oracle pin:

A purple pin with a dark purple eye in the center

Effect: boosts user’s resistance to Oracle magic by 25%]

Oh shit! This was perfect. Odalia Blight was an Oracle Witch and, even if Luz was avoiding the plot like it was her ex, such a pin would be crucial if she wanted to get close to Amity. If she could figure out how to do so without plot happening.

“Everything seems to be in order.” Prim finally said, gaining the human’s attention. “Good job. Feel free to look around.

Luz nodded.

[Secret Quest Complete!

A New Fit: find Prim’s supplier and bring her order back within an hour

Rewards: 2000 EXP, +5 reputation with Prim, +2 reputation with supplier]

Luz made her way through the store looking for a certain set of clothes. A new screen popped up.

[You leveled up!

Lv: 3 → 4

+1 spending point]

Wow. Her levels were low. Oh, well, it didn't matter if she wasn't going to fight anyone. She was only here for some reassurances and for a trip.

She came across a green army jacket and grinned.

[Observe!]

[Hunter’s Jacket:

A green Jacket often given to Coven-Trained Hunters. Good for cold environments

Effects: +2 resistance to attacks with slashing damage, strong against Cold, 25% chance to absorb fire magic]

The slashing could have been better but this was perfect for the knee. She took it off the hook and continued looking.

Next she found an orange beanie.

[Observe!]

[Wool Beanie:

An orange beanie made from wool. A good way to keep you warm

Effects: strong against Cold]

Luz took it too, finding it stylish. Once done, she went back to the counter.

She placed the items down and put the Oracle pin on top.

“That's everything?” Prim asked, calculating the amount.

“Yup. How much?” She pulled out a bag of snails.

“83 snails.”

Luz frowned. She wished it was less, she already spent a good bit of her pay, but if she wanted to go to the knee she needed to be prepared.

“Fine.” She counted the snails and gave Prim the coins.

“You want a bag for this?”

“Is it going to cost extra?”

Prim laughed and shook her head. “No, I suppose not.”

“Then please and thank you.”

“Have a good day, young lady.” The old woman passed her the bag of clothes and Luz was on her way.

---

Luz entered the Raven’s Nest, tired beyond belief.

“Welcome back, Luz.” Raven greeted with a wide smile. “How was your day?”

She merely groaned as she collapsed on one of the comfy chairs available to the customers.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you at least have fun?”

Luz chuckled and nodded. In spite of the anxiety she felt all day, she did have fun.

“Hey, can I take a trip to the knee?”

“Sure, when do you want to go?”

“I was thinking over the weekend.”

Eda would be too busy at the market so Luz wouldn't need to worry.

“Alright.” Raven stood, stretching her arms. “I’ll prep some camping supplies for us.”

“Us?”

“You think I’m going to let you go alone?” Raven laughed. “Titan, no. Rest up, I’m heading home for the night.”

Luz didn't respond. Just blinked as the demon left.

[Quest Complete!

Leaving the Nest: spend at least an hour out of the store

Rewards: 1000 EXP, +1 reputation with Raven, Fast Travel to Prim & Proper unlocked]

Huh. That was a new mechanic for her. Did that mean she could fast travel to Raven’s Nest too? Things to think about later. Right now, she was tired.

[swtki]

HP Boys: Surprise Pregnancy Head Cannons

Summary: The HP boys and their reaction to their s/o (afab) being pregnant when its not planned.

A/N: This takes place post Hogwarts so all characters are 18+, though no real smut happens in this so its not an 18+ fic.

WARNINGS: UNPLANNED PREGNANCY, MENTIONS OF PRO CHOICE OPINIONS, MENTIONS OF SEX IN LITE TERMS, SWEARING, FLUFF, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, ALSO THIS IS SUPER LONG SORRY LOL

Draco

So everything is going great for the happy couple, you two just moved into a flat together and are working normal jobs, drinking wine like adults.

And sure, Draco knows he wants to marry you, but he knows you’re not ready to settle down like that so he just plans and dreams.

Due to poor choices, when you’re late by two weeks, you know what it probably is.

Draco doesn’t even notice that you ran out to the store and came back and hid in the bathroom for 10 minutes. CEO of minding his own business ig

You just kinda...walk up to him and hand him all 3 tests while your eyes fill with tears because what if he demands you get an abortion?

Or what if he fucks off to god knows where?

But instead he just looks at you with the most un-draco like smile. Like his face was soft and it looked like he could cry any moment.

“Oh my god,” He says, putting his hand on your belly, “I can be ready for this, but if you aren’t then we can you know...”

“No, I want it” then both of you rejoice bc yay baby!

Cut to 6 months later when your feet hurt so bad you have to lay down and watch while Draco fails to put a crib together.

He eventually gets it done tho.

And when the time comes, he’s built and arranged everything for your bundle of joy.

Harry

So you guys are probably already married, but with everything at the ministry going on, it makes Harry less than a family man.

You both agree that it’s probably better to wait so you can be home and yk...raise it.

Well smart man Harry forgets that to not have a kid you need to use protection.

So of course when your period is late you don’t think about it, until its four weeks late.

That night, you and Harry are laying in bed, and thats when you tell him.

“Harry..I’m late.”

“Late for what?” headass.

You: 😳😐

Him: 👁👁😲😲

He’s hesitant to say anything, because he knows its ultimitley up to you what happens with it until its out.

“I think I want to keep it...you know it wont remember much for the first year and a half so if things are stressful it will be okay and-“

“Love...Its going to be perfect”

Mf built the crib in like 45 minutes I swear.

And of course he forced you to keep up with your vitamins, pre natal care, and appointments.

Swear tho you’re about to kill him because cofFeE

But the way he holds your baby 🥺 its his most valued thing ever now.

Ron

Ron is iffy on the kid thing sometimes.

He does want them, but only later when you guys have lived and travled.

So no, you two haven’t planned nor is it even in the picture when your wedding roles around.

It’s in the early days of the marriage when you see his family at the burrow on the way back from the honeymoon.

And of course Molly knows

Because Weasleys are hyperfertile I swear.

She takes you into the kitchen and puts her hands on your arms, shes got that big Mrs.Weasley smile on too.

“I knew it!” She says and pulls you in for a hug, “How far dear??”

You’re just standing there like��🏻

“I can see it by the way you glow! Oh my you and my Ron must be so happy!” This woman doesn’t notice that you’re confused.

“Wait what? Mrs. Weasley what are you-?” Then you count the days, “Oh. Well I guess I just found out for myself”

Her face falls slightly, but then she tells you can make you a potion that will tell you if you are or not, stan.

The stupid potion turns green when you spit into it, so everything is confirmed.

That night, you and Ron are getting ready for bed in the guest room and you decide to tell him.

“Ron, sweetie. We need to talk.” He looks like he’s gonna start crying but sits next to you on the bed.

“Y/N...I know its scary but please, we just got married I don’t want to divorce quite just yet 🥺🥺”

“Ron I-“ you start smiling, “I’m pregnant you dufus.”

He just freezes, for a while. Not saying anything, he just looks at the wall with his mouth ajar.

So you get up and go to Ginny.

“Gin, I broke him.”

“Ew, I don’t want to know about how you and him”

“No, I told him that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, yeah that would do it. Just I don’t know... Give him a minute?”

You give him several, getting a glass of water then heading back up to the room.

Ginny was right, he needed a minute.

“I don’t...I wasn’t...you were.?”

“You don’t have to stay, but I think we can do it. Plus, you would disapoint your mom if you left so...”

“Okay...we’ll do it. I’ll be the best damn Father you have ever seen.” He says, talking to your womb.

Well...he’s a father I’ll give him that.

Pro of having a Weasley baby: free crib thats already put together.

Even if it looks like a death trap.

“We’ll put some blankets over it don’t worry”

You know how some Dads hold their parters hand during the delivery? Yeah he got sick and was moral support from the outside.

To be fair, you weren’t screaming in pleasure by any means.

Scary. But beautiful.

He shows the kid to everyone, he might be more in love with the baby than he is with you.

Ron see’s the appeal of having kids now.

Neville

Moving in with your boyfriend is always fun, right up until you guys go at it so much you forget protection more than once.

You think about it, then move on with your day.

Until the doctor calls, then “oh fuck”

Romance Neville bf

“Why aren’t you having any wine? I thought it was your favorite?”

“I don’t think fetal alcohol syndrome is my favorite.” BRO HE SPAT

But he looks up with tears in his eyes, and runs over to you to grasp you in a hug.

“Oh my god! You’re pregnant! Oh my - We’re gonna be parents!! Oh my god we’re gonna be parents oh-“ Que you petting his hair till he’s calm again.

Lets be honest, this man probably swapped the herbology books for the parenting guides.

“Well I mean I’m just wondering if we should go with this color or this one”

“Nev, it doesn’t matter. Our baby will not care.”

“I read in my book that Infants actually can recognize mood in-“

He won’t let you do anything during your pregnancy.

Gotta love a man who cries because he loves you so much and you’re having his kid.

“I never had a father, what if I do it wrong? What if the baby hates me and runs away at seven?”

“We’ve got quite a lot of time before then.”

He was there during delivery, letting you crush his hand like a champ.

You can’t help but cry when you see him sleeping on the floor next to the crib, its so sweet.

Fred

You two most likely already had two kids, so you decided to wait a bit so your hands weren’t quite full.

Well...your body decided not to wait.

A test provides the two lines, another wild child.

The two toddlers already run around like thing one and thing two, only with red hair.

I think Fred would gladly make the family dinner, and wear an apron. He’d own it, as he should.

But mf gotta not drop the salad bowl when you tell him of the fetus inside you.

“Fred we are going to have a bee-ay-bee-why.”

Your five year old has just begun to spell 😐

He’s happy tho.

Like over the fuckin moon.

He buys the two kids big brother/sister shirts too 🥺🥺

He knows the drill pretty well, so he isn’t too worried about the future.

But its funny that he still freaks out about the crib and feeding chair since he gave it away, you know because you guys werent having another kid.

He packed a hospital bag and kept it in the trunk, counting down the days.

Hours of delivery (He just sat back and held your hand) only to end up with a room full of 7 Weasley family members.

Fred always said that 3 was his lucky number :)

George

You guys were taking it slow, no marriage until you both felt it was time. And certainly no children before that.

Well you know...things changed when the test was positive.

You slid it over on the table, tears pooling in your eyes. He was stunned and quiet, which made you burst out sobbing because you knew that neither of you planned on having a baby.

But to your surprise he starts to smile.

“I want whatever you want, I’m staying by your side no matter what.”

“I mean...would it really be so bad? A house, a kid, a dog?” He holds your hand as you think aloud.

You both give it a week to think it over and the virdict is to keep it.

Thats when he decides he has to marry you, asap because he loves you and will never let you go especially now.

He loves to gush about the carrier of his child, to him you are a godess.

He’s the Dad with a predestination complex.

“Y/N, I just see him being a star quiditch player”

“George, we don’t know if it’s a him.”

He rolls his eyes “Okay then I can see her being a star-“

He made Hermione take you out for a movie date so he could rearrange your bedroom, since you only had a single bedroom flat.

You come back to a new set up including a cot.

Damn pregnancy hormones make brain go 🥺😭😭

He freaks when your water breaks lol

ceo of driving like a maniac to the hospital.

He can’t hold your hand, he’s pacing back and forth, sweating and maybe crying though he’ll never admit to it.

You get the joy of watching him cuddle the baby while refusing to give your child to you.

“George I’d like to hold-“

“No, you need your sleep honey, don’t worry”

Hogging the child.

Cedric

Its no secret that Cedric wants a baby someday.

And he makes it clear your wedding will be spectacular too.

However, finding out you’re pregnant the week of your dream wedding was a shock.

A shock that made you bang your head into the wall because how could you be so stupid?? We had a plan??

So you decide to wait until after the wedding, that way it wont add onto the stress (happy stress) of the wedding.

Cedric keeps trying to fill your glass at the reception, to which you kindly refuse saying you want to remember the night entirely.

Yeah he’s like 🤨 mhm okay.

You can only pick at the dinner because ew salmon doesn’t sound like an option if you want to keep the contents of your stomach.

As everyone waves goodbye to the car, and you both set off into married life, he leans over.

“I may be out of my mind, but are you...?”

“Pregnant.” His face lights up, pulling you into a hug.

Finally, your car pulls up to a small cottage with lush garden scapes all around, putting a hand out, he walks you both from the car to the door.

“Ced, where are we?”

“Home.”

Somehow it was perfect with Cedric, even when it was rushed.

He loved talking to your womb, even if it was weird that he was talking about the babies future brothers and sisters.

“Cedric, slow down. We haven’t even had this one yet”

Basically he is father of the year before he’s a full father.

He’s there while you deliver, holding your hand and telling you how great you’re doing.

He doesn’t even complain when you insult him <3.

He updates you on everything.

If his eyes aren’t on that child, he’s either asleep or dead.

I think Cedric was meant to be a family man, because he loves everything about being one.

Taglist: @truly-insatiable @amourtentiaa @imdoingathingmom @annasdani @anchoeritic @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @cedricsyellowscarf @faeinorbit

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 9}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 3378

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Hestia

– Goddess of the hearth, home and family

Mondays and Wednesdays always seemed to drag.

Thanks to her lack of Rowan in class, Aelin’s classes were boring and she found herself thinking of other things, rather than the notes she was supposed to be taking. Like the way Rowan’s eyes had been on her as she went down on him in the shower earlier than morning.

At his insistence, she’d begun using his shower for more than just sex purposes, as she’d so eloquently explained to him the week before. She was regularly staying over, getting ready for her own classes in the morning, just as he was. But whenever one of them followed the other into the tiled shower, it was used for practical reasons.

As well as sexual ones.

Suppressing a whine as she thought of the way Rowan had pinned her up against the cool tiles that morning, Aelin crossed her legs and checked her watch. Only another twenty minutes and then she had her break between classes. She wasn’t hungry, thanks to the protein bar she’d eaten just before this class started, and she was close to the gen ed building, so she decided she would drop by her mythology professor’s office. She had a few questions about the homework he’d assigned yesterday and face-to-face was always better to her than an email.

Once her anatomy professor was wrapping up, Aelin was tossing her books into a bag and hauling ass across campus. Rowan’s last class was wrapping up, too, and she didn’t want to miss him before he hurried off to do whatever else.

She could’ve texted him to stay put, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

She made it to his building and dodged by those who were hurrying off to their other classes or their beds, and stopped at Rowan’s office door before giving it a halting knock.

It took him a second to answer, but when he did, he was handsome as ever.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the button down tucked into his trousers. When he saw it was Aelin at his office door, a silver brow lifted.

“Aelin,” he began, clearing his throat. “How may I help you?”

“I have some questions about the homework,” she began, voice low, even though no one else was around. “Can I come in for a second?”

Rowan moved aside before she had finished her question. With one last glance down the hall he shared with a few other first-year professors, he shut the door, sealing them into his office. The blinds were open, but on the third floor, it wasn’t like anyone could see the private meeting he and his student were about to have.

Even if he didn’t know what kind of meeting it was about to be.

“Are you on your lunch break?” She asked, leaning back against his desk.

He nodded. “Didn’t plan on taking lunch, but I’ve got a couple hours before my next class. Was going to work on some grading. Why?”

He had stepped closer, pausing beside one of the chairs he kept in front of the desk for students to sit in.

Aelin clearly had other ideas of where to sit though. With a smirk, she reached out and lightly gripped his shirt, pulling him towards her.

“You had questions about the homework,” he breathed, leaning away as she tried to kiss him.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t kiss her. He just wanted to see her squirm.

And squirm, she did. “You know very well that I turned in the homework yesterday afternoon.”

She tried to kiss him again, but he fell away, even though his arms were around her waist.

“I don’t recall that,” he taunted. “Maybe you could remind me.”

“I turned it in just before I did this,” she crooned, and her lips found his.

Aelin kissed him, slowly, her arms snaking around his neck. She swore she would never tire of the feeling of his mouth on hers.

“Oh yeah,” Rowan muttered, against her lips. “Now I remember.”

It only took him a second to grab her hips and set her on top of his desk.

There was a clattering of something tipping over, probably a cup of pens or paper clips from the sound of it, but neither of them cared. Not as he gripped the outside of her thigh where her legs were wrapped around him, or her hand found its way into his hair. He was both frustrated and very glad she’d worn leggings today. While he wished she was wearing something with a bit easier access, it was probably a blessing in disguise that he couldn’t get his hand between her legs.

Or his mouth.

Or any other body parts.

That wasn’t stopping Aelin from rubbing against him, looking for friction, as their tongues battled and teeth occasionally clashed. She let out a quiet moan and he tugged on her hair, pulling her lips from his.

“We’re not fucking in my office,” he breathed, looking her in the eyes. “It is way too dangerous.”

She nodded, knowing and accepting the fact, but it didn’t mean she was done kissing him.

“Was this morning not enough?” He smirked, trailing his lips down her throat instead of returning to hers.

“It’s never enough,” she gasped. “Every time I’m away from you…”

Her words trailed off as their lips met. It was true. It was never enough. She was so fulfilled with Rowan, and the second he was gone, she longed for him.

“Come over tonight,” Aelin begged. “Stay with me tonight.”

Rowan groaned as his tongue slipped between her lips.

They stayed at Rowan’s nearly every night. The only times Aelin stayed at her own apartment was when she had an exam or homework she had to work on, without Rowan distracting her. Lysandra and Aedion had met Rowan over dinner a few nights before, though Aelin had insisted take out was much more her friends’ speed than a fully home cooked meal. However, Aelin had a lab due the following morning, so after dinner, Rowan had gone back home.

Alone.

“We have class tomorrow,” he replied, lips still on hers.

“So we’ll make sure we get up early.” Dragging her teeth across his jaw, she gripped his shoulders. “Bring over everything you’ll need to come straight to class.”

Rowan hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t live on campus,” Aelin said, quietly. “It’s not like I live somewhere surrounded by students.”

Rowan pulled back and met her gaze. “It’s important to you?”

Aelin nodded, arms still wrapped around the back of his neck. “I love being cooped up in your apartment. I really do. But, sometimes I wanna be cooped up somewhere else, too.”

Rowan huffed a laugh. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Aelin asked, a soft smile painted across her light pink lips.

Rowan couldn’t help his own smile forming as he leaned forward and pulled Aelin closer to him as he kissed her, softly. They went on like that, dwelling in those slow, prolonged kisses. There was something personal, something exceptional about a long, slow kiss. Something sensual that made Aelin’s stomach feel like it was going to explode, even though it lacked that animalistic passion they had come to find within one another.

A quick knock at the door had them jumping apart, Rowan dragging a quick hand through his hair, not having a chance to reply before the door opened.

“Hey, Rowan, I was hoping you could— Oh.”

The pretty woman froze in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her.

It was innocent enough, though Aelin’s lips were swollen from their kisses. That could easily be explained away, especially as her teeth found the bottom lip and gnawed on it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had an appointment,” she said, eyeing Aelin, who had thankfully gotten off the desk before she’d entered.

“It wasn’t officially booked,” he explained, slightly stepping in front of Aelin to keep her shielded. “Miss Galathynius had a few questions about the homework I assigned in class and about an upcoming project. She stopped by during her lunch break, since her schedule is so busy.”

Silence built in the office, and after a second, Rowan cleared his throat. “Did you need something, Remelle?”

“Maeve sent out an email about a mandatory department meeting for Thursday night,” she said, slowly, still looking at them both suspiciously. “A couple of us in the building were going to get drinks after, wanted to know if you wanted to come.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll plan on it.”

“Good,” Remelle said, a little too quickly. “And check your mailbox in the office. It’s full.”

With another look at Aelin, then at Rowan, Remelle left and the door fell shut behind her.

Silence enveloped the room.

Rowan slowly turned around to look at Aelin, whose face was pale.

“You couldn’t have locked the door?” she whispered.

Rowan scoffed. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t have been suspicious, being locked in here with a student.”

For some reason, the word student felt like a jab coming from him in that moment. Aelin’s back straightened. “I wasn’t aware that the receptionist randomly barges into your office. If a student found it locked, they probably wouldn’t think it was weird, at all. Offices around here are locked all the damn time.”

Rowan sighed and nodded. He stepped towards her and ran his hands up and down her arms, pressing a soft kiss to Aelin’s forehead. “You should go. There’s only so much we can talk about homework.”

Nodding, Aelin wrapped her arms around his waist, and he wrapped her up in his own. “I’ll see you after class?”

“I’ll run by my place to grab some things and pick up dinner on the way,” he promised, tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’ll see you later.”

She nodded and rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. Grabbing her bag from the chair, she adjusted her messy bun, which was only a little messier than it had been before and slipped out the office door.

Leaning back on the spot Aelin had just been sitting in, Rowan took a quick moment to breathe before setting his desk to rights and heading down to check his community mailbox. It wasn’t full as Remelle had implied, but there were a few things in it, mostly department memos and notes from other professors. He ignored her suspicious look as he made his way back up the stairs to his office and settled behind his desk to work on the grading he’d planned to do during his lunch.

He was halfway through an essay from one of his upperclassmen when his email dinged on his laptop. It had gone off a few times since Aelin had left, but he’d ignored them, assuming they were automatic replies to Maeve’s email about the meeting.

Tapping on the track pad of his laptop to wake it up, he kept reading over the essay as his email came to life, but he waited until he was done to look over at the most recent notifications.

Freezing, Rowan’s eyes flashed over the subject of the email from Maeve three times before he actually had the nerve to open it.

Meeting in my office after your final class of the evening.

We need to have a talk.

*

Aelin felt as if she had been holding her breath for hours.

Which was exactly how long it had been since she had received her text from Rowan.

As someone who was not nervous or paranoid by nature, she hated the feeling of being so freaked out that she was nearly about to vomit. She had already cleaned her apartment once, and was pouring herself a glass of wine as she was deciding what she could clean next. Maybe she would clean out the fridge.

After downing her glass of wine, she did just that, throwing open the refrigerator door and emptying out what had been in there for over a week.

She didn’t even hear the front door open, nor did she hear her roommate and cousin walk into the kitchen.

“Ace?”

Aelin yelped, jumped, and spun around, nearly knocking over her glass of wine on the counter nearby. “What the hell?” she yelled. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that! Doesn’t anyone realize how fucking rude it is to just barge in?!”

Aedion’s brows shot up as Lysandra stepped forward. “Uh, everything okay?”

Aelin’s face fell into her hands as she leaned against the countertop. “Does it look like everything is okay?” she asked, words muffled.

“What happened?” Lysandra asked, gently prying Aelin’s hands from her face.

Her eyes were still shut, as if she could shut out the world. Taking a deep breath, she released it, answering in one, quick burst. “I think Rowan and I got caught.”

She heard something hit the floor, clearly dropped by Aedion, but Lysandra’s hands went slack on her wrist. “What do you mean?”

Letting her head fall to the countertop, she groaned once before standing up straight and looking at them. Aedion had indeed dropped the bag of pretzels he’d pulled from the cabinet.

“We both had long breaks today, so I stopped by his office to see him for a minute. I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I mean… Yeah, I kinda did. I kissed him first.”

“I don’t need to hear about this. Lys can fill me in,” Aedion muttered, scooping the bag of pretzels off the floor and heading for Lysandra’s bedroom.

“We didn’t fuck or anything,” Aelin sighed after he left. “But we did make out on his desk a bit. It was barely even PG-13.”

“So what happened?” Lysandra asked, getting another glass down and refilling Aelin’s glassed wine and filling one for herself. “How did you get caught?”

“The secretary walked in,” Aelin said, staring at a spot on the hardwood. “She didn’t see anything, we broke apart before the door opened, but… I don’t know. She sounded suspicious, looked suspicious.” Aelin took a sip from her glass. “I mean, seriously, who knocks but doesn’t wait for a come in before they open the damn door? It’s rude as hell.”

“I don’t wait before coming into your room,” Lysandra said.

“That’s different, we live together,” Aelin said, unable to control her chuckle.

Lysandra smiled, but it faded as she shook her head. “That man needs to learn how to lock his office.”

“That’s what I said!” Aelin agreed, and topped off her glass before it was even halfway empty.

“So, what?” Lysandra went on. “She came in but didn’t see anything. Maybe she just always looks suspicious. I’m sure nothing will come out of it.”

Without another word, Aelin took her phone out of her pocket and slid it across the counter. Lysandra slowly picked it up and read Rowan’s text.

Got an email from Maeve. I have to go to her office tonight. Says she needs to talk to me. Sounded urgent.

Aelin had texted back. Did she say what it was about?

No, Rowan had replied. But it doesn’t sound good.

“Have you heard from him since he sent these?” Lysandra asked, setting the phone down.

“No, but we’ve both been in class.” Aelin let her head fall to the countertop again. “He’s supposed to come over after he gets out. But now I’m wondering if that’s such a good idea. What if someone sees him getting here?”

“It’s not all students, and we’re not exactly social butterflies. We don’t know any of our neighbors,” Lysandra said, clearly trying to soothe her.

Aelin just shook her head. “I like him, Lys. A lot. I can see a future with this guy, but… What if this is all too much? It’s too dangerous. We’re jeopardizing our futures.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened. “The secretive part of your relationship is only temporary. Besides, he’s head over heels for you, too. Would it really be worth it to give that up?”

“What if Rowan is about to lose his job?” Aelin shot back. “Lys, I would never be able to forgive myself. I have to do something.”

“Always the hero,” Lysandra muttered. “Look, the best thing you can do right now is stay here, drink wine, and let it all play out. Rowan is a big boy. He can handle himself.” Aelin said nothing, so Lysandra went on. “I just want to see you happy. Does he make you happy?”

“Beyond. Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but… I care about him.”

“And it’s pretty damn clear that he cares about you, so sitting and waiting sucks, but that’s what you’ll have to do.” Lysandra crossed the kitchen and wrapped her best friend up in a hug. Aelin’s forehead fell to her shoulder. “I can send Aedion to get more wine if you want.”

Aelin nodded.

Lysandra chuckled and said, “Then that’s what we’ll do. Why don’t you—?”

A knock on the front door had Aelin’s head snapping up and she hurried from the kitchen. Throwing open the door, she found Rowan standing on the other side. Before he could say anything, she pulled him inside and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “Gods, I’ve been so fucking worried.”

To her surprise, he laughed quietly, and it only caused Aelin to lean back, eyes wide. “What could possibly be funny right now?”

“I’m not I’m trouble,” he whispered, arms going around her waist. “We’re safe, we’re fine.”

Aelin blinked, all anxiety fading from her body only to be replaced with confusion. “Why did Maeve call you into her office, then?”

“She just wanted to check how things were going.” He shrugged. “Being new, and her nephew, she just wanted to check in.”

“Gods, Rowan!” She shoved his chest, lightly. “You couldn’t have texted me that? I’ve been a nervous mess!”

“She’s not exaggerating,” Lysandra mumbled from behind them. “Hi, Professor.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Hi, Lysandra.”

As Lysandra headed towards her room, he looked down to where Aelin was staring at his chest. He tilted her chin up until she was forced to look at him. His brow furrowed and he was surprised to see silver lining her eyes. “Everything is okay, baby. Why are you crying?”

She shook her head and blinked, but wasn’t able to stop the single tear that spilled over. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I thought we got caught, that I had ruined your life.”

His heart nearly broke. “Aelin…” He wrapped her up in his arms again, holding her as tightly as he dared, as if he could keep her from falling apart. After a second, he leaned back so he could look at her, but didn’t let her go. “Being together isn’t a decision that just one of us has made. We both went into this relationship knowing the consequences. If something were to happen, if someone finds out, you aren’t ruining my life.”

Aelin snorted, and framed his face in her hands. “So we’d both be ruining your life?”

“No one’s life will be ruined,” Rowan promised. “I’m going to be with you, Aelin. Now, and when you graduate, we can have a normal relationship, whatever the hell that means. If you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s a big promise to make so early in our relationship,” Aelin breathed, running her thumbs across his cheeks.

“I have a good feeling about us,” Rowan followed, melting into her touch.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, but pulled back and smirked. “But maybe I’ll start locking my office, just in case you decide to make another unexpected visit.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as she rose up on her toes to kiss him again.

The day had stressed them both out, but throughout it all, there was only one thing Rowan could think about: he didn’t know what his future held, but there was one thing for sure.

He wanted Aelin in it.

[asraalnazarlove]

Hello, I love your content and I was wandering if you were still doing headcannon requests?

If so, could we please get some extremely fluffy the M6 and MC's normal everyday routines please? So like, who wakes up first, what they have for breakfast, where they eat, what they do most of the day, fluffy interactions, dinner time, evening chill session, night time routine, etc.

Thank you and I love your posts! ♥️

ABSOLUTELY. as always, thanks so much for the ask! if i did all that at once this post would be 18 pages long, so i'm gonna split it up.

for now, here's M6 and MC morning routines :]

ASRA - you wake up to him sleeping with his mouth wiiide open, breathing deep and slow, every exhale ruffling your hair. his arms are still wrapped around you; even asleep, he wants to be as close to you as possible. he never wakes up first if he can help it--he sleeps like a rock. - once you're awake, it doesn't take him long to follow, though. every morning he spends a little while looking at you, as if reminding himself you're really his, committing you to memory all over again. - if it's a slow morning, and neither of you have anywhere to be, he'd be happy to lay in bed with you for hours. cuddle, talk, kiss, mornin' lovin'--anything. morning cuddles are his favorite thing. sometimes you both drift back off to sleep and wake up again. it's the most peaceful and happy time of day. - once you're both out of bed (which always takes some convincing) he immediately gets to making tea. sometimes he'll make breakfast with it, sometimes you do the cooking, but most of the time the two of you walk to the market arm in arm with your tea mugs left to cool on the counter at home. you pick out fruit you like, and never leave the market without a warm, fresh loaf of bread. - your day almost always ends up starting in earnest around noon--any earlier than that is dedicated to your roughly 3-4 hour morning routine of cuddles, tea, and breakfast. even nadia knows not to bother sending for you before then unless it's very urgent.

NADIA - most days nadia has to get up relatively early in order to make all of her appointments and tend to duties of the state. on those busy days, she rises quietly, tucking you in and giving you a kiss on the forehead before leaving you to keep sleeping. - once you wake up, the two of you meet for breakfast--sometimes on her balcony, sometimes on the veranda, sometimes in the gardens--and she updates you on court life. she often asks your opinion on city renovations, telling you about her headaches with the court. if she starts to go off on a tangent to things you don't understand much about, she catches your eye and laughs softly, shaking her head and asking why she's speaking of other things when she could be spending time with you. the rest of breakfast is spent talking about your future together, whether that's the wedding or just what you'll do this weekend. - when you finish breakfast you often sit a little longer in each other's company; if you're outside, you'll lay down with your head on her lap while she runs her hands through your hair, the two of you content to lay around in the sun until you're inevitably called to your duties. - on weekends, or if nadia gets an unexpected day off, she orders breakfast brought to the room. you eat and then immediately head out for a date in the city markets.

JULIAN - this man is a disaster in the morning. usually if he has something big to deal with the next day, he'll be up late worrying and you have to drag his ass to bed. when it's morning, he never wants to get up, because he was up so late and didn't get enough sleep. he'll wrap his gangly limbs around you and bury his face in your hair, mumbling something about how lucky he is to have you...and how much he does not want to get up. - he's also the little spoon unless you insist otherwise. he might be tall, but that doesn't stop him. you usually wake up first, and if you try to move he'll latch onto you like a leech. even in his sleep. sometimes he'll wake up first and pretend to still be asleep so that when you wake up he can enjoy the morning snuggles a little longer. - you make breakfast together, more often than not it turning into some sort of food fight, where he flicks water at you and then you chase him around the house with a spoon of oatmeal trying to aim it for his hair. you usually end up bathing together afterward. - once it's time to get dressed, you usually pick out outfits for each other. sometimes j will want to wear something of yours throughout the day to keep your scent with him while he's working. he also loves to see you wearing his shirts. he showers you with complements every chance he gets.

MURIEL - when the two of you started living together the first order of business was a gigantic bed. muriel was fine with trying to squeeze onto his little bed, but it got a bit unrealistic pretty quickly, what with two whole people and a wolf. you managed to convince him to get a nice big one. he and innana and you still squeeze together on about half of it, though, most of the time. - he always, always wakes up first. sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and doesn't go back to sleep, content to look up at the ceiling and pet innana, or to simply watch you breathe. he likes the reminder that you're alive and happy next to him, especially after a nightmare. - the two of you don't talk much once you're both awake--little sentences here and there, sometimes little jokes and sometimes simple "i love you"s, but that's just because you don't hardly need to; you understand each other. you braid his hair out of his face, sitting on the edge of the bed with him the floor, innana's head in his lap. - he likes to make breakfast for you, and often tries to time it so it's ready right when you wake up. sometimes it doesn't work, and he wakes you up to eat it before it gets cold. - every day, you go on a walk together, innana scouting ahead or trailing behind. you check the perimeter and refresh the magic of the protective charms. asra comes to visit sometimes, and the three of you will go exploring together.

PORTIA - ohh, the cuddles. portia loves any and all of them, whether your arms are around her or she's wrapping hers around you; she just loves affection, and will almost always start the morning bright and early with lots and lots of kisses, all over you. what can she say, she's a morning person. - she goes to work at the palace pretty early still. you walk her to work, and the two of you eat breakfast together in the palace kitchens, talking to all of her friends there. they all know you almost as well as she does, and even though you don't reeally work there you're still one of the little crew. you know all of the ins and outs of their lives, all of the inside jokes and passages of the palace and its staff. if you ever miss anything, portia makes sure to update you when you walk home later that evening. the gossip never stops, and you can't be left out of the loop. - once portia starts working in earnest it's hard to get her to stop, but she'll always come see you on her lunch breaks, telling you about whatever funny thing happened with the nobles that day--who spilled wine on whom, whether or not it was really an accident--and what nadia's been up to.

LUCIO - you are quite literally the only person he won't behead for interrupting his 'beauty sleep.' well, maybe not behead, since he doesn't do that (...much) anymore. the two of you sleep in the most luxurious bed money can buy, complete with four posters and a canopy. the dogs, of course, sleep right at your feet. - if he wakes up first, he'll immediately wake you up too so you can help him pick out an outfit for the day. picking out said outfit usually takes an hour. then he dresses you. that takes much less time, since he knows exactly what you look good in. sometimes he'll pick something a little over the top, and you end up (gently) throwing certain offending garments at him in rebuttal. - breakfast is as ornate and gourmet as it can be; you feed him grapes as you lounge together on a chez, you draped over his chest. he only makes you move sometimes so he can get up and act out a story he's telling, to help you picture it better! - once your day actually gets started (if it ever does) he leaves most decisions to you. he trusts your judgement--and he doesn't like decision making much anyways. he's just eager to go back to the rooms with you.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

[let-me-write-shit]

Hiiii! I absolutely love your writing. Could you do an imagine based off of your pregnancy one shot? Since H is incredibly private, would the couple be able to hide her pregnancy from the public and then announce it similar to like Kylie Jenner’s video diary of the whole experience? Thanks!!

A/N: Ok I was OBSESSED with this request, but for some reason I found it very difficult to write, so I’m so sorry if it’s shit. Hope you like it <3

Word Count: 2,698

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Is Forever Enough?

From the moment Harry found out he and Y/N were expecting their first child, he knew he wanted to document everything. He had been in the habit of capturing moments throughout their relationship, mainly of big events, but from this moment on, he wanted to capture it all. Little clips of every doctor’s appointment, every craving his wife had, every heartbeat, and every little kick. He wanted video documentation of the life growing inside his wife’s belly and everything that happened during that time. They had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was finally here, he wanted to make sure they would never forget a single second of it. From telling their closest friends and family members, designing the nursery, their tiny baby shower, attended by the select few that were lucky enough to know their secret.

At first, keeping silent was a way to protect themselves in case Y/N’s pregnancy didn’t stick like their fertility doctor had warned them was a possibility. It took them nearly two years to conceive, and the thought of going through a miscarriage in front of millions of watchful eyes was terrifying. But by the time they became aware that they weren’t going to miscarry, they had gone so long without announcing it that there wasn’t a point to do it. Why ruin something that was so well hidden?

The decision not to announce their pregnancy to the public wasn’t a hard decision to make. Harry was private, anyway, and everyone knew that. He was rarely on social media and didn’t talk about his private life to many people, and those who he did talk to were very loyal and trusting. They just wanted to enjoy being pregnant without the prying eyes of strangers and it was fairly easy keeping it under wraps considering how private they were, to begin with.

The timing of Y/N’s pregnancy helped, too. The early part of her pregnancy was during the summer, so they could enjoy tropical holidays together without worrying about being seen because she simply wasn’t showing yet. But, towards the end, it got harder to conceal, like during award season in the fall when an oversized shirt or puffy dress couldn’t conceal the roundness of her bump and plumpness of her cheeks and lips. It was the first award season she hadn’t accompanied Harry to in years and people began to get suspicious.

That’s when the rumors of her possible pregnancy started. Of course, no one could prove anything. But that, along with the lack of sightings of Y/N was enough proof for some. Luckily, nothing more came of it other than whispers. Harry had stopped doing interviews when he first got wind of the rumors, so no one could catch him off guard in uncomfortable positions or having to lie to protect his wife, and he began to focus his attention back on his music, halting his pursuance of on-screen work for the time being until after their baby boy’s arrival. Instead, he was the man behind the camera.

For the most part.

There were times when certain family members or friends would pick up their camera and film some things for them, capturing little intimate moments of the parents-to-be. They even enlisted the help of Harry’s on-tour photographer, Helene Pambrun, to help film the birth of their baby. Though she focused mainly on photography, her knowledge of videography and style of filming fit exactly with what the couple wanted, and Helene was all too honored to be a part of the day.

And although the birth of their child was, albeit, a bit traumatic, they couldn’t have asked for a sweeter baby boy. Born on a frigid Friday evening on March eighteenth after twenty hours of active labor and an onslaught of chaos, Paxton Robin Styles was born, tiny, healthy, and beautiful, surrounded by family that already loved him so dearly.

The hospital staff was wonderful in keeping their attendance private, no one having a clue that they were even there. No news articles or whispers were heard of their newest addition to which they were grateful to be allowed to enjoy their first week home, getting acclimated to being new parents. They had fallen in love with him.

“Y/N!” Harry exclaimed, bouncing into the nursery on a Monday afternoon as his wife fed their son, his phone in hand, and a bright smile on his face.

Y/N looked up, surprised and slightly offended, “Don’t ever call me by my name again,” she joked, stroking their son’s cheek.

Harry laughed, “Sorry, love. But, look! It’s here!”

He held his phone in front of her face, playing the edited version of their pregnancy and birth journey in video form one of Harry’s editor friends kindly put together for them after the birth of their son. The five minute and fifty-one-second video filled with shortened clips of the last nearly ten months of their lives in becoming first-time parents. They watched it together, occasionally glancing down at their baby that had fallen asleep while eating in Y/N’s arms, in awe that this was their life.

Tears were streaming down both of their faces, and Y/N giggled, wiping her husband’s cheek with her free hand. He was an emotional being, she knew that, but she had no idea what the effect of fatherhood would be on her Harry. She couldn’t have picked a better partner to raise a child with.

“I think we should post it,” Harry said, causing Y/N’s eyes to go wide.

“Post it? Like...social media?”

Harry nodded, “Well, we can’t keep him a secret forever. People are already starting to talk. I’d rather announce it on our own terms than on someone else’s. We can still stay as private as possible, I’ve already talked to Jeffrey and my publicist about it. I just...he makes me so proud and I feel like I need to show people that.”

Y/N smiles sweetly at her husband, taking his hand that rested on the arm to the nursing chair and pulling it up to her lips, kissing it gently. “Okay. We can post it.”

Later that evening, the internet was in an uproar and their phones were blowing up like crazy, for on both of their Instagrams they posted a grey-scale picture of a name tag sticker that read “Hello, I’m: P”, captioned ‘link in bio’, where they were directed to a youtube link posted under Harry’s account.

As soon as the video began, Harry’s soft voice was heard, singing his version of ‘Lullaby’ by the Dixie Chicks in the background as unseen footage of their wedding a few years prior had fizzled into view, video of their first dance as husband and wife played while the tail end of a speech made by Harry’s mom, Anne, was heard over everything else.

“We are so incredibly grateful to have Y/N now an official part of our family and I wish you both years of love, health, and happiness….and giving me tons and tons of grandchildren,” earning laughter from the attendees, “I love you both to pieces. Congratulations.”

The video slowly changed to little snippets. Y/N running towards the beach, holding her hat tight on her head with one hand while the other was holding onto Harry’s hand that was at the bottom of the screen as the breeze whipped at Y/N’s hair and sarong, cut to a clip of the camera propped on the beach overlooking the two of them sitting in the sand, looking out into the ocean, Y/N’s head falling on Harry’s shoulder and him kissing the top of her head as the sun set.

Next was a scene during one of Harry’s tour where someone filmed Y/N at the front of the stage in a VIP area beside a few of their friends, dancing and singing along with Harry who stood in front of her, smiling and singing at her.

The next images were upsetting. When they first started trying, they recorded videos of themselves awaiting the results of their tests, hoping to capture the moment they found out on film. One after another, the video showed negative test upon negative test, wanting to document the struggle they faced in fertility, one of the main reasons they decided to post this video. If it helped just one person who struggled with infertility and gave them a bit of hope, they needed to show it.

They showed clips of Harry holding an emotional Y/N in his arms, her eyes filled with tears and a quivering lip as he kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. Until the next clip showed. A shaky still of a screen that read ‘Pregnant’ that panned up to show a reflection of Harry and his wife in the mirror, Y/N pulling the test up to her face with a smile while Harry looked down at his wife in pride, softly touching her flat belly.

Clips of an ultrasound showed, Y/N stomach looking more bloated than anything as the doctor slid the wand around on her belly, Harry filming while squeezing his wife’s hand. His voice could barely be heard over the music of the video as he cooed, “Is that it, right there? So little…”

They included a few announcements they made to family members. How they told Anne while on an end of summer family vacation with a little jewelry box that opened up to two little birds and an egg in a birds nest with a note that said ‘A little birdy told me you are going to be a Nana.’ making Anne burst into tears, hugging them. And when they told Y/N’s best friend by giving her an orange and saying, “That’s how big our baby is right now,” which caused confusion before the screaming.

Y/N had filmed mirror clips of her growing belly in the floor-length mirror that stood in the corner of their room and had gotten clips of Harry laying beside her bump, his hands rubbing her stomach, clasped on either side as he sang, or talked, or read stories.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he could be heard saying before kissing the top of her bump, looking up and past the camera to his wife, smiling lovingly.

There were images of Christmas, Gemma having caught an intimate moment between the two of them, Y/N sat in between Harry’s legs on the floor, mugs of hot chocolate in her hands and still in their Christmas Pajamas, Harry’s cheek pressed against hers as he held up a blue Gucci baby suit in front of them, smiling and gushing about how small it was.

The couple’s silhouette could be seen in the dark light sky as they stood in the middle of the field, illuminated by the New Years’ fireworks that went off in the distance, Y/N’s belly pressed against Harry’s stomach as they kissed intimately amongst their friends.

A small baby shower inside one of their London country homes was next, littered with a few familiar faces along with some that were likely family members. Harry still sang in the background as the two of them opened gifts, smiling and laughing with each other, genuine happiness and love could be seen on everyone’s faces and a few people popped onto the screen to say a few words for the unborn baby.

“You have wonderful parents,” Y/N’s parents grinned, her mom getting teary-eyed. “I can’t wait to see the person you become.”

Anne’s bright, shining smile was next, “You’re going to do amazing things. You are so loved.”

“Hi, my sweet nephew! It’s Auntie Gemma,” she grinned, waving at the camera, “I can’t wait to meet you and snuggle you! I hope you grow up to be just as kind and loving as your parents. We are so lucky to have you in our lives.”

Harry and Y/N were seen in the background, Y/N eating a slice of cake while Harry casually kissed her cheek before stealing a bite of her food, earning a smile from his pregnant wife

Video panned over their newly renovated nursery, mostly designed to be gender-neutral with little hints of outer space; moon lights, a solar system mobile hanging above the cot, with a star blanket draped over the nursing chair. Harry moved the camera to Y/N who was hanging some onesies in the nursery closet, smiling and waving at the camera.

Next, they were laying in bed. It was dark and, but a glow from a nightstand shone and Y/N’s belly was visible, round and very pregnant, a few freckles near her navel, and the faintest linea nigra could be seen running from her belly button down towards the bottom of her belly. Their voices were barely audible over the music still sung by Harry. A little ripple on her belly cast from left to right and then her belly distorted a little as their baby boy kicked and pressed against the center of her bump, making the couple laugh and Harry’s hand appeared, softly rubbing where his son’s foot would be.

It changed. They were in a hospital now, Y/N in a grey and white spotted hospital gown. The camera was propped on a table filming Y/N  who sat on the edge of her bed, moving her hips from side to side as she breathed heavily, moaning, while Harry kneeled on the floor in front of her, his hands on her hips and squeezing to relieve some pressure. They were talking to each other, concern, and empathy clear on Harry’s face.

In the next clip, Y/N was laying back in her hospital bed, sucking on gas and air. Harry was filming this time, and his Anne could be seen this time, sitting on Y/N’s other side holding her daughter-in-law’s free hand. Y/N put the gas and air down, gave a thumbs-up, and smiled, “We’re having a baby today!” as her mother-in-law smiled brightly.

The footage faded to black before it flashed to Y/N looking at someone just out of view as the disembodied voice said, “Whenever you feel the urge to push, let us know. You’ll be meeting your son soon.”

It faded to black again, Harry’s singing more evident in these moments, louder, as the footage flashed back into focus. The camera was, once again, being propped up on a table. At Y/N’s head on either side stood Anne who was still holding her daughter-in-law’s hand, while Harry stood, back to the camera, mostly blocking the view of his wife as one hand stroked her hair and the other held her hand. The doctors could be heard saying, “Deep breath” before Y/N took a deep breath in, bringing her legs to her chest with the help of a few nurses that could hardly be seen, bearing down and pushing as the nurses counted and Harry said, “Great job, love. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

The screen went black. A doctor’s voice was heard saying, “One more big push.” Y/N could be heard taking a deep breath, and a little exasperated yelp before gasping from both Harry and Anne followed by the beautiful, gurgling cry of their baby. Harry’s sweet singing voice in the background of the video got louder and finally, the video came back into view of a little name card on the bassinet that read:

Name: P, Styles.

DOB: March 18th

Weight: 6 lbs 12 oz

Height: 20 inches

Time: 8:39 PM

The camera panned down to the top of a blue baby cap with a white embroidered ‘P’ in the center, moving as their son wiggled in his bassinet, the hushed reassuring whispers of his parents heard just behind the camera as little lip-smacking and coos could be heard from the baby.

The screen went blank as the song started to end and white words appeared on the screen.

“Welcome to the world, Baby P. We love you to the ends of the earth.

Love,

Mummy and Daddy”

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

Taglist:

@odetostep​ , @thurhomish​

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Lost and Found

Request: Hello, I’ve never requested any type of imagine so I’m sorry if this request sucks. I just love the way you write post-Azkaban Sirius and I was wondering if you could write something about reader getting pregnant just before he was sent to Azkaban and never got to tell him, fast forward to 1993 and how Sirius reacts to finding out about his son/daughter. Hope this made sense!

A/N: Here’s your request! I really enjoyed writing this, and I kind of used a different format that I've only used once or twice so I hope it reads okay! There's a flashback in this and it’s in italics! Thank you so much for requesting. As always, I hope you like!!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, pregnancy, first meetings, a gross overuse of commas and semi-colons BUT THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING!!!

Word count: 4.7k

1981:

The front door slamming shut wakes you from your slumber. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but Sirius had left so late in the night; you wanted to wait up and see what the hurry was.

He storms into the living room; boots heavy on the floor. His hands run through his hair rapidly and he shakes his head repeatedly as if he can’t come to terms with whatever’s happened.

But then he stops his pacing.

He holds a hand up to his mouth.

And he begins to sob.

He bends in two; sobbing and sobbing, unable to catch his breath from the power of his cries.

You fly off the couch, rushing to him. Wrapping him in your arms, you sink to the ground where he stands, unable to walk to the couch for the sheer emotion taking over him.

It feels like hours before his sobs calm enough for him to get the words out.

In between his sniffles, Sirius manages to choke out, “James and Lily have been killed. Harry taken by Dumbledore.”

Your tears join Sirius’. You think of the family torn apart tonight; you think of the broken hearted man sat at your side. The family he had found for himself ripped from him in less than fifteen minutes.

It was incomprehensible.

They were only twenty-one; they were protected, and they were planning for their future. They had a fifteen month old son who needed his mother and father now more than ever, but he wouldn’t have that.

They had the world at their feet.

And in a single instant, it all changed.

----------

The test come backs positive, and it makes you cry harder.

A shaky hand places itself on your lower abdomen where in nine months, a bump would surely be.

You blink away the tears that are making it hard to see.

You stare at the wall; listening to the nothingness of the empty house you now sat in.

******

The sun was shining when Sirius made the decision that would impact both of your lives forever. The sun was shining when Sirius left the house with you still in bed.

At the front door, he hesitated for a single instant. He hesitated because he didn’t know what was going to happen to you after he does what need to. He hesitated because he so desperately wanted to crawl back into bed with you, but as he closed the front door ever so quietly behind him, he knew he wouldn’t get such a luxury for a while.

Sirius hadn’t been home all day; you had woken without him, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. What was unusual was his constant absence as the day progressed, and soon enough, dread floods your veins.

Remus shows up on your doorstep at some point in the afternoon; looking very much as if he hadn’t slept in days. He paces the kitchen with you; Sirius hadn’t told him the exact details of his plan – just that he was going to right a wrong, and that hadn’t sat right with Remus at all; no matter how much he desired retribution for the death of his friends and the orphan now in the care of his muggle relatives.

You yelp in panic when there’s a knock at the door; mind already thinking the worst.

Opening the door, you find that your mind is correct.

Two Aurors stand there; both with sombre looks on their faces.

You don’t hear what they say wholly; you only hear bits and pieces as your hearing zones in and out.

You hear, ‘Sirius’, ‘Azkaban’, ‘no trial’ and with no words of apology, the two Aurors leave your doorstep.

It’s Remus who catches you when you fall to the floor, sobs heaving from your chest.

******

The nausea rises with the end of your memory. You haul yourself over the toilet, emptying your stomach. You rest your head on the cool surface of the porcelain before dragging yourself to the sink to wash your mouth out.

An appointment at the Healers was needed, it seemed.

-------

The ultrasound jelly is cool as it is spread on your stomach; you shiver from the feeling and the nurse smiles at you apologetically.

“How are we feeling?” She asks kindly, setting up the machine.

You bite your lip, “I’m really nervous actually.”

She chuckles, “All new mothers are, but you’ll find the fathers are the most nervous.”

You want to laugh, but instead you smile wanly.

Using her wand, the nurse hovers it over your lower abdomen, moving it right to left and back again as she scans there.

A few clicks on a button later, she says, “There we are! You look to be about twelve weeks already,” She continues to move her wand, “Baby looks healthy, and is a good size. Would you like to see?”

You nod wordlessly. The nurse smiles at you as she turns the monitor your way.

And for the first time, you get a glimpse of the little baby.

You hold one hand to your mouth, and the other stretches out to touch the screen.

The nurse stands, “I’ll give you a moment. I’ll be back in a few minutes, dear.”

You let a few tears fall as you shuffle closer to the screen, wiping the ultrasound jelly off with the tissue from the side. Your hands grab both sides of the monitor, pulling it to you even closer.

There – the little blip on the screen. The little blip that was your baby.

-----

Remus lives in a flat within walking distance of Diagon Alley. After your appointment, you head there, struggling to hold back more tears threatening to make an appearance.

You climb the stairs to his floor; finding his flat easily enough.

Raising your fist, you knock on the door repeatedly – getting faster and louder the longer Remus takes to answer the door.

Remus yanks open the door to his flat, ready to shout at whoever is making that much racket so early in the morning. His words die in his mouth when he sees that it’s you and that you’re so close to tears.

You brush past him, striding into his flat and into his kitchen where you promptly fill up the kettle and set it on the stove to heat up. Watching for a flame, you know that Remus is going to need caffeine to hear the news.

“(Y/N)?” Remus asks warily from behind you, “Are you okay, love?”

“No, Remus. I’m not, but I can’t tell you until you have a coffee in your hand. And Remus, I love you like a brother, but will you please put on some trousers.”

Remus glances down at his clothing; only just realising that he’s stood in his boxers. He chuckles and leaves you to get dressed; pulling on some jeans and a Henley he finds in a drawer. As he’s getting changed, you make him a coffee and yourself a tea.

You sigh, thinking to yourself that this would be the last time you have caffeine for a long while.

Remus ambles back into the kitchen fully dressed and takes a seat the breakfast counter, “So what was so important it had you waking me up?”

Your fingers tap out a nameless song on your mug as you announce, “I’m pregnant.”

Remus knocks over his mug, sending it and the coffee inside flying across the kitchen. He leaps up from his spot, swearing up a storm as he grabs a tea towel to clean the mess up.

You stand to side, letting him finish cleaning. He’s done in a matter of moments; turning back to you with happiness and pity reflected on his face.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks.

You nod, “Had it confirmed today. They even did an ultrasound.”

You grab the picture of your baby from your bag, handing it to Remus with a shaking hand.

Remus grabs your hand as he looks at the ultrasound. There, in front of him, is a little blob that’s the baby of you and Sirius.

“What are you going to do?” He questions – his voice no louder than a whisper.

You run a hand through your hair, “I’m keeping it if that’s what you’re asking.”

Remus nods, “Are you sure though?”

“I’m sure. It’s half Sirius. We had talked about having children the month before James and Lily were killed.”

“So you’re going to be a mum?”

You laugh, tears shining in your eyes, “I’m going to be a mum.”

------

The pregnancy is tough without Sirius by your side. You find yourself asking for his opinion on everything – from the cot, to the colour of the nursery walls, to the name.

Then you remember he isn’t there, and he won’t ever be.

Remus, however, steps up. He isn’t there to be a father to the child, but he makes damn sure he is there for every appointment and to assemble every piece of furniture.

It’s Remus who holds your hand through the labour, and it’s Remus who hands you your son.

1987:

James begins to get curious about his father’s whereabouts on the approach to his sixth birthday. Question after question leaves his mouth – why didn’t he have a dad? Why were you alone? Did you feel lonely? Do you miss his father?

Eventually, the inquisition from the youngster becomes too much, and you give in on a Friday evening.

James sits on your knee, already invested in the story long before you even start.

“Are you comfy?” You ask.

You laugh at his eager nod.

“I met your father at Hogwarts when we were sorted into the same house. We weren’t friends then, but I knew who he was; it was hard to miss him – he was very loud.

“We became friends three years later in our Fourth Year; your father sat next to me in a lesson and pestered me until I would be his friend. I’m very happy he pestered me now.

“We fell in love in Sixth Year,” You break off, chuckling at your son’s crinkled nose, “Well we did, honey. There wasn’t anything else after that. I loved your father and he loved me.

“When we graduated Hogwarts, we moved into this very house and started to make it a home. Our friends, Lily and James, had a baby and both your father and I were named godparents – we had to protect the baby if anything happened to them.

“James and Lily died after that and it was very sad for both of us but especially for your father as James was his closest friend in the entire world. Your father left the house to make those who hurt his friends apologise, and it led to him having to go away for a very long time.”

“How long?”

“A very long time, my love.”

“Where is he? Maybe we could visit?”

“I don’t think we can. He’s in Azkaban, sweets.”

James’ eyebrows crinkle together, “The place where bad witches and wizards go.”

You nod, “The very same, but your father isn’t a bad wizard. He just made a bad choice one day.”

You finish talking, choked up with emotion. James pats your cheek with a small hand, and you squeeze your son a little tighter; wondering when he had grown into such a caring child.

James thinks over your story; plays it through in his head. He had seen other children his age playing with their dads and wondered why he didn’t have one. He was very happy with you, and loved you very much, but still, he wondered.

“But we still love him, right?” James asks.

You pause; thinking over his question, “I think I’ll always love him, James. He’s your dad.”

“Can I see a picture of him?”

You nod, not expecting this question. Patting his side, you tell him to get off so you can climb to the attic to find one. James follows you all the way; his little legs struggling on the steep stairs to the attic.

He finds you rooting through an old, dusty trunk, chuntering to yourself as you try to find what you were looking for.

“Got it!” You shout, pulling a framed photograph out from underneath some old clothing.

You run a finger over the picture; looking at faces you never thought you would see again. James, Lily, Marlene… Sirius. They all smile up at you as the camera flashes; permanently sealing the memory within the photograph.

You wrap an around James’ shoulder, pointing down at the photograph. “Tell me, do you recognise anyone at all?”

James gasps, “Is that you? And Uncle Remus?” His small finger points at the two figures he recognises the most; Remus as he went through his long hair phases that truly didn’t last long after the photo was taken, and yourself, standing straight-backed and proud next to Sirius whose arm was on your lower back.

You laugh, “That is me and your Uncle Remus, yes,” You point to the two figures in the front, “That’s James and Lily – two of my closest friends.”

“Is that who I’m named after?”

You nod, “It is. James was your father’s best friend; he even lived with him for a brief time. When I found out I was having you, there was no doubt in my mind that you were to be James.”

“Which one is my dad?”

You sigh, shifting your finger so it hovers over Sirius’ permanently handsome face, “This is your father.”

James takes the picture from your hands, holding it closer to his face as if he could get a better look at the man who should have been raising him beside you.

“Do I look like him?” He asks in a small, vulnerable voice.

You smile, pushing the dark hair back from his face, “In all the best ways, sweetheart.”

1993:

Tears fall freely as you flatten your son’s hair. “Mum,” he gripes, “It’s fine.”

“I’m just going to miss you,” You sniffle, dabbing at your eyes with your handkerchief.

“I’m going to miss you too, but we can write to each other and we’ll see each other on the holidays. It’s going to be okay, mum.”

You caress his face, wondering when your son had grown up, “When did you become so wise?”

He rolls his eyes, “I always have been.”

“Okay,” You start, taking a step back, “Do you have everything you need?”

He checks over his belongings one last time, “I’ve got everything.”

“And you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be okay,” He promises.

“And you’re going to write me a letter the moment you get to your dorm room to tell me what house you’re in?”

“I promise.”

“Okay then,” You drop one last kiss to your son’s cheek before sending him off to the train, “I’ll miss you!” You shout.

He sticks his head out of the window of his compartment, unashamed of showing his feelings, “I’ll miss you too! I love you!”

You wave and wave as the red and black steam train departs from Kings Cross, carrying your son all the way to the highlands of Scotland where he’ll roam the corridors as you once did with his father.

-------

Remus is the first to alert you of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban. He apparates from Hogsmeade one weekend; his first words when you open to the door to him being, “He’ll come here, you know that right?”

You let him into your house. He trails after you, checking for signs that Sirius hasn’t already landed on your doorstep.

You hand him a mug of coffee from the fresh pot on the side, “I know that Remus, but I think he’ll go find Harry first. He doesn’t know about James.”

“I know that, but he’ll come back for you. Are you ready for that?”

“I’ll be ready when I need to be and that’s that. I wasn’t ready for my son or for his father to be imprisoned but he was, and I dealt with.”

“Magnificently if I say so myself,” Remus comments with a smile.

“You’re a flatterer, Remus Lupin.”

He laughs but it does nothing to hide the worried light in his eyes, “Send me an owl every week please? Let me know you’re okay.”

You nod, “I will. And you do the same for me; keep an eye on my son, Remus. It’s his first year.”

Remus sits back in his chair, “He’s in my class. He refuses to call me Professor, preferring to answer questions with ‘Yes, Uncle Remus’,” Remus chuckles, “Eleven years already. I remember him being born.”

“You should – you were there.”

He chuckles, “I had to be present for the birth of my godson didn’t I?”

You laugh, reaching through it all, “You were great through it all. I never worried about a thing, I had you next to me.”

“It should have been Sirius,” He sighs.

“You’re right, but it wasn’t. And I don’t regret that for one moment.”

-------

The knock at your front door is your only preparation really. An owl from Remus warned you that Sirius had left Scotland and was heading south. Harry had helped him escape certain death, and a surge of pride and gratefulness makes its way through your body – thankful for the godson you hadn’t seen since he was a toddler pottering about on shaky legs.

“Remus told me you would come,” is your greeting to man you hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“Remus is a very smart man.”

“Isn’t he?”

You stand aside, letting the man you’ve loved for most of your life enter the house he once shared with you.

You make your way to the living room; his footsteps sounding behind you. Your heart races with every possibility running through your mind – it had been hard to avoid the news of his escape, and you wondered how long it would take him to come to you. You were just thankful that James hadn’t felt the need to find his father himself; the sensible head on his shoulders telling him to wait and come back safely home to you.

Sirius steps further into your living room; his eyes dancing around the room he had spent so much time decorating. He smiles to himself; remembering the paint fight you had – he had splattered you with the brush causing you to retaliate by painting a long white stripe down the right side of his face.

It’s hard to miss the photos lining the walls or the mantle piece. His eyes dance over the framed photograph of the Order in favour of the smaller photograph next to it. A polaroid in a frame; taken by Remus on the day that James was born – it’s of you, hours after his birth with your hair still a mess but you’re smiling at the camera, looking elated.

Sirius turns to you; his mouth wide open, ready to say something but then he notices the other photographs of James on the wall – him at three years old; him at five years old sat on Remus’ lap; him at seven on his birthday, blowing out the candles on his chocolate cake.

You watch him from the side, absorbing everything.

Sirius does the maths in his head, and then his eyes finally settle on you.

Betrayal. 

Hurt. 

Longing.

They flash through his eyes and across his face in a matter of seconds before understanding finally settles there.

“Why don’t we talk about this over a cup of tea?” You ask; ready to have the conversation that should have been had twelve years ago.

“When did you find out?” Sirius counters, and you sigh, clearly not to be sorted over a cup of tea then.

“About two months after you’d gone. I was a month along when you went away so neither of us would have known,” You sigh once more, rubbing your temples in a circular motion, “I should have worked out a way to tell you…”

Sirius shakes his head, “No. You shouldn’t. It would have made things even harder in there.”

“How bad was it?” You ask; your voice a whisper.

Sirius’ face pales; lips thinning, “It’s not something I would wish on my worst enemies.”

You nod your head; not wanting to dwell on the tortuous subject any longer, “Would you like to meet him?”

Sirius’ eyes widen, “Are you sure?”

“He’s your son, Sirius. I’ve never hidden that fact from him. He’s only grown more curious over time.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Ridiculous. He doesn’t know you, but in time, he will.”

“You’re willing to give me that?”

You nod, “Sirius, love, if you hadn’t have gone away, we would be raising him together.”

“Did you ever find anyone else?”

“It’s hard to date when you’re a single parent, Sirius.”

He rolls his eyes.

“No,” You clarify, “There has been no-one for me but the father of my child.”

“I want to be in your lives – yours and his,” He states, “If you’ll have me.”

“I never stopped waiting.”

Tears line his eyes, making the grey even more striking. “Come on, let’s introduce you to your son,” you say, holding a hand out to the man you would never stop loving.

Together, you climb the stairs to your son’s room. Knocking lightly, you ask, “Love, am I okay to come in? I have someone I want you to meet.”

“It’s open, mum,” His voice rings out and you hear Sirius’ sharp intake of breath at the first time hearing his son’s voice.

Your grip on Sirius’ hand only tightens as you open the door.

James sits on his bed; his face the picture of curiosity. He leaps up when he sees the man standing behind you.

“Mum?”

“Honey, this is your father, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is your son, James Regulus (Y/L/N).”

“Regulus?” Sirius asks; his eyes never leaving his sons.

You nod, “I miss him too.”

Sirius takes a tentative step forward, dropping your hand. He stretches the hand that dropped yours out to his son.

James glances in a circuit between the outstretched hand of his father, his father, and you. With a gentle nod, you convey to James that it’s okay.

James steps forward and folds his hand into Sirius’, shaking twice before letting it drop.

Sirius coughs, “It’s nice to meet you at last.”

James nods; posture standoffish.

You glance between them, “I know. Why don’t we move downstairs so we can about this over a cup of tea?”

“A cup of tea mum? Really?”

“A cup of tea can put the world-”

“To right. Yes, I know,” James chuckles, “Let’s go.”

“Your mother used to say the same thing at Hogwarts and after,” Sirius states; watching his son’s figure make its way downstairs.

James pauses on the stairs for a moment before carrying onto the kitchen where he fills the kettle and drops three tea bags in three pots.

Sirius lingers in the doorway to the kitchen; everything has changed but everything hasn’t too. There was still the mark on the ceiling where him and James got too eager with a jinx, and the cracked vase from him and Remus throwing a ball about was still on the windowsill.

“Sugar? Milk?” His son asks; holding both up for Sirius to choose from.

“Both please.”

James nods before returning back to the drinks at hand.

He hands you your drink first before sliding Sirius’ cup to a spot at the breakfast bar. Sirius shuffles over to it, sitting down in the spot the drink is placed at. James remains standing, leaning on the counter, ready to leave should he need it.

“Mum told me about you when I was younger,” James comments.

Sirius glances at you. You take a nonchalant drink of your tea, shrugging, “He asked. I wasn’t going to keep it a secret all his life.”

“What did you say?”

“How you two met and why you weren’t around,” James states, staring down at his drink, “I didn’t think I would ever get to see you. I’d come to terms with it and then I see your face all over the newspapers in my first year at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was a surprise.”

James shrugs; not knowing what else to say to the man that had been absent for the first eleven years of his life.

Sirius stands from the stool, making his way to James where he cautiously puts both hands on his shoulders. James wants to avoid eye contact with his father, but Sirius manages to keep his hold, “I’ve already spoken to your mother about this, but the decision comes down to you, James. I want to be in your lives. What happened all those years ago was not supposed to happen and I paid the price for over a decade. If your mother had known she was pregnant with you, I would have stayed and I would have raised you, but that didn’t happen. James, I’d like to get to know you, but I wholeheartedly understand if you do not want to know me.”

James processes the words his father says. His eyes dart to you for help, and all he can see reflected in your face is love for the both of you and pride for how he’s handling this.

He has wanted to know his father for so long; didn’t think he would ever be handed the chance to meet him let alone get to know him. Yet, now that he’s here, standing in front of him, he feels conflicted as to what he should do.

James continues to glance between you and Sirius; the gears in his mind whirring away. Sirius begins to lose hope when his son starts to nod.

“I want to get to know you too.”

1994:

You felt at one with the parents standing on the platform. It wasn’t going to get easier to send your child off for their education for nine months of the year.

“I’ll write as soon as I’m settled!” Your son promises; shouting from his window where he sits with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He waves and waves as the train pulls away; you do just the same, remaining on the platform until the Hogwarts Express has chugged out of sight, taking your son with it.

An arm wrapping around your waist, and a kiss being pressed to the crown of your head keeps your grounded in the aftermath.

“It’ll be October before you know it.”

You sniffle, nodding, “I know, I just can’t believe he’s gone again.”

Sirius grip tightens on you, “If this is what it felt like the first time, I can’t imagine how you did it on your own.”

“I was a mess,” You laugh, “Sobbing and crying and everything.”

Sirius chuckles, “It’ll fly by won’t it?” – he asks for his own peace of mind.

It’s been less than a six months since he broke out of Azkaban to find out he was a father to a gangly teenaged boy. In that time, a relationship has been formed, and whilst he found himself loving his son as a father should, he knew that the trust built was as fragile as glass – one wrong move and it shatters.

In that time, he had fallen in love with you all over again. He had never stopped, but the love he felt for you in Azkaban was different from the love he felt for you now. In Azkaban, you felt like a dream – like a ghost haunting him with a past he couldn’t be sure was real; it had him feeling like he were the main love interest in a Bronte novel.

Now, however, his love for you shone out of every pore in his body. The horrors he faced in Azkaban paled when he rolled over in bed to find you sleeping peacefully next to him.

Sirius stands on the platform beside you, gazing at the absence of the train. He thinks of how his son had hugged him briefly before boarding the train; at how much that meant to Sirius, that in those few moments, his son had whispered ever so quietly that he would miss him, but he would see him soon.

Sirius thinks of all that he has lost and found, and with one look at you, he knows he has found enough.

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @msmimimerton​

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists​ @fific7​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​

[vhsrights]

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

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

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

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

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

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

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

[gallickingun]

so i saw the post about kissing that you reblogged and that made me think... imagine reader retweeting that on twitter and bakugou sees it, then proceeds to kiss her at random times the next day which really flusters her and she wonders why he's doing this because they normally don't advertise the fact that they're dating

a/n: this is a lot of all over the place randomness but... i kind of love it??? short little blurby about bakubaby treating you right!!!

ps, i can’t do anything short, can i? couple hundred words ahead lol 

Bakugou had always been possessive over what he deemed as his.

So, it’s somewhat strange, when he doesn’t necessarily lay claim to you in front of all his friends.

Sure, Kirishima and Mina know that the two of you are secretly attached at the hip, and Denki may or may not raise a brow when you get too close to one another, but overall it’s not necessarily well known that you have been exclusive to one another for the past few months.

Bakugou is genuinely secure in your relationship; the one constant in his life now that the Pro Hero Sidekick gigs are taking off. He knows that when he calls, you’ll answer, and that there is never too much of him for you to handle. Honestly, he never thought much about the fact that you didn’t really show much affection in public because you were on his mind every moment not premeditated on training exercises and patrols and skirmishes in the streets.

No, your affection comes in small doses, here and there and always in private. And you know that the Pro Hero life will be a lonely one at times, but you can’t help the insatiable need for physical affection. It’s something instilled in you, bred in you maybe. The unbreakable desire to feel the pads of his bare fingers, his knee slotting between your thighs as he lays closer to tell you about his day. You even wish you could just feel his hands on the crown of your head, maybe a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

At this point, after a couple of weeks of non-stop action in the streets, you start to grow restless. Your publicist says you need to show more attention to social media, so you take to Tweeter when you have a second to breathe in the agency locker room.

It doesn’t take long for you to find a relationship-based account that posts sappy quotes and cute photos; it makes your heart ache and long for something a little more concrete than what you have now - something just a smidge more open.

In a moment of haste, you post a response to a specific original comment: I was extremely kissable today and do you know how many kisses I received???? Zero!!!

It’s something harmless; a gentle joke with your growing audience. You need to prove to them that you’re relatable, which is all that you’re doing. It couldn’t have come from the darkness of your mind that clouds your vision at night, begging you to crawl into Katsuki’s bed at ungodly hours of the night even if he’s not there; even if the two of you aren’t there yet.

It is another night spent alone, cold ramen on the coffee table as you fall asleep on the couch to old training tapes of yourself replaying on the television. You were trying to pick apart your every misstep, but all you could focus on was the way your body aches for your lover. Your blood beats heavy in your chest, the sound deafening to your ears when the pulse throbs at your temples and in your jugular. The edges of you crave something solid to fall against, to fall into.

You want Katsuki.

Instead, you step into your hero shoes and get ready to conquer another day at the agency.

When you step out of your car, you’re surprised to find Bakugou’s vehicle parked next to your usual spot. Even though he’s an early riser, he’s usually patrolling or attending appointments during the morning hours, so it’s a bit out of sorts to see his car already in it’s place.

The front door is pulled open for you by a familiar face - ashen blonde hair framing crimson irises, a small smile tugging on his full lips. You tilt your had in silent questioning as you step over the threshhold and into your persona for the day. 

You let out a strangled sound when those very lips find yours, right in the middle of everything, the hallway full of people turning to look at the two of you.

“Good morning,” he murmurs as he steps away from you, vermillion irises trailing over your frame, “sorry I didn’t make it over last night. Patrol was a bitch.”

You shake your head but you can’t reply because your mind is foggy, dizzy in its haze to attempt and figure out why he’s done what he’s done. There are several people staring at you now, mouths slightly agape at the obvious display of affection that is rather unusual for the pair of you. Most of those that you’ve now given full access to the validity of your relationship only hinted and gossiped about it prior, unsure if the lingering gazes you might send one another are truly that of longing rather than carelessness.

“S’okay,” you manage, “no big.”

He’s smiling, squeezing your arm before turning to walk his own way. You’re left breathless in the front entryway, hand covering your mouth as you watch him fade further into the hallway until he’s boarding the elevator.

You blink once, squeezing your eyelids tightly so you see stars. And then you take the first step forward to start your day, desperately trying to ignore the effervescent champagne bubbles in your belly but failing miserably with each passing moment. 

The tap on your door at lunchtime brings your attention back to the present, eyes finding the bulky frame of one Pro Hero: Ground Zero at your door. Your jaw goes slack but you stand to your feet anyway, “H-Hey, what’s up?”

“Can’t I take my girlfriend to lunch and it not be a whole thing?” Bakugou clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “C’mon, dummy, let’s go.” 

Bakugou actually takes you by the hand - a gesture he hardly does even in the confines of your personal home - and walks you towards the food court near the center of the agency. When you stand in line, he kisses the back of your head and pulls you closer to him. The people around you stop and stare and you know it’s because the big, bad Ground Zero finally appears to have shown that he has a heart.

The pair of you eat in relative silence, focused on scarfing down the food in front of you before you turn to speech. Bakugou is finished first, kicking his feet up on the chair next to yours. He smiles across the table at you and offhandedly asks you about your day. 

Through a mouthful of noodles you mutter something along the lines of a whole lotta paperwork, which makes him laugh. You tilt your head, marveling at this new version of your significant other. You aren’t sure if you should enjoy it or be worried, but the revelry you’re sharing in the way people look at the two of you now that he is being openly affectionate makes you keep your mouth shut for the time being.

It is only when he drops you back off at your doorstep and asks you to consider taking the rest of the day off with a kiss to your cheek that you finally broach the burning topic. The words are like acid on your tongue, “What is going on with you?”

Bakugou brushes his thumb over your jaw, leaning back enough to look in your eyes. Something falters in him and you step closer, palms finding his chest, “Katsuki, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he snaps immediately. Bakugou turns his face away from you so he can compose himself, “I did something wrong.”

Your mind wants to flood with the horrible things he could be talking about, but Bakugou is already interjecting with another sentence before your imagination can wander too far off of a cliff. 

“I saw what you posted yesterday and I feel like I’m being a really shitty boyfriend by not just fucking telling people that we’re together.” He runs his hands over your arms, tucking his thumbs into your gloves, “This is my way of trying to make up for it.”

The tips of your cheeks are painted pink and you can’t help it when you surge up to kiss him square on the lips. The action leaves him breathless, eyes half-lidded as he tries to work himself down from the adrenaline rush.

You bite your lip, “I just decided that I’m taking the rest of today off.”

Bakugou cups your face, fingertips tickling the nape of your neck, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

[gaemkyuu]

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Warnings: death of a loved one and grief. There is one mention to drinking a bottle of wine but all characters in the story are above the age of 21. A/N: this is based off a post @ah2113​ made a little while ago! I liked the idea and decided to write a cute fluffy piece on it! Hope you like it! “Reader and Charlie are best friends and they met on JATP. Charlie and the reader are in love with each other but don’t know. The readers grandma passes away and she calls Charlie, who is in a completely different state/country, in tears about the situation. Charlie feels horrible and completely drops everything he’s doing and immediately flies out to the reader and surprises them. He is with them throughout the whole viewing and funeral and meets her entire family. Everybody mistakens him for the readers boyfriend because of how much he is doing to help and tells the reader that he is clearly in love with them.”  Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life. 

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Charlie was in the middle of an interview when his phone started vibrating. Normally he kept it on airplane mode, but today he forgot. He quickly reached for his phone and saw her name pop up on the screen, losing focus for a brief moment on the interview. 

“Pardon me? Could you repeat the question?” Charlie was trying so hard to focus on the interview at hand but knowing he was on the last question, made it all the more difficult to focus when he knew she was calling.

“Charlie, the fans want to know. Are you single?” he chuckled but since he was distracted, he didn’t give a really good answer.

“Kinda” he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth and the fact that he started blushing made the situation worse! Thankfully the interviewer didn’t press any further into the matter and made a casual joke about it. They quickly wrapped the interview knowing that Charlie had another one scheduled right afterwards, but he had a few minutes to make up a phone call.

Amelie had worked on set for season one of Julie as a hair and make up artist and shocked many at how talented she was for her age. She got along well with the cast and would often hang out with them on their days off, but for some reason she gravitated the most to Charlie. Everyone often teased them about the chemistry they had and how they would make a great couple but both of them would laugh at the comments and deny any feelings towards one another. They were simply nothing more but really good friends.

Or so they thought.

Amelie was head over heels for the brunette and Charlie for her. She loved his smile and enthusiasm for life. She admired his work ethic and passion for what he did. She would squash every thought about being with Charlie because he was too good for her. She liked the weirdest things and entertained people with the most random facts. She could spend hours in an art and fashion museum, when most people could only spend so much time. Amelie saw herself as weird and knew that Charlie saw her as nothing more than a friend.

The opposite was true. Charlie loved her quirkiness and nerdiness around the strangest things. He loved that she was always so modest and humble, even though she had all the right to brag at how amazing she was at her talents. He loved how she was always up for trying something new and that she had an eye for fashion, design and art, but he knew she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. That still didn’t stop Charlie from always being there for her.

“Charlie?” her voice came out in a broken and quiet whisper. He could tell that she was crying and he instantly felt his stomach drop. A few sniffles came from the other line before the voice spoke again. “She’s gone Charlie... Grandmaman is gone...” he could hear her voice start to shake again.

“Say the word Amelie and I am there” Charlie glanced at his watch,8:55pm. He had five more minutes until the next interview with the pop culture podcast from Sydney. This meant that it was 5:00am in London, where Amelie was working on Netflix’s newest series. “Ams?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just didn’t know who else to talk to...” she sniffled quietly not sure what else to say.

“What time are you leaving to get to set?” 8:57pm, he was running out of time. He saw the notification that the next interviewer had signed on to their zoom meeting.

“I gotta be on set at 7:00am so the van will be here to pick me up at 6:30am. It’s my last day on set, so there’s that” she sniffled again, feeling herself calm down with Charlie on the other line. She desperately needed him, but she couldn’t ask him that. He was doing press for season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms and he needed to be available, not off consoling his friend who was madly in love with him. 

“Amelie, listen, I have to jump onto the next interview, but try to get a little more sleep and drink some water. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. When are you flying back?” Charlie felt awful having to hang up on her when he knew she needed him.

“I’ll be on the next flight out to Vancouver. Hopefully there’s a flight this evening back to Canada. My mom’s really upset and my siblings are rushing to get home for her” Amelie took a deep breath and listened to the frustrated sigh on the other end. He was probably annoyed that she called him. “Thank you for picking up Char”

“Anything for you Ams... I’m really sorry but I have to go now... If you’re busy when I call, can you let me know when you’re at the airport?” Amelie agreed and hung up the phone, flopping on the bed and a silent stream of tears falling from her eyes again. Meanwhile, Charlie sat in his LA bedroom, head in hands frustrated that he couldn’t be there for her.

***

Amelie watched out the window as the plane landed in Vancouver. She felt an anxiousness to get off the plane and be with her mom, but she knew she had to go through security and baggage. She didn’t notice that her leg was restlessly bouncing until the nice old lady beside her placed a hand on her lap. 

“Excited are we?” she smiled at her kindly and Amelie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I was once in love too. I get the feeling”

“Actually, I’m just anxious to be with my mom... My grandmother passed away yesterday and I wanna be there for her” the old lady’s smile changed to an empathetic one and she patted her knee.

“I’m sorry for your loss my dear... I lost my sister a year ago today. It is not an easy thing to grieve and I can tell that your soul feels heavy. You might want to think about sharing that load with someone” she smiled. A flight attendant interrupted their conversation letting them know that she had priority to leave the plane. The old woman then looked at Amelie and winked. “They’re letting us off the plane now honey. Thank you miss, but my daughter can grab my bags from the upper compartment, can’t she” baffled at the kindness of the old woman, Amelie dumbly nodded and stood to help her. As they made their way through the gate, an attendant was waiting for the old woman. “You can leave my bags with this gentle man” she smiled.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” the old woman took her hand. “Your mother is fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now go and be with her” Amelie smiled and gave the old woman a hug, and teared up a bit remembering her own grandmother. Wiping away a tear, Amelie said thank you again and headed off to get her bags. To no surprise, getting her suitcase was a gong show because they had to share a lane with another flight. By the time she got there, tons of people waited right by the carousel for their bags, making Amelie stand in the back and tippy toe to see a glimpse of her bag. She was fortunate that a man had helped her as she squeezed her way to the front, waiting for her bag. With a deep breath, she exited the doors and dialed her mother.

“Hello? Maman? What car are you in? Oh wait! I see it!” Amelie quickly rushed outside of the door at YVR to get to her mother’s vehicle. She was able to find a flight that evening and she left right away. The flight was long, but she was able to make it home to her mother’s side in 24 hours. She trotted over to her mother’s vehicle that pulled into the loading zone, flashing their hazards on, her mother getting out of the passenger side. Amelie stopped for a moment, confused that her mother wasn’t driving the car. Her mother quickly embraced her in her arms and both of them shared a tearful hug. “Who’s driving maman?”

Charlie stepped out of the driver’s seat and took Amelie’s suitcase from her, as she stood there with her mouth open. “Surprise?” she immediately felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her and she jumped into Charlie’s waiting arms crying as he held her tight. She felt sadness and happiness while grieving over her Grandmother and feeling elated at the sudden presence of the boy.

“How?” she sniffled and pulled away, wiping her tears.

“Charlie knew how sad you were over Grandmaman, so he texted me late last night and flew in early this morning” her mother explained. Amelie’s mother knew of her crush on the boy and always encouraged her to pursue the relationship further, but she always insisted to her mother that they would be nothing more than friends. Her mother would roll her eyes at her daughter every time she said that, knowing that the chemistry and the feelings were there, but the two were just too stubborn to admit it.

“That’s what friends are for right?” 

Right. Friends.

***

After being picked up at the airport, they went straight to her mother’s house and helped her mom plan out things for the funeral. Naturally, Charlie became the chauffer, driving Amelie and her mom around the city to make various appointments with funeral directors and lawyers. Amelie’s grandmother gave birth to five children and never remarried after her husband passed away. Amelie had very little recollection of her grandfather as he passed away when she was quite young. Each of her mother’s siblings had at least three kids and each child had at least three kids, making their family huge. That didn’t include her mother’s cousins and their families, all of which would be flying in to attend the funeral in two days time.

Running around was an emotionally exhausting task, not to mention the exhaustion that came with grief. The two women were grateful that Charlie was around for them that day as Amelie’s siblings slowly started to get into town. He ordered pizza for everyone, knowing that all of her siblings would be in Vancouver in time for the funeral. Her grandmother was clear that she wanted the viewing and funeral to be combined into one day, not wanting to prolong her burial process, something that they honored. But with that request, it meant a lot had to be done.

Amelie had four siblings, all of which were older than her, making her the baby of the family. Her brother Benoit had moved to New Brunswick to live with the love of his life Maxime, and he was the second to arrive. He had work to take care of and unfortunately Maxime couldn’t get the time off. Benoit got along very well with Charlie, connecting over Dieppe and how it differed from Fredericton where Benoit lived with his partner. Her twin sisters Rachelle and Rene got into Vancouver right before dinner and actually carried the pizza inside while Charlie paid. Both sisters lived in Toronto, one training on the Olympic figure skating team and the other working in Parliament. Throughout the night, they joked about how cute Charlie was and how they were both single and didn’t mind dating someone younger. This annoyed Amelie but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Her third oldest brother, Theo, was the last to arrive, getting in way past dinner but before midnight. He lived in New York pursuing photography and had to finish a shoot before he could come home. Hearing this, Charlie asked him multiple questions about photography when they sat around their mother’s fireplace that night. It was nice to be able to gather as a family before the craziness of their relatives. French Canadian families were big, loud and full of personality, but Amelie knew Charlie understood this dynamic very well.

The next two days passed by in a blur with Charlie helping out wherever he could and sometimes locking himself in her mother’s office to do an interview or meeting here and there. Amelie was so grateful for him because every time she felt overwhelmed or that she was going to cry, he somehow made it to her side, comforting her and helping her be strong. Rachelle and Rene kept telling her to claim Charlie before they did, but Amelie would always insist that they were friends. But when her brothers got involved, Amelie couldn’t help but think that maybe her siblings were right. Maybe she should ask Charlie out, but how could she do that when her entire family was still dealing with the loss of her grandmother?

Just last night, Charlie sat up late into the evening comforting Amelie as she put the slideshow together on her Macbook. She could hardly look at the pictures or listen to the music without tearing up and having mini cry sessions on his shoulder, something he took in stride. It also didn’t help that she had consumed an entire bottle of wine...

In all honesty, Charlie couldn’t be more happy to be by her side at this moment. He knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, especially since he lost his grandmother before filming season one of Julie and the Phantoms. Being here for her was important to him and he wanted to show her that she could always come to him. When she passed out on his shoulder that night, he thought about how badly he wanted to be with her as he tucked her in bed. He loved how she snuggled into his shoulder as he finished up the slide show and he loved that she reached out for him and called his name in her sleep as he walked away. He kissed your forehead goodnight and hated the fact that he couldn’t just call you his.

A soft knock at the door interrupted Amelie’s day dream of her grandmother. She wiped the tears that have unexpectedly fallen from her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come in” her voice was shakier than she wanted it to be, but relief washed over her when Charlie walked in wearing a black dress shirt and tie. He smiled empathetically to her and approached her with open arms, something she gladly accepted. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his chest, while he rested his head on top of hers. 

“You ready?” Charlie held her tight as he asked this question. This would be the first and last time Amelie would be seeing her deceased grandmother.

“I should be asking you that question” she softly giggled. Charlie would be meeting all of her relatives today, including her annoying cousin Madeleine. 

“You forget that I too have a big family. It’ll be fine. Plus, I’m here for you and not them” Amelie pulled away from the hug to stare him in the eyes, silently figuring whether now was a time to discuss her feelings or not. In the end, she decided against it and smiled softly at him, which he returned.

“Thank you for being here Char... It really means a lot” he chuckled and pulled her close for a second hug, something she would never tire hearing.

“Anything for you Ams. Anything.”

***

The funeral and mass went according to plan and soon enough they found themselves in the church basement with a slide show of her grandmother playing in the background, while guests visited the pastries and beverages being served. Amelie was occupied with the many questions her aunts and uncles had about her career and how she was doing, but she couldn’t help but worry about Charlie. Throughout her conversations with her relatives, she watched Charlie help out her mother with the pastries and beverages, stopping once in a while to entertain the younger cousins at the children’s table. She smiled at him gratefully for helping out so much, but grew a little nervous when her nosy aunts and uncles pulled him aside and started interviewing him. It seemed like he was handling himself fine, but Amelie felt even more confident when he made eye contact with her and winked. 

“Well if it isn’t the Hollywood superstar.” Amelie could feel herself cringe at the sound of the voice. It was Madeline, Amelie’s cousin. They were the same age and same stature, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Madeline pursued modeling at a young age and still continued to do it, but for some reason, she always felt that everything was a competition. Amelie wanted to simply be cousins, but Madeline would take every opportunity to upstage her or show off to their aunts and uncles. Amelie didn’t really care, but the more she didn’t the more vicious Madeleine became. At one point in their lives, Madeleine had moved to Vancouver for more opportunities and ended up living with her family. This caused a lot of drama between the two of them, including Madeleine dating several of her exes and bringing them to family events.

“Hey Mads. Long time no see” Amelie forced herself to be nice and polite, even though she felt her cousin didn’t deserve it. Her black dress was a little too tight and a little too revealing for a funeral, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. “How have you been?”

“Oh you know, living it up in Paris, traveling all over Europe for different modeling jobs. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know of it” anyone could hear the sarcasm and apprehension in her voice. Her aunts awkwardly moved away, making up some excuse about visiting other family members so that they could catch up. “How does it feel to be working on a children’s show?”

“I mean, I love what I do, so I can’t complain” Amelie bit her tongue before she could say anything rude. She never understood why her cousin always felt the need to announce how much better she was over her.

“So... optimistic. What’s it feel like to settle?” she felt the blood rush to her face, starting to lose control of her emotions. This was not the place or time to have this conversation, yet Madeline persisted. She took a deep breath trying to level herself and forced a smile on her face. As she opened her mouth to reply, she felt a warm hand hug her lower back and the slight smell of cologne fill the air.

“Everything alright babe?” she blushed at the name and gesture from Charlie, who kissed the top of her head. Madeline flushed and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh hi, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Charlie” he reached out his hand towards Madeline, keeping the other wrapped around Amelie. 

“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you Charlie. You’re an actor from the show that she worked on, right? What are you doing here?” Amelie could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice, and shook his hand. Charlie and Amelie looked at each other, a cocky smile on Charlie’s face and slight confusion on Amelie’s. 

“I’m her boyfriend and I came to support her. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with the grief as well and I couldn’t let her go through this alone” part of what Charlie said was true, but Amelie couldn’t help but blush at the mention of boyfriend. No one had actually asked Charlie if they were dating, but a lot of relatives were beating around the bush. Apparently Charlie had said that rather loudly and some of the relatives started gossiping in a hushed voice. 

“Wow Amelie. I didn’t know you had such good taste in men based on your past partners” Charlie laughed at the comment, something Madeline didn’t suspect.

“I wouldn’t say I’m good taste, but Ams if definitely a catch” he gloated and kissed her cheek, causing Amelie to blush furiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I actually came over because your mom needs some help” if there was one thing Amelie could count on, it would be Charlie’s ability to read a situation and get her out of it. “Shall we, my love?” she nodded and walked away from Madeline flushed and confused, but also really excited. He moved his hand from her back to her hand, softly dragging her away from the conversation.

“Boyfriend?” Amelie whispered to him, inferring the comments he made to Madeline. 

“I know she ruffles your feathers, so why not ruffle hers?” Benoit interrupted Charlie, asking him if he could help put some of the tables from upstairs away. “You’re mom’s in the kitchenette, you can probably hide there for a bit. I got you a plate of pastries that I stashed in the back” she thanked him and watched him walk away with her brother. Before she could take another step, Rachelle and Rene linked arms with her on either side and rushed her into the kitchenette.

“So you’re dating now?!” Rene questioned and before Amelie could answer, Rachelle interrupted her. “When were you going to tell us this?!”

“About time” her mother scoffed, stirring another jug of fruit punch. “Okay you two, leave your sister alone to breathe for a second. Take these pitchers out to the table and find Theo. Make sure Tante Genevive hasn’t stolen him for a private photoshoot for Facebook” Amelie was grateful that her mother shooed the twins off and passed her the plate that Charlie put aside. 

“Thanks Maman” her mother smiled smugly at her, moving about the kitchenette. “Please don’t say I told you so” her mother made the motion to zip her lips as she giddily made her way around the kitchen.

***

That evening, Amelie’s family stumbled through the front door of her mother’s house, everyone retiring to their rooms for a short moment of relaxation while their mother ordered take out for a late dinner. They had stayed behind to clean up with a few other relatives and put away the church tables and chairs. Charlie didn’t complain a single time and rushed to do whatever he could to help everyone out. Charlie followed Amelie up the stairs to her old bedroom and shut the door behind him as she plopped onto the bed. Part of Amelie did this was because she was tired, but the other part of her did it hopefully to avoid the conversation they were about to have. Charlie quietly sat beside her on the bed and played with her hair, something she absolutely loved.

“So, about today...” this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

“It was really nice of you to stand up for me but you didn’t have to. I have no problem telling my family it was a small misunderstanding. It should stop them from blabbering to the media” She sat up and Charlie looked incredulously at Amelie confused at what she was saying.

“Ams, I don’t think you get it” again, she interrupted him before he could continue.

“No I do, I get it. You’re an amazing friend Char and you didn’t have to risk the rumours for-” she didn’t complete the thought because Charlie’s lips were suddenly on hers and she completely melted into them. It was like this tension that she never acknowledged left her shoulders, making her feel like she was floating.

“Do you understand now?” he searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation. “I really like you Amelie and I’ve liked you for a long time, but I’ve always thought you wanted to be friends”

“I wanted to be friends?! I thought you friend zoned me first!” he gave her a look for interrupting him. “Sorry”

“Regardless of what happened, being with you here and helping you and your family throughout all of this made me want to be a part of your life so much more. I want to be more than your friend. I know this is a bad time to say this, but I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you” he held her hand in his and drew nearer to her again. “I really want to be with you if you’ll have me”

She closed the gap between the two of them and kissed him this time, something which Charlie gladly accepted. The two shared a simple but passionate kiss, as if they were confessing two years of secret feelings to each other. A bang at the door startled them.

“Put your pants on! Maman wants you guys to go pick up the take out!” Benoit yelled from behind the door. The two flushed at the comment and heard the snickers and giggles from the other siblings.

“So...boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

[justthehiddleswrites]

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | I don’t think you are supposed to giggle at Tolstoy.

A/N: This will update every Thursday.  There are 13 chapters.  There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships.  This is the one I choose to write this time.  

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship.  When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian.  Which is the one thing he never knew he needed.  Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship.  But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open!  Let me know if you want to be added.  Thank you for reading!

-

Tom slept like a rock that night. The best night’s sleep in a long time. He dreamed of Vivian, kneeling on his chest, kissing him, teasing him, biting him. And he woke that morning with his cock hard and leaking. He stroked himself as he thought about Vivian. But not in the way he usually did. Instead of fantasizing of her touching him, sucking his cock, jerking him off, Tom closed his eyes and imagined his lips on Vivian’s folds and clit. Her hands in his hair tugging his head where she wants it. Vivian moaning in response to his touch, his tongue. As her pleasure increases, Tom’s motions in real life increased. Tom came with a soft gasp, spurting along his torso. He panted, trying to catch his breath. Once he regained his composure, he headed to the shower to clean himself up and go for a jog.

-

Vivian rapped her nails on the desk in her flat. Her email open on the screen. She was drafting the proposed protocols for Saturday to Tom, and she contemplated on how far to push him. So far, Tom exceeded all Vivian’s expectations. Which worried her. In the past, all men have been eager to please, at first. But once the shiny new wore off, and the men realized the relationship wasn’t about her fulfilling their fantasies of kinky sex and it was about surrendering to her authority, they ran. Sometimes without further word. It wasn’t the incompatibility that bothered Vivian, but the coldness in which they communicated it. As though she was without feeling or emotion. This caused her to assign the reading at the beginning, to move more cautiously. And she wasn’t sure if her heart could handle a rejection from Tom.

With a sigh, she typed out to Tom:

This is a date for the sole purpose of kissing. No food, no drink, no chitchat, no reading, no hanging out.

In short: Kissing, petting, stroking and all the things come along with that- yes. Talking, sex, orgasms- no.

Here is a list of what may happen, not what will happen. If anything bothers you or off limits, let me know.

- Kissing, obviously. Let me know of any spots that are off limits.

- Shirt off

- Pants off (underwear on)

-Nudity (you, not me)

- Kneeling

- Blindfold

- Light bondage (cuffs- both wrists and ankles, tied to the bed)

- Biting

-Bruises on your body (both in places normally covered by clothing and places it would be visible such as the neck)

- All over body touching (let me know of body parts off limits)

- All over body licking (same as above)

- Roles reversed (you touching/licking me)

- Hands around your throat (gentle not choking)

- Hair pulling

- Fingers in your mouth (not gagging)

- Body-slapping

- Pinching

And I think I covered everything. Wear a button-down (I like when you undo the top few buttons) and jeans or slacks. Send me a photo of what your current underwear options are. I will send you your address that morning. I expect you at 7.

Vivian

She smiled as she re-read the email. She buzzed with anticipation at the possibilities of Saturday night. Vivian was certain she would cuff and restrain Tom, and not just because he had the tendency to squirm underneath her. She suspected it would push a button and was eager to test her theory. She hit click and headed off to work.

-

Tom was eating breakfast, having finished his morning run when his phone dinged with a new email from Vivian. He read through her email and swallowed hard. The list was extensive. He re-read before finishing up breakfast and heading upstairs and digging through his underwear drawer. Tom had three options laid out on the bed. He snapped a photo of them laid out on the bed. He examined the photo, unhappy.

“Might as well.” he commented to himself as he stripped down and pulled on the first pair, navy boxers.

Tom stood in front of the full-length mirror in the closet and snapped a photo. He hated to admit he may have flexed a bit in the photo. He repeated the process with the white underwear briefs, and the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Pleased with the photos, Tom typed back to Vivian.

Wow, that is quite the comprehensive list. I appreciate the thoroughness and the bullet points. I am not scheduled for any meetings until Wednesday, so any marks will have faded by then. My feet are ticklish. Probably shouldn’t tell you that. ;) And I would rather not have my armpits or the inside of my ears licked. Otherwise, I am game for whatever you want.

I have attached photos of the underwear, per your request. And if there is anything else I can do to be of service, please let me know, ma’am.

Your sunshine boy,

Tom

He attached the photos and sent the email and then returned to dressing for the day, flopping on the bed to return the last two books on his list before starting his essay.

-

Vivian was pleased Tom modeled the underwear rather than just lay them out of the bed. She probably would have directed him to model them. She wrinkled her nose at the first pic and flicking through the rest.

Black boxer briefs. Burn or throw away the tighty whities. If I find a pair in your home, I will punish you. Let’s change our night time call to 9:00 p.m. from now on. I hate keeping you up so late.

She placed the phone down on her desk. It buzzed almost immediately.

Consider them burned. 9 p.m. works for me, although I don’t mind waiting up if it means I get to hear your voice. :) I shall wait with bated breath until Saturday.

-

The rest of the day seemed to fly by for both of them and before long, Tom was settled into bed with both his books of collected poetry and Anna Karenina. He called on time and Vivian asked for him to read more of Tolstoy. He started doing voices of the characters, in particular an exaggerated Russian accent for Levin and Vronsky.

“I don’t think you are supposed to giggle at Tolstoy.” Vivian commented after one particularly dramatic passage.

“I’m a full service entertainer. Comedy, drama, action, romance.” Tom teased back.

“What about erotica?” she teased right back, her voice low.

Tom paused. “For you? Without question.” She could hear the hesitation, fear, and excitement in his voice. She hoped it would remain.

Vivian sighed. “I think it is enough reading for tonight. I want you to get a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am.” he responded.

“Goodnight, Tom, my sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Vivian.”

They ended the call, and both drifted off to sleep.

-

Vivian attended her weekly blowout appointment, not realizing Tom spent the day as a bundle of nerves. He ran ten miles hoping to burn off excess energy. It didn’t work. The only thing he did was finish the last of the books from Vivian’s list. The fastest ever read through anything in some time. He was too distracted to write his essay, thought swirling in his brain. Tom wants it to be perfect. He wants everything to be perfect for Vivian.

Tom must have tried on at least six different shirts, each discarded on the bed as unsuitable. He settles on a soft, well worn light blue shirt. One of his favorites. The collar is fraying at the corners, which is why he doesn’t wear out as much anymore, favoring instead newer but less comfortable shirts. He grabbed a pair of jeans only to notice a hole on the inside of the thigh and discarded them also on the bed, grabbing a different pair. Tom left the top two buttons undone, a calculated air of casual. A quick dab of cologne and then he waited, not wanting to arrive too early.

-

After her morning errands, Vivian ate a light lunch and set about preparing her flat for Tom. She made up the bed with fresh linens and double checked the restraint points on the posts. She hadn’t decided on a leg position, so Vivian placed straps on all the corners as well as the point in the middle. Vivian opened the nightstand and retrieved the cuffs, adjusting them and placing them prominently in the foyer on a table. Cuffing Tom would be among the first things she did that night. In addition, she laid out a blindfold on the nightstand and put a bottle of water there too. After bathing, she slipped into a simple silk tank and striped shorts. She wore the same wedges as before. Vivian enjoyed looking Tom in the eye while standing and kissing. A quick dab of perfume behind the ears and settled on the couch, watching some TV waiting for Tom.

He knocked on her door, ten minutes early. Acceptably early without fear of being so early that he disturbed preparations.

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” Tom commented.

Vivian giggled. His eagerness was endearing. “I’ll allow it. Come in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped into her flat, looking around in wonder. Vivian grabbed him by the chin and kissed him hard.

“Do you still remember your word, sunshine?”

“Yes.” Tom is already breathing hard. “Sushi.”

She smiled and slid her hand down around Tom’s neck. His Adam’s apple moving underneath her palm. His eyes widened in fear. Vivian kissed him again. He leaned forward when she stepped back. She walked around him, fingers tracing the planes of his body, his broad shoulders, defined pecs and abs. Vivian gave his ass a playful swat. Tom yelped and staggered forward.

“Such a nice ass, sunshine.” She growled in his ear, grabbing it with her nails.

“Thank you, ma’am.” his voice shook. He wasn’t used to being manhandled, and his cock appreciated the rough touch.

“Shirt and pants off.” She stepped back to watch him undressed.

Tom’s cheeks blushed. He had been nearly nude in a room of strangers before, but under Vivian’s glare, he never felt so exposed. Tom tugged his shirt over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons this time. He folded the shirt, placing it on the nearby table while he slipped his shoes and socks off, and slipping his jeans down his lean legs. Vivian licked her lips at Tom in his underwear. While the man appeared fit clothed, he was something carved from marble without the clothes. He flashed a lopsided smile as he placed his jeans on top of his shirt and folding his hands in front of him, obscuring his crotch.

“God, you are beautiful.” Vivian hissed as she stepped forward to kiss him again. Tom hummed back at the praise, his body growing warm. She nipped at his lower lip, nibbling rather than biting, sending shocks through his body. “Wrists, please.”

Vivian moved to the table. Tom’s arms shot out. She grabbed the leather cuffs and put them on. Tom jerked back his arms.

“What are those?” His brows furrowed.

“Cuffs. Wrists.” Her tone sharp. Tom hesitated, his mouth opening to protest. “Sunshine, wrists.” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.” He reluctantly held out his wrists. She tightened the cuffs, making sure they wouldn’t chafe.

Tom twisted his wrists back and forth, testing out the weight and listening to the rings thudding against the thick leather. Vivian kissed him again, hands sliding down his torso. His cock jumped. She grabbed the back of his neck and led him towards the bedroom. Tom gulped at the blindfold and straps.

“Ah…” he started before being cut off by Vivian’s lips on his neck. “Oh!” he moaned. She laved and sucked hard, removing her lips with a pop, satisfied at the dark mark already formed.

“On the bed, sunshine. On your back.” Tom scrambled onto the bed, lying flat on his back. As Vivian slipped the cuffs on Tom’s ankles, he jerked back. She raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

She slipped her shoes off and then hooked his ankle cuffs to the straps in the middle of the bed. As Vivian strolled to the head of the bed, she ran a nail up Tom’s leg. He jerked against the restraints. She grabbed his arm and clipped it onto the strap before crawling onto the bed, reaching over to clip in the other side, her breasts grazing Tom’s body. His hips bucked.

“So squirmy, sunshine. Best I did tie you up.” Vivian straddled his chest, pushing him into the mattress. “I can’t let you get away just yet.” She pressed against his lips softly, earning a sigh. Her teeth worried his lower lip.

“Ow.” he mock protested.

Nevertheless, Vivian let go of his lip and trailed down his neck. She licked the bruise from earlier before moving down to his collarbone. Vivian sucked and nipped, leaving the twin to the neck’s bruise there. She smiled at her handiwork. Tom struggled against the restraints.

“They have held stronger men than you, sunshine.” Vivian dragged her nails down his sides, leaving faint lines. As she settled by his hips, Tom’s cock pressed against her. Tom huffed and puffed as she kissed his Adonis belt, scraping her teeth along his skin from time to time. Her hands stroked along his thighs and he flexed under her touch.

She slid off of Tom’s body, and he whined at the lack of contact. Vivian rolled back on top of Tom, lying along his full body like a blanket. Tom sighed at the weight and contact. She pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to his heart race. She snaked a hand to the back of his head and jerked his head sideways before kissing him. Tom met her lips with hunger and he whimpered each time she pulled away, only to tug him towards her again. He strained against the restraints, desperate to touch her, to pull her tight against him and rut against her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, needy, exploring every inch. He moaned as Vivian’s grip tightened on his hair, hurting, but he wanted more.

Vivian could sense Tom coming close to overheating, making a mess and complicating the hell out of this. His cock strained, hard and weeping. She pulled away, holding his lower lip between her teeth as long as possible, stretching it.

“Ow.” Tom muttered.

Vivian slid down to press against Tom’s side. She cupped her cheek before gently kissing behind Tom’s ear. Tom moaned softly from the back of his throat. Her fingers twisted into his hair and she massaged his scalp. Tom’s shoulders relaxed and his hands loosened from the fists. As she scratched and petted him, he leaned into her touch, his breath slowing to a deep and even pace. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soft touch.

“You are so beautiful, my sunshine.” She cooed at him. Her other finger tracing his jaw and cheekbone. “So pretty.” She kissed his cheek and stroked his chest.

“Thank you, ma’am.” His voice breathy and floaty.

Vivian reached over and unhooked Tom’s wrist. She turned and unhooked his other wrist. Tom didn’t move. She stood to unhook his ankles.

“Legs up, please.” Tom lifted his legs into the air. Vivian undid the cuffs, rubbing the skin and massaging it. She kissed the top of his feet and Tom giggled and squirmed. “You weren’t joking about being ticklish.”

“No, ma’am.” He slowly floated back to reality.

“Sit up, please.” Tom rocked up, his hair a rumpled mess, and held out his wrists. Vivian smoothed out his hair and held the back of his neck while she kissed his cheek and lips a few more times. She released him and unbuckled the wrist cuffs, rubbing his wrists and kissing each one and placed them on the nightstand and grabbed the water bottle, handing it to Tom.

“Thank you.” He opened the bottle and took a large swig. Vivian smoothed his hair back one more time.

“Let’s go get dressed, sunshine.” He sighed, taking another swig of water before standing. Vivian slipped her wedges back on and walked beside Tom, rubbing his neck the entire time. “I was a bit rough on you. Are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice quiet while he grabbed his jeans and tugged them on before pulling on his shirt, tucking it and zipping up.

“How did it feel? I imagine you are used to being treated with kid gloves.”

Tom pulled on his socks and shoes, working on finding the right words.

“I don’t quite know how it felt.” Tom replied, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “But I know I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t mind the pain. I wanted to touch you and make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Vivian smiled and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight. “Sunshine, I feel good. I received great pleasure at teasing you.” She kissed him. “With my mouth. And watching you squirm and hearing you purr.” She petted the back of his head. “But I appreciate your desire to please me physically. And you will when the time comes.”

Tom stared at her with his endless blue eyes. “When will that be, ma’am?”

“When you’re ready, Sunshine.” She kissed his cheek. “You still haven’t finished your homework first.”

Tom’s hands fidgeted, twisting in front of him. “I finished all the books. I plan on starting the essay tomorrow.” He stared at the floor. “I want it to be perfect.”

“As long as it is from your heart it will be, my sunshine boy.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I don’t ask for perfection, just effort.”

Tom nodded and squeezed her hand back. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked him to the door, kissing him one more time. “Call me in the morning when you wake up.”

Tom nodded. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You are welcome. The pleasure was mine.”

Tom smiled and kissed Vivian’s cheek and headed out. She clicked the door shut and set about cleaning up the place. Tom came home and ate a sandwich before turning in early that evening, his brain still fuzzy.

-

As requested, Tom called in the morning, still in bed, to check in with Vivian. It pleased her that outside of the marks on his neck and collarbone, Tom was no worse for wear. Tom left out the part of the dreams he had or the fact he woke up with a raging hard on which Tom took care of in the shower, skipping his run for thirty minutes on his long neglected rowing machine.

Tom lazed about for most of the morning, having something akin to a hangover without the benefit of being drunk beforehand. As he sat down at this computer to start his essay for Vivian, there was a knock on the door. He groaned as he trudged to see who would dare disturb his lazy Sunday.

A smiling Benedict greeted him at the door. When he saw Tom in workout gear, he frowned.

“You’re not dressed!” he complained.

“For what?” Tom blinked back at him. He didn’t recall making plans.

“Lunch!” Benedict stepped in the foyer. “We made plans weeks ago. I’ll wait for you to change.”

Tom was ready to protest, but Ben crossed his arms and it was clear he wasn’t leaving without Tom. With a huff, Tom discarded his clothes into the bedroom which now had a small pile of discarded and dirty clothes, and grabbed an old gray v neck t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Shoving his feet into a pair of boots, Tom stomped back to Ben, pushing past him.

“Let’s go.” Tom grumbled.

Tom’s mood improved once he ordered some food and got half a pint into his system. Benedict stared at him, squinting.

“What?” Tom asked, still irritated.

“What is that on your neck?” He pointed at Tom’s neck. Tom twisted it, and then Ben spied the second mark on his collarbone. “And your chest? Were you attacked?”

Tom touched his collarbone and remembered. He blushed. “It’s nothing. Forget it.” He gulped down the other half of his pint and stood. “Let me go get another round.”

Benedict held out his arm to stop Tom. “It’s like you were bitten by someth… Oh… OH!” The lightbulb went off. “Things going well with Vivian?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He sidestepped Ben’s arm and grabbed another pint before returning to the table.

“Care to share?” He prodded.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Moving on.” Tom grew more homicidal by the second.

Benedict clapped his hands together. “Remember how Sophie wrangled me into serving on the children’s hospital charity board?”

“Yes.” Tom saw the Cheshire Cat grin on Ben’s face. “No. No! I went last year and got cornered by that old lady who kept calling me ‘Henry’.”

“It was endearing.”

“It was ridiculous.”

“There’s an open bar.”

“Hard pass.”

“I have two tickets. You can bring Vivian.”

Tom stared at his friend. “I am not introducing you to Vivian.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like her and I’m afraid you will scare her off.”

Benedict scoffed. “I have never…” He clutched his chest in dramatic fashion. “… never scared anyone off.”

“Alice, Catherine, Eva…” Tom counted off on his fingers. “… I can go on.”

“None of them met my high standards. Please come.” he begged. “Sophie will kill me if you don’t come.”

“The thought of your death is tempting.”

The waiter set the food down.

“Tom…” Benedict dropped all pretense. “… please come. I promise I will be on my best behavior.”

Tom’s head dropped. “Give me the details. I will check with Vivian tonight when I call her.”

Benedict’s lips pursed. “Really? I can’t wait to meet her. Especially someone who leaves marks like that on you. Sounds like she is yours for the taking.”

“Yeah.” Tom mumbled as he took a bite of his food.

-

Tom called her at 9 p.m. like always.

“Sunshine, how was your Sunday?” she asked.

“Speaking of that…” Tom started, and she noticed the nerves in his voice. “What are you doing next Friday evening?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I believe I’m free. Do you have any ideas?”

Tom exhaled sharply. “I’ve been invited to a charity event by Benedict and I have two tickets, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me.” He blurted it all out in one big run-on sentence.

Vivian paused before laughing. “Wow, you were really nervous about that, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is still so new and I don’t… I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You are just the sweetest, sunshine. You know that right? Beautiful and sweet. Yes, I will go with you.”

Tom beamed. “How would everything work?”

“Like any date would. We go, we drink, we dance and mingle.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, darling. We can set some rules that work for both of us. okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, read to me please.”

Tom grabbed the book.

-

Tom and Vivian agreed he would pick out three outfit options, but Vivian would come over ahead of time and make the final choice. They would not use pet names and instead would do what is natural. Tom asked that she still rub the back of his neck.

“It calms me down.” he commented.

“Of course, sunshine. I like when you are calm. You are more attentive that way.”

It was now the day of the event and Vivian sat on Tom’s bed, noticing the clutter. Tom was modeling the second outfit.

“I don’t like the tie. Let’s see the last one.”

Tom undid the tie and shirt and grabbed the last option. It was a double-breasted blue pinstripe suit with a blue shirt and navy tie. He did a little spin.

“That one.” Vivian stood and straightened his tie and petted his neck before squeezing his ass. “Your ass looks amazing in those trousers.”

Tom blushed again. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She kissed his cheek, wiping away her gloss. “Remember, no names, now let’s go.”

-

Tom was more at ease with Vivian by his side. Her reassuring touch at the back of his neck or even his shoulder grounded him. Not to mention, she dazzled everyone she met. Now for the big test.

“Benedict, Sophie, meet Vivian Swann. Vivian meet Benedict Cumberbatch, notorious troublemaker, and his queen of a wife, Sophie Hunter.”

Vivian shook each of their hands, holding tight to Tom’s but leaning in for a kiss on the cheek by Ben. Tom tightened his grip. She suppressed a giggle.

“Charmed. Thank you so much for inviting me. I have been looking into getting the firm involved in more charity work and the children’s ward is an enticing option.”

“Firm?” Sophie questioned.

“Watkins, Price, and Forbes. I work in their corporate law division.”

Benedict let loose a low whistle.

“Tom, you didn’t tell me you were dating a pit bull.” Sophie commented. “Impressive.”

Vivian smiled. “I prefer the term ‘velvet hammer’ but pit bull works. “

“How did you and Tom meet?” Ben interjected.

Tom paled, but Vivian didn’t miss a beat.

“The Bloomsbury Club. We bonded over a shared loved for Macallan 18-year-old aged whisky.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Right. Why don’t we take a seat?” He gestured at their reserved table.

“Your feet must be killing you in those shoes, Vivian. After having kids, I just can’t stand wearing them, but if I want to see eye to eye with this one.” She gestured at Benedict.

“Guilty.” He shrugged. “Although not as tall as the Frost Giant over there.”

Tom paused as he pulled out Vivian’s chair for her.

“I don’t mind the heels.” Vivian responded. “It is all what you get used to. Besides, I enjoy towering over people.” she giggled.

“Champagne?” the waiter offered.

“No, it makes her sneeze.” Tom commented.

“Get me a glass of white wine, please?” Vivian gazed up at him.

Tom smiled down and kissed her cheek. “Yes, of course, darling.”

“Sophie?”

Benedict and Sophie blinked at the two of them.

“Uh… yes a white wine sounds fantastic. Thank you, Tom.”

Tom nodded and headed off to the bar. Sophie elbowed Benedict in the ribs. He shuffled to his feet.

“Tom, let me help you with that!” He called after his friend.

Sophie waited until both men were out of earshot.

“How did you… I don’t want to know. You’re not like Tom’s other girlfriends, Miss Vivian Swann.”

She smiled. “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or an insult. So I will say thank you.”

“Definitely a compliment. There is something different about Tom when he is around you. He seems…”

“… happy?”

“Yes, but the word is content.” Sophie added. “Content, at peace. After that last nasty breakup, the man could use a little peace and quiet.”

“Hopefully not too quiet.” Vivian smirked.

“Are you two gossiping about us?” Benedict teased.

“I was just telling Vivian how happy and content our dear Thomas looks with her.” Sophie quipped.

Tom blushed as Vivian smiled and reached out to rub his neck. “I am. Thank you for noticing Sophie.”

-

The evening wound down. Tom for once enjoyed the event. Vivian won over Benedict and Sophie, so much so that Sophie invited her to go shopping tomorrow afternoon while she wrangled Benedict and Tom in tearing down a shed in Ben’s yard.

“Leave them to grunt work while we shop.”

“I would love to.” Vivian sipped at her wine.

The two couples said goodbye while waiting for the valet. Benedict hugged Vivian tight and kissed her cheek. While Sophie and her exchanged numbers. Benedict pulled Tom to the side.

“There’s something different about you, man.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m still me.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“No,” Ben folded his hands in front of his face. “there is definitely a change. And I think it has something to do with that enchanting woman over there, who I am sure is being tortured with baby pictures by my wife.”

“Perhaps.” Tom replied cryptically.

“Don’t fuck it up man. You will never find another girl…”

“Woman.” he corrected his friend.

“… Woman like her. You deserved a little happiness.”

“Tom?” Vivian placed her hand on his back. “The car’s here.”

“Of course. Ben.” He shook his friend’s hand and then hugged Sophie before opening the door for Vivian and then getting in and driving off.

-

“I’m going to head home.” Vivian stated when they got back to Tom’s home.

“Okay. I had a lot of fun tonight. It wasn’t nearly as dreadful with you there.”

“Your friends are a delight. They really do want the best for you, sunshine.”

Tom smiled at the name. “Yes, ma’am.” He fell back into the old pattern.

She grabbed the back of his head and tugged him into a kiss. Tom wrapped his arms around her and did his best to hold her tight. She pulled away, and he whined.

“I’m ready to take this to the next step, Vivian. I want to please you.” His hands ghosted over his shoulders. “In all ways.”

She smiled. “Send me the essay and we will talk. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“I will send it as soon as I step inside. I could cook you lunch here.”

“I would like that, sunshine.” She kissed him one more time. “Sleep well.”

“Yes, ma’am. You too.”

She smiled and walked to her car to head home. Tom stepped inside and rushed to his computer. He did a quick spell check on the essay he had been tweaking over the last week and clicked send.

“There.”

Vivian laughed as her phone beeped before she even left Tom’s driveway, knowing it was Tom’s homework.

“So eager. I like that.”

[grayfullbustermybeloved]

@natsubeatsrock I was going through your posts from a while back and I came across this cool anti-gruvia prompt and thought I had to write it. I can’t find the post now (I accidentally closed the tab) but it was about how if Juvia played hard to get, Gray would ignore her. Anyway, here it is. 

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

Juvia didn't know what to do.

She had tried everything.

Baking treats in the shape of his face, following him around everywhere to convince him of her love- even dealing with potential love rivals!

And despite it all, she was no closer to Gray Fullbuster’s heart then the first time she had confessed her love to him. It was infuriating- no, more than that.

It was confusing.

What was she doing wrong here? What was she missing?

“Cana,” Juvia said suddenly, “What am I missing? Why is Gray-sama not moved by my love?”

Cana swore, startling loudly from where she had been reclining on her couch. She had probably been surprised by Juvia’s impulsive burst through the door, but there was no time to lose. Gray-sama was out there, attractive and single without her to scare love rivals off. This was important.

“Juvia!” Cana greeted with a slight grimace, swinging her legs around and twisting to face Juvia. Strange. She didn't seem to be that thrilled about Juvia’s presence, but Juvia was sure it was simply that she was trying to work on the best advice for Juvia.

When Juvia had first arrived at Fairy Hills, all the girls had made it abundantly clear that she could come and ask them anything.

Of course, Juvia had made quick work after this rule had been laid down, knowing the advantage many of them had with knowing Gray-sama’s likes and dislikes, and requiring some help in making up for lost time.

Cana knew this as well, but despite that, was a little slow on the uptake. The brown haired card mage frowned slightly. “You want advice on Gray? Why not go to Mira, or Lisanna, or… literally anyone else who isn't me?” 

It was a valid question. Juvia already knew the answer, of course.

“I’ve already tried!” She wailed in despair, coming in and sitting on a leg of the couch as Cana got up and hurriedly closed the door- perhaps trying to prevent watermarks from spreading around the building once more. 

“None of their advice worked! Mirajane suggested chocolate, which Juvia has already tried several times, although Gray-sama rarely accepts food from Juvia anymore-” 

“I wonder why,” Cana muttered, obviously remembering some of Juvia’s more famous failures with a love potion. Juvia carried on regardless. Now was not the time to ruminate on her failed attempts at love.

“And Lisanna suggested I knit him something personal, like a scarf, but Gray-sama lost it immediately!”

“Yeah,” Cana winced, snorting slightly. “Clothes are probably not the best way to get to Gray’s heart.”

Juvia nodded sagely. She knew all about Gray-sama’s little clothing habit. Some of his discarded shirts were hung in pride of place in her room. “So you see, you are my only hope at ever trying to find true happiness!”

Cana raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls in Fairy Tail who have advice for you, though, apart from the Strauss siblings. So why don’t you hop on over to their rooms and leave me to drink- I mean relax in peace.”

“Ah,” Juvia said, because she had anticipated Cana saying something like that. “But you have what the others do not- you have known Gray-sama for the longest!” 

Juvia presented these words to Cana dramatically, watching her expectantly, if not a bit jealously. When she had first heard of it from Mirajane, she had immediately singled out Cana as the new number one love rival, replacing Lucy.

However, through much careful information gathering (read: stalking) Juvia had come to the unexpected but welcome conclusion that maybe, just maybe, Cana had no interest in Gray-sama romantically.

The idea was a confusing one, because Gray-sama was perfect, but Cana had proven herself to be quite content with her involvement with (and her Juvia blushed just thinking about) multiple guys. And some girls, as well.

Therefore, Juvia had done the unthinkable, and deemed her “safe”. 

“Wow,” said Cana, taken aback. “I guess, I have, huh? Damn, time flies bye. He was such a bitch when he was younger.”

Juvia ignored that comment, because she was sure Gray-sama had always been perfect, and smiled at Cana. 

“So you’ll help then?” Juvia said cheerfully, leaning in closer to the card mage and making her eyes wide. Gajeel always said that the expression made her look like a kicked puppy, and Juvia wanted to hurry this exchange along.

Cana sighed, glancing at the clock in her room sadly. Strange. Maybe she had an appointment to keep? “Aww, yeah, whatever. It’s not like I was gonna do anything important today anyway. So, what have you already tried?”

It took around two hours for Juvia to list every advance she had made on Gray-sama since she had joined Fairy Tail, which she had alphabetically categorized and listed onto a piece of paper, but Cana was an attentive listener. She had even put on dark shaded glasses to help her focus better on Juvia’s attempts for love, saying that the sun’s glare was giving her a headache. Truly, Cana was a good friend.

Just as Juvia hit the two hour mark, and the sun was getting lower in the sky (it had been early afternoon when she had come to see Cana) she finished listing everything and looked up at the dark haired girl sitting next to her, curled into the couch.

“Well!” Juvia said brightly, looking expectantly at her companion. “Do you have any ideas?” 

Strangely enough, Cana didn't respond. It took Juvia poking her several times for her to startle and take her glasses off. She must have been truly in deep thought. Juvia was shaking in excitement. 

“Right,” Cana said after she had blinked several times, running a hand through her hair. “All of that was, uh, good. But not what Gray needs, I think.”

Juvia frowned, surprised. “But I got most of the ideas from very credible sources!” She said anxiously. 

Cana picked up the list and scanned through it. “I’m pretty sure this one is the beginning of one of Lucy’s trash romance novels. You know, the ones she loves but pretends to hate at the guild?”

Juvia did in fact know, and flushed scarlet, sinking into the couch. She had been forced to look for inspiration in some unconventional places after the first couple of times of confessing her undying love to Gray-sama did not garner results.

Cana continued on without judgment, however. “You’ve tried basically everything under the sun. Bar one. ”

Juvia leaned in closer, eager to hear what she had been missing. She had a feeling, deep in her gut, that this was the moment. This was the moment that changed everything. No matter that she got that feeling everytime she started out on a new plan to woo Gray-sama.

Cana nodded, her face the picture of solemn wisdom. “You, my friend, need to play hard to get.”

“Hard to get?” Juvia questioned, puzzled. She had not heard the term before, but it sounded intriguing.

Cana did an awfully good impression of a witches laugh. “Oh, my young padawan, let the master tell you all…”

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

Juvia was slightly unsure about playing hard to get, but Cana was insistent. And persuasive. 

“This will work!” she insisted. “You’ve tried everything else, anyway!”

It was a good point, Juvia had to admit.

So Juvia nodded, and played hard to get.

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

Four months later, she was still playing hard to get.

Gray-sama would break soon, she just knew it.

[riotwritesthings]

song and dance number not included

WinterIron, T, 1.9k, crack, this is just crack, banter, vague nonpowered AU | A03

Once upon a time @gayspacesprinkles made this post. And fun fact about me I will write basically anything Ant says ahaha ILUBRO.

I know this has already been done better don’t fight me I just wanna make everything crack

Title: song and dance number not included Collaborator Name: Riot @buckybarnesbingo Square Filled: U4, One Night Stand @starkbucksbingo Square Filled: N1, World Domination Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags & Triggers: Crack, banter Summary: Bucky has seen some wild things in his time as a Professional Cuddle Buddy. Nothing beats finding himself in Tony Stark’s penthouse with the sleep deprived genius himself. Word Count: 1,897

-

Bucky steps off the elevator, into the giant penthouse, and he is 90% sure that this is some kind of elaborate prank. Ten minutes from now someone is going to be shoving a waiver in his face and demanding to broadcast his embarrassing surprised face on national TV.

Because no way does someone like Tony Stark need to hire a cuddling agency.

He takes another couple steps, and there’s no cameras. There’s nothing, just a giant empty penthouse, and Bucky glances down at his phone to confirm that yep, he is in the right place.

He’s just about to turn and leave when a face pops up over the back of the couch.

The first thing Bucky notices is the big doe eyes, warm brown and huge like a Disney character, but so sad. The second thing he notices are the bags under the eyes, deep and dark like bruises, like they’ve been there for a while.

The fact that he’s just staring dumbly at Tony Stark is actually the fifth thing Bucky notices, after the insane lower lashes and the fluffy hair.

Luckily the man is apparently as sleep deprived as he looks, because he just blinks at Bucky for a couple seconds and by the time he speaks Bucky has mostly gotten his brain back online.

“Please tell me you’re really not a hooker,” Tony says, squinting at him, voice rough and a little whiny as he adds “I literally just want a hug.”

Bucky sputters out a laugh, rocking on his heels as he says “I solemnly swear I am not a prostitute. Though I do give great hugs.”

“Awesome,” Tony says with a happy sigh and flails his arms up over the couch, making grabby hands at him.

“Did you wanna move somewhere more comfortable?” Bucky asks, rounding the modernist monstrosity of furniture that is the couch. When Tony opens his mouth, suspicious look on his face, Bucky rolls his eyes and says “Still not a prostitute.”

Tony snaps his mouth shut again with a sheepish look, then huffs out a soft laugh.

“This is fine,” he says, sitting up fully and patting the spot between himself and the arm of the couch, “It’s just me here, I end up falling asleep out here half the time anyways.”

Which is... kind of a sad thought, actually. This penthouse seems huge, too big for one person, and based on the dark circles under Tony’s eyes he doesn’t get much sleep anywhere.

Bucky has barely dropped onto the couch before Tony is plastering himself to Bucky’s side, surprisingly strong arms looping around his waist and his face pressing into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Okay, start the clock,” Tony says, already going limp against his side.

“Hold on,” Bucky says with a laugh, twisting to the side slightly so he can lean back into the corner of the couch and get his arms around Tony in return, pulling him in a little closer and nearly fumbling his phone in the process. “Is that comfortable, um, Mr- Ow.”

“Just Tony,” Tony says, peeking up at him sourly and removing his impressively pointy finger from Bucky’s side, “unless you want to be ‘Mr Cuddle-Buddy’, that is.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Bucky says with another laugh, guiding Tony’s head back down to his chest. “I’m Bucky, though, for the record,” he adds.

“What are you, a Disney character?” Tony asks, voice muffled as he nuzzles into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder and then quickly blurts out “please play with my hair.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be asked twice, burying the fingers of his free hand in Tony’s messy curls, soft and wild like Tony has been running his own hands through it.

“Mm, perfect,” Tony sighs as he pulls his legs up onto the couch, curls himself into a neat little ball against Bucky’s side.

Bucky lifts his phone just enough to see the screen and punches the shortcut to set an alarm for three hours. “Okay, now you’re on the clock," he says, and then wedges his phone into the couch near his head where the armrest meets the back.

“You are already getting marked highly recommended,” Tony slurs out, and Bucky laughs softly. “Seriously, you are like 90% muscle how are you this soft.”

“It’s my specialty,” Bucky says dryly and Tony’s answering laugh shakes his whole body.

“Shh, I’m mentally composing my review,” Tony says, patting lazily at his chest.

“Out loud,” Bucky can’t help pointing out.

“Yes,” Tony says, lifting his hand again to wave it slightly as he talks, “Now where was I- Ah yes, guaranteed ‘not’ a prostitute-”

“-I could hear those air quotes-”

“Very warm,” Tony continues, completely ignoring his interruption except for the way his hand flails a little harder, “Possibly a Disney character."

“Pretty sure I’m not, someone woulda told me by now,” Bucky argues, grinning helplessly and pressing his fingers a little harder into Tony’s scalp.

“Oh, you definitely are,” Tony says with a happy sigh, rubbing his nose against Bucky’s chest, “The only question is, with a name like that, you’re either an adorable animal sidekick, or a villain. Possibly both.”

“What-“ Bucky objects around a sputtering laugh, “I don’t think there was actually a question there.”

Tony tilts his chin up just enough to give Bucky a sleepy glare as he says “Well, which one is it, is the question! You planning world domination?”

“Yes. My plan begins with cuddling you into submission.”

“Well it's working,” Tony says happily, and his expression really does look lighter than it had when Bucky first got here, even if he does still look exhausted. “But when is the song and dance number?”

“Later,” Bucky says with a snort, “It’s my dramatic exit.”

“Or you gotta pay extra, right? In the back room?” Tony asks with a grin and a lazy wink that’s really more of a slow, uncoordinated blink.

“Not a stripper either,” Bucky huffs with a roll of his eyes, resisting the urge to tug at Tony’s hair.

“Too bad,” Tony says with a dreamy sigh, and Bucky really does pull at Tony’s hair a little in admonishment even as he laughs.

Tony continues his rambling ‘review’ amid Bucky’s protests until his warm, teasing voice slowly tapers away, and an hour in he’s fast asleep, snoring quietly into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky is torn.

On the one hand, Tony probably wants to be awake for the time he’s paying for. On the other, he looks so tired.

Waking him up would probably be a crime, and despite Tony’s claims Bucky is not actually a Disney villain.

So he wiggles down a little more against the arm of the couch, slow and careful even though he figures that if Tony does wake up, he has two more hours to fall back asleep if that’s what he wants.

Bucky certainly wouldn’t mind, Tony is warm and pleasantly heavy against his side, draped over his chest, and he looks so much younger when his face is softened with sleep.

He looks so different in real life, so much more real than he looks on TV. So much smaller, curled up into a tiny ball on his giant couch, in his big empty penthouse.

Tony’s hair is a mess of fluffy curls, so soft as Bucky continues running his fingers through it, the muscles of his back strong under Bucky’s other palm.

When Bucky’s alarm goes off it’s startlingly loud in the quiet of the penthouse, and even though Bucky has to fumble with it a bit before he turns it off Tony doesn't do anything more than make a quiet, sleepy sound and wiggle in a little closer.

Bucky hesitates for a second, glancing down at Tony’s peaceful face, and then wedges his phone back into the couch.

He was going to make this his last appointment of the night anyways. He’ll just stay until Tony wakes up.

Bucky wakes up staring at the incredibly high ceiling of Tony Stark’s penthouse, bathed in early morning light.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky groans quietly to himself.

“Yeah, I actually get that a lot,” comes the voice from somewhere around his sternum, and when Bucky tips his chin down it’s to find Tony with his chin propped against Bucky’s chest, giving him a thoughtful look.

He looks a little less tired, bags beneath his eyes a little less pronounced, gorgeous even with crease marks on his cheek from Bucky’s shirt. Even if there is something wary in his expression.

“Hi,” Bucky says stupidly, still trying to blink away the grogginess in his brain and wincing when his neck aches sharply. That’s what he gets for accidentally spending all night with his head tipped way back against the arm of the couch.

“Hi,” Tony says back, and his big Bambi eyes dart to the side for just a second before he says “I’m not wholly unfamiliar with the one night stand, but I must admit we usually make it further than the couch. Fully dressed. What-“

“If you accuse me of bein’ a hooker again, ‘m gonna roll you right off this couch,” Bucky says before he can wake up enough to stop himself, and while he’s busy mentally cringing Tony’s eyes go wide with recognition.

“Ah fuck,” Tony groans while his cheeks flush an appealing, distracting pink, “What’s the overtime charge look like for top rated pro cuddlers?”

“Nah, don’ worry about it,” Bucky says quickly, finally untangling his fingers from Tony’s hair so he can rub over his eyes, “sorry, should’a woken you up-“

“So you’re saying you’re off the clock?” Tony interrupts, one eyebrow raised in an incredulous look, “You stayed off the clock?”

“I’m- um,” Bucky sputters awkwardly, and then realizes he has no excuse and sheepishly finishes with “Yes?”

“Even after I’m pretty sure I called you a prostitute at least three times?” Tony asks, and he still looks mildly baffled but there’s a smile growing on his face.

“It was five,” Bucky corrects, smiling back helplessly, “Once by callin’ me a lady of the evening, which, incorrect on multiple counts.”

“Right, I remember now,” Tony says slowly, and there is a devious look in his eye as he adds “We decided you’re an animated cow.”

“It was a horse, an’ I think you know it,” Bucky says with a mock-glare, gently pinching Tony’s ear and then tightening his arm around Tony’s back when he unexpectedly bursts into wild giggles.

When Tony settles down again he digs his chin into Bucky’s sternum with a happy sigh. His expression goes thoughtful, chewing on his bottom lip, and Bucky tries really hard not to get distracted.

They’re so close that Bucky can just barely feel the way Tony’s breath shakes nervously on the inhale, and then he asks “So, what are your feelings on breakfast?”

“Important,” Bucky blurts quickly, heart jumping in his chest, “Very important. Especially if I’m going to accomplish world domination today.”

“I knew it!” Tony crows victoriously, pushing himself upright and elbowing Bucky in the gut in the process. He grins happily in response to Bucky’s pained grunt and climbs to his feet, grabbing Bucky’s hand and giving it a tug. “C’mon,” he whines when Bucky moves not at all, “we need to go raid my kitchen. I want to get on your good side before you take over the world, I’m hoping it’ll get me a good spot in the dance number.”

“Yeah, I think that can be arranged,” Bucky says, grinning wide as he lets himself be pulled to his feet.