#seem like a rather minute thing to some after all but wanting to cook for someone to me shows a lot of love on their part and it is-

[anthromimicry]

oh, but imagining the potential for warmth and also perhaps some humor in the scenario that misao decides she wants to try to cook something for someone she loves while they're over is currently making my heart happy. like i'm not going to lie — misao has honestly not cooked a day in her life since she just simply never had the need to, being a jorōgumo and all, but she would want to at least try to show she cares for them by attempting to cook their favorite dish or something whenever they're over at her home. and this would still apply to her even if she ended up completely failing at it at first because one of misao's love languages is acts of service. thus, of course she would want to provide them with something as integral as food. but GAHHH, picturing it from misao's loved ones perspective is also equally as sweet to me, because them guiding her on what to do while reassuring her that it's okay? and them eventually just deciding to cook together because misao may or may not get overwhelmed by the fact that she has such little knowledge about what to do because she wants everything to be perfect is... idk. it can be either incredibly romantic, or make for a very wholesome platonic moment between her and another character, which i LOVE

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining a "lazy day" with the 141, except, it's really just you getting them to finally wind down from their experiences.

Like, everyone's still a little beat up and tender from the last mission. No one really has the energy to do much of anything except quietly laze around in the recroom. It's not a tense silence, just a tired one.

Reports (both verbal and written) have been filed. There's just nothing to talk about. It's over, you won. The end, right? Except not really.

Everyone is still a bit twitchy and hypervigillant. The sound of footsteps make their ears perk, they give you quick once overs and check your face as they pass by. And, with bated breath, you watch as they check the shadows in the corners. You're so tired from treating their small wounds you just don't have it in you to be on edge too. So instead, you sit on the couch and one by one ask them to sit with you.

Soap is easy enough to pull back to reality. He leans against you and relaxes into just your presence. You seem to ground him. You run your fingers through his hair and after about thirty minutes he's purring jelly.

Gaz takes a little bit more work. He doesn't want to sit, and when he does he's bouncy, agitated and squirmy. You make him out his head in your lap and watch the cooking channel while you massage at the nape of his neck. It's takes a while, but eventually he falls asleep. When he wakes he's drowsy and stiff but it's almost like he's reset. He seems to function like normal after.

Price, is well...Price. You can't help him alone so you enlist the help of Soap and Gaz. You rope him into rather stupid, childish things to distract his mind. You make him watch you play video games or have him show you how it's done in a game of pool. With the three of you laughing and smiling at him it doesn't take long for the set of his shoulders to dip and lax. His tired eyes twinkle, and if you get him his favorite drink he's brand new once more.

Ghost is the hardest to bring back. After the worst missions he's sometimes irredeemable for a couple days. None of you can really stand his bloodshot, dead eyed glare or the heavy breaths muffled into his mask. He really is like a hungry wraith, always searching you every moment as if you're about to change from friend to foe. But, the way you find the easiest to pull him back, is to just be in his presence. It's always unnerving. You feel like a hen in a foxhole. But after a few hours of simply willing to exist in the same space as him, he softens. You're friend. Not foe. You're his team. You've gotten to the point where you can tell when you can offer him some tea. He never says thank you, but he finally seems to blink, and that's all the thanks you need.

[realcube]

dilf decemeber

day one ⭑ tsukishima kei ⭑ hot neighbour x reader

tw : age gap, second-hand embarrassment

you know you shouldn't, but when you see the flickering lights of his car pulling into the apartements' resident parking bay, followed by the whirring of the elevator as it brings him up to your shared floor, you can't help but press your ear against your door from the inside to hear if he bought his kids home with him today.

they always fill the apartment complex with such a jovial and chipper energy; the other residents of your floor complain that his kids are too loud when kei brings them home after work, but you think 6PM is a perfectly reasonable time for them to be a bit boisterous.

regardless, it was a shame when all you heard was his lone feet dragging over to his apartment's door. but on the bright side, it meant you might get a moment alone with him tonight.

originally your plan was to let him get changed and have a moment to himself first before you started bothering him, but you quickly realised the food you made would be cold by then, and you'd rather him enjoy it while it's fresh and hot.

so without delay, you throw on a pair of flats and cute hoodie over your pyjamas and rush over to his apartment door, knocking on it eagerly.

it did concern you that greeting him so soon after he finished work would be irritating for him, and the last thing you would want is to be on his bad side, but he seems to have a soft spot for you. whenever you talk to him, even if he has his phone in one hand trying to make a call, and his kid pulling on his other arm, his gaze still appears to relax when looking at you.

and you hope he really does like you and this isn't all in your head, as you've also had your sights set on him ever since he moved in next to you. something about the way he sents off in the morning with his fitted beige suit on and hair perfectly pulled back. how stern and determined he looks behind those glasses in the morning, but come evening, it's typically melted into a stirring pit of stress and fatigue. but he still looks hot hauling himself to his door.

that why you decided it would be nice if you brought him something to eat — at least then he wouldn't have to worry about making dinner himself. you cooked a lasagna because you heard it was his kids' favourite meal.

it took a minute or so but eventually tsukishima dragged himself over to the door and pulled it open. "yes?" he calls out in a gruff, low tone. evidently he was expecting someone else, as when his eyes fall upon you in his doorway, he visibly straightens his posture, clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "oh, (y/n). can i help you?"

"yes! i mean, no. uh," you catch yourself awkwardly strumbling over words already, while he just silently snickers, "i made this for you and your family. i hope you enjoy it." you offer him the lasagna, and he hesitantly reaches out and takes it.

"thanks. but it's not poison, is it? because i know how badly you all want my kids to be quiet." he jokes, but you immediately jump to defend yourself, abash at his implication.

"oh, no. of course not. i actually don't mind your kids making noise, i think it's sweet that they have so much energy and they should be able to express—"

tsukishima interupts your ramage but smirking and placing a large hand on your shoulder, "i'm kidding. i want them to shut up as much as the rest of you do." he says light-heartedly, glancing half-lidded between the lasagna in his hands and your glowing face, "but even if this was poison, i think i'd still have a bite. looks pretty decent."

"pretty decent?" you laugh.

"yeah, decent. might even be edible." he nods, trying to suppress a cheeky smile, "but i need to try it first to confirm. want to join me?"

"join you?" you repeat in shock, raising your eyebrows.

"yes. you're the one who made this, after all. you should try some." he turns around to head inside his apartment, looking at you from over his shoulder and quirking an eyebrow, "unless you've done enough volunteer work for today. you probably have better things to do then entertain the elderly." he teases, and you trail after him, following him inside.

"i always have time for the old and senile."

"well, aren't you just an angel sent from heaven?" he says mockingly, still brandishing a playful smirk, as he sets out places and begins to serve the slices of lasagna.

he motions for you to take a seat across from his at the dinner table, and you do so. he sits down too, after retrieving a tall bottle of red wine and placing it on the table for you to gawk at.

"ooh, that looks fancy. what's the occasion?"

he rolls his eyes and works at uncorking the bottle and serving it, "first childless dinner in three months. though, that's assuming that you count as an adult, which i'm not too sure about."

you can tell there is banter in his tone, so you reciprocate and reply in a light-hearted manner, scoffing playfully, "what the hell do you mean?"

"i can see your rainbow socks sticking out from your shoes." he replies monotonously, which causes you look down in dismay. and indeed, there it was. but instead of being outwardly embarrassed by it, you agonisingly try to conceal it with confidence and repartee.

"so what? they're comfortable and economical." you weren't entirely certain why you related your socks to the economy but fortunately tsukishima moved on. as he was pouring the drinks into your respestive glasses, he noticed you hadn't started eating yet so he encouraged you to do so.

"go on. what're you waiting for? are you waiting for me to take the first bite so you don't have to consume the poison?"

you roll your eyes and just to prove a point in a dramatic fashion, you cut a large section of the lasagna off and attempt to stuff it into your mouth. and for the most part you do, but in the process, a large serving of tomato sauce spills down your cheek.

you hastily grab a napkin and begin to clean it up, while tsukishima just sits across the table and laughs. loudly. "wow, angel. your status of an adult is really coming into question again."

you scoff, and once your finished chewing your large portion of lasagna and have seemingly wiped your face clean of any remaining sauce, you mutter, "just because i've not got cataracts yet, doesn't mean i fail to qualify as an adult."

"wow, rude. i don't have cataracts; these are regular glasses for regularly blind people." he teases, then follows it up by pointing to your cheek, "and it seems like you need them more than me. you missed a spot."

your face flushes in embarrassment, as you pick up the napkin and follow his gesture to locate the smudge, "where is it?"

he leans in closer, until his hands is near to your face, then quickly runs his thumb against your cheek — right beside your lips — and smearing cold sauce against your skin in the process. "right there." he chuckles.

you groan, using the napkin to wipe it away again. "so childish." you shake your head disapprovingly, and he just raises his eyebrows at you.

"well, that makes two of us."

btw ik it's not said explicitly but he's obviously divorced, this isn't a cheating fic.

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[nimadjart]

Happy halloweeen. :)

This is the commentary track(?) to my digitober. It's just rambling, so don't expect anything too interesting.

This first picture came out on a whim, I originally didn't intend to do anything for this october. I had just arrived home from helping my mom out with something, and was in a good mood. I think this picture, as sketchy as it looks, reflects that feeling. I'm content with it - and it's halloween themed! All the better.

For the second, I tried to follow the "official inktober" list (something I'd drop quickly in the following days). I'm disastrous at making backgrounds, so I gave it a shot for practice sake. I think it's not a bad result, it almost kinda tells something of a story.

"Boots", hah. It's not terrible, but it's also missing a lot of polish. I think the idea behind it works well for a cute/sexy picture of Angewomon. Maybe some day I'll revisit it? I should put more practice into drawing the human form in the meanwhile lol.

I really dislike the fourth one. I think Lianpunmon deserves better art, so I'll definitely do it again some day. My skills are so undeveloped, it's very obvious seeing this poor hatching.

Speaking of hatching, I bit more than I can chew with this one. The composition isn't interesting enough either, and just like with Lianpunmon there's no story here. At least Angewomon seemed to be interacting with the viewer lol.

The sixth is something I liked better. It's kinda shody, but there's something of an urban fantasy thing going on.

The Vamdemon one I can see the faults: I need better line control, the shapes aren't locked in as well as they should be. Yet, I'm partial to it…

Rapidmon deserves better lol. I still really dig the idea behind this drawing, I just wish I'd have given myself the patience and time needed to render a kickass explosion.

SkullGreymon, I have little to comment. It has zero story, but it's carried by the vibes. It's the first (and arguably last lmao) time I think I was cooking with the halftones.

The tenth is arguably the peak of the entire month. It has some story, a neat composition, and acceptable execution. Strangely enough it was one of the quickest to make: I had an idea, and it came out in a few minutes (compared to some other drawings where I was fighting for my life), and it ultimately was one of the most interacted with drawings in my entire blog. Funny how that goes.

I like a lot the Piemon one, as bland as it is. It's like a design piece, more than a drawing. It helps that the perspective deformation hides my poor linework haha.

I went too hard on the Mephismon X one, to the detriment of the piece. Instead of adding texture, it just looks dirty. Damn.

The thirteenth one was my poor attempt at making a background. Originally, Bakemon was gonna have this devious, whimsical look, but as I finished drawing the stairs I thought "I'd be kinda tired after climbing a few floors", so I changed Bakemon's expression to reflect that. Just a little trivia.

The Jesmon is what I'd argue was my peak. Shapes are locked (as best as my skill lets them), values worked well, it told a story. It's my favourite of the month.

Fiftenth was made, mostly, trying to catch some Adventure buff to the ammount of interactions I'd get. I mean, I had fun drawing the characters, but the reality is that I had petty reasons. I don't dislike it though.

I know exactly what I wanted to do with the sixteenth, and I didn't achieve it. Looking back, I think I should've done it in BW, rather than grayscale, to make it pop more. Fix the composition too. It's too plain. Shame, I really like Lilithmon X's design.

Seventeenth was also one where I just phoned it in. I think the values are all over the place; though I do like the harsh light. Impmon is a lot of fun to draw, all things considered.

Greymon was fun, lots of fun to draw. But this was another piece where I went too crazy trying to use halftones, I ended up making something that lacked impact or presence. I do like, in a self deprecating way, how the background seems okay until you look at it directly and see that it's kinda bad lol.

I made Nefertimon's torso too long! I only realized when I was doing the finishing touches lol. Yet I like the whole thing a lot, I think the texture and lightning kinda sells it as a photo (the white border was an attempt at selling that further). Saw someone refer to it as "the last thing I see before I die", and that comment might stay with me forever lol.

The twentieth is another I had a clear picture in my head as to what I was actually hoping to make, but failed to. Instead of landing some sort of finish, it's on a weird gray (lol) area. Making clouds is hard y'all.

Twenty one is one where I managed to stick the landing to what I had in mind. I think the composition needed a few more minutes of baking, but overall I'm content with the result. Death-X-DORUgoramon is a complex design, so any degree of succesful translation is a win in my book.

I think I needed to draw some more background Kuramon for the twenty second. Y'know, to really sell the swarm thing. It's kinda too clean.

Before twenty three, I had never given myself the time to draw a tree shilouette. It was fun to turn off my brainfor a bit and just draw line, after line, after line, after line. I did the tree first, and then I tried to figure out how to make Shurimon. Originally, I wanted him to be hunched over more dramatically, almost as if he was climbing down the tree, but I was incapable of drawing it in a satisfactory manner. So this is what I got.

Twenty four is so bad! I think Monitamon came out fine, but the background elements are so poorly done! I'm so embarrassed! lol

Kabuterimon was really fun, very dramatic looking. I think it has some serious readability issues with the hands, but I don't dislike the idea I had at all.

Hackmon's drawing was done almost like a sibling piece to the fourteenth, Jesmon's. Like, Huckmon is somehow watching his exhausted future, yet he stands stoic. On it's own, I think it's plain. Like, it has some charm, but it's lacking in impact compared to the fourteenth. But maybe that's for the best of the story?

The Wizarmon sticker came through me realizing I wasn't practicing my lineart! So I did a sticker instead. This was actually version two, but number one was so bad I had to redo it. Despite it being a humble sticker chibi, it's overall the day I spent the most time drawing.

Twenty eight came from me realizing I hadn't done any Alphamon! So I did what I thought would look badass. As much as I like Alphamon, though, his shapes are difficult for me to grasp so it came out shoddy and weak lol.

Twenty nine, Ragna Lordmon vs Ragnamon, was hurt by me recording it. While an exciting thing to do, I felt like I wasn't allowed to do anything but move forward quickly, or to change things (I'd have moved both Ragnamon and the main Ragna Lordmon body closer to the center) that would've made the composition flow better. It's not an abject failure, and the video is fun to watch, but still…

Dorumon is a simple piece that I was a bit surprised to make. My birthday is not information I tell people, but I was just compelled to share a bit of myself. I dunno, it feels weird. I'm weird. It came out cute at least.

And at the last! Noble Pumpmon again. I'd love to tell you that I applied everything I learned throughout the month and it's my best piece and stuff, but that isn't the reality. It's a better show for a similar amount of effort compared to the October 1st drawing, but it's not some crazy good display of betterment. A bit, yes, but less than I had hoped.

If you made it this far into this silly wall of text I wrote, I thank you. I thank everyone who interacted with my drawings, it pleases me a lot to see that someone gave it a like, or a share, or a comment. I learned about myself, and my limits, through this experience. It was tiring, but setting myself the goal of "make a drawing a day" was, paradoxically, liberating. Like, now I had a reason to draw! (despite me having some comission work to do lmfao). It was nice. This was one of the most entertaining octobers in recent years. Thanks again to everyone who participated in some fashion.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Lonely Nights

Two uploads in one day? I'm cooking. Also inspired by @/shurisneakers grumpy x grumpy works, go check her works out they're amazing

Summary: Attending a party with the man whose whole goal in life seems to be annoying you to no end goes...not exactly as planned

You've lost count of the number of parties Natasha has dragged you to attend. You're pretty sure this is at least the tenth one in the past month, which is ten times more than the number of parties you usually attend. Then again zero times ten is still zero so you're not sure how the math adds up.

Grabbing another glass of whiskey, you stare at the golden liquid swirling around, trying to drown out the noise in the background. Parties really are far too loud for your taste, the only good thing to come out of them is the free flow alcohol that you constantly take advantage of. The drinks taste even better knowing that the tab is on a certain genius playboy billionaire and so at every party you lurk at the bar, inhaling drinks until you get hungover.

Tonight, there's a newcomer — Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier. Turns out he's Steve's best friend who was thought dead and you have to admit, the brunette is quite the handsome man, although you'd rather die than admit it out loud. He's currently following Sam who seems to be on a mission to talk to a girl for more than a minute, and from the look on his face, quite enjoying the other's multiple failures.

You take another mouth of whiskey and look away, relishing in the way the liquid burns on the way down. Natasha has disappeared, probably to outdrink yet another poor soul, leaving you all alone at the bar counter, not that you mind. You quite like the personal space and lack of need to socialise with another human being, two things that are currently being challenged by a certain brunette you were watching not too long ago.

"Go away."

"I see you've been learning some manners." He leans over to take a glass of whiskey for himself, downing half of it in one go.

"And I see you haven't." You glare at him.

"Maybe you should introduce me to your teacher, I might just learn some manners then." He simply smiles at you.

"Hmph." You turn back to your glass. "So what are you doing here?"

"Was invited to the party by Tony." He swirls his glass before downing the remaining half. "Same as you."

"I can tell. Why are you sitting right next to me after I told you to get lost?"

"I believe you said 'go away', not 'get lost'."

"Same thing." You pinch the bridge of your nose. He was getting on your nerves as always, you sometimes swore he saved all his cheek for you and you alone.

"Nope it isn't. One is asking me to simply leave, the other is asking me to lose all sense of direction —"

"Okay Mr Dictionary, didn't ask you for the difference between 'away' and 'lost'. Why are you still seated next to me?" You grab another glass from a passing waiter and immediately inhale one third of it.

"I'm tired and want to sit down." Bucky shrugs.

"There's plenty of other seats out there." You gesture to where the crowd is.

"Here seemed the most comfy, although the company it offers could use some work." He smirks, biting back an amused huff when you roll your eyes.

"Then go and find company elsewhere."

"But you'll be lonely. As a gentleman, I cannot stand by and let a lovely person such as yourself spend the night alone." He dramatically places a hand over his heart.

"Since when were you a gentleman?" You snort, knocking back more alcohol. You were going to need more if this bastard insisted on spending the rest of the night with you.

"Since the moment I saw you sitting here alone."

"How chivalrous. You want a lordship or something?"

He laughs, reaching over the counter and pulling out a bottle of vodka. "If only you could grant me one."

"Dunno. Could try pulling some strings or something, haven't tried granting anyone a lordship before. First time for everything, am I right?" You toss a bottle opener his way and he catches it, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have this on you at all times?"

"Swiped it from the waiter just now. Was going to open one myself but since you've already taken one you might as well share. Sharing is caring, right?" You wave a hand.

"Then sharing this bottle would imply I care for you." He pops the cap open and starts chugging.

"Hey! I provided the bottle opener! I deserve some!" You yelp, rising from your seat. He easily dodges your attempts to grab the bottle from him and grins, waving it just out of your reach. Growling, you leap onto the counter and dash along it, successfully swiping the bottle from his surprisingly loose grip. Hopping back down, you gleefully wave the bottle before chugging the remaining liquid inside, letting out a satisfied sigh when not a drop is left.

"I win!" You cheer, laughing. All that alcohol is making you giddy and you lean a little too far backwards, stumbling towards the counter but before you can hit anything, a pair of arms wrap themselves around you, stopping your fall.

"Can't have you dying before granting me that lordship." Bucky grunts, placing you back onto your seat. You try to shove his arms off, making a face when he refuses to let go before resuming your scowl and crossing your arms.

"I'm not dying before you," you huff, annoyed. More importantly, you weren't about to die from a fall when you've survived aliens, gods, superhumans and everything in between.

"Congratulations on surviving purely out of spite all this while. Would you also like a gold medal?" Sarcasm drips heavily from his words.

"I'll take one." You don't miss a beat, even when tipsy. Bucky would admire that, really he would, unfortunately he's on the receiving end of your sass so it's already less admirable because of that. At least him being here means you won't be meeting your end via counters, he would miss all that wit and sarcasm if that were to happen. After laughing at your cause of death.

"Unfortunately I don't have one right now. Mind waiting for a bit, doll?" His lips quirk upwards ever so slightly.

"A gentleman making someone wait? What kind of gentleman are you?" You lift another snagged bottle to your lips, taking a swig.

"One that knows you're caring enough to share that bottle with me." He easily wrestles the half-drunk bottle from you, chugging the rest while keeping you at arms length with his forearm pressed against your chest. "Thank you for your generosity."

"You're not welcome!" You huff, futilely hitting his arm in an attempt to close the gap. He grins, turning the bottle upside down to show you there's not a drop left.

"Asshole." You scowl, gripping his arm tightly.

"My pleasure." His smirk is infuriating and with the alcohol clouding your mind, the moment he drops his arm you close the distance, wiping the smirk off his face with a kiss. Your lips connect and his eyes widen, but he kisses back, his metal arm snaking around your waist while his flesh one pulls you closer so that he can devour you.

Bucky's lips taste of vodka, whiskey and whatever else he drank before being your nuisance and it tastes good. You breathlessly pull away, cheeks flushed and grab a breath before diving back for another round.

"You're a pathetic kisser," you gasp after pulling away for air again.

"And still you want more." He licks his lips, ice blue eyes shining with mirth. "What does that say about you?"

"That I'm going to need to teach you how to kiss."

"Then teach me." He lifts your chin up. "The night's still young."

"Step one: shut up." Your lips crash into his again and he shuts up, savouring the kiss.

"Step two: don't stop." He murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair.

"Step three: eyes on me, only me." You press your forehead against his, feeling his warmth. "Took you forever to kiss me."

"You're the one who took forever, I was always open to it."

"Asshole."

"Idiot."

"You just asked an idiot to be your teacher."

"I don't mind this idiot being my teacher." His thumb runs over your bottom lip. "After all, this idiot is my idiot."

"Hate you."

"Love you too."

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

If Lynn wants to hug him later, that’ll be really great, but he just–he really doesn’t want to be one of those foster parents who always pushes. Pretends like they’re closer to a kid than they are or like that kid should be grateful for every little thing or give them everything they want or . . . whatever. 

Even if Lynn never wants a hug from him at all, at least then Lynn can know Billy’s not gonna punish him for it. Can feel–safe, knowing that. 

More than anything else, Billy really, really wants Lynn to feel safe with him. 

“Safe” is . . . 

It’s just harder to come by than a lot of people think it is, that’s all. 

Lynn . . . hesitates, again, and looks at the pillow Billy’s holding out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then gingerly wraps his arms around Tawky in awkward imitation of him. Billy beams at him, trying not to be weird about it or anything. Lynn kind of thinks like a teenager, obviously, but also he’s just a baby, so . . . well, it’s kinda hard to be sure how to balance that kind of thing. 

Billy just has to figure it out, though. He can do that. His dad would’ve, so–yeah. 

So he’s gonna do it too. 

“Yeah, like that,” he confirms, and Lynn looks embarrassed and looks away. “Tawky’s nice to hug, right?” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, still looking embarrassed. Billy isn’t sure if it’s the “thinking kind of like a teenager” thing or if he’s just feeling awkward about doing a new thing, but figures that’s Lynn’s business anyway. He sneaks a glance at Tawky while Lynn’s still looking at the wall and flashes him an encouraging thumbs up, and Tawky stays contentedly hugged in Lynn’s arms. Billy’s glad Lynn feels comfortable enough to hug him, at least. Sometimes being a stuffed animal is even more useful than being a superhero. 

He wishes he could hug Lynn right now too, but–well, like he said, he’d rather Lynn feel safe with him than anything else. 

The ten minutes is pretty much up by then, so after Lynn and Tawky have gotten in a little more hugging, they all walk to the library together. Lynn looks at the sky a lot and seems a little awkward carrying Tawky, like he’s still not sure what the best way to do it is, but Tawky’s obviously still content to just hang out quietly and people-watch a little on the walk. Billy points out where some stuff is in the neighborhood, and at the library Lynn looks totally overwhelmed, which, well . . . it’s not a very big library, honestly, but it’s still gotta be thousands of books and Lynn’s never been in one at all before, so Billy can’t blame him for it. 

The librarian helps “Rocky Morgan” sign up for a library card, since “Lynn Morgan” doesn’t have paperwork or anything yet and Billy’s not sure how that’d work and doesn’t wanna test it before Batman gives the all-clear, and then they walk through all the sections together one-by-one. Billy figures they can just pick out a book each from each of the main sections, and then there’ll be lots of different stuff for Lynn to try. 

They get a couple big art books and a couple mysteries, a couple romance novels, some sci-fi, fantasy, westerns, thrillers, history and autobiographies, some classics, and a few different picture books, though Billy figures they can skip the hard science stuff and self-help for right now. Though he does find a cool-looking astronomy book, and maybe Lynn’ll like that? He’s not actually an alien, obviously–Billy guesses he’d be more like . . . what, a second-generation immigrant or something?–but space is still cool. They also pick out a couple of cookbooks, because Billy figures it’ll help Lynn decide what to cook and help him remember the recipes without having to ask Lynn what he’s supposed to do every five minutes. 

It’s a lot of books, but they’ve got super-strength and also Billy doesn’t want Lynn to end up stuck reading things he doesn’t like just because there’s nothing else in the apartment; he wants to give him a lot of options to pick from and figure out what he likes from. Lynn’s a baby. He shouldn’t get stuck with just boring stuff to read. 

The library’s old and kind of fancy. Lynn looks out the high wrought-iron windows at the sky while the librarian checks them out, looking . . . confused, a little, or maybe just like he’s thinking. Billy doesn’t really know his expressions well enough to tell either way. The library’s bright, though, and there’s a lot of windows and a lot of places to sit and read with a lot of natural light in them, so if Lynn decides he likes to read, maybe they could come regularly? Like, once a week or every couple weeks, maybe, depending, Billy figures. He’s spent a lot of time in libraries to get out of the rain or cold or snow, personally, and it was . . . nice, sometimes. There was always stuff to read and somewhere to sit and the librarians were usually nice too, as long as he didn’t fall asleep anywhere too public. So–nice, sometimes. 

Nicer than hiding in a doorway or a stairwell or under the slide at the park or in a gazebo or–

Just–it was nicer. And safer. And sometimes he’d look at the archeology books and pretend Mom and Dad were just still on a dig, and they’d be coming to get him soon. Coming to–take him home, soon. 

. . . maybe Lynn could come to the library by himself, if he ever wants some alone time or something.

[penkura]

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Summary: Straw Hat Christmas parties are always large events, but you wish Sanji would stop and join you all for more than a few minutes at a time.

Note: Just another with a small moment in it, I couldn't help myself but to do it with Sanji. :)

You’ve known from the start that when the Straw Hats party, they party and it’s always a big event, no matter what the reason for it. It’s a given that whatever you might be partying about, there’s going to be copious amounts of food and drink, all prepared by your crew’s amazing chef.

It seems like Sanji never gets to take a break, you’ve always hated that part about these parties, despite loving his food. You wish he’d take a break, join you all out on the deck for more than a few minutes at a time, only to hurry back to the kitchen for whatever he was cooking. You hated watching him start to relax only to be dragged back in there, even if the kitchen was almost a safe haven for Sanji, he deserved to take a proper break like the rest of you.

It’s not even that Luffy has asked for more food in the last hour, there’s plenty made, but Sanji knows your captain will be asking for more later, he’s trying to keep ahead and it’s leaving him without a moment to breathe anymore.

You hate watching him do this to himself, overworking even when he should be taking a break. When you see Sanji go back into the kitchen, after leaving for not even five minutes, you huff and lean against Nami, making her raise an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten to you?”

You nod your head towards the kitchen and she knows what you’re saying without a word, Nami sighs and shakes her head.

“Ever the one serve without a break…maybe he’d come relax for a while if you talked to him.

“Why would he listen to me? I think you’d be the better option, Nami.”

Nami rolls her eyes, pushing you off her lightly and towards the kitchen.

“No, definitely you. Go get him out here already!”

You’re confused but do as Nami says, heading for the kitchen with every intention of bringing Sanji back out on deck with you. You have a slight idea that Nami knows something you don’t, or she’s seen how Sanji seems to go with you no matter what you’re doing or where you’re going, though you don’t think there’s anything more there.

You slip into the kitchen easily, Sanji normal leaves the door unlocked when he’s working in there anyway, especially if you, Nami, or Robin need anything. When you get in there you smile to yourself seeing Sanji is relaxing a bit, he’s taken a break probably while something is in the oven, sitting the table with his head in his arms on the table, like he’s trying to fall asleep. You’ve caught Sanji sleeping like this before late in the evenings after dinner, always deciding to surprise him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind and convincing him to go on to bed. Of course it’s how you decide to try and get him to join the rest of you, he’s not even surprised when you do it, Sanji’s so used to you coming to get him at anytime of day now.

“Sanji, come take a break with us! You’ve been doing too much for this party.”

“I will,” Sanji sighs and pats one of your hands, making you frown when he goes to get up again, “I just want—”

“No, now, Sanji,” you grab his hand to keep him from going back to the oven,  causing him to give you a confused look, “Please. You deserve to take some time off just like the rest of us…things can wait until later.”

Sanji knows that you’re right, he gets that, and he wants to keep working so all of you had enough to eat and drink. He’s aware that it’s not exactly a healthy work ethic, but it’s all he’s ever known. He’d rather have everything ready before he takes a break, even with you giving him the look that always makes him give into what you want.

“Its fine, you know…I don’t mind working if it means you all get to relax.”

“But everyone wants you out there already!”

“Everyone, huh?”

“Hmm,” pretending to think, you glance away briefly as Sanji laughs a bit with a nod. “Maybe Zoro doesn’t care, but…I want you to come join us already…”

There’s just a moment before Sanji sighs with a nod, you grinning as he turns around to turn the oven off, removing whatever was in it and taking off his apron. You give him a tight hug when he comes over to you, Sanji kisses the top of your head in return before pulling away and taking your hands.

“Well, let’s go back to everyone then, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do that!”

[mechdyke-after-hours]

MINIBOT MAID CAFE

This is... messy. and unorganised. and not to mention I've never written for Swerve before. I just randomly had this thought last night, and I already had a headcanon that Swerve has a thing for lingerie so...

take this garbage /lh

Word count: 1500

Swerve's bar made significantly less shanix during off hours. Not to mention, he was bored during the day. He spent a lot of his off time exploring various forms of human media, as well as infodimping about them to any mech who'd sit and listen for more than 5 minutes. Once he started, he could go on for hours if he didn't keep himself in check.

The idea struck him when he was watching some animated human show. They called it a "maid cafe". The humans would dress in frilly dresses and serve customers various snacks and drinks. He wasn't sure if it was some strange human fetish, or just a custom he didn't understand, but he sure was intrigued. Something about the way the fabric on their little organic bodies moved just captivated him. Not to mention, it was an opportunity to make some extra money AND potentially get other mechs to actually like him more? Seemed like a win win situation for him.

Swerve was lucky he knew how to cook. Decently, at least. He poured his spark into making a few trays of energon treats. Jellies, candies, even a full multi-layer cake topped with iron filings. The ingredients cost him a bit more than he hoped, but if his calculations were correct he'd be making back at least double what he spent. Not to mention, he got to snack on some of the offcuts. And snack on them he did, until his protoform felt like it was going to burst through his plating.

With the help of some of the craftier bots on board, and the promise of a couple of free drinks, he had everything set up. Decorations and signs showing prices of items written in neat cursive were placed neatly around the bar. It had a totally different vibe, everything feeling... almost cute. Fliers had been pasted around, and given out to curious looking mechs. The pièce de résistance, a human saying he'd learned recently, was the full recreation of the dress one of the girls had been wearing in the show. The only difference was that was red and white, to match his plating, and it was strapless to fit him better. Frills and lace decorated the delicate, yet sturdy, fabric. It was tailored surprisingly perfectly, and fit him well. There was even a zip up the side to make it easier for him to get on without risk of the seams tearing because of his large arms. He didn't even want to try to get the outfit over his wheels, it'd snap immediately. Wearing such a light material over his frame for the first time was an odd experience. It somehow made him feel more exposed, even though he was technically more covered than usual. It made him feel warm and giddy inside, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Swerve wasn't a confident bot. He would go as far as to say he was incredibly self conscious most of the time. But he looked good.

From the moment he officially opened the bar, he was swamped. He was absolutely not expecting so many mechs to be interested. He supposed the promise of homemade sweets was hard to resist, by even the more gruff and serious of mechs. He was overwhelmed at first, but quickly realised just how patient everyone was being. The atmosphere was totally different to that of a bar, and he found himself enjoying it for the most part. The fabric of the skirt brushing against the plating of his thighs was a bit of a distraction at first, and it took him a good while to get used to it. Bots were chatting, eating and having an all around good time. A lot of them even laughed at his jokes! He was stoked.

After a while Swerve needed to take a break. The fabric had been brushing against his inner thighs and gently tickling the front of his panel. He was getting embarrassingly charged up. His cooling fans had long since turned on, which he luckily could rather easily explain away as his frame heating up from the extra layers. He excused himself to the storage room, and let his valve panel open underneath the frilly dress. He felt his inner fans start to spin even faster as the cool breeze washed over the puffy protomesh of his exposed valve and a shiver ran down his backstrut. No one could tell he was exposed. He could play it off. Not to mention, this was more authentic anyway, right? Humans didn't have metal plating to cover themselves up like Cybertronians did. If he wanted to really pay homage to human culture he had to do everything properly... right?

He took a moment to calm himself, and before he could regret it he went back out to the bustling makeshift cafe. He was shocked at just how many mechs were interested in the non-alcoholic beverages and snacks. He'd have to start offering them full time. Every step he took made him aware of the breezy feeling of his valve being exposed. He had to keep reminding himself that no one could tell. He was quickly getting aroused, and he could feel lubricants starting to make his valve feel squishy beneath his skirt.

He was starting to get worried that he was dripping and making a mess on the floor without realising. He was soaked. Even the slightest brush of fabric against his node was making him grit his denta. His vents were running hot, and he was almost worried he'd set fire to his dress. Things were starting to slow down, much to his relief. He'd made more shanix than he thought, sold out all of the treats he had made, nearly completely run out of drinks and mechs were starting to leave. Only a few stragglers remained. He smiled as politely as he could, keeping up the act. He tried to act like his normal chatty self, but he was getting impatient. As soon as the last mech left, he jumped up and locked the door to the bar. He had to... clean up. Clean up so the bar would be tidy and ready for when he opened it in a few hours. That's all he had to do.

His legs were spread wide, his valve on display under the layers of frills of the dress. He couldn't help but look at himself in a makeshift mirror he had set up (nothing more than a rather shiny piece of sheet metal), admiring how... cute he looked. His valve was puffy and fat, the blue bio-light of his node blinking steadily. He bit the fist of his servo, his fans kicking into overdrive as he reached down, spreading protomesh folds. Pearlescent pink lubricants all but gushed out of him, staining the floor of the storage room beneath him. His spike panel slid open with a click. He whined, before slipping one digit into himself, and then another. His servos were big, he knew that much, and his own digits filled himself nicely. He kept admiring himself as he self serviced, two digits deep in his valve and his other servo wrapped around his chubby spike. Lace and frills framed his array, and he couldn't stop thinking about just how good he looked. He'd never admired himself this much before, and he'd certainly never felt this good about himself before.

Charge was crackling from his array, his engine revving and his fans stuttering. His optics flickered beneath his visor, his intake hanging open slightly. He bit his derma hard, before shoving his digits as far into himself as he could, his thumb rubbing circles against his node. He all but sobbed as he overloaded, ropes of transfluid shooting out of his spike and lubricants squirting out of his valve into a messy puddle on the floor beneath him. He took a moment to calm himself, venting heavily as he laid back. Usually after self servicing, he'd feel guilty and pathetic. Like he'd done something wrong. But this time, he just felt tired. It was a nice change of pace from the usual feeling of self loathing that came with his post-overload clarity. He offlined his optics to rest just for a moment. Just... a quick moment.

He awoke from recharge about an hour later. His frame ached, and he felt incredibly sticky all over. His servos, thighs and the floor beneath him were coated in transfluids. He grimaced, wiping it onto the apron of the dress. Looks like he had a load of laundry to do. Not to mention he still had to clean the entirety of the bar before he could open. He sighed, closing his interface panel and reaching into his subspace for a cloth. As he cleaned himself off, his processor swarmed with images of how cute he'd look in different human clothing items and immediately his cooling fans clicked back on. This was going to be a long night.

[xephyras]

' A Second Reflection '

MDNI. 18+ ONLY.

a/n: i fear i possibly cooked with this? idk, i wrote it in like 2 hours. first cillian murphy centric smut kinda goes hard.

btw: that new M. Night Shyalaman movie ‘Trap’ sucks. It's basically slutty Josh Hartnett being a dad with mommy issues and everyone not doing their job.

Second, yes, this is fucking diabolical and will in fact be better because I am amazing at writing darker shit.

Third, yes, this is because I watched Red Eye again on my Roku at 1 a.m in my duplex. (Sorry to my upstairs neighbor if you heard my tv.)

warnings: DUB/NONCON. dead dove do NOT eat, 18+, evil!dom!stalker! jackson rippner and sub! reader. jackson rippner is an actual villain, not bastardized, rough sex, unprotected p in v, breeding kink from rippner, dumbification (once again my weakness), heavy degregation, spit kink, biting kink, just overall really mouthy rippner, major power play kink, size difference if you squint, bruising, hickeys, break in, choking, hair pulling, slapping, mirror kink, blood kink, also, jackson rippner is like lowk pathetic bcz, yk... men whining.

word count: 4.18k

NOT proofread, I apologize in advance for any errors or mistakes!

"Keep your eyes on me, slut. I want to see your face while I fuck you.” He barked out, straining on your hair again as he pulled you up.

Darkness filled the room you sat in comfortably, your dust-covered mirror shimmering softly in the cinnamon candles you had lit a few minutes before. Duvet covered pulled up to your chest, and legs shuffling under with a comfort that always seemed to await you, you felt entirely serene.

The day was as usual boring, mostly spent inside working from home, taking a few calls, and mellowing around in your pajamas. These days seem to muddle together into one big mix, but it was nothing you fret over. It was rather comforting compared to the busy streets which bustled from the early hours of dawn to the peak of the night.

Only thing you would say that pinched wildly at your relaxation like a child on St. Patrick's day seeing a person not wearing green, was the overwhelming feeling of a set of prying eyes on you. However, this had become realtively common since you played that damned mirror in front of your bed.

You commonly had liked to rearrange your room; especially on the late nights where your shitty sleep schedule caught up, giving bursts of energy late at night. Hence, you assumed it was your paranoia playing a hopscotch game with you.

Nevertheless, you found the serenity of your window open, blowing a soft wind in, rather comforting. Leaving the blinds open often to let the orange sunset light in, you simply would stare until it went dark at times. Being on the first floor of your home, too, passerby's were actually much more fun to look at than you realized. ‘People-watching’, as some would call it.

However, in this night specifically, the warm breeze flushing onto your shoulders felt rather omniscient of some warning it communicated. You didn't get it, but something irked you. To deprive yourself of your own time, you simply read a book, traveling your mind into the world of your favorite reads.

Conversely, your brain pried at you. Thinking it was simply a lack of sleep, especially because it was now around a quarter after midnight, you set the hard book down. It was a hot night, you might as well have left your window open. After all, it was a safer neighborhood.

After blowing out the residue of your melted candles, you covered the rest of your body with the duvet. Serenity at last, you thought. Gently shutting your eyes, you simply wandered off mentally.

Despite being a rather heavy sleeper, you woke within a few hours to a sense of hefty paranoia. Your eyes couldn't even adjust at first to the darkness and the heaviness of them. Wiping your tiredness away, you peered into your mirror questionably.

The window you leave open, which usually shines in the dim moonlight, was almost blocked? Almost like a shadow. Slowly turning your head to your window to assume it was just your brain, you suddenly saw.

With your heart and sleepiness practically leaping out of your throat in a stiffled yell, shoved the covers off you, preparing to defend your every move. It wasn't just a fucking dark shadow, an entire, short, but rather wide looking silhouette of a man stood quietly, almost mannequin like, against your window sill.

“What the— What the fuck. What the fuck?!” You suddenly screeched out as loud as your throat could allow, the burning of your vocal chords was anything but sensational.

A deep chuckled emerged from the silhouette, shoulders bouncing somehow in a threatening manner. He held something in a pocket of a sweater, of course.

“You need to calm down before I slit your goddamn throat right here.” He suddenly sneered.

You were absolutely frozen, eyes wide with tears you didn't feel even forming. Hands bundled into fists in front of you futily, shaking like you were about to have a seizure.

He stood entirely still once more, practically observing you like some doctor. You decided haphazardly to stand onto your mattress, trying to get a better advantage of higher ground, more area to attack if he did decide to run at you.

“You— need to get the fuck out! Now!” You screamed at the end, trying to not simply break down sobbing. With purpose, your eyes scanned across your room for some weapon.

“I said calm down!” He suddenly grunted out, stomping with one long stride towards you. His palm latched itself to your ankle, dragging you from your sudden position, your head hitting the wall as you fell onto your spine.

A burning familiar to that of a minor concussion filled your senses, a stiffled sob leaving your throat as your vision filled with a dark white, if even possible. Ringing filled your ears as you felt yourself get dragged practically to lay on your stomach, facing your mirror.

He suddenly muttered almost to no one but himself, “You know, you're fucking pathetic. Can't even hold a good fight. All you do is sit—”

A grunt left his throat as he forced his sweater off, tosing it to the side. “And do absolutely nothing. You're a lazy bitch, you should be grateful I’m doing this.” He whispered into your ear, his stubble tickling along your jaw.

Desperately despite your mingling pain in your brain which seemed to radiate to your neck, you flipped yourself to your side, hands raising to try and fling themselves at him. You simply found his hand, calloused and rough, gripping a lump full of your hair, tangling it into his hand. He shoved your head into the mattress, unable to move.

“Stop fighting me, it's useless, whore.” He cursed out to you, a hint of lingering amusement in his poisoned words.

He certainly was talkative. “God, finally able to touch you after so long. You know, I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to do this.” He chuckled out, his voice was unforgivingly soothing while his hands gripped your head like a vice, and forcing the other to grope, pinch, and slap at your back and ass.

Wanting to have his fun, of course. “You need to do more. You're too… lazy. Maybe I’ll fuck a good baby into you, make you mine.” Sneering his voice next to your jaw, licking suddenly. The mixed smell of his aftershave and mahogany-esque cologne was all you tried to focus on.

Your head was utterly pounding, a slight ring in your eardrums forcuing yourself to feel even more of a head ache. Along with his snagging hand forcing you to the bed, and other groping you grotesquely, all you felt was utter pain and despair.

With as much energy as you could have put, you screamed out. Surely someone in this blasted neighborhood would hear. Screaming your pleas of help, Jackson tugged on your hair tight, snapping your neck back and cutting those yells off with a simple yelp into the air like an injured dog.

He dragged his hand from your lower back to your neck, shaking and wet from your tears which stained where he previously pushed you down. With force, he grabbed your neck tight, cutting your blood, but not air off.

“For someone so fucking lazy, only thing you can do right now is put your vocals to use? I will stab you right here and make it look like a suicide. Do yourself a favor and stop gambling with your life.” He enunciated, using his lips to drag themselves along the surrounding area of your ear.

A choke left your throat as the blood rushed back to your brain, the dazy and numb feeling leaving your pained head. You simply felt yourself get flipped to your back, finally being able to see some of the man's face.

He was unfortunately one of the most handsome men you had seen. A sharp jaw, stubbled beard he kept recently, piercing blue eyes. God, why did he have to be doing this?

“Stop it! I'll give you money! Please just stop!” You rasped out with desperate sobs, feeling yourself tears reach to your collarbones. Your nose was running heavy, and lips soaked with your own drool . You didn't care. You were focused enough the fact this man was in your home, hurting you.

His demeanor seemed suddenly much more gentle, but falsely. Like a lion acting gentle as it slowly prides itself up to its prey. His knees trapped around one of yours, holding you tight. With one of his hands, he held your chin now.

Leaning into your wet and puffy face as he smirked, he finally tantalizingly reached his lips to your jaw. “The more you plead, the harder I’m gonna get, and the longer I’ll use you.”

Finally leaning back, he raised his hand to your cheek and slammed it down, hard. A sound only described as a clap released itself along your bedroom walls, swinging your head to the side. Pain radiated harshly though your cheek, hot and burning.

He chuckled at this and leaned down his lips to your heaving neck, using his hands to stabilize himself on either side of your head. Wanting to have a bit of fun with his food so to speak, he licked. Starting at your collarbone, leading itself up to your jugular with silent breaths.

When he did reach, he bit down harshly, hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to severely hurt you. A loud shriek left your throat like some horror movie character, your hands flinging up to pull his hair away and desperately claw.

A pained groan left his throat, but he smiled. Finally getting a better view at his face, teeth slightly pink from your neck and his silky hair feeling like knives in your hands suddenly, you realized couldn't even fight him.

Pausing his actions, he developed a nasty sneer of his face, suddenly spitting a glob at your cheek, grabbing your wrists tight enough you knew it'd bruise. Crashing them down into the bed beside you, he dipped his head down once more to your bleeding neck.

Teeth sank into your skin like marshmallows in an out, ranks of pain radiating from your tailbone all the way to the top of your head like you were in a house fire. All you could hear was the ringing of your blasted ears, his heavy breathing and whines, and the shuffle of the duvet.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” He hummed out, licking up the residues and admiring your skin like some sort of art project he made, one he'd surely put on the fridge.

“You know…” he finally leaned back, resting on his knees which trapped you into his touch.

“I've been watching you for a while—before tonight.” Jackson hummed contently, his raspy whisper leaking itself into your ears like honey.

“Especially because… you don't know when—” he spoke, getting up to close the open window. You knew you should've taken it as a chance, but you were frozen. He adjusted your whimsy curtains above it.

“—when to close your goddamn window. It's been such a joy to watch you, you know that? Every morning, you laying in your bed practically refusing to get up… all the way to laying yourself down, leaving it open to feel the breeze.” He chuckled finally at his last words, almost as if to nonverbally stupidly you.

Your head was pounding, the previously persistent ringing now dying down to a simple static noise, deep in your brain. Choked sobs left your throat, your chest heaving with every breath. Barely even being able to see due to the cloudiness of your wet tears, you blinked frantically.

“My boyfriend will be home so—” you attempted to sneer out, getting cut off with a vocal scoff.

“You need to learn how to stop lying, baby.”

Almost as if tantalizing your stupid word choice, he grazed his fingertips up and down your torso, riding your tank top up slightly with every stroke. His breath—you noticed—was heavier, his chest rising and falling every movement.

With a solid hiss, he forced your tank top off you, to which of course to his not-so-very-big-suprise, revealing your bare chest. After watching you for a while, he noticed you would most of the time wear either nothing, or a tank top, maybe paired with some underwear, usually black or navy. Rare occasions, maroon.

A deep chuckle poured out his throat as his rough hands went to your breasts, cupping and kneading them like dough. It hurt, clearly because he had no intent of making you even feel anything. He just craved you like a wolf craved a little sheep. Cries of pain left your throat, trying to claw your hands at his to no avail.

Your hips and legs wouldn't budge as he sat right on them, your head hurt too much to move, your arms like noodles from the sheer anxiety and shock you felt. To this, he laughed in a false-lit pity. Pinching at your nipples, he made sure to leave you as sensitive as possible, with intent to make you cry even more.

Exult filled his icy eyes as his hands dragged themselves down your belly, massaging your sides and hips like fresh bread. It tickled, somehow—the way he moved his hands now around the waistband of your underwear.

They were a deep navy blue, however looked black in this dark room. Shakily exhaling, Jackson dipped his fingers across the line of your clothing, before quickly pulling them clean off, the fabric resting on your shaking legs.

Another shrill howl left your raspy throat, trying to wriggle your hips out of his body weight. He bellowed back quietly in mock, anger mustering his tone. Another hard, cranial slap landed on the side of your head.

“Shut the fuck up.” He berated now; amusement present.

“I’ve always dreamed of this… even nights I didn't sleep.” he cooed out, coaxing one of your hands to his crotch.

You sneered out a messy cry as he pressed your hand to his tented pants, feeling his cock practically throbbing. His breath left his lips shakily as he forced your hand to feel him. Conversely, he kept his hand tight on your hips, not covered finally.

Finally smacking your hand back, he shimmied off the pants he had on after unbuttoning them. He didn't care to pull them all the way down, why not make it a quickie—you know?

“You look like such a whore right now…” he cooed out almost an octave higher, those threatening eyes gazing daggers at you.

An idea suddenly formed in his head as he looked up to himself in the mirror across from your bed. A toothy smile like a sharks spread across his jaw. Piercing his eyes back down, he grunted, flipping you into your stomach once more.

“I want you to see your stupid fucking face while I use you.” he blazed out, sharply snapping your head up by a chunk of your hair.

Your face was a mess. Puffy red eyes, red nose and cheeeks. Entirely wet with tears and snot. Not to mention, you looked absolutely devastated, which was expected, but not this bad.

A choked wail left your throat as you heard his pants shimmy down slightly, and felt his boxers, and clothed cock resting against your pussy. In response, he cooed under his breath. His hand pressed harshly into your lower back.

“It's a shame I haven't done this sooner, you cry like a fucking animal… it's so beautiful.” He mewled out to your face in the mirror rather than looking down at you.

Tearing down his boxers finally, you could hear his cock spring free and tap lightly on his stomach. He was of course hard, more than he had ever felt in a while. hence the fact he'd get off almost nightly thinking of you. Fucking into his fist with throaty groans, imagining it was your cunt instead.

A hearty sigh left his chest as he stroked himself a few times, the precum on his tip shining in the dim moonlight which simmered through the window. He made sure he was slow with his movements, not wanting to end this too fast.

“Keep your eyes on me, slut. I want to see your face while I fuck you.” He barked out once more, straining on your hair again as he pulled you up.

You let out a few whiny sobs, knowing you couldn't get out of this situation. Your scalp burnt. Gazing your eyes up to his face, you saw nothing but lust, and focus. The worst part was you knew he could get away with it.

“Please no— no, no, no, no!” You babbled out with purpose.l

"No, no, no, don't do this!” he mocked an octave higher, looking down to his leaking cock.

“Just sit still, you'll be fine, bitch.” He scoffed.

Lining himself up to you, he spat down on his cock, stroking himself a few more times to give less friction while he fucked you. Emitting a slight grunt, he finally leaned himself into your pussy, feeling your walls and savoring every inch he dove in.

A loud wail left your mouth, you felt like you were practically being split into 2 as he finally bottomed out. His cock was big enough to press hard against your cervix, the feeling was uncomfortable. Desperately, you tried to wriggle your hips off; nevertheless, he held your hips tight.

“I said be still, dumbass.” He hissed out, landing a loud spank on your ass, surely leaving it red.

“God, you feel so—” he enunciated his words, thrusting sharply into you. “So… fucking tight.” He finished his words, chuckling in the air at the end.

Placing his other hand on your hip and holding you steady, he started a rhythmic pace, slow and drawn out. Despite the slowness, he practically pounded into you as hard as he could, savoring your small cries with each stroke.

Craning his neck back to the ceiling, he gently shut his eyes and let his jaw fall open, babbling on in pleasure. A small curse left his lips, his eyes dipping back down to your ass which shook slightly with each thrust.

“Fuck… oh my God, you feel so good. You feel—” he enunciated his words more, sharply picking up the pace, the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting the bump of your cervix was intoxicating to him.

The pain was slightly settling down as he kept thrusting into you, your body naturally making yourself wet to lessen the friction. Almost shamefully, you couldn't lie and say it didn't feel good.

If anything, it felt phenomenal. After that pain settled, the feeling of his cock driving into you so deep—deeper than you'd ever felt—was shamefully pleasureful. Despite head still throbbing with his hand tight in it, and the fact you're still a sobbing mess, you couldn't help but whine out in this twisted pleasure.

You were ashamed, but it was better than feeling any sort of pain. To the sounds of your little cries turning into whimpers of pleasure, he laughed heartily, spanking your ass once more just to watch it shake.

“See? Now that you're being obedient, I don't have to hurt you anymore, bitch.” He leaned down, tantalizingly whispering.

As he kept his head next to yours, you couldn't help hear his heavy breath and the slight mewls leaving his throat, deep and pathetic, almost. From your hips, he ran his hands down to the small of your back, pressing your arch further down .

Darting out his tongue, he licked your jaw slightly, reminicsing his gaze over your bruised bite marks that finally stopped bleeding. Landing his tongue on your jugular once more, he planted rather soft kisses. Much better than biting, anyways.

He continued to kiss around the back of your neck and the sides, the stubble tickling you. The mix of this ticklish feeling and his hips pistoning into yours finally started to postpone your crying, leaving you in a whiny state.

“God, you really are a whore, huh? Getting fucking used and you're over here whining like a little puppy.” He slammed his hand down once more, making you yell loudly.

Grazing your eyes to the mirror, the sight you saw was definitely one you'll remember, both for the horrifying reason and one of the fact this man looked utterly pathetic for you. Higher sounding breaths, head dipped to the back of your neck with kisses, and hands kneading our ass.

His eyes pierced up to the mirror, making eye contact with your still wet and puffy eyes. Smirking softly at you, he turned his head from the mirror to the side of your face. Linking his lips with your earlobe, he started speaking.

“See how slutty you look right now? You love this…” he spoke in such a tantalizing way it made you shudder.

You could barely even keep your head up, resting it on the plush mattress as you kept letting you your small moans. Each thrust was pure and plain pleasure. Shockwaves sent up your spine and fogging up your brain.

It could've been the mix of anxiety and your head hitting the wall earlier, but you could barely do anything but moan out in bliss mixed with agony. He leaned back up, flicking his hair back with a jerk of his neck.

The idea popped in his head to reach his hand down finally under your hips, keeping one on your ass to hold you steady. Delicately, he rubbed slow, intricate circles with his index on your clit. Back arching further down with pleasure, you let out an almost pornographic moan.

“Oh, you like that…” he cooed rhetorically, cocking his head to the side as he observed your reaction almost clinically.

His hands moved almost masterfully on your clit, the nerves sending an overwhelming pleasure over your entire body. Your legs shook diabolically, toes curling. Trying your best to stifle how good it felt, you bit down harshly on your lip, feeling your lower stomach arise with a familiar feeling of pleasure.

A sudden, quiet moan left the bottom of his throat, an octave higher than any of the words he'd spoken to you. He even sounded hot, and it tormented you. You could tell he was close to cumming by the way his hips stuttered slightly, how vocal he was getting.

“Fuck… I didn't expect you to feel so— so good." he whined out, dipping down his head, holding your ass tight as he probably could've. It hurt, but not as bad as being bitten or slapped.

He quickly leaned his head back to the ceiling, mouth agape with small whines leaving his throat. With his hand still on your clit, you could actually feel yourself getting closer. The way he looked in the dark in that mirror was somewhat driving you crazy. Yet, you dared not look at yourself, feeling a shame that you think will never be cured.

“Oh— God… fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled out incoherently, suddenly burying his hips into you as deep as he could've gotten, dipping his torso down to bite harshly on your shoulder.

Somehow that was the tipping point for you, feeling that bite and his warm spurts of cum burst into you, foreign and good. Feeling your brain go numb and your mouth agape, your legs trembled heavily.

With that, a loud and drawn out whine left your puffy lips, your hands gripping the duvet sheets as tight as they could. He stood still besides the feeling of his cock still twitching inside of you.

His chest heaved heavily, pressing against your back tight as he popped his hips into you a few more times, just to fuck his cum into you. Leaning back up with a shaky groan, he examined the damage he did to you.

Bruised ass and hips, bites all over your shoulder and neck, slight blood, your crying face in the mirror, and despite all that: he made you cum. He was actually rather proud of himself for that, even though he swore he would just kill you after.

Biting his lip and pulling his cock out of you, stuffing himself inside his boxers once more, he began to speak.

“You're pathetic.” He hissed.

Buttoning his pants back up, he tore himself off that bed, leaving you alone in it. Picking up that sweater from off the floor and the knife he had stuffed in it, he examined you once more. He darted his eyes from the shiny knife to your body, shaky and limp, yet still crying.

“Can't even move now, huh? I dumbed you down real good…” he stepped over you, dragging the knife up and down your spine, watching the goosebumps it gave you.

“Too bad I can't kill you. Your cunt feels to good.” He whispered to your ear.

With that, he stuffed the knife back in his pocket and swung your bedroom door open. He would of course rather just leave through the front door. Turning back to your body, he chuckled.

“I’d prefer you leave your front door unlocked rather than your window.”

another a/n: i deeply apologize for how nasty this is! enjoy and take dark smut crumbs, my fellow jackson rippner lovers.

[soulwrencher]

Hey i just read your fanfic "and still i answer your call when she doesn't answer at all". and i loved it, i wonder if you could maybe make a part 2 if you have time, And if you want too. And ofcourse, you dont have to do it or rush it

hi! thank you sm <3 yes ofc i can, haven't written in a hot minute so;

and still i answer your call when she doesn't answer at all, part 2

pairing: ellie x fem!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, cheating, nsfw, curse words, soft?? ellie but highkey salty, not proofread yet again, lesbian sex <3, and also first time writing smut plsplspls have mercy on me, xoxo

word count: 3,9k

summary: you visit ellie again to thank her for comforting and taking care of you, but things take a different course when your 'girlfriend' texts you. or; ellie eats you out.

as warm tones start to set into the blue sky, february doesn't seem so cold anymore.

all your worries were washed away, all thanks to ellie. after you stormed to her place at the most vile hour, ellie took good care of you, the two of you watched your favourite movies until you fell asleep and she prepared you some breakfast before you had to leave for work. guilt resides in the pits of your gut, your gratefulness has never left the four walls of your mind, it is time you finally thank ellie for everything she has done for you these past few days.

you spent the whole day in bed, sulking away while thoughts of your girlfriend cross your mind. you reach for your phone, no message from her.

as you take steady steps to your closet you realise that there's no turning back now. you've made up your mind, it is over. but you needed good advice from a very good friend, surely ellie would have all the answers to your questions. flicking through all the clothes in your closet, memories of your girlfriend start to occupy your mind. the dress you wore on your first date, the hoodie she bought you on a rainy november day, the graphic tee you wore the first time she made you cry, and all the other clothes that witnessed you being miserable because of her. it had to end, now.

all dressed up now, you wash your face, washing the smudged mascara from yesterday's crying away. lately your emotions have been all over the place but you told yourself it is better to feel them rather than bottling everything up.

ready to leave, you text ellie a simple 'i'm gonna stop by your place' shortly regretting that you didn't text her earlier. but to your luck she replies almost immediately.

'sure, have you eaten?' the words circle your mind. you don't know whether you're impressed by the fact that she answered so quickly or that she potentially knew you haven't eaten a single thing yet.

'no' you reply, slipping your phone into your pocket while fishing out your keys that you mindlessly put in your pockets before locking the door.

you step outside and cold wind is blowing your way. the sky has already lost itself in complete darkness, but the clouds haven't shied away, surrounding the moons light.

ellie is just as nervous as the last time you were here, although now she had something to keep herself busy with: cooking.

keeping it simple, because she's too scared to mess up, but not too boring, ellie doesn't want you to think that she can't cook.

a dilemma she might never escape, because she knows you don't overthink any of your actions towards her. but should she really be thinking about this right now? ellie tries her best to feel somewhat content that you're coming over. however, knowing that she is one-sidedly overthinking her actions, caring for your needs and, well, liking you, she can't help but feel like burning this entire kitchen down instead of cooking a nice meal for the two of you.

"shit," ellie groans as she feels the blade digging into her fingertip. this for sure wasn't part of the cute scenarios she just made up nor was it part of her plan to burn this kitchen down. ellie rushes to find a plaster, a bandage, anything to put on her finger.

the door rings, ellie rushes to the door, heavy footsteps echo and bounce off the stairwell walls. the sound of you felt like a mixture of butterflies and sour lemons in her guts.

and there you stand, right in front of her. something in the fresh evening air must've altered your brain chemistry, because why do you feel her eyes linger? and why do you want them to? your emotional imbalance is surely to blame, you most definitely lack attentiveness and consideration. ellie lightly clearing her throat interrupts your almost driving you to insanity monologue, your eyes now drawn to her body.

has your friend's arms always looked this big? she's just wearing a plain white t-shirt, but you can't seem to stop yourself from tracing the strokes of her tattoo with your eyes. soft hello's were exchanged before ellie offered to take off your jacket. the outfit you picked out today and deemed too light for your own comfort suddenly became ridiculously warm.

"how have you been?" ellie asks, making her way to the kitchen as you awkwardly stand in the hallway trying to cool down.

"better? uh, do you mind if i change?" your voice breaks a little, you lightly chuckle to cover your discomfort.

ellie shakes her head, her whole attention directed towards the plates she's trying to decorate nicely with the food she has just made. truth is, she's trying her hardest not to think about you changing, about your bare, soft skin, about—

"oh my god," it emerges from ellie's bedroom, ripping ellie out of her mildly inappropriate thoughts. she was so sure that she cleaned her room well, even checked multiple times and every corner, what on earth did you find? she fiddles with her hands as she walks towards her bedroom, door slightly open. the auburn haired woman doesn't believe in god, but on this very day, she is making all kinds of prayers, hoping for the best. ellie opens the door and seeing you sit on her bed with your phone in your hand is surprisingly disappointing.

you watch her stand at the doorframe, her arms crossed, flexing her buff arms. you can't ignore her furrowed eyebrows, but when ellie notices the concern written all over your face she mouths a low 'what happened?'

you turn around your phone for ellie to read the text message your girlfriend just sent you.

'hey baby, can we talk? i'm really sorry' ellie reads in her head. she definitely prayed for all the wrong reasons, because this is exponentially worse than anything she feared just a minute ago.

"why are you showing me this?" she asks, her voice low. she's still standing in front of you, looking down on you. her gaze on you makes you feel things you haven't felt in a long time. but your girlfriend just texted you and is apologising for her actions, you need to focus. but something about the way her eyes are locking you in is making it a little harder to breathe.

you take a deep breath, you need oxygen to clear your head.

"well, i came here because i needed advice—" you carefully watch ellie approaching you slowly.

"—i wanted to end things with her but—" you thought you were attentive enough but you're taken aback by ellie's big hands resting on your thighs, her face dangerously close to yours. you steal a small glimpse at her tired eyes piercing you through before continuing. her being so close causes your breath to shorten, you're hoping your all that she can't see your chest lifting.

"—she apologised now, so we're good," you say. ellie's eyes widen in disbelief, slightly tilting her head.

"are you serious?" she scoffs, her eyes shut close before searching for answers in yours. you nod and watch ellie drop her head in disappointment, followed by several scoffs and sighs.

"no you're not," she says under her breath, disappointment slowly spiralling into exasperation. ellie can't tolerate this any longer. whether it is your dumb decisions or your inability to see your worth, she won't take this anymore. and it might be selfish to get angry at you for not seeing her more than just a friend, but she did decide on a whim while cooking that this is the day where she finally tells you. however the manner things are progressing for now seem to be reaching a dead end.

"i have to reply though," you mumble, but ellie's furrowed eyebrows insinuate you to feel insecure about your decision.

"you don't," ellie says, as an auburn hair strand looses itself from her split ponytail. her arm reaches for your phone, but you hold it up by reflex, you didn't expect her to grab for your phone. however, you forget that you're the one sitting and she'd just have to stand up straight to get your phone, so you rapidly throw your back onto the mattress, arms far away, she surely won't be able to get your phone now.

"fuck, you can't be—" ellie hesitates, and you smile triumphantly, until you feel something weighting you down. your eyes widen in realisation, did ellie just climb on top of you? your body's brush now and then against each other while she's trying to reach for your phone. you're about to turn to the side when you feel ellie's strong hands hold your wrist down, making it impossible for you to move. for a minute, you forget why you wanted to turn away as you loose yourself in her sage green eyes. and that's when realisation hits you, you're under her, at the mercy of her big, strong arms. ellie doesn't keep eye contact for long, her eyes are fixated on stealing your phone, your eyes are focused on her jaw line. you're being held down, her knees restricting your upper body from the sides, her chest alarmingly close to your face. your grip around your phone softens, your too distracted by her presence pressing and holding you down.

you hear ellie whisper a 'finally' before you're eye to eye again. ellie was too busy taking your phone away and only notices now how close the two of you are. your chests lightly brush against each other, ellie still pinning you down to the bed. her grip tightens around your wrist as she thinks about the way you're still so caught up with your girlfriend, but the fact that she has your full attention for once overrides all the anger she bottled up. you gulp down and break away from her gaze, looking to the side, where she's holding you down.

"what happened to your finger?" you finally break the silence, earning a low chuckle from ellie. she's breathing right onto your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

you watch ellie's lip move, form words, pressing against each other softly.

"you sure you wanna text your girlfriend?" the last words pull you out of the daze her lips put you in, she surely must've said something important. you need to focus. you have to ignore that your body is screaming to be held, to be touched.

the thought of ellie touching you has never crossed your mind until... now. this very thought makes you want to adjust your lower body, arching your back slightly.

ellie can't help but notice all the movement happening below her. she's never been this close to you. and knowing she has your undivided attention all to herself, she can't hold back any longer.

her chest bumps against yours as she slightly moves up, her hand reaching for your chin, holding it in between her thumb and bandaged index finger. you're forced to hold eye contact with her, her breath tickling your face. your chest doesn't even rise anymore, only falling lower and lower until the movement travels to your lower back.

it's hard to breathe and it's hard to think, you feel your eyes wander from her green eyes to her lips.

"do i have something on my lips?" ellie asks, while looking down on you.

"no?" you're confused, finally pulled out of trance. she tilts your head to the side, at which you sharply inhale.

"you're staring," ellie whispers into your neck, the sensation insinuates you to hold your breath. you see a smile creep up her face from the corner of your eye, your heartbeat must've dropped to your abdomen at this very sight. all your morals and values must have left you on this night, because you want nothing more than ellie. she always directs you to make the right decision, so you want to believe that she will stop you from pursuing your inappropriate thoughts. with your free hand you reach for the hem of ellie's t-shirt, holding onto it desperately.

"ellie," you say out of breath. something about the way you called for her name made her lose it all, the breathlessness, your voice, the feeling of your body under hers.

her narrowed eyes fill with desperation, hunger, and lust. the sight of you underneath her tingles on her fingertips, ready to roam your body.

ellie takes a deep breath, lifting your face by your chin. she observe your lips carefully as she traces the outlines with her thumb.

"can i?" ellie finally asks, her eyes nervously looking for a place to rest on. you look up to her through your lashes, your grip tightening on her t-shirt. she makes you feel so needed, so incredibly wanted. your mind tells you to put an end to this but the feeling growing in between your thighs can't be ignored any longer. you shut your eyes close, then take one more look at ellie.

her arms could hold you up without struggling, her hands look so sturdy, she could touch you just the way you need her to.

sharply inhaling, you nod, and a smile creeps up her face. and you still feel said smile as she presses her lips against yours.

you didn't know that such a gentle kiss left you eager for more, and you find your hands entangled in her hair, frantically holding onto ellie.

the way your hands speak for what's going on on your mind makes ellie's blood rush through her veins, the soft fabric of your top rubbing up against her arm drives her insane as your skin is exposed every now and then.

ellie's hands glide over your body as her lips devour you impatiently. the sensation of her fingertips linger and you can't keep up any longer. she wants more of you, sloppy kisses emphasise that her attention has shifted from your lips to your body.

you can't help but notice her t-shirt riding up every so often, abdomen exposed.

"fuck," ellie groans, your bottom lip tugged in between her teeth. her hands finally have found a place to rest, a little under your chest, cupping your breasts. her gentle eyes meet yours, pressing her lips to a thin line before speaking.

"can i take your shirt off?" ellie's voice is slightly raspy and it's just enough to worsen the pressure in between your thighs. you squeeze them tightly, earning raised eyebrows from ellie.

"only if you take yours off too," you shoot back, because you can't be doing the wrong thing one-sidedly. however, didn't you want to end things with your girlfriend? she was practically an ex by now, you would've told her soon enough.

ellie sits up, her inner thighs pressing against your waist.

"oh? then, take your bra off too," ellie says, as she trails kisses on your neck, hot, slow and wet. you slightly arch your neck while biting down a moan. this is getting too heated for your own comfort and you can see yourself making noises only a few instances away, this needs to stop.

but ellie keeps on sucking, biting and licking your neck, making it impossible to keep quiet. and to make matters worse, she pushes her thigh all the way up against your aching spot, resulting you to softly moan.

"shit, didn't know texting your girlfriend back included moaning for me," ellie spits, the bitter taste of her fury still hasn't left her tongue. you're taken aback by her words but the sensation on your neck is keeping you in a trance you can't break away from. ellie's had enough of waiting, so she switches position with you, making you sit on top of her lap. she lifts your t-shirt, every inch of exposed skin is followed by hungry kisses until the shirt is off of you. you don't necessarily like sitting on top, too many vulnerable spots to be explored. ellie's rough hands glide down the sides of your upper body until they comfortably rest above your hips. her fingers graze over your body making breathing impossible, you feel it all the way down your lower abdomen.

and as if her big sturdy hands roaming over your body wasn't enough, she reaches for your back, undoing your bra with one hand.

you watch her smirk cockily as the straps of your bra fall to the sides, exposing your shoulders, and more importantly your chest. ellie bites down her lip as she cups your breasts, giving them a good, firm squeeze before locking eyes with you.

"you're tits look so fucking perfect," she groans, letting the palm of her hand brush against your hard nipples while ellie feels your hips tilt to the back at the touch of your skin, back arched for a moment only. she then pinches them and teases you even more, so you try to stop her and you reach out for her hand. however, you mistakenly grab her tattooed forearm, grasping it firmly to push her away from you. ellie chuckles at your unfortunate attempt to break away from her.

"you want them inside of you?" she teases, while breathing hot air onto your nipples. your eyes widen in surprise, when have you implied that? you suddenly feel heat creep up your neck, panic written all over your face. in response, ellie points to the forearm you've been digging your nails into.

"oh," you say, rapidly drawing your hands in.

"no, it's fine," she says while putting your arms around her, lifting you slightly up to lay you on her bed. her fingers are hooked on your waistband while taking your pants off. you've never seen anyone look this hot taking pants off, loose hair strands covering her face, you can't tell her facial expression.

all you see is her muscular shoulders and arms flexing while she undresses you.

you realise that wearing grey underwear will be the death of you as you hear ellie laugh lowly. you sense her blowing hot air against your clit, oh god is she a tease, you think to yourself.

"so fucking wet and i haven't even touched you? would love to hear your girlfriend's opinion on this," ellie scoffs, while observing the hot mess you are.

"ellie, for fucks sake i'm—"

"you're what?" eyebrows raised, hands resting on your thighs. you take a deep breath. talking about this while you're about to do it is not just incredibly anticlimactic but also immensely nerve wrecking. her eyes are like a ticking bomb, the longer you keep her waiting the more the disappointment grows, her gentle eyes turning tired.

"i'm ending things with her," you finally say.

"you surely will after today," ellie responds, her fingertip firmly pressing on your clit, only fabric separating her from your skin.

you gasp and your stomach rises almost immediately at the pressure you feel, causing you to squeeze your thighs tightly together. however, ellie slips her rough hand in between them, mouthing an 'open' towards your direction which you deemed useless since ellie opened your legs forcibly on her own. she holds one of your thighs down while pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your throbbing, wet clit. she holds two fingers out, gliding them over you to moisturise them before sliding them inside of you. the sensation of her fingers inside of you causes you to arch your back, throw back your head and dig your nails into her scalp.

"easy, love," she whispers, her fingers curved inside of you. ellie starts off slow, with every thrust you exhale shortly, until they turn into soft moans. her unexpectedly breathing against your clit makes you go insane, you feel the sensation give you goosebumps all over you body.

your body leaves ellie mesmerised, the way you move at her touch worsens her need to keep you all to herself, to devour you. she never imagined you to be this gorgeous, this attractive. she wants more of you and desperately wants the taste of you on her tongue. and not a second later, ellie made up her mind, she adjusts herself and pulls your panties further to the side, having full view of you.

"gorgeous," she mutters before crashing onto your clit, letting her tongue slowly slide to the top before making her way back down again. you pull at her hair in reaction, your other hand gripping her bed sheets. ellie moves the tip of her tongue up and down before tugging your clit in between her lips softly, sucking it in.

your moans become shaky and her sucking becomes more intense. you feel your whole body tense up as she presses her parted lips lightly around you, her tongue slowly flicking your clit inside of her mouth. she then lets go of you, you hold your breath.

you're numbed by the sensation and can't tell what's going on, you either feel her fingers pump inside of you or her tongue absolutely devouring you. you can't keep up any longer and ellie doesn't even leave space for a moment to breathe or think, you only feel, and that deeply.

all you hear are the wet noises you make against ellie's tongue and her grunts that unexpectedly turn you on. nails digging into her hair, back arched to the ceiling and your mind so far gone that all your responses to ellie's teasing questions are mindless moans, you feel her push even harder inside of you, causing you to jolt. ellie grins onto your clit as she notices your throbbing take on a slow, rhythmic pace, your insides clasping around her fingers in said rhythm. your hips move in circles, you desperately want to come, you've never felt this good.

and ellie keeps her thrusts consistent, just as the movement of her tongue, only increasing the speed of it. the taste of you sends her to another dimension, she already knows that this will leave her hungry for more. and so your back shoots up, forcing your hip all the way down and clutching around ellie's fingers, a sharp, but loud moan escaping your mouth. content with her work, ellie plants a kiss on your clit, your body shuddering in response. she slowly removes her fingers, your body shivers once more.

you're still in a haze, but ellie hovering over you pulls you out of it, her glistening lips are mesmerising. you see her lose strands sticking to her forehead, a few pearls of sweat on her well built arms. ellie observes your eyes, the way you look so gorgeous in the dimmed light worries her that she might do more.

"good job," she whispers into your neck, goosebumps spreading across your skin. you mutter a 'thank you' which makes you realise you're thanking her for all the wrong reasons. she lays down beside you and holds her right arm out, suggesting you to rest your head on it. you scoot closer, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathes.

"thank you for... the past few days," you say quietly into her chest. ellie scoffs shortly, raises her right arm to the back of your head and pats you. only now you notice that she has taken her shirt off, you don't recall that happening but you surely don't mind the view. you then feel ellie reach out for something, your phone in her hand.

"now text your girlfriend back and make sure to let her know that i'm here."

a/n: hello sorry for taking so long to update, was busy with exams, i was on renee rapp's concert as well (she's so attractive oh god) and yes. enjoy my first attempt at smut :)

[antiquarianfics]

Making Waves

Bucky gives you a pep talk when life’s beating down on you a little too hard.

a/n: unedited as always. this is also just a comfort fic. just bucky making you feel better. this can be read romantic or platonic. whatever floats your boat.

warnings: sexist themes, profanity

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

“I thought I might find you out here.”

You sigh as you tilt your head up in acknowledgment of your intrusion, unsure if it’s welcome or not. In fact, you’re not sure how you feel about much at the moment. Your mind is swimming in uncertainties and insecurities that you feel a personal obligation to figure out or overcome. Nevertheless, you don’t protest the welcome/unwelcome (pick one, dammit!) company as it sits down next to you, providing a little warmth against the night’s cold to your right.

Your company had found you sitting alone on the beach, right at the shore, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs and holding them close, fingers anxiously fiddling with a ring on your finger, and staring at the waves as they crashed against the shore over and over again. The sea, you’d found, is calming. The repetitive nature of the ocean crashing against the shore and retreating back into itself feels honest to you. You may lie to yourself, the world may lie to you, but the sea? The sea will always find a way to reveal to you a hidden treasure you never knew you were looking for.

“That predictable?” You finally ask, responding to your newfound company.

You turn your head and make eye contact with your friend who’d come searching for you. You’re met with concerned eyes the color you’re certain the sea would be if it weren’t dark—the only light coming from the moon reflecting upon the water.

Your friend gives you a look, raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips. He’d found out the beach had become your favorite spot to run off to early on in your friendship, but he also knew you only ran for the beach when something was troubling you.

“You seemed upset,” is all he says.

“Bucky, I…” You trail off, not really sure what you meant to even say to him. What do you even want to say to him? That you’re upset by some media rumors about you? That you got your feelings hurt because a stupid clickbait article claims you’re dating a man you hate? That you feel like a failure as an Avenger, or a hero, or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be anymore if all your worth to the public is tied up in who they think you have in your bed? You don’t finish your thought and return your gaze to the ocean.

Bucky is silent for a long while, just sitting and watching the waves with you. He is absolutely no stranger to needing to sit and sift through feelings, and he is also no stranger to unwanted media attention messing with his sanity. So, he lets you sit for a minute, but he also knows the longer that anger and frustration cook up inside you, the worse off you’ll be. You taught him that.

“Doll, you’ve gotta talk about it or it’s gonna eat you alive. You know that,” Bucky says softly. Empathetically.

“Bucky,” you whine, tired and still unwilling to talk.

“Okay, don’t talk. I will,” he says, swallowing nervously. He’s obviously out of his comfort zone, and you can’t help but look at him.

You let your eyes rest on your friend once more, and you take in his worried demeanor. His stormy blue eyes are set on the ocean, watching the waves as he gathers his thoughts. You realize, then, that he isn’t comfortable with what he’s doing—he’d much rather be listening to you talk. He’d much rather offer a small piece of advice after you talk, or maybe give you a hug and hope that fixes you. But he cares about you, and he’s trying to do the same thing you’ve done for him countless times: voice your observations about what might be upsetting your friend so that the problem is out and a solution can be found.

“You’re upset,” Bucky starts hesitantly, “because of a gossip piece that’s circulating the internet right now.”

You don’t argue with him, and Bucky takes that as confirmation.

“The gossip piece claims that you’re dating John Walker and dubs you the new “it” couple even though you hate the guy and punched him the face the last time you saw him.”

You laugh humorlessly.

“Then, that video clip from Walker’s interview started circulations where he all but confirms the rumors.”

You clench your fist in annoyance.

“That about right?”

“Yeah, that’s about it,” you say.

“I’d be angry, too,” he says.

“It’s just…” You trail off, closing your eyes tight trying to fight off tears. “It’s just that it doesn’t matter to them that I was an Avenger! It doesn’t matter that I helped defeat Loki, or Ultron, or Thanos. I’ve done so much for this city, and they don’t care. Not because they don’t care that New York was saved by the Avengers, but because the boy heroes are just better. I’m turned into an unwilling superhero eye candy, and, despite all my accomplishments, they can’t bring up my name without attaching it to a man’s. One of the articles doesn’t even mention my name! The article is really just titled ‘Mrs. Captain America?’ Like, really? I want to hit something.”

Bucky frowns, nodding as you rant and waiting patiently for you to finish. When you do, you’re breathing heavily, obviously worked up.

“You’re more than just ‘unwilling superhero eye candy,’” Bucky says, nose scrunching in disgust as he repeats your words. You can’t help it, but you laugh. The words sound so silly coming from his mouth. He smiles.

“You’re right. It’s really messed up that the public isn’t acknowledging all you’ve actually done to protect them, but you know that you’re more than that. That’s what matters. Because as long as you remember who you are, what you stand for, and what you do, then that person and her accomplishments are going to be noticed by the people who need to notice them. Do you know how many little girls probably saw you and Natasha fighting in all those fights and realized they could do that, too? When I was growing up, my sister didn’t have anyone like you to look up to. I wish she had.”

Bucky reaches up and wipes away the tears that are silently streaming down your cheeks. You reach up and haphazardly wipe away what he missed with the back of your hand. You hadn’t realized you were crying.

“Thank you, Buck,” you say. “I needed that.”

“I mean it, Doll.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

[slightlyobsessedwitheverything]

a breakdown of tommy kinard’s past appearances

so. like many of you, i’ve been getting a little bit tired of seeing the same “wait wasn’t tommy a racist/homophobe? why do we like him now?” posts for the last few weeks. so i wanted to do a small breakdown of every time he has previously appeared on screen, along with his action and inaction regarding the casual bigotry of the 118 under captain gerrard.

this is gunna be a long one boys so, strap in lol

season 3 episode 12: chim begins

i’m going to go in chronological order here rather than episodic order just for character development’s sake

tommy’s first appearance in this episode is about 11 minutes in, after the first commercial break. the current 118 are sitting down to dinner when chim arrives. tommy spots him and asks, “hey eli, you forget to tip the delivery guy?” i would say this could be a genuine question based on the fact that chim’s in his civvies, but he’s got his go bag that says “FIREFIGHTER” on his shoulder so. seems like he’s just being a smartass.

(*edit: it’s been pointed out to me that considering they had ordered chinese food, this could have been an instance of casual racism, and i am inclined to agree)

he’s not seen much during chim’s montage of just doin’ shit around the firehouse, until the point where the 118 come back covered in mud. tommy spots chim and asks him, “you still here?” again, just kind of general dickishness. not really anything to write home about.

a small kind of background tommy moment we get after chim’s montage is right as the team is returning from a call, and chim tries to tell them about the older couple who he helped earlier in the day.

tommy: what about that burger place?

gerrard: tommy, you know i hate that place

chim: hey guys, weirdest thing happened today… *he is ignored*

gerrard: hey, wasn’t your girlfriend supposed to come and cook us dinner?

tommy: uh, next tuesday.

gerrard: promise?

tommy: uh— uh, yes. yeah, i will promise…

now. i’m going to leave that up to interpretation, however i have opinions regarding that bit going forward. but! that’s ultimately not what this post is about, so perhaps another time.

the next scene is a pretty major one. chim is getting ready in the locker room, and tries to strike up a conversation with tommy when he walks in to gather some things (deodorant, toothbrush, soap it seems like, none of these details matter i just think they’re fun).

chim repeatedly tried to get tommy to open up to him about the things he likes, saying “tell me what your thing is and i’ll make it mine.” though, tommy just ignores him. we see a close up of him closing his eyes and sighing in exasperation.

chim asks, “…you just really don’t like me much, do you?” and tommy, for the first time, responds to chim’s questions with, “if i thought about you at all, honestly, i probably wouldn’t.” and he leaves.

later, after eli recruits chim to be a paramedic, they have a conversation regarding what he witnessed in the locker room between chim and tommy. eli tells him that it’s not personal, and that “in this job, friends die. funerals are held. they’re not going to just give you their friendship until you earn their respect. they’re not just protecting you, they’re protecting themselves.” and this ultimately makes sense with what we saw in tommy in that earlier scene. he didn’t really seem annoyed or upset at chim’s insistence to get to know him, just apprehensive mostly. he wasn’t cruel to him, and he hasn’t been. just… kind of a dick.

in the fire truck, on the way to the barn burner, tommy is sitting next to him and looks over at chim, as chim seems to be exhibiting signs of nervousness (this is his first real call as a firefighter after all)

(however, this is a moment where chim’s reality and his past start to bleed into each other so i am not sure how accurate this is to the moment.)

we don’t get much in the next scene aside from tommy’s presence at kevin’s funeral. when chim is ringing the bell, tommy is behind him and briefly looks toward chim, likely noticing how chim is attempting to hold himself together.

the next major scene is the call at the shopping mall, where there was some sort of structural collapse. based on the symptoms of the people that were in the mall, chim assumes there is a gas leak, which gerrard waves off. he calls for tommy over the radio, and receives no response.

chim has a realization that they’re dealing with a methane leak, and runs inside the mall to retrieve tommy.

just as the building explodes, chim runs out with tommy over his shoulder. though in this scene “tommy” is clearly a dummy prop and it is so fucking funny once you notice how floppy it is.

then we get probably the greatest scene in all of 911 where chim is in the waiting room waiting for news on tommy and reality starts to bleed into the flashback while “exit music (for a film)” by radiohead plays . it has pretty much nothing to do with this post i just wanted to say how much i LOVE this scene. anyway.

the penultimate scene of the episode starts off with chim in the locker room tucking in his shirt. tommy walks in and, with no preamble, says, “love actually, monster trucks, craft beer.”

chim realizes that this is a response to their last locker room interaction. he asks tommy how his head is feeling, tommy replies, “still fat, but clearer. you saved my life. thank you.” and shakes chimney’s hand, before pulling him into a hug. this is where their friendship begins.

in this episode, i didn’t notice anything that could really be construed as bigotry (see edit*), he was just kind of a dick at first and most of that can boil down to him being closed off and not wanting to open up before there’s a level of respect there.

(though, keep in mind i am white so there is a definite possibility that i could have missed something more racially motivated, however i didn't see anything glaring)

season 3 episode 9: hen begins

tommy’s first appearance (ever) is about 13 and a half minutes into the episode when captain gerrard introduces the team to their new “diversity hire” (after greeting her himself with a few blatantly misogynistic comments)

when tommy first sees hen, he smiles and asks “who’s this?”

when gerrard calls her a “diversity hire,” the smile leaves tommy’s face and he looks back at gerrard with somewhat of a blank expression, contrasted with sal deluca’s disbelieving smirk and comment of “for real?”

chimney then defends hen, gerrard walks away after saying they’re screwed. tommy once again looks between hen and gerrard before ultimately following him away from the railing.

it is not clear what exactly his reaction to hen joining the team actually is at that moment, whether he wanted to speak up like chim or express disdain like sal, as he remained silent.

at dinner, tommy asks sal what he and his girlfriend did the night previous, where the movie “twilight” comes up. sal makes a comment about kristen stewart being hot, and hen joins in thinking she found something in common with these guys to talk about, but sal ignores her and she walks away. (i think the writers may have genuinely forgotten kstew was only 17 in that movie but that’s neither here nor there)

tommy chimes in saying he “doesn’t get that” and that she’s “too brooding” for him, to which sal responds, “maybe you’re more of a team jacob kind of guy.”

tommy says he has no idea what that means, and chim clarifies that sal is insinuating that he’s gay.

sal laughs at this and at tommy’s reaction, and tommy jokingly blows him a kiss, smiles, and goes back to his food.

(here is a gifset of the scene)

chim then invites hen into the conversation by asking where she’s from. when he tells her he assumed she was an east coaster and that it was a compliment, tommy replies with “new york bitchiness is a compliment?” (score 1 for the misogyny bucket)

chim calls him out, and he just kind of huffs and looks at gerrard, but ultimately moves on.

tommy doesn’t really say or do much else in this scene besides sit silently while gerrard is sexist towards hen and hen stands her ground. in the end, sal looks toward tommy and nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. they both get up and leave the table.

nothing of note happens in the mudslide scene with tommy, most of the conflict is between hen and gerrard. the scene where gerrard makes her man behind as well. tommy is in the background and sees this happen, but says nothing. though, i also need to add that in these moments, chim does not say anything either.

the next scene tommy is in is when hen makes her announcement to the team about how she is not going anywhere.

i once again want to point out the difference in tommy vs sal in this scene. sal has his hands on his hips and his lips tight in a somewhat annoyed looking fashion, and he looks to the side where tommy is to gauge his reaction.

whereas tommy, has his arms folded and is looking down at the floor at first, before looking up towards hen. and while gerrard and chim have their arms crossed as well, i want to point out that tommy is holding one arm while the other sits around his waist. he looks a bit sheepish if i’m being honest, like he knows they’re about to be scolded.

when hen says for them to “see me as i see you, as a proud member of this department,” tommy turns to look behind him and makes eye contact with chim.

now, there’s not a whole lot i can glean from this interaction as is, but as we know from “chim begins,” tommy trusts chim so it’s possible he wants to get chim’s opinion. he seems to do this a lot i’ve noticed, looking between the people around him to gauge their reactions to what is going on.

nothing much of note for the car accident scene, HOWEVER. in the scene immediately after, sal and tommy address hen directly for the first time to give her some praise for her call on that scene. sal tells her “nice work yesterday,” and tommy tells her that they would have found the other car eventually, but eventually would have been too late.

hen states she “just got lucky,” to which sal responds, “screw that. you’re good,” and both he and tommy shake hen’s hand. tommy even gives her a light smack on the shoulder as he walks away and hen absolutely BEAMS.

then of course, hen is told that gerrard was removed from his position because his conduct was reported and “more than a few of your fellow firefighters have your back.” we know chim is absolutely one of them, and i can infer that based on tommy and sal’s reactions to hen’s speech and their interaction with her just before this scene, it is very likely they are as well.

in this episode, there were definitely some more moments of blatant bigotry in this episode, but other than the “new york bitchiness” line, tommy doesn’t really directly contribute to any of it. he seems to be more of a follower, constantly gauging how others feel and just playing along. complicity is still an issue of it’s own, do not get me wrong, but considering i keep seeing people say he made racist/homophobic comments, i feel like its a reasonable thing to point out.

season 3 episode 16: bobby begins again

tommy’s final on screen appearance begins with hen taking bets on how long the new captain will last. tommy asks hen to put him down for 4 weeks on credit, and they (hen, tommy, sal, and chim) banter a little. they all seem to have a pretty good relationship with each other at this point.

bobby pops out of the firetruck and places his own bet on himself, and tommy just kind of looks sheepish since they got called out.

to be real, tommy doesn’t do a whole lot in this episode either. most of the conflict is between bobby and sal. most of what we see is him in the background silently judging bobby’s lack of LA knowledge along with hen and chim. he does have some silly little moments during the chicken chase though.

(here's a great gifset of that scene)

bobby calls out to sal to talk to him after the restaurant fire, and sal keeps walking but tommy stops and waits, looking between bobby and sal.

sal says, “you’re a piece of work. you come in here with your nose in the air and your eyes looking down–” tommy interrupts sal and tells him to stop.

sal keeps digging into bobby, and tommy in the background, looks to chim and hen and shakes his head, seemingly telling them not to get in the middle of it.

sal says he has the skill to lead the 118, bobby retorts with, “but not the temperament.” sal then drops his bag and stomps toward bobby so he can get in his face. tommy moves to go after him, but chim gets between sal and bobby before anything can happen.

bobby fires sal, and tommy is just standing there with the rest of his team wondering what the hell happened.

we then have the bar scene! chim, hen, and tommy hanging out at the bar before bobby ends up joining them.

they have a good time and show off their scars to each other. tommy quotes fight club, chim laughs, bobby leaves to solve the arson.

(again, here's another gifset)

at the end we see a bit more of the team together, bobby starting to cook for them, and finally the scene of chim and hen popping out of the ambulance with balloons and a cake for tommy as he transfers to the 217. they all seem to be fairly close at this point.

(another gifset for good measure)

and other than chim calling on him for a water drop in 2x14, that’s about it until he returns in season 7.

in conclusion

to me, it seems like tommy is a bit of a follower and tends to just go along with what the people around him are doing, ESPECIALLY under gerrard. captain gerrard fostered a really toxic work environment and its no wonder others like sal were never really called out on their shit. and tommy mostly seemed to follow sal’s lead or stay quiet.

“chimney begins” takes place around 2006-ish, “hen begins” around 2008, and “bobby begins again” takes place around 2017 i believe. and between 2006 and 2024, based on what we see, its easy to see that tommy has indeed grown and changed many of his attitudes, especially when in a healthier work environment. now can we please stop acting like he’s this irredeemable piece of shit and see him for what he really is: a flawed person who grows and learns from others, like every other character on this show.

[redrose10]

Could you do arranged marriage with yoongi, prompt 68, and a happy ending🥺

I hope this is okay!

<Fire & Ice>

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, slightly suggestive, mentions of being drunk

#68 “Seems like you have to sleep here tonight”

When you first entered into an arranged marriage with Min Yoongi you did your best to try and make it work. Sure it wasn’t ideal and you would’ve rather fallen in love on your own terms but it was done and over with and you were determined to try your best and make things work.

The first time he broke you down though was on your wedding night. His parents had rented a large suit at the most luxurious hotel in the city so that the two of you wouldn’t have to travel far after the reception. You were nervous but hopeful and maybe even a little excited. You changed out of your big ball gown of a dress and were waiting on the bed for Yoongi. When the door finally swung open you perked up a little only to be shot down when he grabbed his clothes and told you he had booked his own room to sleep in and then left without sparing you a glance. You spent your wedding night cold and alone in a king size bed while your new husband was doing who knows what. A crack formed in your heart that night.

The next time he chipped away at that crack was a few months later. It was his birthday and you had spent the entire day cooking all of his favorite foods. It was a lot of work but you really wanted to impress him. He told you he’d be home at his normal time so the table was set and you had changed into a nice dress and had lit some candles. You waited and waited and thirty minutes late turned into two hours late turned into six hours late. Finally around 2am he came walking through the door completely ignoring you and all of the food that was now cold and ruined. After questioning him he let you know that his friends threw him a surprise party that you apparently had never been made aware of and he forgot to tell you he was going to be home late. He tried to apologize but you fought back tears as you shoved his present into his chest and stormed off to your bedroom. The crack in your heart grew quite a bit that night.

There were other things that chipped away at it here and there. Hurtful words and spiteful glares. The few times you would go out of your comfort zone and wear something to try and get his attention but he’d never do more than look in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere. There was the way he always introduced you simply by your name, never Mrs. Min or even My Wife. It made you feel like he didn’t want people to know.

There were moments of positivity though. The two of you talked a little bit. You both had a love for music which started many conversations. He sent you roses on your birthday. And you swore he showed the tiniest bit of jealousy when you ran into your physical trainer, Jungkook. You couldn’t quite make it out but you know you heard him mumble something about how he could have muscles like that if he really wanted to before telling you the car was ready even though it wasn’t and you two had to stand outside in the rain for an extra ten minutes. You got the feeling he just wanted to get you away from Jungkook.

One evening though, he finally shattered your heart beyond repair. Another night where he came home way later than he should have. You heard a loud crash in the living room followed by lots of giggles. You rush out there and found him stumbling around drunk out of his mind after having knocked over a vase. His two friends, Namjoon and Jimin, were off to the side not completely sober themselves but seemingly more coherent than your husband was.

Yoongi coming home drunk wasn’t anything knew or shocking. You were used to it by now. So you didn’t think twice when you went to help him up and get him in bed only to be stopped when you saw the large purple and red bruise on this neck. You threw his arm down like it had electrocuted you.

It had always been in the back of your mind that he was possibly cheating. You two had been together for many many months at this point never having done anything like that and it was starting to affect even you. You always pushed those thoughts away though but here was the evidence right in front of you.

Yoongi was too drunk to defend himself. Jimin and Namjoon begged you to listen to them as they could explain what happened but you didn’t care to hear it.

You stormed off back to your room leaving Yoongi passed out on the living room floor and his friends to sneak out knowing there was going to be a fight. That was the moment you fully closed yourself off from him and decided that you two were nothing more than business partners for photo-ops and charity events.

You spent the next year barely speaking or even seeing each other. The first couple weeks

Yoongi tried to explain what happened but you were having no part of it so eventually he gave up. You had bought your own apartment on the other side of the city and only interacted with him at events and family get togethers.

And then one day yours and his parents dropped a huge bombshell that you were not expecting. They wanted to know why the two of you had not produced an heir yet. You couldn’t help but laugh because the two of you were barely even on speaking term so how were you supposed to start a family. That opened up a whole bunch of questions from your families leading to them suggesting the two of you needed to spend time together to try and work on your relationship. It was non-negotiable and before you knew it plans were made and plane tickets were booked against your will.

And that’s how you found yourself alone with Yoongi in a snow covered cabin up in the mountains several hours away from your home.

“I am not sleeping in the same bed as you.”, you spat after you found out it was a one bedroom home.

“Okay sleep outside in the snow then. I don’t really care Y/N.”, he mumbled walking out of the bedroom.

You rolled your eyes but had already accepted that you would be spending a sleepless few nights on the couch because you refused to give in.

After the long trip all you wanted was a hot shower and to get into your comfy pjs so that’s what you did. By the time you were finished the cabin was filled with a heavenly aroma and you found Yoongi in the kitchen. There were two plates of food sitting on the counter. He had made your favorite. When he noticed you he gently slid one over in your direction and for the first time since the beginning of your marriage you felt something other than disdain for him. But you weren’t going to let him know that.

“Are you trying to poison me?”, you questioned.

“Eat it or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt a little bit of guilt watching him grab his plate and sulk over to the table. Quietly you took the second plate and joined him. You both sat in silence with him scrolling on his phone and you just staring at the snow falling outside the window. It seemed like a blizzard was forming as the snow fall had picked up quite a lot since you arrived.

“It’s snowing quite a bit. I hope we don’t loose power.”, you whispered while somewhat trying to gage his reaction to you speaking to him.

He nodded, “yeah I hope not.”

And as if the universe was playing a joke on you the lights flickered once…twice…and then the entire cabin went dark.

“You have to be kidding me.”, Yoongi grumbled before getting up to look for the fuse box.

While he was gone you got a notification from the rental company letting you know there was a power outage in the area due to the snow storm and the current time estimate for it to be fixed was at least 48 hours.

When Yoongi returned you showed him the text which only soured his mood more. He walked into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later bundled up in several layers.

“Where are you going?”, you asked concerned.

“Well without electricity we won’t have any heat. I saw an ax on porch. I’m gonna go chop some wood so that we can build a fire to keep warm.”

“Okay let me get dressed and I’ll come help you.”, you said already walking towards the bedroom. He stopped you furiously shaking his head, “No absolutely not.”

You felt a little hurt that he was so adamant against you going with him but you also knew you couldn’t really blame him either so you stopped your movements as he asked.

He must’ve noticed your reaction because he cleared his throat, “It’s cold and dangerous out there. Just stay in here and enjoy the warmth before it’s gone. I shouldn’t be long.”

You nodded and watched as he closed the door behind him.

You had gotten all the dishes cleaned up and were waiting around for Yoongi. He had been gone quite a while and you were starting to get worried. So you decided to get dressed and were about to head out when he came walking him struggling to get the door to close behind him thanks to the wind. His cheeks were flushed bright red from the cold as he dropped several logs of wood into the fireplace. Within a few minutes he had a fire going that slowly filled the room with much needed warmth.

The two of you sat on the couch in silence just watching the flames move and listing to the crackling of the fire.

After some time Yoongi left and returned with several pillows and blankets. He started laying them out in front of the fire place.

“Seems like you’ll have to sleep here.”, he said looking at you, “We’ll both have to sleep here.”

Your first instinct was to argue against it but then you felt a chill down your spine and you knew you would never make it through the night in the bedroom. So you nodded and joined him underneath your own blanket while he had his and you still made sure there was a considerable distance between the two of you.

The soft glow and the sounds provided by the fire were comforting and you could feel yourself slipping off to sleep fairly quickly until you heard Yoongi shift beside you for probably the hundredth time.

“Yoongi are you okay?”, you asked half concerned half annoyed.

“Yeah sorry. It’s just still so cold it’s hard to get comfy.”

You thought for a moment before taking a deep breath, “D-Do you want to get under the same blanket? We can use our combined body heat to keep warm.”

He became so quiet and still you almost felt embarrassed for even asking until he nodded and lifted up his blanket to give you space to get underneath it.

There was an immediate increase in warmth but you thought it was probably thanks to your body’s rising temperature from being so close to Yoongi.

The room returned to a noticeable silence until it was Yoongi who cleared his throat, “Y/N can I tell you something?”

“Mmhm.”, you nodded.

He took a deep breath, “I’ve never cheated on you.”

You were surprised he was bringing this up so nonchalantly and out of nowhere.

He continued, “That night…That night when I came home drunk and I had that bruise it wasn’t what you think. I was out having some drinks and there was this guy. He came up to me and was talking all this shit about me and my family and stuff. I tried to ignore him. But then…then he called you a gold digging whore and he said he’d take you off my hands for $5 because that’s all you were worth. I got pissed that he was talking about you like that and punched him and then there was a fight and I got hit with something. Maybe a glass or something. I don’t even know what it was but that’s where the bruise came from.”, he stayed silent for another moment, “I know I wasn’t the best husband from the start but I would never and have never been unfaithful to you.”

His words replayed over and over in your mind.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was angry and hurt that I wasn’t given a choice in this whole situation but you were the last person I should’ve taken it out on.”, he sighed before continuing, “I just wanted to put that out there. It’s bothered me for a long time and I figured since there’s nothing else to do right now I could take the time to finally say it.”

Your heart was racing as you fidgeted with your sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry too. I should have at least let you explain yourself before completely shutting you out.”, you whispered feeling a little bit guilty, “I just wanted you to give me…to give us a chance and I was hurt that you wouldn’t.”

The room fell into another silence other than the crackling of the fire but this time it was a little less tense.

“M-maybe we should start over. I promise I can be a good husband.”, Yoongi said after a while.

“You did build us a pretty nice fire so that’s pretty good husband stuff.”, you replied trying to lighten the mood a little. He chuckled, “Yeah that’s just the beginning of the things I can do for you.”

You smiled, “Okay let’s start from the beginning.“

He nodded before searching for your hand underneath the blanket. When he finally found it you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he asked.

“I mean yes but I don’t think we need to start over that far back.”, you giggled as he squeezed your had.

“Yeah how far back should we go?”, he questioned.

You bit your lip debating your next move, “Well how about our wedding night?”

Yoongi chuckled before pulling you into a kiss, “Yeah I think that’s a good place to start.”

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 2: Swan Lake (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The next night, Lucanis finds himself arranging a few plates on the dining table ahead of Rook’s planned arrival. He arranges, then rearranges, doubts what he made, or if it was weird thing to do in general. But he remembers his conversation with Neve from earlier in the day, and that seems to hold his nerves steady for the time being.

He had walked into her office-room with a question. And Neve, unsurprisingly, knew exactly what that question was before he even got to her front door. She was a damn good detective, he had to give her that.

“Planning something special for Rook?” she asked coyly.

“You know her better than I do” He admitted, scratching the side of his beard. “She’s … helping me. I want to do something nice for her”

“Is that all?” Neve quirked a brow and leaned back in her chair. An errant wisp floated by her hair, which she quickly swatted away gently.

Lucanis frowned. “Yes. That is all. Just tell me what I should make for her”

Neve crossed her arms, “Information rarely comes free in Minrathous”

“We’re not in Minrathous” he pointed out.

“You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl” she said wistfully, closing her eyes and grinning.

Lucanis groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fine, what do you want”

“Fried fish for dinner tomorrow night”

“I was going to make Paella tomorrow night”

“Well, now you’re making fried fish” Neve quipped.

“Mierda, alright. But I’m also making vegetables” He pointed at her, “You people need to get better eating habits”

Neve grinned and steepled her fingers together, then leaned forward on her desk. “Make the churros again. You might not have noticed her sneaking an extra one or… five, during dinner, but I certainly did. She wouldn’t stop talking about them the day after you made them”

“Churros” He repeated thoughtfully, as he rubbed his beard. He could do that. He should still have some ingredients left over from the first time he made them last week.

Rook likes sweet things. Smells like sweet things. Spite echoed in his head. He ignored that.

“Thank you, Neve” He gave her a curt nod before he turned to leave. “There will be fresh coffee in the dining hall in a few minutes if you’ve a mind for a real cup of it.” He called over his shoulder.

Lucanis left to her chuckling behind him and closed the door to her office. He had spent the rest of the day gathering supplies, and later in the evening when he was certain the team was asleep, he began preparing. The routine of baking and cooking was as calming as sharpening his longsword on a whetstone. Slow, methodical, rhythmic. But unlike sharpening his swords and knives, the end product was something that could bring joy, rather than misery and death. He tries to hang on to that.

When he finishes the churros, he decides that’s not enough. He makes a chocolate sauce to go with the churros. But maybe she prefers caramel? He should have asked Neve. So, he makes a caramel sauce as well. Then, he wants to see if she’ll like cioccolata calda and starts preparing that. It’s fairly late in the evening when he finishes the croissants he wasn’t planning on baking.

No sign of Rook yet.

He’s not sure when he started pacing with his second cup of coffee in hand.

She had accompanied Bellara to Arlathan – something about Veil Jumpers going missing deep in the forest. He shouldn’t worry. He’s seen Rook fight, she’s more than capable. But she does have a certain recklessness to her way of fighting. No - he doesn’t need to worry. He isn’t worrying.

He continues pacing. Then, he’s once again finding flaws with his arrangement of the desserts on the table. Would she find this strange? Too much? Off-putting, and not in a charming way but an unsettling way? Was there even a way to be charmingly off-putting?

He's pacing again.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He stops in his tracks.

Her voice has caught him off guard two nights in a row. That is a problem.

“Rook” He says stupidly.

“Hi” She waves meekly, and limps into the dining hall with a groan. She’s dragging her left foot on the ground. “Sorry I’m late – ran into trouble in Arlathan.”

He takes a few tentative steps closer. He wants to extend his hand, but some unknown force keeps it to his side, his entire body wound tighter than Harding’s bowstring.

If his body won’t move, his mouth will have to pay the balance.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Rook winces and draws closer to the large wooden table.

“Rage demon” she answers, pulling out a chair by the fireplace “And I’m happy to report it lived up to its name! It wasn’t very happy to see us”

He pulls out a chair beside her. She turns to him and laughs bitterly, “Have you ever been burned and stabbed on a job? Because I found out what that feels like today, and it’s kind of awful. Thankfully Bellara was able to patch me up”

Lucanis looks down at her left leg. Whatever injury she sustained is covered by her pants, but he can surmise from the way she’s shifting nearly all her weight onto the other leg it must have been bad.

“You leave your left flank wide open when you fight” he says, absent-mindedly. And immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“What?”

Mierda.

“You have a habit of leaving your left flank open.” He says quickly, then looks into the fire. Anywhere but her confused face. “Something I’ve noticed on the field.”

He feels her staring. He’s said something he shouldn’t have said. He doesn’t know how to right it other than by offering her food as a distraction. Lucanis turns to his handiwork and reaches for the bowl of churros, all but thrusting it in front of her.

“Churro?” He asks hopefully.

If Rook is taken aback by the odd exchange, she has the manners not to say anything. She blinks twice and looks down at the dessert.

“You made this for me?” She tilts her head.

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck.

“I … yes” He sets the bowl back on the table after she gingerly takes one in her hand. He wonders if they’re as soft to touch as they appear. “I thought dessert might pair well with your stories”

Rook chuckles, and leans in closer “It’s a good thought”

Smells like Blood and Ashes and Brimstone, Spite’s anger reverberates through his chest. She’s supposed to smell like sweet things.

For once he’s grateful for the demon’s interjection as it keeps him from staring at her while she eats the churro. And licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips. He shouldn’t be paying attention to this.

“Mmm” she sighs, an expression of serene delight passing over her features. His chest tightens.

Rook grins, oblivious to the effect she has on him, “These are dangerous you know- you can’t keep making them for me or it’ll be all I’ll eat”

Lucanis sighs and pushes the chocolate and caramel sauces towards her. “You and Neve are peas in a pod evidently.”

Rook squeals in delight and wastes no time dipping the dessert into the chocolate sauce.

She prefers chocolate.

“So” He starts, awkwardly shifting in his seat, “What tale will you tell tonight?”

He pretends not to notice her wiping a smear of chocolate sauce from the corner of her lip with her finger.

“Oh, right” She reaches into her side pocket and pulls out the small journal. Rook flips through its pages, humming thoughtfully. She lands on a page near the end of the journal before stopping.

“This might be a good one.” Rook snaps the journal shut and places on the table beside her. “Have you ever heard the tale of Swan Lake?”

Even if he had, he would say no. If she wants to tell him a story, he won’t sway her.

“The original story is from Nevarra, but it was adapted into an Orlesian ballet some time ago” Rook continues, not giving him a chance to answer before barreling ahead with her explanation. “Apparently it was one of Emperor Judicael’s favourites. He liked it so much he had the ballet house play it nearly every night, and producers of the other ballet’s threatened to quit en masse. It was so bad, the play was actually banned in Orlais for about fifty years because of that whole debacle. Caused quite the scandal”

“Must be a good ballet” He remarks, before getting up from his seat. “Wait here for a moment, Rook”

Rook nods and reaches for another churro, “Sure”.

Lucanis returns with two steaming cups and passes one to Rook. She takes it gratefully and lifts the warm beverage to her nose. “Mmm! What is this? Smell’s divine”

“Cioccolata Calda. An Antivan specialty”

“Is it coffee?”

“Try it”

Rook does as she’s told and takes a curious sip. Her eyes widen and her lips split into a large smile. “That is amazing. I think I have a new favourite drink”

“They make it better at Café Pietra, but this will do for tonight” Lucanis sits back down and takes a sip of his own cup. It’s a little too sweet for him, but the look on her face assures him it was a good call. “If we find ourselves in Treviso again, we can –“

“I like the way you make things” Rook says quietly, gripping her cup a bit tighter. She’s looking down at her cup, and it’s probably for the better. He is certain the tips of his ears are a furious shade of red.

“Thank you” He whispers, after a few moments of quiet pass between the two. “That’s… very kind of you to say”

“You’re welcome” She replies, crossing her legs in her seat like she did yesterday. She looks like she wants to say something else, but a quick shake of her head and a clap of her hands brings her focus back to the reason she came here.

“Okay, umm, let’s see here” Rook’s gentle features twist in concentration.

Her hands begin glowing with that familiar blue light, and as she raises her arms and gives a flourish with her left hand.

A castle once again fills the empty space between their chairs. This one has a central dome surrounded by four gilded towers with pointed roofs – different in style and architecture from the one yesterday, but no less impressive.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a handsome and gentle prince by the name of Siegfried”

The castle ripples out of existence, and in its place, is the form of a young man with short, cropped hair, a broad chest, and a large bow on his back.

“Prince Siegfried was one of the most accomplished hunters in the kingdom. It was said he could hit any mark, no matter the distance. His aim would always be true. Some versions of the story mention his crossbow being enchanted, others chalk it up to pure skill. Either way, he’s a good shot” Rook grins and makes the figure of the Prince aim an arrow right at Lucanis’ chest with a crook of her finger.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow and holds his hands up in mock defense, “Tell the Prince he should stick to animals – I might be above his paygrade”

Rook bursts out into laughter and as her concentration breaks for a moment, the image of the Prince flickers in and out of existence.

“Sorry, carry on.” Lucanis smiles as she rights herself in her seat and places her hands back into position.

“Yes – where was I?” Rook flicks her wrist, and the Prince is back in view. This time, he’s joined by another figure. A tall woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress with an ornate crown on her head, comes to stand next to him.

“His mother, the Dowager Queen, comes to inform him of an upcoming ball that will be held at the royal palace. ‘At this ball, my son, you will choose a royal bride. For I am late in my years and wish to see grandchildren in these palace halls before I depart’” As before, the Queen’s mouth moves in rhythm with Rook’s words – like magical ventriloquism.

Rook waves her hand and the Queen disappears. The form of the prince cradles his head in his hands.

“The Prince is despondent at this news. He wanted to marry for love, not political power. Surely, he has a right to his own heart, at least?” The Prince sinks to his knees and stays like that for a few moments.

Another flourish from Rook, and a new figure appears. Shorter, portlier than the Prince, but with kinder features.

“His friend Benno sees how upset he is, and wonders how he can help cheer up the Prince”

Both figures disappear as Rook pauses to take a sip of her hot chocolate. He tries to ignore Spite’s impatient rippling at the edges of his consciousness.

Siegfried and Benno return soon thereafter.

“Benno looks out the window, and happens to see a flock of swans flying outside”

Rook waves the swans into existence, and they flit around Siegfried and Benno in circles before disappearing. The figure of Benno tugs on the prince’s shoulder sleeve.

“‘Your highness, a hunt!’ he exclaims, pointing out the window” The figure of the prince straightens, his interest piqued by the animals.

“Benno gathers a few other men from the castle, and along with the prince, they all ride out to the forest to hunt the swans”

The scene changes to Benno, Siegfried, and three other men riding horseback through a dense forest canopy. He will always be in awe of the imagery she’s able to bring to life with her magic. Never in a hundred years would he have thought of using magic in this way. Then again, Rook is anything but a typical mage, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“At some point, Prince Siegfried becomes separated from the group”

One by one, Benno and the other men disappear, until only the prince remains, trotting horseback through the air on the spot.

“He comes to the lakeside clearing and finds the flock of swans.” The swans reappear, now floating on the edge of an invisible lake. The figure of the Prince draws his crossbow and pulls an arrow from the quiver. As he nocks the arrow, one of the swans transforms into a beautiful young woman. She has a long plait of hair spilling over her left shoulder. She’s wearing what Lucanis assumes, from its puffy construction, a ballet dress. The skirts are feathered, and feathers even fall from the dress, winking out of existence moments later.

He leans in closer to observe the finer details.

“You have quite the imagination, Rook” Lucanis smiles at her.

She returns it in kind and brushes a stray curl behind her ear. She looks shy, almost, and like she’s avoiding looking at him. “Some say over-active”

“I think it’s just right” He pulls back and takes a sip of his own hot chocolate.

“Thanks…” She whispers, drawing her legs closer together. When she sees her figures flickering again, Rook’s brows bunch together and the blue light in her hands grows brighter.

“The … ah … the Prince was so transfixed by her beauty and grace, he had to know more about her”

The figure of the prince begins moving closer to the woman, but the woman begins to back away.

“But she was frightened, for she did not know this man, and feared the crossbow in his hands”

“‘Wait!’ The prince calls just before she leaves his sight” The prince holds out his hand and tosses his crossbow to the ground. Well, the air. “‘Please stay, I’ve not a mind to hurt you. Won’t you tell me who you are?’”

The young woman stops and rests her hand on her chest.

“‘My name is Odette, and I cannot leave this place’”

“Why?” Lucanis is leaning forward, practically on the edge of his seat.

Rook leans in closer. Too close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Her large, doe-like green eyes, framed under long and wispy eyelashes, feel like they’re burning themselves into his soul.

Chocolate and cinnamon. Spite shrieks gleefully, and he wants to draw back. His heart throbs loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the demon. Almost.

“The prince had the same question” She winks and returns to her previous spot before he has the chance to pull away first.

“Odette explains she’s been placed under a curse by a powerful, but wicked mage. His name was Von Rothbart, and he was obsessed with Odette.”  

The prince disappears and is replaced by a taller man with hair tied behind his back and sharp, hawk-like features. He was dressed in a finely tailored doublet, with a side-cape hanging by a large broach affixed to the right shoulder. A faint red light shines from the broach.

“He kidnapped her from her home and used her blood to bind her soul to the gem in his broach. ‘Marry me’, he asks her every night. Every night she refuses. Every morning thereafter, she turns into a swan. And every night, she is called back to Swan Lake and turns back into a human. Such had been her fate for the last five years. It’s a powerful spell, born of ancient magic – but not an invulnerable one.”

Rook arced her hand over Odette, who’s form morphed from human to swan to human again with every back-and-forth motion of her palm.

He doesn’t have the words, none that will meaningfully add to the conversation at least, to describe how he feels about the way she uses her magic. Amazing, incredible, inventive all seem inadequate.

“There was one way to break Rothbart’s spell. A man would need to profess his love for her and remain faithful to that vow forevermore”

The figure of the prince kneels down on one knee, evidently ready to profess that love immediately.

Lucanis is resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin rests in his hand. His cup of hot chocolate rests forgotten by his side, as do the churros and croissants. He is certain she doesn’t realize how captivating she – her stories, are.

But they are interrupted by Rothbart, suddenly appearing beside Odette. He grabs her roughly by the arm and holds her beside him.

The prince stands with righteous anger. He has an arrow pointed at the figure of Rothbart.

“‘I shall slay this wicked mage, and free you from his grasp’” Siegfried declared”.

As the prince was about to loose the arrow, Lucanis is surprised to see Odette step in front of Rothbart, her arms spread wide in defense. The prince lowers his bow hesitantly.

A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes flash an angry violet “Why would she do that?” Lucanis’ voice is drowned by the deep and unnatural timbres of the demon, echoing together in a discordant symphony.

“Spite” Rook says calmly, like one would address a misbehaving child. “May I have Lucanis back so we can finish the story? You’ll find out why in a moment”

Lucanis’ face contorts with frustration. His violet eyes burn bright with anger, “Want. To know”

“You will, soon. Now bring Lucanis back”

Lucanis – well, Spite, growls again. When the demon refuses to relent, Rook hesitantly touches his forearm and frowns. “Please?”

The violet in his eyes dims, and Lucanis shakes his head. It was rare for Spite to surge to the forefront so quickly.

He couldn’t understand why the princess would protect someone who hurt her.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

“Are you alright?” Rook asks quietly. The figures are long gone now, dissipated by the distraction that was Spite.

He realizes she’s still touching his forearm. Warm, and calming. Gentle. They both look down and she quickly pulls away. He feels the withdrawal of her warmth like gust of cold settling on his skin.

“Yes, I’m fine – don’t worry” He gestures to her, “Please, continue with your story”

Rook still looks hesitant, like she doesn’t quite believe him. He wouldn’t either, he supposed. He needs her to continue the story. Needs to distract himself from the feeling of her soft fingers lingering on his skin, like a brand.

She relents and her hands glow blue again.

The three figures of Siegfried, Odette, and Rothbart return.

“Odette explains that her life is tied to Von Rothbart. If he dies, then the spell imprisoning her can never be broken”

The figure of Rothbart retreats into a deeper part of the forest she’s conjured.

Odette and Siegfried share an embrace.

“’Come to the royal ball in three days’ time. There, I will profess my love to you in front of the entire court’ Says the Prince, resolved to defy his mother and marry her instead of a princess.”

The figure of Odette nods and disappears soon after.

“What they don’t know is that Rothbart heard the entire exchange, and he had a plan to make sure Odette could never escape him” Rook frowned.

The prince disappears next, and they are back with Rothbart and another young woman. This one slender and petite, with the same sharp features as the man next to her.

“Rothbart had a plan. He would use magic to disguise himself” Rook waved a hand and Rothbart morphed into the dress and appearance of an unassuming peasant. “And his daughter, Odile” She waved her hand again, and the young woman became an identical copy of Odette – but her dress, was glowing with an ominous black light.

“There’s no way that’ll work” Lucanis throws his arms up and leans back in his chair. “He has to know that Rothbart won’t just let her waltz into the ball”

Rook merely shrugs, “You’ll have to wait and see”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “Continue”

Rook laughs, “Alright, alright”

Odile and Rothbart disappear. They are replaced by a grand ballroom floor, with guests dressed in all sorts of finery decorating the dance floor like little spinning jewels.

At the top of a grand staircase sees Benno, Siegfried, and the Queen gathered together.

“Siegfried anxiously awaits the arrival of Odette” Rook explains, before waving her hand and bringing to life the disguised figures of Rothbart and Odile-as-Odette.

“Overcome with joy when he sees her, he immediately asks her to dance”

The two come together, and the rest of the ballroom disappears. They twirl about the ballroom in an elegant pas-de-deux.

“At the end of the dance, Odile asks him one simple question”

The pair part, and the prince drops to one knee in front of her.

“’Do you love me, and only me?’”

Lucanis watches intently as the figure of the prince bows his head in front of the pretender.

Sadness washes over Rook’s face. “The Prince, none the wiser, proclaims his love to the entire court ‘Of course I love you’ – but it wasn’t enough. Rothbart, masquerading as the girl’s father, asks him to make a binding vow in front of the Queen. Siegfried, thinking nothing of it, does so immediately”

Rook waves her hand and the figures of Rothbart and Odile return to their original forms. Suddenly, the real Odette, in her pure white dress, is inside the ballroom. She crumples to the floor as she witnesses the Prince profess his love for Odile.

“Odette, heartbroken, flees the ball and returns to the lakeside clearing. The prince follows after her, distraught at what he’s done.”

The two figures stand in front of each other on the lake.

“Odette eventually forgives him, realizing that he was under Rothbart’s spell just as much as she was. But the damage was done. His actions consigned her to live as a swan forevermore”

Lucanis frowned, unable to see a path to a happy ending. But Rook was full of surprises, maybe her stories were as well.

“Odette and the Prince resolved to leave this world together, rather than be bound by Rothbart’s magic”

The figures of Siegfried and Odette walk towards the lake, hand in hand. They slowly sink together under the willowy depths.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

A moment later, they both disappear under the water.

The figure of Rothbart returns into view. The red light of the broach on his shoulder flickers in and out, before dying out completely. Rothbart collapses to the ground and remains still.

“It’s true that Odette’s life was bound to Rothbart’s – but the magic worked both ways. Rothbart’s life was also tied to hers. And when she left this world of her own will, he left it against his”

A moment later, Rothbart disappears and in his place are two ghostly swans, flying in circles together.

“The spirits of Siegfried and Odette are reunited in the Fade, until they decide to pass on together”

With a final flick of her wrist, the birds disappear, and there is nothing but empty space between him and Rook again.

“The End”

Lucanis exhaled.

“Not the most cheerful ending” He remarks, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“What was it you said about that one brew at Café Pietra? Bitter and sweet - like a kiss goodbye?” Rook nods and absent-mindedly chews on another churro. “That’s how I think about this ending. Not every story has an overtly happy one”

He’s dumbfounded she even remembers that throwaway comment.

“I still don’t understand how the prince doesn’t question Odette appearing at the ball. With a father she hasn’t seen in five years, supposedly” He wants to change the subject. Away from kisses, goodbye or otherwise.

Rook shrugs, “That’s a question for the author- though he’s likely about four hundred year’s dead.” A light twinkles in her eyes, “Maybe we can find him here, in the Fade, and ask his spirit!”

Lucanis laughs, “Now there’s an idea”

“I’m full of them. Some better than others” Rook grins sheepishly. She begins massaging the side of her left leg.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, following her gaze down.

“Nothing – it’s just starting to ache a bit” Rook winces. “That demon got me good”

“Let me see” Lucanis drops to his knee in front of her. “If that’s alright”

Rook removes her hand and drops her gaze to look at him.

“Oh – it’s fine, Lucanis, really. I’ll bug Bellara about it in the morn- “

“It’s better if you bug me about it now. It might get worse over the course of the night”

He gestures to her pant leg, “May I?” He asks again.

Rook bites her lip, before relenting. “Sure… go ahead” she answers softly and lifts her leg so he can support it in his right hand.

He clicks his tongue when he sees the damage under her dressing. The lateral portion of her lower leg is covered with an irritated and inflamed superficial burn. Three parallel gash marks, likely closed thanks to Bellara’s healing magic, create tracts of bright crimson skin. She hisses when he gently presses on the skin of her leg.

“I have something for this. Wait here” He carefully lowers her leg and returns a moment later with a small jar from the pantry.

“Embrium and Elfroot paste, good for burns and skin irritation. It’ll also prevent infection. Apply it twice a day” He sets the jar on the table beside her. “Let me know if that gets worse”

Rook grins, “I didn’t know I was getting a doctor and an assassin in my contract”

Lucanis chuckles, “Any Crow worth their salt knows how to close a wound just as well as they can open one. Consider it on the house”

“Is the all the cooking on the house too?” Rook slowly stands up, and they’re only a few inches away from each other now.

Lucanis nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I think it has to be, with the way you people eat”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” She places her hands on her hips and frowns. “I eat vegetables … sometimes”

“I’ve seen you pick out the eggplant in every dish”

“Okay, I don’t like one vegetable”

She shakes her head and gathers a few churros and croissants onto a plate. Rook sticks a croissant in her mouth, and speaks around it, “Just for that, I’m eating nothing but these for the next two days”

“You’re going to miss Paella night” He deadpans.

Rook swallows and places another croissant defiantly on her plate.

“Three nights”

Lucanis sighs. At least she seems to like the food.

Rook’s laughter fills the dining hall. “On that note – I should get some sleep. I hope Spite doesn’t give you too much trouble for the rest of the night”

“He won’t” Lucanis doesn’t know that but says it to give her some reassurance. “Good night, Rook”

“Madeleina”

“What?”

“My name … it’s Madeleina. You can call me that if you want” She smiles widely. “Rook is fine too, though”

“Madeleina” He repeated softly. He smiled, and for the first time all night, he feels like he can keep her gaze. Their eyes meet, and it feels like an entirely new conversation is happening between them. “It suits you”

Rook toys with an errant curl and smiles. “Thank you”

“I – umm… I should get going. Goodnight, Lucanis” she adds quickly.

She quickly rights herself and for good measure, steals one more churro from the bowl. Madeleina then turns and begins hobbling out of the dining hall, leaving Lucanis and Spite to mull the feeling of her new name over in his mind.

He would have to thank Neve for her advice.

[deonsx]

If Bsd Men Become Father

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai

Dazai Osamu

Two girls who look like princesses

Dazai Someone who really loves to play with them and kiss and smell them and wants to make the most of every minute of her time with them, "I love you" He smiled and kissed one and then looked at the other and said "I love you" and kissed again

Dazai took care of them best when you and them were by his side so now he has a real family, heaven was next to him, Your husband was very nervous at first, he had many doubts about what kind of father to be, but then everything worked out with your first daughter

One of your daughters would ride on osamu's shoulder at the time of going shopping, while the other would rather sit quietly on his lap, He likes to braid their hair, he likes to cook together, in fact, he only make some little things because he doesn't want to spoil the food, but he learned a little something with you

He cares more than anything about sleeping with you and taking care of you, and you are his most precious person in this world “you are my paradise”

Chuuya Nakahara

One boy one Girl is smart and beautiful at the same time

We all know he has the best dad potential he will truly see them as the only people in the world, He can do a lot of magic tricks on them with his power and make them fly "Daddy I want to fly!"

"No dad, fly me first!!" the two children were constantly begging their father to fly them "Okay okay my beautiful daughter and son" He flew them both with his strength and their laughter filled the room, "My love please be careful" You kissed your husband and said looking at the flying children "Mom! we're flying we're flying!!"

You laughed, "My love, I'm just doing a magic show" he smiled and kissed your neck, his orange hair shining with the morning light, They both shone with orange hair, one of them looked so much like his father that you thought it would be difficult to distinguish when he grew up

Your daughter, on the other hand, looked like you, her hair was the same as your husband chuuya, her eyes were like you, and her temperament was the same as you “My loves, I wouldn't change anything in this world for you”

Ranpo Edogawa

One daughter with the intelligence of her father

Ranpo was the kind of father who liked to take his daughter to work, he would take care of her while she was at work, he didn't even need to do his job, he would constantly train her in his own way so that his daughter could get the best education and develop her intelligence

After her daughter was born, she started to disrupt her work, you and she wanted to make a lot of new memories with her daughter, so she took you on vacations, she liked to play with her daughter, the two of them got along very well

Ranpo was determined to give his daughter the childhood he couldn't live, he liked to play games with her and introduce her to his friends "Look, the white-haired man you see over there is actually a lion." Ranpo, who introduced the agency to your daughter, was saying everything in particular, "Lion!? I want to see a lion" “There are so many memories I can't wait to share with you”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

One Purple-haired boy with purple eyes

Fyodor really wants his son to grow up with a disciplined and beautiful family unlike him, he has had a serious relationship with you for a long time and finally you and him wanted to have a child

He and his son were both really quiet, they like to play chess, you often catch them playing trivia games, They really seemed to understand each other a lot. But of course it was in warmer times. When you go shopping, Fyodor usually walks by holding his son hand, but sometimes you can see him on his lap and that's enough to make you smile

You often tell them to help you and as a result you start cooking together, and they both find it really childish, but they still agree just for you, You often tell them to help you and as a result you start cooking together, and they both find it really childish, but they still agree just for you

With his son by your side, Fyodor pulled you by the waist and placed a kiss on your forehead “I love my family” him whispered inside

Nikolai Gogol

One white-haired colored-eyed girl

A girl with the same hair color and acting just as crazy, nikolai, your husband, always puts on a show of her own to entertain her "Daddy! Please let's teleport once more!" You were watching them leaning against the door, two people in the house who were constantly shining and beaming

Eyes quickly turned to you, nikolai suddenly teleported to his side "I'm sure Mommy would like to teleport with us!" "Yeyyy Mommy!!” they took you in without letting you talk and your day was spent with smiles, combing him doing your daughter's hair getting her ready for school, you watching them lay in your bed

You slowly got up from your bed and looked at nikolai, who was combing and braiding your daughter's hair, his tired white hair and messy eyes focused on her braiding

After kissing your daughter, you covered your husband's hair and face with kisses, your daughter slowly approached you and hugged you "Ahhhhh you girls are my trouble, I'm in love with you"

Enjoy!