#the amount of sass in a room with all three of them?

[stars-n-spice]

Had an epiphany:

Feel free to add on!

[blkkizzat]

❛ IN YO PU$$Y TONGUE TWISTIN' LIKE ITS STIR FRY!❜

✰summary: don't ask toji to make you dinner if you aren't ready to be dinner ✰tw: nasty, filthy, insane pussy eating like its groceries. literal groceries cause there's lots of food/cooking sex references lmfao. ✰wc: <1k [no taglist under 1k]

Toji who you sass, telling him to be useful for once and "make you dinner." Unfortunately for you, Toji takes it quite literally as he makes you HIS dinner.

Without any warning you are manhandled down to the couch. Your brand new pink frilly panties utterly trashed, ripped off of you and discarded like a flimsy plastic wrap. Toji kneads open your doughy thighs, ordering you to hold your knees so that you are spread wide for him.

Succumbing to his more debased urges, your coochie would be his 'kitchen' for the next 2 hours. It was obvious from the perverse way his lips smacked together, sucking his teeth at the sight of your succulent cunt—he couldn't wait to serve you up on a platter.

Digging in, Toji wastes no time with prep work. 

Unabashedly feasting in your savory folds as if he were a gourmet who had just been presented with a 10-course 3-star michelin meal. Toji's filthy mouth proves to be such a needy glutton for your pretty pussy—slurping, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive lil’ clit until you’re sobbing. You clench and twitch around his tongue which seems to be on a mission to completely sear your insides, reducing your to legs to gelatinous goo. 

All the heat Toji boils in your core spreads to your entire body and your hands grow slippery with sweat. You shake as you struggle to maintain hold of your knees. Yet the scalding look Toji gives you makes you think twice before you let go of them—lest chef Toji say the dish is ruined and he needs to start all over again. 

“Chef knows best” Toji tells you, along with his specialty cuisine style of "making it nasty", so of course he must braise your swollen throbbing clit in globs of his spit. His tongue bastes over your sopping folds as he scoops the marinated mixture—crafted of his saliva and the syrupy juices of your ripened cunt—back into your steamy quivering hole. 

At the very least you were grateful that despite the embarrassment flaming on your tear-stained cheeks, the amount of carnal pleasure coursing through your body sent your mind into euphoric delirium. Your eyes spared you from the sight of Toji's shameless display of ravenous hunger by becoming lodged into the back of your skull.

Nevertheless, you didn’t need to see to tell that Toji is a messy cook. Some of your rich milky sauce is sure to dribble down to the crack of your ass as his lecherous ministrations cause you to overflow. Not to worry though—when it comes to relishing your perfect pussy, Toji ultimately keeps a tidy kitchen and he is certainly not wasteful. 

Toji will dutifully clean up any mess, unlike your actual kitchen where he never washes a dish. Likewise, although when you try to get him to eat healthier and he refuses his greens—Toji will never hesitate to toss your salad. Stirring his tongue deep into your puckered hole he savors the taste while three of his thick fingers bully into your tight lil’ pussy, blending you up until you pureed all over his fingers.

The intensity of your lustful moans rival that of the vulgar sounds sloshing from your core and echoing throughout the living room. Both sounds Toji finds himself developing an insatiable hunger for and it spurs on his near relentless teasing of you. 

Duplicitous in his positively feral pussy drunk state, he reasons with you that "a chef never reveals his secrets".

Therefore you are never certain upon reaching the peak of your next mind-mincing orgasm if he will serve you utterly delectable release—the sweet nectar of your squirt garnishing his lips resulting in Toji to nearly busting in his own pants from rutting against the sofa—

—or if he will cruelly snatch it away from you again as you teeter right on the edge of rapture. When he does this there is certainly a twinkle in his eyes as he mocks you, "but you weren't quite done simmering just yet, mamas."

Absolutely overdone and oversensitive, if the torture of him stewing your insides becomes too much—If you really whine and tell him you've had enough—to his credit Toji would stop. Stop and hover mere centimeters away from your leaky lil’ peach that is. 

You would whimper, so sore from the abuse of his tongue as his own eyes would roll back at the sugary smell of your arousal wafting off your messed up lil cunny. Toji knows at this point you are too fucked out—too thoroughly made well-done on his tongue to escape from his gluttonous depravity. 

Sloppy and glazed in your cum, the scar on Toji's lip glistens as it pulls into a devious smirk. Huffing out, Toji would softly breeze air over your puffy clit until your lil nub throbbed with enough need to beg for another course. 

Toji would oblige you of course. 

Nonetheless, as punishment for disturbing the chef while he’s cooking, you would have to wait a bit more before you felt his mouth on you again. Only blowing over your sex, your desperate pleas are only met with cruel chuckles chiding you that he needed to "let his food cool properly" before he could eat the next serving.

In the end, Toji's hard efforts in your kitchen are rewarded as he thoroughly consumes every last morsel you have to offer, cleaning up every lingering string of your arousal. With his wanton thirst for your creamy caramelized cunt finally quenched he brings himself up to admire your cute slutted out pout. 

You gasp as Toji’s lips meet yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue is just chaotic, dominating your mouth as if he were still craving the taste of your core.

You're dizzy for air when Toji finally pulls away. Still coming down from your blissed out state you fail to notice Toji had switched your positions. You are now on the floor between his legs while he sits on the couch.

His beefy thighs manspread wide as his girthy length springs from his dark sweats. The angry red tip of his cockhead sways back to hit his abs thickly coated in what must be his own fluids from at some point cumming in his pants just from eating you out.

Reaching out to grab your chin his thumb rubs over your lips in a gentle caress before bullying them open. You were going to roast his cock in that warm n�� tight throaty lil oven of yours.

It was your turn to make him dinner.

✰ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✰a/n: y'all idk im hungry, on my period and i clearly got demons. that's all the defense i got so y'all can lock me away for this now. *runs away* p.s.plug!choso lovers this is not a fic, its a drabble i promise i literally wrote this in tumblr drafts don't kill me LOL

✰reblog & comments are my life's blood. ty!

[azzo0]

Happy Mama Day

Summary: Touya and the kids surprise you for Mother's Day.

Contains: soft Touya, fluff, kids n sappy stuff

Pairing: Touya x f!reader

wc: 2.1k

Based on this idea.

Touya buried his face under a blanket when little hands slapped his cheek. A little girl's voice screamed at him excitedly to wake up. He opened his eyes slightly, sighing into the pillow when both his kids started jumping on the bed, singing, "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Daddy, Daddy, Keiko said it's Mama day today!" His son yelled, pulling the blanket off him.

"It's called Mother's Day, not Mama Day, Takeo." His daughter sassed, crossing her arms as if she knew some great secret her younger brother didn't.

"Stop jumping, Takeo. I'm up." Touya sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his snowy hair, disheveled from sleep. Takeo jumped into Touya's lap, making him let out an 'oomph.'

"Daddy, Keiko told me-" the three-year-old began. Sometimes, Toya was surprised by how fluently the child could speak since most three-year-old's he knew yapped in baby language. He talked to Rei about it, and she told him he used to be the same.

"Keiko-Nee." He corrected, his gaze shifting to his eldest. She excitedly crawled to him and sat on her knees excitedly. He ruffled her bright red hair and looked down at Takeo, "What did she tell you?"

"Keiko-Nee told me that her teacher told her it's Mama Day!" The boy exclaimed.

"Is it?" He hummed.

"Can we do something special for Mama when she gets back from work?" Keiko asked. "My teacher told me you can show your thanks to your mothers today! Let's do something special!"

"How do we show our thanks?" Takeo asked, tilting his head.

"We can make her cards and make her favorite food or buy her gifts!"

Takeo gasped and looked up at Touya with wide eyes, the same colour as yours, "Does that mean we can cook a cake?"

"Bake a cake," Touya threw the child over his shoulder and got off the bed, holding a hand out for Keiko. She took his hand and jumped off the bed, "Sure we can, but first you two need to eat breakfast, clean up your rooms, get ready for the day, do your homework and then we'll bake Mama a cake, okay?"

"It's not fair that I have homework and Takeo doesn't!" Keiko lamented, puffing her cheeks out.

"He does have homework. He has a colouring book to fill. Isn't that right, Taki?"

The three year old nodded his head even though he wasn't sure what 'homework' was. Touya took the kids downstairs and made them sit at the dining table. He went into the kitchen and put on the apron. He took out a few eggs and beat them up with milk and sugar. He dipped slices of bread inside the eggs and then fried them, keeping them a little soft because that's the way his babies liked it.

He took the plates out in the dining room, setting them in front of the kids, "Eat up."

"Thank you," the two chimed.

He sat across from Keiko and Takeo. He sighed when Takeo began breaking the bread into bits without putting them in his mouth. Touya quickly finished his breakfast and helped Takeo with his. After breakfast, the kids followed him upstairs so they could clean their bedrooms. Keiko was six, old enough to make her bed and tidy her room, but Takeo still needed help, given he was only three.

He folded Takeo's blanket and kept it in the crib while Takeo picked up the toys littered on the floor and dumped them in the toybox. Once Touya was done with Takeo's room, he went to Keiko's room, watching his daughter huff and puff as she folded her giant blanket all by herself. She turned to him after she was done, flexing her arms, "I did it by myself!"

"You did great, Keiko." He lowered his back with Takeo on his hip and kissed Keiko's hair. He took her hand and led the kids to the bathroom.

He put Takeo down, took Keiko's unicorn toothbrush, put a small amount of toothpaste on it and handed it to her. He then proceeded to put toothpaste on Takeo's smaller shark toothbrush. He gave him the toothbrush and watched him look up at his sister and try to imitate her. Touya smiled to himself and took his toothbrush hanging beside yours. He brushed his teeth along with his kids and then helped them wash their faces, making them giggle when he patted them dry.

"Cake time!" Keiko squealed, stomping downstairs with Takeo chanting 'cake' behind her.

"Homework first, you two." Touya reminded sternly.

"But I don't have school tomorrow. I can do it later!" Keiko whined, "And Taki's homework isn't even real homework! You just make him sit down and colour a bunch'a pages so you can watch soccer on the TV!"

Toya raised his eyebrows amusedly as Keiko tapped her foot on the floor impatiently. He let out a chuckle and turned to the kitchen, "Alright, alright. Just don't make a mess, okay?"

"Yes!!" She exclaimed, taking Takeo's hand and following after her father.

Touya helped Keiko and Takeo into little aprons and rummaged through the cabinets, looking for the cake mix he bought ages ago. It's not that he didn't know how to bake a cake from scratch, but with two kids involved, the kitchen was bound to get chaotic. He found a vanilla cake mix and took out a bowl and a hand beater, setting everything on the counter. He opened the flaps of the cake mix as the kids watched him excitedly. He took out a white coloured packet and cut it open with a pair of scissors.

"Can I put it in the bowl?" Keiko asked.

"Sure ya can. Come closer." He handed her the packet, and she carefully put the mix into the bowl. Keiko snatched the cake mix box and read the instructions, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the sentences.

"It says to... mix water, oil, 'n eggs with a mixer on... meedum...?"

"Medium," Toya corrected, encouraging her to go on.

"...speed or beat by hand for two minutes." She finished with a grin. Touya patted her hair and measured out the water and oil, which Takeo insisted he wanted to pour. Touya picked up Takeo so he could reach for the cups he had measured. He watched Takeo pick up the cup of oil in his chubby hands and empty it into the cake mix, followed by the water.

"You want to crack the egg?" Toya asked Keiko, smiling when she nodded excitedly. He showed her how to crack an egg and then handed her another one. She managed to crack the egg and let its contents fall into a bowl.

"Do we beat with an electric mixer or hand?" Keiko asked.

"Hand beater," Toya replied. He mixed the ingredients and then let Keiko take over for a little bit. Of course, Takeo didn't want to be left out and had to take a turn whipping the batter.

"And then we pop it in the oven," Touya transferred the batter into a cake pan and put it in the oven that had been preheating for some time.

"Daddy, while we wait, let's make Mama a birthday card!" Keiko exclaimed, pulling on his hand.

"I've got some cleaning up to do, Kei. You make one with your brother-"

"No! Don't you gotta wish Mom Happy Mother's Day too?" Keiko put her foot down and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, let's make a mama card," Takeo added.

"Fine," Touya sighed, "Let's go make a mama card."

He sat on the floor in the living room with the kids. Keiko handed him and Takeo A4-size papers and let them use her sketch pens and colour pencils. She told him how to make a card, speaking as if she was giving away the world's darkest secret, "So, basically, you fold it in half like this, and then you write 'Happy Mother's Day' in fancy handwriting. You can make a drawing if you wanna, and then on the inside, you thank Mama for all she's done. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am, thank you." Dabi picked up a blue sketch pen and nudged Takeo, "Say thanks to your sister, Taki."

"Fanks."

Touya had never made cards for anyone before. Sure, he'd received plenty of sweet ones from you, but he never gave you one in return. He folded the paper in half and tried mustering up his fanciest handwriting, which turned out looking like a doctor's note. He picked up a red sketch pen and threw in a couple of hearts and smiley faces.

He moved on to the inside of the card, and that's where he got stuck. The green sketch pen hovered over the paper as he thought of what to put inside. He had so much he wanted to thank you for. Your love, your support and your kindness. The list went on and on. He glanced up from the paper to see Keiko beautifully decorating the card while Takeo went on a scribbling spree. He smiled softly at the kids and looked down at the paper. He knew just what to write.

You knocked on the door and yawned, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. It had been a long day at work, but you couldn't wait to greet your husband and kids and then spend some time together on the couch after dinner. You heard a few excited cries, and the door was thrown open.

"HAPPY MAMA DAY!!" Takeo screamed, hugging your leg.

"Happy Mother's Day!" Keiko exclaimed with a grin, hopping from foot to foot.

"Oh, my babies." You smiled and stepped inside, pulling them both in a hug. You kissed their cheeks and made them giggle. "Thank you so much."

"No, thank you for all you do, Mama! You're so cool!" Keiko beamed.

"So cool!" Takeo agreed.

"Okay, okay, let ya mama breathe." You looked up when you heard Touya's voice. His lips tugged up on the side in a smirk, "Hey. Happy Mama Day."

"Thank you," you laughed, kissing his cheek.

"We baked you a cake, and Papa made your favorite dinner!" Keiko exclaimed, "We also made you cards!"

"Mhm?" You took the card from Keiko and read through it with a stupid grin. You kissed her nose, "Aww, thank you, Kei. You're so sweet."

"Here is my mama card." Takeo waved his drawing in front of your face. You took it from him and gushed over the stick figures of him and you holding hands.

"It's lovely, thank you, Taki." You squished his cheeks together lovingly.

"Papa, where's your card?" Keiko asked.

"I didn't make any. What are you talking about?" Touya shrugged.

"Lies!"

Touya sheepishly revealed the hand in which he held the card. You got up from the floor and took the card, giggling at his messy handwriting adorned with hearts, flowers and smiley faces. It was so unlike him. You flipped it open and read it.

Happy Mama Day, wifey.

There's a lot I wish I could say to you more often, but putting it here feels easier. Thank you for all that you've done for me and our kids. Thank you for being by my side when nobody was and for holding my hand on sleepless nights and shooing away my nightmares. Thanks for dragging me out of my depressive episodes and taking me on ice cream dates. I'll never forget them. The ice cream was delicious, by the way.  

Thank you for birthing our beautiful children. I'm so lucky to have you by my side to raise our kids. You're my definition of a blessing in human form.

With love,

Your handsome husband,

Touya

(P.S. You have a nice butt)

Your hands quivered as you read the note. Your eyes blurred with hot tears. They fell onto the card, and he pulled you into him and kissed your temple. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your nose in his chest, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, "Thank you, Touya."

"My words hit ya that deep? Maybe I should be a poet." He chuckled, combing your hair with his fingers.

"There's nothin' poetic about it." You muffled into his chest. You pulled away and pressed a kiss on his lips. His hand went to rest on your lower back as he leaned into you.

You were aware of the kids watching, so you pulled away and glanced back to see Keiko pretending to be very interested in the door handle while Takeo tugged at his sister's sleeve. You chuckled and held an arm open, "Come here, Keiko, Takeo."

You scooped up Takeo while Touya picked up Keiko. You let your head rest against Touya's shoulder, your heart brimming with joy and contentment, "I love my little family."

[reysdriver]

Hey, I was thinking about something with best friend!Eddie and fem!best friend!reader, but they secretly like each other.

Gareth invites the Hellfire club to spend a weekend at his beach house but Eddie and Reader decide to share the same room/bed.

(I would like things like them going to the beach or helping each other put on sunscreen... ����🫣)

Sorry if it's a very large or very specific request, you don't have to fulfill the request in parentheses if you don't want to

thank you!❤️

you and eddie share a bed on the first night of your beach house stay — bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader fluff

warnings: language, that's it i think

words: 1.6k

a/n: I might make this a 2-parter (or more low-key) cause I want to space it out and have the absolute max amount of pining and friends-to-lovers tension hehe

Gareth stared down at you, disapproving of you calling him ‘rich boy’, while unloading your bags from the back of Eddie’s van. 

“I’m not rich, my parents just own a beach house.” He defended. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You know that’s the richest fucking thing you’ve ever said, right?”

“They bought it back in the day when shit was just cheaper. You can go if you don’t want to be here, by the way.” Gareth said it with the sass of a true non-rich boy, and you decided to lay off the teasing. 

You put your hands in the air in mock surrender. It’s been a long drive from Hawkins close to Cleveland, you weren’t turning back now. “Alright, fine, I’m done.”

You and the guys returned to grabbing your duffel bags and backpacks, then you closed the van’s back doors and went towards the front door of the brightly-painted building. Gareth put the lock into the key but faced you all before turning it. 

“So, here it is, my family’s beach house. Ready for the tour and the house rules?” Gareth asked the three of you. 

Everyone was ready for the tour, but you all seemed disappointed that there were rules you had to follow on your mini-vacation. Nevertheless, you all nodded—not necessarily agreeing to anything, just wanting to get inside and put your stuff down. 

Gareth opened the door to reveal the inside of his modest beach house. Okay, maybe he wasn’t rich rich but you still thought about teasing him a few more times throughout your stay. The inside walls of the building were mostly made from light wood, with painted accents peeling in certain places. There were seashells and sand-filled bottles as decorations in the main hall—same as most beach houses, even though the whole point of them was that they were close to the beach all the time. 

“First stop is the kitchen.” Gareth said, leading you all and stopping in front of the table. “If you want to use it, you have to promise not to burn the house down.”

Eddie shook his head. “Now, Garebear, you know I can’t make any promises like that.”

You and Jeff laughed at Eddie’s joke, but Gareth didn’t seem amused. 

“I’m watching you, Ed. I’m serious, my parents will be pissed if anything happens to this place.” He looked back to you and Jeff as he continued. “Next, we have the living room. The tv works, plus we have some movies on those shelves, so we could maybe have a movie night or something tonight.”

Jeff went to look at the shelves that his friend just pointed at. “Yo, these movies are trash!” He laughed. “I’m not watching any of these.” 

“Thank you so much for that valuable addition to the tour, Jeff. And they’re for my parents, obviously.”

“What about where we’re sleeping?” Eddie asked. 

Gareth had told you all that the sleeping situation might be a bit problematic, and that he’d try to think of a best solution, but he hadn’t even told any of you what the issue was. 

“So, we have the couch, it actually even pulls out…” Gareth paused, then started walking down a bright hallway to a pair of doors next to each other. He opened one of them. “Here’s my room; I’m sleeping here, of course.” Before you could even take a good look inside, he shut that door and opened the other. “And here’s the main bedroom. Two of you will have to share the big bed.”

All three of you looked at him with wide eyes at the idea. At the exact same time, you and Jeff tried calling dibs on the couch, then cringed at the fact that you both wanted it. 

“Eddie, you don’t want the couch?” Gareth asked, noticing he seemed pretty calm about it all.

He shrugged. “Have you seen my room? I couldn’t give a shit about where I sleep.”

Even though you’ve seen his room and understood where he was coming from, Eddie seemed like he wasn’t being completely truthful. Unfortunately, you were too focused on having your own sleeping place to ask him what was wrong. 

“Since you said it together, I may have to flip a coin.” Gareth said, already digging in his pockets to find one. 

“No way, I don’t want to sleep next to Eddie.” Jeff protested. “No offence.”

“Offence taken, actually. I’ll have you know I am a lovely spooner, both big and little.”

Gareth laughed. “Yeah, like you’ve ever gotten to spoon with someone.” Before Eddie could even respond, he held out a quarter and stood between you and Jeff. “Alright, tails means Jeff gets the couch, heads means he gets to be Eddie’s first spooning partner.” 

You nodded, watching the coin intensely as Gareth tossed it in the air. It was spinning too quickly for you to really see the sides, so you just crossed your fingers and looked at his face as he read it. 

“Tails.” He looked at you. “Looks like you and Eddie can find a way to share the big room.”

You tried keeping your sigh quiet and hiding your upset, but you had to admit you were a bit disappointed about not having your own bed. You thought about it all throughout dinner and your movie night, and it stared you in the face when it was time to go to sleep.

Eddie dug through his duffel bag to find a pair of pyjama pants and a band t-shirt—of course. “If you want me to leave the room while you change, I can. I feel like that’s what girls want, right?”

You shook your head, fiddling with the fabric from your own set. “No, no, don’t worry about that. Just turn around for a second, maybe?”

He did just as you asked, turning around to face the corner of the room and getting changed himself while he waited for you to do the same. You quickly stripped yourself of the clothes you had spent all day in, and changed into the short black set you had packed with you. 

“Okay, you can turn around now.” You told him after you were done. 

He turned as you had said, but you both hesitated to get in bed, even though there was nothing left to do. 

“You know, I can sleep on the floor or something if you don’t want to share the bed.” He offered unnecessarily. 

“No way, I know you said you don’t care where you sleep, but that’s ridiculous, Eddie. I would never ask you to do that.” You slid underneath the bed sheets on your side. They were actually nice sheets; you would be sad to see Eddie sleep on the floor and miss that sweet thread count. “We’re basically grown-ups; we can share a bed without it being a big deal.”

He seemed less reluctant than before as he laid down next to you. “Well, I just wanted to err on the side of caution.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You never want to be cautious, Eddie. That’s like, your whole thing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s different with you.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant by that, but you chose to ignore it in case it was something negative. There was no way you’d want to share a bed with a friend after finding out he secretly hates you or something like that. 

The two of you were lying down on opposite sides of the bed on your backs, but you leaned over to whisper to Eddie. “Goodnight, Eds.”

He wished you a good night in return, but it didn’t do much in the way of easing your nerves. For that, you just shut your eyes, clutched the blanket, and tried your hardest to fall asleep. 

You weren’t sure about how long it took, but you did eventually sleep; and you woke up practically cuddling with your best friend. You were hugging him, your head was on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your torso in return. You also weren’t sure how you got into that position, but you knew you had to get out of it. In an attempt to be soft and silent, you unwrapped your arms from Eddie and snuck out of his grasp. 

You stood up and walked over to the nice kitchen to make yourself some morning tea—and get away from the friend you were just accidentally snuggling. 

You didn’t even let the water in the pot fully boil since you didn’t want to wake anyone up, but it seemed your attempts to be quiet were unsuccessful, since you heard footsteps coming down the hall from the bedrooms. 

Of course it was Eddie and this was the one time he woke up before the clock hit a double-digit hour. “Morning.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“Good morning.” You held out a mug for him. “Do you want some tea?” 

“Absolutely not. But I’ll make myself a coffee if there’s any here.” 

Eddie started rooting through the lightwood cupboards to find what he wanted, but you knew where it was, so you just handed it to him. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem.” You told him. “So, um, how’d you sleep last night?”

“Really well, sweetheart. What about you?”

You nodded and held back a smile. “Same. I slept great.”x

[luvfy0dor]

“I Get Drunk on Jealousy ♡⁠˖” BSD Boys x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Jealousy/possessiveness, cursing (Nikolais), Sassy men

Description; Fyodor and Nikolai and how they act when they're jealous with short scenarios.

A/n; Thank you all so much for all the asks and 300 followers!! It means so much to me 💜 I hope you guys enjoy this, because I have like,, 7 child reader requests so I don't know how many romantic fics I'll have out inbetween, but we'll see!!

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

→ Fyodor will let you know if he's jealous through snarky and sarcastic remarks.

→ That being said, Fyodor knows you're not leaving him. He just wants your attention, especially since most of his time he's too busy with work to receive it in copious amounts.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor could feel his eyelids starting to droop as he sat at a fancy table with lacy white cloth and clear glass centerpieces filled with beautiful flowers. The once majestic speckles of darker tones that occupied the flower were becoming boring and bland the more he stared at them. You told him a solid five minutes ago that you just wanted to say quick goodbyes to the attendees of your work party, but you didn't seem to be in any rush. He eyeballed you from across the room while you spoke to a coworker with a smile on your face; a smile that he had been robbed of for the past three minutes because you were talking to that guy.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, watching him tuck some of his hair behind his ear and sigh. You decided it would be best to swiftly wrap up the conversation and return to his side. "It's been great, but I think I gotta get going." You say with a soft chuckle. He waves you goodbye and you head back to Fyodor, your shoes quietly colliding with the cool tile of the floor. His eyes flicker back up to you and he immediately stands, reaching for one of your hands and grasping it gently.

"Finally ready to leave?" He said, a hint of sass in his voice as his eyes squinted slightly. You rolled your eyes and ran your thumb over his knuckles. "I was only talking to him for three minutes." You say leaning into Fyodors body as the two of you walk out of the party. You knew exactly what was ruffling your boyfriends feathers in the moment without him having to say any more than one sentence. "And that's a “quick goodbye”, in your words?" He questions, his voice stable and smooth. You sigh in defeat and shake your head, knowing that you probably should have wrapped things up quicker. "You're right, I'm sorry, Fedya." You apologize. "But it's not the end of the world." Squeezing his hand, you both continue walking, the cold evening air hitting your face when Fyodor opens the door for you.

"Do you not talk to him every day at work?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, holding your body close to his own. You sigh and lift your head off of his shoulder. "I said I was sorry." You murmur. "I forgive you, Moya Lyubov." He quietly sighed and rubbed his thumb affectionately on your hip as your car came into view. "Well you surely don't act like it. You drag things on sometimes, Fedya." You say, glancing up at him out of the corner of your eye. A miniscule frown creeps onto his face. "Oh. Do I?" He questions. You just nod before unlocking the car and reaching for the passenger side door handle. "I'm sorry, malyshka. I just want you to know how I feel." The soft apology leaves his pale lips as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

"It's alright, I understand." You mumble. He nods and lets go of you with a small smile and kisses your cheek before walking around the car to the driver's side. The both of you get in while trying to suppress the shivers and 'brrr''s that the cold night air had offered you, even through your warm clothing. Fyodor quickly starts the car and turns the heat up, blood becoming focused in his cheeks and nose while he rubs his arms for warmth. "You know I'm much happier to go home with you than to have spoke with him for another second, right?" You tell him, bringing the topic up again like you had criticized him for. You felt hypocritical but couldn't bring yourself to care in the moment. "Ofcourse I know that." He tells you, straightening his posture and looking over his shoulder in order to back out of the parking space. "I just think you could have used those three minutes on me instead." You nod in response. "Well while we're home I can spend all of my time on you if you quit dwelling on those three minutes." You tell him, reaching over and placing a hand on his thigh. He exhales and nods, keeping his eyes on the road. "Alright, I'll hold you to that, Myshka."

Nikolai Gogol ★

→ Nikolai is your favorite jester, therefore he should be the only one making you laugh! Seeing other people do that for you ticks him off, especially if it's someone just as serious as Sigma.

ೃ⁀➷

Nikolais arms were around your waist as you sat on the couch, his attention glued to the TV show the both of you were watching. He had been on a recent kick for shitty reality tv shows and was currently knee-deep in an episode of Jersey Shore. You had lost interest in the mindless arguments not too far in and had been talking with Sigma via his new WhatsApp account that you made for him. Your fingers were gliding across the bottom half of the screen as you replied to his messages with small smiles and even a couple of giggles.

Your snickering had drifted it's way to Nikolais ears, and he couldn't help but peek over at your phone when he noticed nothing on the show was particularly funny. His eyes widened when he realized that SIGMA was the one making you all giggly like this. His fingers slide down your shoulder to pinch your arm, making you gasp and turn your head to him. He quickly grins and steals a kiss while simultaneously snatching your phone from your hands. You pull away with a dissatisfied hum, reaching for the rectangular electronic that he held out of your reach via a portal. "Hey, what's that for?" Your eyebrows furrow as you speak, a bit annoyed by his sly grin. "There's no way Sigma is that funny, dove." He claims, using his ability to place the phone on a far counter. His hand pulls back through and cups your face. "I know funny people, and Sigma is not one of them." He says with the tip of his nose nearly touching yours.

"Well he can have his moments." You defend your friend's humor or lack thereof to your boyfriend. "His moments are when he misses a step on a flight of stairs. That's about it if you ask me." He says, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. "If you wanted to laugh, you should have asked me." He pouts, mumbling as he goes back to watching the TV. You raise an eyebrow and grab onto Nikolais hand. "He's not funnier than you, Kolya. I laugh at one message and you're gettin' all worked up." You quietly say, running a thumb over his knuckles. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his brows still angled inwards. He switched his position from having his knees to his chest to sitting criss-crossed facing you, his frown still evident on his face. "I made a joke the other day and you didn't laugh." He says, his tone snarky. You can't help but roll your eyes at his ridiculous statement. "Okay, that was one time. I laugh at all of your other jokes, Kolya, I just wasn't in the mood." He looks rather dissatisfied with your answer, chosing to ignore you over it. "Oh, come on." You say, crawling into his lap and trying to get his attention back on you.

"Is this your way of trying to make me jealous in retaliation? Because your attention is all on the TV? Do you think Pauly D is hotter than me, babe?" You satirically ask, to which he scrunches his nose and rests his hands on your side and ass. "No. You've got a much better personality, darlin'." He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Upon pulling away for oxygen, you hear his voice speak up once again. "But if you keep laughing at Sigma of all people, he may start to look a little more appealing." He teases, his Cheshire Cat smile almost mirroring you less-teethy one. "Yeah, cause Pauly D wants you." You reply, pulling him in for another kiss which he happily returns. His eyes fluttered shut as your lips collided so sweetly, a great contrast to the angry yelling and censoring bleep sounds coming from the TV. "He doesn't know what he's missing, huh?" He plays into your joke. "One hundred percent. I love you Kolya, and I'm sorry if me laughing at Sigmas message made you upset." You apologize, kissing his cheek as an apology. He hums and rubs your back while occasionally gripping at the fabric of your shirt. "It's alright I suppose. I love you too, my dove."

A/n; Ugh no one knows how much I love writing for Nikolai. I think I just feel confident that I'm characterizing him correctly, if I'm not PLEASE humble me

[just-another-siimp]

Surface Pressure 141 x Reader HCs

Just a dumb bunch of thoughts about the 141st members reacting to their S/O giving them a massage, i crave fluff so i'm writing it for myself. If you guys like this please reblog! It gives me my daily serotonin boost.

word count: 1.3k Warnings: Unsure, if you find any let me know <3.

Captain John Price

We all know that as Captain, John is under a lot of pressure to not only keep his team alive but to get results.

A lot of the stress that he has is held in his shoulders, it doesn't help that post mission he spent a lot of his time hunched over a desk completing reports.

Massages often helped.

You often bought him coffee in the early hours of the morning, strong and dark the perfect combination to get him through the rest of his reports.

Even with exhaustion hanging over you, you'd stay by his side. Keeping him company until he joined you in bed.

You sat on your phone, idly scrolling through the news trying to catch up on the normal of aspects of life you missed while deployed. In the three months since you'd been away there was another royal scandal, the clicking of keys stopped drawing your attention away from the click bait article you'd been occupying yourself with.

Looking up you noticed how John rubbed his shoulder, sighing as he checked over his work before turning to you. When your eyes met he smiled and you practically melted, rolling the chair closer to his side in order to steal a kiss to the cheek before you lost him to his reports again.

"I'm almost done, love. Won't be long now." Your hand reached out to his, squeezing gently as you stood fingers sliding up his arm and the shoulder he'd been rubbing just moments prior. Wordlessly you added a small amount of pressure, both hands now gently massaging the tension away. John leaned back in his chair, head lulling to the side as his hands reached up to hold yours. In a matter of seconds he'd completely melted in his chair, blue eyes staring lovingly up at you.

"You've been sitting at this desk too long, dear." "Hmm if you keep this up I'll never get the reports done."

"That's the point."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Gaz always has an air of 'calm' surrounding him, it's the reason why you'd fallen in love with him. Even under pressure he never seemed to crack, though that didn't change the fact that even he could grow angry and frustrated.

Anger was often a result of exhaustion, nightmares, aching limps keeping him awake or the worst possible thing. Your young neighbours throwing a house party at 2am on a tuesday.

You'd hate to admit it but even you were growing tense with the near constant thudding of bass boosted music. The party did eventually end, only with police intervention. Which was probably for the best, because if either of you had gone next door it would not have been a nice encounter.

Even after the nights drama Gaz couldn't sleep, he'd continued to toss and turn next to you. No amounts of spooning able to quench the frustration he felt.

Gaz had gotten up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, you sat up listening to the sound of footsteps padding back into the room. He gave you an apologetic smile as he placed the glasses down, that's when you realised. He'd bought you water too. This man was far too sweet to be real.

"Sorry to wake you Sweetheart."

"Come 'ere"

Your voice was coated in sleep, soft and sweet as you reached out for him. As he knelt down on the bed he pulled you into a kiss, something soft and sweet hidden within all of his anger and frustration.

"Lay down."

"Is that an order?" He's smirking at you, you're rolling your eyes at him. Despite the sass he still lays down, on his stomach. Fingers tugging lightly at the shirt you wore, it belonged to him once upon a time. Doing your best not to accidentally knee Kyle in the ribs you straddled his back, hands running down his back.

"Don't be a shit, Kyle."

"Yes ma'am."

In a matter of seconds he was putty in your hands, muscles relaxing under your expert hands as they pushed out the knots in his back. Fifteen minutes later he was fast asleep, with you laying on his back like a weighted blanket. Both finally sleeping peacefully.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost isn't the type to enjoy a massage, or any form of TLC really. The feeling of hands on his shoulders send him back to the battlefield, the weight on his back makes him feel like he's suffocating.

Even with you he's not fond of a massage, if you start to rub his shoulders or back he'll guide you into a a hug. Often smothering you in a cuddle, or returning the favour and offering to give you a massage instead.

What he does like however, is his hands being played with.

Simon can't explain it, but the feeling of your fingers gently pinching the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger is relaxing.

The movie had long since been abandoned, yet it still played softly in the background. You and Simon hadn't moved from the couch since dinner, takeout containers sitting empty on floor instead of being disposed of immediately. 'It won't hurt for the floor to be messy for a few hours' Simon had said, his attempt at keeping you on the couch successful. He'd sat with his back against the armrest, you between his legs so he could stop you from leaving. So you wouldn't have been able to say no either way.

Your hands had taken one of his, gently massaging away the ache that had settled in during the cool evening. He told you he was starting to get old, you rolled your eyes and reminded him that you're both the same age.

As the ending title began to play you shifted, releasing his hand as you attempted to get up. The same hand you'd been holding moments early snaking back around your waist and pulling you back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"To pee"

"I'm coming with you." At that comment you smack his hand, standing up.

"Clingy are we?"

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Johnny is very much a head rub kinda guy, he would start world war three if it meant getting a head rub.

that's an exaggeration, he wouldn't.. unless- jk

He likes to sit in front of you on the couch while you play with his mohawk, normally he pulls your leg over his shoulder and will massage your calf or foot.

He doesn't want you to feel left out

but when he's stressed tho? like mega stressed all of the tension in his body goes to his neck. He ends up getting Migraines so bad he sits in a dark until they go away. When on a mission it's worse.

As the sun went down the chill in the safe house grew, huddling closer to the fire you waited for Soap to come out of the shower. He'd been in there for longer than usual, you could only assume that it was as a result of the exhaustion that had overtaken both of you.

If it wasn't for the chill that had set in you'd probably have fallen asleep in bed, but you'd wait for Johnny first. After all snuggling was the best way to achieve warmth, or so he liked to remind you. The door swung open behind you, footsteps skipping right past you as he flopped down on the bed.

It was clear as day and you knew the signs, he had one of those Migraines again.

"mo ghràdh.. I'm so tired."

"Come get into bed properly, love. Then you can sleep."

Once you were both snuggled up under the covers, your hand rested on the back of his neck. Thumb sliding up from his shoulder just to the base of his ear, adding a little pressure before going back to it's starting position.

"Y/N-"

"Shh, go back to sleep."

"Thank you.."

Within a few minutes you'd both drifted off to sleep.

[forevfangirlwrites]

I'm sure you get a million prompts for how to handle fame so please feel free to completely ignore this but I think it'd be cute to at some point see a fic of Percy watching Estelle and Annabeth interact together for this first time like we saw them meet, but it'd be adorable to see the aftermath of that

-Estelle hasn’t stopped looking at Annabeth since she showed up an hour ago and Percy is starting to feel a little jealous because Annabeth has been giving Estelle almost the same amount of attention back

-“Were the goblins super scary?” Estelle interjects the larger conversation every now and then with another question about Princess Andromeda that Annabeth, very kindly, spends the next three minutes answering

-Honestly, the attention and care she gives in responding to the five-year old’s questions is so endearing to him that it almost overpowers the jealousy, almost

-But then Annabeth’s hand finds him and he suddenly everything is ten times better and he wonders how she knew

-He corners Estelle when Annabeth gets up to help his mom (He had tried to interject but with the way his mother shooed him away he’s convinced that they’re really just talking about him and he definitely needs to grill Annabeth on that later because if his mom pulls out the baby photos then—)

-“Did you forget about your brother?” he asks, trying hard not to sound miffed to a literal child and failing miserably

-But when Estelle grins at him, his heart soars at seeing her so happy (she also hugs him and thanks him for bringing Princess Andromeda)

-He hugs her back and tells her that while Annabeth played Princess Andromeda, that’s not who she really is

-"Duh, I know what a character is," Estelle replies with all the sass of a kindergartener

-He assures her that he never questioned that, but she should get to know Annabeth as a person (He doesn’t want to spoil her fun but with how caught up she in the Princess stuff he wants her to like Annabeth for Annabeth, especially since she’s not going anywhere as far as he’s concerned)

-"You don't want Annabeth to think you only like her because of Princess Andromeda, right?" Is what he says and Estelle looks at him with wide eyes and shakes her head

-He tells her not to worry and asks about school to change the topic

-Which then leads into a five-minute story with more drama than a plot of a tv-show featuring kindergartners passive aggressively not sharing the blue crayon and spilling juice onto someone’s paper

-When Annabeth finally returns (wearing a wide smile that makes him even more suspicious of whatever it is his mom talked to her about) Estelle immediately runs to her

-"Annabeth, what's your favorite color?" she asks, tugging on her hand. She also makes sure Annabeth sits next to her on the couch and it’s clear Percy is going back into the background again

-Annabeth looks a little surprised at a non-Princess Andromeda question but he can tell she's pleased as she answers

-Her answer, by the way, is sea-green and she looks directly into his eyes as she says so

-Rest assured the rest of the time they're in the living room Percy has to fight the urge to kiss her senseless

-Something he does as soon as they get a moment alone

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt! I ended up adding it to how to handle fame and headcanons ch. 8

I hope you liked how it turned out! And thanks again for sending a prompt!

[noonaishere]

Masterlist of Older Works

These are all fics I wrote in 2020 and before.

I have tumblr versions of these on my main blog, symphonyofmars, but something happened with one of them where I fucked up some formatting or something and like half of a chapter repeats itself. I fixed it on AO3 but not here, so I'm only putting the AO3 links and I recommend reading them all there.

The works that are 18+ are clearly marked.

Redemption [Deucalion] (18+)

2016-2018

🌶️🔥Smut🔥🌶️

Fic type: traditional style

Pairing: Deucalion x fem!OC

Genre: Teen Wolf, canon complaint (mostly), AU (that starts after season 4), OCs

Warnings: paranormal violence, SMUT

Status: Finished

Ever since being let go by Scott and Derek, Deucalion has been in hiding. Except for the mercenary Braden, he hasn’t had contact with anyone in months and no one knows where he is.

Meanwhile, Scott and his pack are enjoying one of Beacon Hills’ rare quiet periods, but that is about to change. A grisly corpse is found and the hunt is on to figure out who – or what – the killer is before they can kill again.

House of the Dead [Malachi]

2018

Fic type: traditional style

Pairing: Malachi x fem!OC

Genre: Riverdale, AU, flashback, character past

Warnings: (none really, since it ended before things really got started)

Status: Unfinished but abandoned

This fic takes place after season 2. Malachi seemed like he was spiraling further out of control, but there was a time in his life where he wasn't. What was missing that made him so unhinged? How did the Ghoulies form and who formed it? And anyway, who doesn’t want to be the most powerful woman in the room?

[Sorry, this one is never getting finished. I liked writing this, but it was an experiment to see if I could return to a work every week to update it and the conclusion was: I can't. Writing a fic all at once like a book is the way to go, for me. It was also originally going to have smut, but I was editing Cold Hands Warm Heart at the same time as writing this, and that one ended up winning all my attention in the end. I do want to repurpose some of the OCs for an original book (and maybe even this version of Malachi since he's so OOC per the show), so they at least won't go to waste.]

Cold Hands Warm Heart [Loki] (18+)

2018-2020

🌶️🔥Smut🔥🌶️

Fic type: traditional style

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Genre: MCU, Marvel Comic Universe, AU, heroes (and characters I like) never die

Warnings: assault, extraterrestrial violence, copious amounts of fashion descriptions, raging against the machine, existential crises/angst, sass, SMUT, BDSM

Status: Finished

From my AO3 descrip: "This fic takes place in some weird space after Infinity War in which Loki didn’t die and had just faked his death AGAIN, because I refuse to believe he’s dead." So it's canon compliant up until a certain point lol.

Three Weeks [Henry Cavill]

2020

Fic type: traditional style

Pairing: Henry Cavill x fem!reader

Genre: real life AU

Warnings: none, mentions of quarantine and coronavirus

Status: Finished

The Reader is a script writer on The Witcher 2 and begins a budding romance with the lead actor, Henry Cavill. However, coronavirus is going around and no one is prepared. Love in the Time of Corona?

[This is partly inspired by all the footage of people finding ways to deal with the quarantine I saw at the time, and partly by the way the first season of The Witcher was told where; Geralt was in the past and Ciri was in the present (did I get that right? lol) and the two timelines overlapped at a particular point. It left me wanting to try doing that, you can be the judge of if I succeeded lol.]

Anyway, that's them. If you decide to read them, please comment 😊 I know they're old, but I still like hearing what people have to say, it gives me motivation 😊

Enjoy! 🥰🥰🥰

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i have been so excited about this fic for ages and oh my god loren, it’s even more heartbreaking than i imagined - and we haven’t even gotten to part ii when the real angst starts! i love that we get to see everyone’s pov, it just further contributes to the foreboding nature and suspense of the whole night? and it’s so sad because they all love each other so so much, but they haven’t been good at showing and saying it lately, that it’s lead to resentment almost? and i love that we get to see bradley and the reader and quincy at this more mature part of their life, since it’s something i don’t see a lot in bradley fic! anyway, i have more to say below, but god!!! i’m on pins and needles over part ii 🫣💕

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” - this is still one of my favorite lines! like it’s so jake! “she’s beyond unwell” gahhhh

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. - AHHHHHHHHH THIS THIS THIS

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. - i feel like with parents, when you’re having the baby etc you don’t always think about the hard parts like reprimanding them, but i think that’s doubly so for godparents/uncles in this case? jake’s never had to do this

And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. - how dare you make me feel sympathy for the blond man

…before you have to make room for your second daughter - 🥺🥺🥺🥺

You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. - stop this right now!!! this is so sweet, but also a little sad?

your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago - that adorable little cranberry 🥺

What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. - gosh i love this, it’s so sad

You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. - this is such a good comparison/word play, i love it!!

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. - god he is so hard on himself as a parent

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. - oh bubs 🥺 sweet boy. i like the comparison to the old bradley with this

She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. - see now this is interesting to me! that with all her truancy and misbehaving and whatnot, this thursday night is the first time she gets drunk? also i wanna know what she does while playing truant

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. - yes yes yes! there’s something so embarrassing about being drunk/caught being drunk by sober people, whether you’re 18 or 28?!

“Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” - oh sweet girl! she needs her dad and she thinks she doesn’t have him anymore, but he’s still right there

The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. - LOVE how you ended it this way! though i’m properly scared for quincy come friday morning

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - part i.

"If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman." or Quincy Bradshaw is growing up and no one knows what to do about it; especially Bradley.

a/n: in light of father's day, enjoy part one to bradley's precocious daughter making a re-appearance and jake seresin being reasonable for once. part two will be posted soon! the angst will be resolved, don't you worry!

It happens in between the end credits and the black fade-out screen. 

The piercing sound of the phone ringing snaps you and your husband out of your near comatose states on the couch, seemingly entranced by Molly Ringwald’s whining (which only she can get away with because she’s fucking Molly Ringwald, of course) for the entirety of Sixteen Candles. 

“Holy shit,” Bradley swallows, leaning up to sit entirely straight. His movements jostle you, causing you to wince at your cheek unsticking from its glued spot on his right pec. 

You smack your lips and sigh, trying to wake yourself up. The obnoxiously mechanical sound the phone makes causes your ears a subtle pain, and you silently curse your husband for refusing to remove the landline phone that sits glued to your kitchen wall. 

“It serves a purpose,” he had reasoned. “Don’t kill my dream of having a rotary phone.” 

And the conversation of uninstalling a 1970s landline phone from your new house was lost in the abyss of cardboard boxes and cheerios on the floor from your then beyond spunky and energetic three-year-old daughter. 

So while it sticks out like an eyesore amongst your “lived-in” and perfectly curated home, you often forget it’s there... except on occasions like this when the sporadic ringing shakes your eardrums and tightens the ever-present rubberband around your temples in the worst way possible. 

Bradley sits with his elbows on his knees, almost trying to muster up the strength to deal with the nuisance of the ringing phone. He sits for a second and sighs before hearing your body shift. 

You smush your face into a pillow; the constant ringing making you want to tear your hair out by the second. 

“Bradley!” you whine. He pats the part of your calf uncovered by your shared throw blanket with an unspoken tenderness. 

“Sorry,” he timidly apologizes. 

He stands up; his left knee making an impressive “crack” before swiping his phone off the coffee table on his way to the kitchen. 

You turn the TV off and lie in the complete darkness of your living room. The illumination of the moonlight through the glass windowed door in your kitchen shines its way to the floor in front of your couch. You have half the mind to yell to your husband to close the blinds that line the backdoor before your voice catches in your throat. 

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who needed to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the question sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well, you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up against the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and walks to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . .fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage-induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the phone cord and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty-five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school at midday and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from wherever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him gets that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

The sound of the plastic phone slamming into its rightful place on the wall alarms you and part of your heart hurts for Jake. 

Jake has no concept of boundaries and has no limit to the absurdities that he often commits, but Jake also has the biggest heart that gets overshadowed by his equally big ego. You know the words uttered to him by your husband have knocked him down in ways Bradley isn’t the slightest bit aware of, and you start to silently cry for him because you know he won’t do it for himself. 

You force yourself up from your deepened spot on the couch and waddle your way to Bradley in the kitchen. The tears streaming down your face only fuel your need to make it right and to stand up for Jake and his quietly hurt feelings. 

You don’t know the full of what happened, but you heard enough to know that no one deserves to be spoken to that way. Bradley is upset (and he seemingly always has this cloud of gloom hanging over his head), but that gives him no right to be so cruel. 

The mama bear feelings are only amplified by the thirty-nine-week bump on your frontside making you tilt forward more than you usually do. Jake is a big boy and you know he can handle himself and that this situation has nothing to do with you, per se, but the lack of kindness surrounding you currently is stuffy, and you’d do anything to break the barrier to actually breathe. 

You try and stifle your cries and wipe your starry eyes before you approach your husband; silently cursing how cold your feet are and longing for the day when you can put your socks back on yourself independently. 

He stands with his hands against the wall and his head drooped between them. It’s a look of defeat; a showcase of hopelessness and frustration mixed into a burly mess of indigo and violets from the moonlight and dark sky peeping into your kitchen windows. Despite the darkness surrounding him, you can see the pink flush on the back of Bradley’s ears that has traveled to the tops of his shoulder blades. 

The anger is rampant and on the verge of explosion. Seeing your sweet Bradley like this is a sight rarer than a double rainbow. Part of you knows you shouldn’t poke the bear, but Bradley knows he shouldn’t speak to people like that. Compromising your morals is something you’ve never let yourself do and being bone tired and thirty-nine weeks pregnant is not going to change that. 

Something’s gotta give, and you decide that it’s going to be you. 

His head pops up the second he senses your presence. He knows that something is off with you after your lack of announcement. His home and heart had been preoccupied by two of the most chatty (and rather heavy-footed) women for the past sixteen and a half years. Silence is not welcomed in abundance in the Bradshaw household.

As if he didn’t have to suck in his sharp breath of frustration seconds prior, he turns to you and opens his arms. The darkness hides your tears and aggravation, but he knows that it stands next to you as an unwelcome visitor. 

Part of you wants to indulge, but an overwhelming portion of you houses irritation that won’t let you bite. 

This night was supposed to be one of peace and tranquility. You’re coming up on week three of rest allocated by your maternity leave and you finally feel like the walls in your house aren’t closing in on you. Bradley’s light load of scheduled hops and paperwork has helped with giving you company earlier in the afternoons before you have to make room for your second daughter. The way that she’s sitting on your bladder and constantly kicking your ribs in the middle of the night throws the hope that she’ll be calm and sweet out of the window and opens the door to the reality that she’ll be a carbon copy of her older sister. 

“What’s wrong?” you grumble, sending Bradley a scowl. You ignore his open arms and head to the fridge. You slam the carton of orange juice down on the counter and swing open the cabinet door to grab yourself a glass. 

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in confusion and lowers his arms in defeat. His feet drag him closer to you subconsciously. The thought that you moved away from him because you wanted space doesn’t cross his mind. 

“Nothing,” he leans his hip against the countertop, eyes scanning the thin stream of juice being poured into the glass. His nose wrinkles as you flash your eyebrows at him. That was always his tell of hiding something. 

He knows you can clock it. He just really doesn’t want to argue right now. 

You take a gulp from your glass while rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I know it was Jake.” 

“Doesn’t mean something is wrong.” His shoulders slump before he closes the refrigerator door. You had been extra forgetful in this stage of your pregnancy. 

Your lips mouth a reflexive, “Thank you” before you huff. Being lied to was something you never appreciated; especially when you know how bad Bradley is at doing it. Besides, you know that he knows you have heard quite a bit. The pointlessness of his actions starts a kindling of rage in your belly. 

“Well, that’s funny because you’re telling Jake he doesn’t know how to be a parent over the phone?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

His spine straightens and his cheeks spill a baby pink hue that starts to spread to the tips of his ears. You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. Your eyes start to twinkle before you remember that you’re pissed at him. The serious face holds a standstill. 

“Don’t play dumb. Do I need to say the exact words for it to ring a bell? ‘You don’t have what it takes to raise a fuckin’ person.’ Seriously, Bradley? What the fuck is your problem?” 

He winces at the agitation in your voice. Hearing it being said by someone other than him makes him realize how fucked up he was to say it; let alone even think about saying it to someone as dear to him and your family as Jake. Your hands heavily place the glass in the metal bottom of the kitchen sink and your heavy footsteps storm past him back to the living room. 

Bradley reaches out to grab your wrist and spins you to look at him. His hands envelop yours and place them flat on his chest. He sighs before dropping his head as if he was a puppy that had just gotten scolded. 

“You’re right,” his eyes scan your face but refuse to peer into your own, “I have no right to talk to people like that.” 

You let him hold you as your annoyance shifts to a denotation of shocked nerves that leave your heart sprinting like crazy in your chest for air. You’ve always been somewhat easy to work up, but your nerves have been oversensitive as of late. 

Penny and your mother call it your mother’s intuition maturing, but you like to call it a nuisance. Although the first baby you’ll be giving birth to will make her way earthside in a few short weeks, your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago. 

Bradley’s steady hand rubbing soothing circles on your back does little to help you differentiate the present and the imaginary. You aren’t sure how much time has passed or if his soft caresses continue on your spine, but you’re damn sure of what your gut is telling you. 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

“Is she okay?” you ask him. 

The words uttered make the world stop turning for the millisecond it took you to speak. 

You know deep in your heart that she’s not okay; that she hasn’t been for a while. Your bright and bubbly baby turned angsty and moody Senior in high school had happened overnight, it seems. What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. 

It became extremely noticeable in the last few weeks of her Senior year; calls of truancy being made to your home phone and numerous talks about possible grounding if she didn’t get her act together becoming more and more frequent. 

Her attendance sucks but her grades remain stellar, so the idea of punishing her falls flat on its face whenever it gets brought up. You both have always known how intelligent your daughter is. You just wish she didn’t know it so well to know that you and her father are bluffing. 

And to be totally truthful, preparing for a new and unexpected baby hadn’t been part of the plan. You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. Looking for your face in the school pick-up line and at soccer games and honor roll assemblies had always been her normal, and the fact that she had to share that with something embryonic (as she would call it) that hadn’t even graced real outside world oxygen (again, Quincy vernacular) was not something on her bingo card for her Senior year of high school. 

Your absences from these things, the things that are important to her but she’s far too stubborn to admit how much they actually mean out loud, were felt this year. She was raised understanding and kind but has inherited the sensitivity of her father’s heart. You know how much this entire pregnancy has deeply hurt her, and the guilt swallows you whole. 

The abyss of her unverbalized pain looms like a fog in every corner of your mind. Guilt has a funny way of turning all emotions into its twin. 

“I mean, yes? But she’s in for it once she steps foot in this house,” he grumbles. The meteoric thumping of his heart in his chest soothes you, but you know that the adrenaline pumping through his veins to move the muscle at lightning speed is sourced in anger. 

“So she called Jake?” 

Bradley scoffs. Your face is buried in his chest, but you know his huff of annoyance was accompanied by an eye roll. 

“Tried to use him as her ‘get out of jail free’ card. Knows that shit doesn’t work so I don’t even know why she did that.” 

You stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him. “I’m sorry I was so mean earlier. Didn’t mean it,” you whisper and he grins. Apologies have never been your strong suit. He would argue that you’re more stubborn than your daughter and Maverick in that regard.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick. Know you don’t like when I get like that.” 

There’s no need for acceptance. You have him wholeheartedly the same way he has you. Verbally accepting each other’s apologies has long been a thing of the past; especially when you feel like you share each other in ways that no one else on Earth would be able to understand; two halves of a whole – husband and wife. 

Your hand lightly taps his chest before you scoot past him to return back to the living room. From the digital numbers of the oven light in the kitchen, you know that it’s nearing midnight. You and Bradley had never been “good sleepers” (and now that you’re thinking about it, neither is Quincy), but you figure that you should get as much sleep as you’re still allowed. God knows that the new baby will be all Bradshaw and will probably be the worst sleeper too. 

Bradley hears your heavy footsteps trudge up to the bedroom and the soft suction of the door frame signifying that you’re about to lay down for the night. He wants nothing more than to join you and revel in the peace; remind himself to breathe and of simpler times when it was just you and him, but it had never just been you and him because it was always you and him and Quincy. 

The ache in his stomach returns at the thought. He has to put himself back in the mindset to put his foot down and let his daughter know that what she had done was incredibly unacceptable. 

It’s not like he’s mad at her for choosing to act her age for once. 

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. She had always been bright but at the expense of never wanting to play imaginary games with her classmates because she didn’t see the point in “pretending.” He had always thought that it was his fault; that exposing your baby to the History Channel and retired veteran chatter at the bar during the day made her not like other kids. 

And it’s not like he wanted her to be a certain way or that he was scared of her being “weird” or that she wasn’t living up the the expectation of what he thought having a kid would be like. 

Bradley had just wanted her to be kind and to feel loved, and he knows from experience that it’s hard living life when you don’t feel like the former nor do you ever feel the support from the latter. He knows a life of isolation and a sharp tongue that spears a bleeding heart. The last thing he ever wanted was for his daughter to know the same. 

Nevertheless, he’s still angry. Angry? Enraged? Pissed? 

Disappointed. 

Bradley had seen the signs as much as you have of your daughter’s downward spiral through the duration of the school year. He ignored the phone calls of truancy and let them go to voicemail and held his breath and his tongue when she answered a question he asked her a little too harshly. He ignored the attitude and the slamming of doors and the glow of her bedside lamp being on well past 2 AM most nights. 

Bradley ignored all of it because confronting it and her made it real, and facing the reality that she’s growing up and will no longer need him is something that he will never be prepared to do. 

He takes deep breaths and grabs his water bottle off the counter, unscrewing the top and taking colossal sips. His therapist had given him a printed list of techniques years ago to help him manage his anxiety. If he can’t control the speed of Jake’s truck driving down the interstate to his house, he can control the pace of the icy chugs sliding down his throat. 

Bradley wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and places the metal water bottle down on the counter. He paces back and forth before he realizes that pacing always makes him more anxious. His feet carry him back to the living room where he sits on the edge of the couch and balances his elbows on the tops of his thighs. 

All that can be heard is the subtle tick of the large wall clock hanging above the mantle and the soft buzz of cicadas in the backyard. The silence is cut in half by blinding headlights beaming their way through the curtains that line the front window and the roar of an engine. 

He doesn’t jump up to unlock the door like he usually would. His thoughts are still maniacally bouncing around his skull like a ten-cent bouncy ball. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he dares to face Jake after he had spoken so horribly to him such a short time ago. 

The old Bradley, the one who was still hurting and lonely with no wife or kids or family, wouldn’t have given a damn. Fuck Jake and fuck everyone else. 

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. 

The headlights flick off and the engine is killed. The silence that resumes is so instantaneous that he can almost fool himself into believing that everything is normal. That his daughter is upstairs fast asleep in her room and that her godfather is fifteen minutes away at his own house. He prays Jake won’t knock on the door and disturb it again. Jake never knocked on the door anyway, so he might luck out, he figures. 

But Bradley underestimates how nervous Jake is about this whole thing and soon enough, the sound of his friend’s knuckles rapping on the dark green wood that is the entity of his front door. 

He holds his breath as he opens it. 

He sees Jake, twenty years older than when they finally put their past behind them and became friends, and then he sees his daughter, meek and saddened and slightly drunk. 

If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman. 

The Leemoore sweatshirt she has on is three sizes too big and does little to make her look like a high school partygoer, so he knows she has a riskier top beneath it. There’s no doubt Jake probably made a pit stop at his house to give it to her before bringing her home. 

Jake knows that Bradley hates secrets, so her sneaking out and also having a second secret wardrobe stashed beneath the floorboards under her bed would not make for a welcome guest upon her coming home after getting busted. The sweatshirt at least bought her a little time. 

“Hey,” Jake speaks, finally slicing the tension with a greeting. His left arm is looped through his goddaughter’s and she leans on him heavily to prevent herself from falling. 

“Hey,” Bradley says back. His face is stern. Jake knows he means business. 

“I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to see me next.” Even though Jake is kind of pissed and anxious, there still remains a glimmer of humor within him. The complaint of many ex-girlfriends had always been how he never took anything seriously (and his serious lack of commitment too, but that’s an issue for another time), and he knows that it’s a blessing and a curse.

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

Bradley grabs his daughter’s free arm and helps Jake maneuver her inside over the steep ledge of the front door and to the asylum of the living room couch. 

Quincy’s eyes are wide open and her brain is moving in slow motion; scanning her surroundings but not being able to focus on one thing before her eyes are caught by the presence of another. She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. Any thought of opening her mouth made the muscle memory of puking prevail. 

The rational part of her brain knows that her father wants to wring her neck, but she silently prides herself on calling Jake and kind of doing the right thing (even though she knows the right thing was not sneaking out and getting fucked up on a Thursday, to begin with). Her dad will forgive her and spending time with Jake was always fun. She just vows to make sure that she’ll never puke in front of him again because he turned green at the sight of her hunched over on the side of the road. 

Quincy lands on the couch with an incredible lack of grace. She bounces and almost slips off again, but sticks her foot out to help support her. Her vision is blurred before she focuses on the sight of her dad with the deepest frown on his face and his hands on his hips. Her eyes follow a horizontal line next to him and see Jake worrying his lip in between his teeth. A hiccup falls out of her mouth and she rushes to close it before her body can register a solution to the nausea plaguing her currently. 

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. 

Here she is, about to get the scolding of her life in front of one of the adults she admires the most. All she had ever wanted was to be seen as a grown-up and it’s clear to her now that the men in front of her think anything but that. 

“You got anything to say?” Bradley huffs. His glare sharpens the more he takes in his daughter’s appearance. 

The silence he’s met with kindles a fire in his belly that shifts the anxiety he feels to the beginning of an obnoxious anger. 

Quincy can’t answer verbally because she knows she’ll throw up. She can’t shake her head to answer him either. The room is spinning and the spiraling shadow cast by her vision will undoubtedly make her throw up too. She can’t even feel her lips and anything she has to say will not be an answer worthy of her dad’s appreciation. She fucked up big time and now she has to reap what she’s sown. 

Her dad scoffs. The room inflates with tension from all three of the living room’s occupants. Quincy closes her eyes. Jake holds his breath. Bradley bawls his hand into a fist. 

Here it comes. 

Bradley opens his mouth; words like venom sitting on the tip of his tongue. Quincy closes her eyes and braces herself for the yelling that she knows is coming. 

“Hey, let’s table it for tomorrow. Yeah?” 

If Jake wasn’t already her favorite, now he certainly is. 

Bradley turns to him. His cheeks are tomato red and his wrath sitting in the base of his throat. He has half the mind to come unglued on him before he remembers the pit of guilt from earlier. The putrid watery feeling of guilt dampens his vocal chords. His sentences dig a grave in his voicebox. 

Jake is right. 

His daughter can barely sit up straight and you’re upstairs trying to sleep. There’s no point in waking the entire house and having a one-sided screaming match with someone who will only have the faintest memory of what happened the next morning. 

Bradley lets out a hefty breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Jake claps him on the shoulder in silent praise for his decision to drop it. Never would he have ever thought that Jake Seresin of all people would be the one discouraging him from being a total hothead. 

“Thanks for bringing her home, man. Sorry about – you know –” he attempts to apologize. Apologies to you rolled off his tongue like water rolled off waterfalls. They just didn’t have that effect when it came to other people who weren’t you. 

“Don’t sweat it. Wouldn’t be stickin’ around if I took half the shit you say to heart.” 

It’s not funny but Bradley laughs. He doesn’t know if it’s a feeble attempt at repairing the hurt he had done earlier or if it’s to absolve some of the fury that was sitting unleashed in the room, but he’s never been more thankful for Jake in that moment. 

Bradley starts to walk Jake to the front door and back out to his truck. Despite being the flashiest and cockiest person he knows, Jake has had the same car for close to twenty years. The silver F-150 had seen many drunk Bradleys and many drunk yous. He just wished that his daughter wouldn’t have been a passenger on the faux “drunk bus” too. 

He’ll never admit it, but part of him is jealous that Quincy called Jake instead of him. He wants to classify the feeling as betrayal, but he knows that it’s just envy. He knows that he would’ve called Maverick at this age instead of his mom. It’s a teenage rite of passage and nothing personal. 

“Look, it’s late and I know you’re pissed but she did the right thing. The party got busted, you know. And she uh – her friends were drinking, like a lot, and wanted her to get in the car with them,” Jake pauses, making sure Bradley is hearing the case of positives he’s building for Quincy, “She said no and then she called me.” 

Bradley nods his head and the tension in his shoulders starts to relax bit by bit. He’s oddly comforted by his daughter’s morality despite committing the precipice of what makes up an immoral teenager to get herself in this damn situation anyway. 

“Most kids don’t do that and I know she isn’t most kids so uh – don’t go too hard on her tomorrow?” 

The open door of the truck makes a high-pitched dinging noise as Jake’s legs sit half situated on the seat and halfway steady on the ground. The soft yellow light emitting from the streetlights tints the world in a sepia hue. 

“Can’t promise that. She’s in some serious shit.” 

Jake chuckles. “Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” 

The car door is shut and the engine is cranked. Bradley pats the hollowed metal of the truck as a “goodnight and goodbye” send-off as Jake backs out of his driveway and into the street. He watches as he rounds the corner to the stop sign before the image of his friend’s truck draws smaller and smaller and smaller until the image is microscopic. 

Bradley finds his way back inside and sees his daughter lying on her side with a throw blanket swallowing her figure. 

He heads into the kitchen to grab her a glass of water and some Advil to set on the coffee table. Bradley doesn’t recall being hungover so much as just sick to his fucking stomach the first time he drank, but he leaves it for her just in case. His eyes catch the bottom cabinet that houses the popcorn buckets and mixing bowls and grabs the largest one to serve as her “catch-all” puke bucket for the night. 

As he settles everything and makes his journey upstairs to your shared bedroom, he hears the wet wretch of what cannot be mistaken for vomiting. His heart harbors empathy for his little girl, but his brain garners no sympathy for her. Some sick part of him is glad that she’s throwing up because it’s a consequence that he doesn’t have to impose on her. She had done it to herself. 

“That’s what I thought."

He turns off the bedside lamp as he lays down next to you. You don’t stir from your deep sleep. The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. 

Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. 

[welcome-to-hawkins]

The Terrible Eddie Munson

Part one Part two Alternative Ending

Summary: Eddie wins the campaign, and gets to keep you as his prize.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering, sex, p in v, vaginal intercourse, missionary, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, cum, multiple orgasms, slight nipple play, I think that’s it 🤣

If you didn’t know any better you’d say the rest of Hellfire knew about the little promise between Eddie and you.

The room was buzzing with excitement, literally, since Eddie had decided that the campaign needed to end with the perfect soundtrack; Black Sabbath.

He had it cranked up so loud that the bass was shaking the walls, the boys huddling in small groups discussing their strategies for todays session.

Well, that’s what they were supposed to be doing. They kept sneaking glances at you and Eddie, like they had been all week, clearly suspicious about the amount of time you two had spent together recently. It made sense, I mean you two weren’t exactly a secret, Jeff had walked in on the two of you in the back of Eddies van and made quick work in telling all of his friends, but given that you and Eddie hadn’t put a label on it yet, what were you supposed to tell the kids?

Like, “Hey Dusty! Just so you know i’m boning Eddie, Dungeon Master and positive male role model in your life, hope you don’t mind!”… not likely.

You didn’t realise you’d been lost in thought until Dustin was clicking his fingers in front of your face.

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Sorry Dus, are we starting?” You looked around to find it suddenly quiet.

Dustin only nodded, filtering into his place at the table solemnly. They were all waiting for you as you took your seat in the middle of the table. You looked to Eddie where he was squatting on his throne, forearms resting across the tops of his thighs as he folded himself into the dramatic pose. He stood suddenly, thick boots scraping across the wood of his seat.

And just like that the campaign begun, and with a wide sweep of Eddies arms the sweet cheesy boy you knew disappeared, replaced with the Dungeon Master.

“Fireball him!”

“Shit, roll again!”

“I need a 14!”

The session was a blur, and before you knew it the party was down to the deciding move. If Dustin could roll a ten or higher they’d defeat the monster and be able to rescue the Princess. If not Eddie… ahem, the monster, would keep you, her. You weren’t sure which thought you enjoyed more.

Eddies eyes locked with yours. Dustin rolled.

Three.

It took the boys fifteen minutes to stop screaming at each other and calm down, all while Eddie sat there with a smug look on his face not bothering to help settle the situation.

That was until Dustin started suggesting that the die were rigged and Eddie looked like he might kill him.

“Are you suggesting that I cheated?” He spat, “that I would EVER break the sacred rules of Hellfire?” Eddie stood, hands braced on the table. Even Erica had the good sense to look scared.

“Okay, that’s enough. Time to go home boys” you said finally, stepping in before Eddie actually killed one of them.

“And I assume you’ll be staying here, with Eddie, again?” Dustin sassed.

“Yes. Now less talking more walking, go home” Eddie asserted.

You did wonder what exactly Eddie had over Gareth to turn him into the clubs personal taxi, but now wasn’t the time to question it.

When the hellfire room finally cleared, with the exception of you and Eddie, the calm was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the night.

Eddie plopped back into his seat, “So…” he started.

“So”.

“I won” his cheeky grin was back, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been dripping wet all day just thinking about what might happen tonight.

“You did, I do believe that means the terrible monster gets to claim his prize.” Your eyes glimmered as you stared at him, the way the dim coloured lights glowed like an aura behind him.

He hummed, “so eager”, a breath and then “but i’m not taking you for the first time here, as much as I might want to” he moved toward you, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “come home with me, Princess”.

And you did.

The atmosphere on the journey home had been tense, both of you too wound up to make small talk. His hand had gripped your thigh like a life raft, only really serving to dampen your panties.

Eddie led you into his trailer and through to his bedroom, fingers interlinked. He turned to you and threaded his fingers into the back of your hair, tilting your face up to look at him.

“Look, I know what I said about tonight but if somethings changed, if you don’t wanna do this anymore or if you wanna wait, that’s fine, okay? I want you to be comfortable”.

The way he was looking at you, like you hung the moon, made your heart clench. You smiled.

“I believe that if you won I was promised a, how did you put it again? Terrible monster?” Your words were clear, face unwavering, as you told him what he was so desperately hoping to hear; that you still wanted this.

“That’s right, Princess. Thing is, you’ve already met the monster. The only real question is whether you’re actually gonna let me keep you”. His teasing words were laced with doubt.

“Good luck getting rid of me now, Munson” you snuck your arms around his middle, under his leather jacket, “now are you gonna do something, or do I need to go find myself a knight?”

He returned your smile, a moment of tenderness before-

“He rolled a three”

“Yes. So?”

“Three.”

“I’m not following”

“Three orgasms.”

Oh. Oh.

In contrast to the heat his statement has created between your legs, his kiss is soft and slow. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you grant him access. Your kisses are usually passionate, eager, teeth bumping together and tongues clashing. Always hurried moments together desperate for release. You thought tonight would be the same, tearing each others clothes off desperate for release, especially since the only action Eddie had had until this point was his own hand. Instead he was taking his time, enjoying you.

After all, he won. Why rush the claiming of his prize?

He moved the two of you backwards until you thighs hit the edge of his bed. You shuffled backwards as he climbed on top of you, slotting his body over yours like puzzle pieces.

Your hands grabbed onto his broad shoulders as he peppered kisses down your neck. He sat up on his haunches and tugged his jacket off, you followed his lead starting to discard excess clothing, both of you kicking your shoes into random corners of his room.

You caught his eye as you were both stripping your own clothes off. He was shucking his jeans down his legs and you were tangled up in your shirt, the tension breaking with laughter, both of you realising how ridiculous you looked.

You finally pulled down your jeans, leaving you both only in your underwear, and turned back to him.

He laid you back against the pillows and covered your body with his own. Dark hair fell around your face like a curtain. You ran your hands across his naked chest, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. Naked with the exception of his boxers and cold rings you could truly see him in all his glory; slim but soft, pale skin and toned arms from the constant guitar playing.

Gentle kisses trailed down your neck, stopping briefly at your chest as he pulled your bra off and pressed a wet kiss to each nipple, down your stomach before stopping at the band of your panties.

He sat back, spreading your thighs and keeping them apart with his own. Now resting back on his calves Eddie smoothed his palms up the back of your legs, folding them up over his elbows, and buried his face in your pussy with a wink.

Eddie kissed your sensitive bud through your panties, dropping a hand from your thigh to trace the damp patch on your panties. He tugged them down and threw them onto the pile with his clothes, you debated telling him off before he licked a broad stripe up your centre and you lost all ability to speak.

Eddies tongue buried in your pussy paired with his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs was addictive. Your moans were no doubt echoing around his trailer but you didn’t care, not as long as he kept doing that.

You almost cried when he moved, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking. He was harsh, unforgiving, and you felt your legs start to shake as they tried to close around his head.

“Ed, fuck, m’gonna-”

And you did. Pussy clenching around nothing, head thrown back, crying his name.

“That’s one”, he kissed you, “so good for me baby, so perfect”Eddie climbed back over you, reaching down off the bed to fish a condom out of his jeans pocket.

“Eddie, please” you looked at him, chin glistening with your juice, hair slicked to his face, “fuck me”.

He grinned, tugging his boxers off. You’d felt him through his pants before, and had some idea of his size, but seeing it bare before you…

Eddie was huge. Seven inches and thick. You reached down and gave him an experimental stroke, doing it again with slightly more pressure when his head dropped back, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck baby… if you do that i’m gonna cum and after all this you best believe i’m gonna cum whilst i’m inside you” he groaned.

He rolled the condom on and lined himself up with your entrance. He kissed you as he slid all the way inside, sloppy and all he could muster with the feeling of your walls clamping down around him.

You clung to him, your arms looped round his neck and legs locked behind his back. Eddie dropped his head into the crook of your neck and gave an experimental thrust, both of you moaning at the feeling.

“Fuck baby. So hot and wet. Feels like heaven”

The pace he sets is slow, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in. Your skin sticks to his, damp with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Eds please… more” you whine, and for once he listens to you.

He balances his weight on his arms either side of your head and starts to go harder. Not faster, harder, hitting a new spot inside you that makes your back arch like a cat in the sun.

You can see him better in this new position, his face directly above yours and the sight is almost better than the feeling itself; Eddies face is contorted in pleasure, his eyes shut and eyebrows drawn tightly together, lips dropped open in a silent gasp.

“God, baby. Can feel you tightening around me, you close? Huh, gonna cum all over my cock?” He teased

“Feels so good, wanna cum for you” orgasm creeping up on you as Eddie sped up, pelvis grinding against your clit with each powerful thrust.

As you clamped down around him and clawed your nails down his back you felt his thrusts start to loose rhythm, a sign he was close.

Your own orgasm triggered Eddies and you watched from beneath him as he came undone. Eddie slammed into you once more, body shuddering as he came, the noise burned into your brain. His forehead dropped against your own, panting as he opened his eyes and said “two”.

Eddie flipped the two of you over, you now sat upright on his lap.

He was still hard, hair fanned out on the pillow below him angelically. You took him in, covered in sweat beneath you, and began to move.

His hands flew up to rest on your hips, teeth dug into his lip, as you set a torturously slow pace.

Your head was flung back as you rode him, tits bouncing hypnotically. He sat up to capture a hard peak in his mouth, sucking and biting.

You felt your slick coating his thighs as you rode him. He lay back and braced his heels against the mattress. Your eyes widened as you realised what he was about to do.

He tugged your hips down harshly at the same time as he thrust upwards, head of his cock hitting your g-spot. He set a punishing pace, tugging you up and down on his cock like a doll.

Your eyesight went fuzzy as you felt your third orgasm approaching. Eddie felt the now familiar tightening around his member and moved his thumb to rub tight circles on your bud.

You exploded, gushing around him as you squirted.

Your body went limp as Eddie flipped you again, fucking your through your orgasm and chasing his own.

As Eddie came for the second time you squirmed, sensitive and exhausted.

He flopped onto the mattress next to you, flat on your backs, and said “that’s three”.

You just about registered him standing to discard the condom and fetch a damp cloth to clean between your legs.

He tugged his boxers back on and pulled his Hellfire shirt over your head.

When he was finally satisfied that you were comfortable he dropped back into bed and tugged you against his chest.

“You did so good for me, Princess”.

You snuggled deeper into his side, throwing a leg across his and looking up at him.

“Hey Princess…” usually confident, Eddies voice was suddenly filled with doubt.

“Yeah?”

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

You chuckled, heart squeezing at the sweetness he was showing compared to the so called ‘monster’ he fancied himself as.

“I told you, Eds. I’m yours.” You smiled at the idea, and leaned up to kiss him, short and innocently, a press of your lips against his.

“So… is that a yes?”

“Yes, you dork”.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading these!!! Alt ending in my Masterlist and linked at the top of post as soon as it’s out.

Let me know if you liked it or wanna see more!

Send me requests!

Parts one, two and the alt ending are linked at the top!

[poppadom0912]

Older Sister

Characters: Jay Halstead x Sibling!Reader, Will Halstead x Sibling!Reader, Maggie

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Summary: Will and Jay have an older sister.

A/N: I imagined it much better in my head but this is what I got while trying to recover from writer's block. I don't really like this but I hope you do. Posting this a little earlier because my anxiety is being a bitch.

*****

"Honestly, I swear to God these children." You mumble under your breath to yourself, walking into the ED, approaching a familiar nurse who had yet to see you but with your heels clicking, she looked up and smiled at you.

"Y/N! Hey, what're you doing here?" Maggie asked you, coming around the desk to give you a quick side hug as you continued to walk towards the elevator.

"My dad's building goes up in flames and my brothers decide not to tell me." You sassed with a faint smile. "April called me because apparently I'm pops' emergency contact."

The call both shocked and scared you. You were at work, rushing around with your partner Peter Stone for evidence that wasn't at the scene when you were interrupted by April, who usually didn't call you but enough for you to save her as a contact, calling to let you know of your dad’s condition but very briefly.

Despite wanting to stay at work and continue with your case, Peter urged you to leave and be with your brothers and dad, which you did after much convincing and even threatening on Peter's end which caused you to cave in.

"I heard." Maggie was there when every patient was wheeled into Med, watching your two brothers follow your then conscious father. "They're in the ICU."

You thanked Maggie, tapping her arm in appreciation before stepping into the elevator, waving her goodbye before the doors closed.

The elevator wasn't very filled, two other people in there with you but you didn't acknowledge them, pushing away any negative thoughts away and preparing yourself for anything, both good and bad but mainly bad. You also had to prepare yourself for your brothers who you hadn't seen in a month and when you did see them, it was because your case somehow involved all three of your work fields.

Most of it was all formality but the three of you did manage to sneak in an inside joke or two, promising to meet after for a drink at Molly's but alas, Chicago was restless.

You hadn't even fully prepared yourself before the doors opened, forcing yourself to move forward, ignoring the few stares you got from the sound of your heels disrupting the quiet of the intensive care unit.

Your eyes scanned for the room number Maggie told you but before you could read any number, you found a mop of red curls resembling yours standing behind closed glass doors, arguing with someone with a very shiny badge on his belt.

It wasn't the sight of your dad's dying body that caused to rush forward but the punch sent by Jay to Will.

You could proudly say you were comfortable in heels after years of experience, walking around all day which then allowed you to pick up the pace and even run a decent amount if needed. So, moving forward to your siblings was no problem at all.

"Okay, back off, back off." You squeezed yourself in between your brothers, pushing both of them. No matter how happy you were to see them after a month, you couldn't ignore what just happened.

Glaring at Jay, you pointed at him threateningly with your index finger, squinting your eyes dangerously till he moved back on his own accord, his actions faltering at your blazing gaze.

Turning around, you faced the middle child, tutting at the sight of blood in his thumb and tongue. You cupped his jaw, moving his head all around, inspecting for any severe damage before patting it pathetically.

"You're fine, you'll live." You told Will who opened his mouth to retort that he knew that, but you put your hand out, stopping him before he could say anything.

Closing his mouth in defeat, you could hear Will's inner turmoil that he was bursting to release but he kept to himself.

Before he could walk away though, you grabbed both of their ears and walked away from the room and the curious eyes of the nurses.

Ignoring their pleas and whines, complaining of the excruciating pain you were inflicting on them, you pulled them into an isolated corridor, both trailing behind you against their own will.

Pushing them forward, watching as they rubbed their ears to relieve the pain which you decided to ignore, you huffed placing your hands on your hips expressing your disappointment which they immediately caught onto.

"What the hell!?" You tried to keep down your volume, keeping your anger in check which you'd gotten very good at over the years from both being the eldest child and a lawyer.

Jay and Will exchanged not so secret glances, having a silent conversation that you easily translated, causing your frown to deepen.

"So?" You pushed them, tapping your foot expectantly, checking the time on your watch before looking at them, waiting for an explanation.

Jay and Will were hesitant, it was very blatant. Despite their aggressiveness to each other five minutes ago, they both shared the same feelings towards you, neither wanting to admit their childishness.

Will sighed, rolling his eyes as he straightened up, ignoring Jay's small smile before he told you why they were arguing, then explaining why he was in the right which then triggered Jay, causing him to butt in and disagree.

Their bickering went back and forth, both of them being reasonable but they weren't truly listening to the other. They were way too stubborn and not willing to let go of their ego, too proud and not wanting to back down after coming so far; to admit defeat now would be too embarrassing.

Clicking your tongue, you watched them bicker like actual five-year-olds, disappointment flooding you as you had to remind yourself that they were in their thirties with stable jobs as a doctor and a detective.

Oh, if Miss Goodwin and Voight could see them now.

"Alright, I'm actually going to slap someone if you two don't stop." You very mildly threatened them but they very much new it wasn't an empty promise. "You guys are being babies."

"No-"

"Y/N-"

"Ah, ah, ah." You stopped them, your hand out to silence them like the instigator you were. "If this doesn't stop then I will kill you and no one will find your bodies."

It shouldn't have scared them as easy as it did, but they were scared, frightened, shaking to their bones. You very easily could do that, and you had a particularly good team at your side who would help and make their murders seamless with no questions asked.

"Okay, I don't care why you’re fighting, your both being idiots but why didn't you call me?" You asked them, snapping your fingers so they looked directly at you so they could shrink under your stare which wasn't as scary as it normally would be but taken the circumstances, you were being lenient.

"I honestly thought one of you were dead or something." You paused, gauging their reactions. "April never calls me."

"Sorry." Jay and Will said in sync and even though it wasn't the best apology they've given; they could make up for it another time.

"Now, what are we gonna do?"

So, for the next few hours, the three of you talked about your dad’s condition, coming to terms that this was it before pulling the plug; mourning together before Will was pulled back into work downstairs.

It'd only been a few minutes since your dad was officially declared dead and you all ignored your busy schedules, instead opting to be together and just be idiots.

You knew that there would be unhealthy and odd coping mechanisms but one that you did all share was humour, which was how you found yourselves standing outside of the hospital, paper coffee cups in hand as you stared into the distance.

Honestly, from a normal perspective, the three of you could be mistaken for being drunk or high but the only thing you were high off of was laughter.

"A lawsuit- William Halstead!" You looked at Will in shock, slapping his arm as you scolded him. "What were you thinking!? And why wasn’t I told, I’m a lawyer and your older sister for goodness sakes?!"

Jay hummed in agreement, sipping his coffee in attempt to hide his snickers at his older siblings.

"We need to do this more often." Jay said, gesturing to the semi-circle you three created.

You scoffed in reply. "You say that as if you and Will don't bump into each other at least once a week, you’re a very privileged man y'know?"

The question was rhetorical, but Jay still replied, aware of Will's newfound pride at your indirect compliment.

"You'd be graced with our faces much more if you decided to get shot but Oh well, your loss." Jay shrugged with a smile, as if being shot was a good excuse to see your siblings.

"It still surprises me how an idiot like you was made detective." You clicked your tongue before sipping your coffee.

"Yeah, how's a detective as mighty as you afraid of needles?" Will slyly mentioned, nudging you as he chose which side he wanted to be on, the winning side.

Jay's jaw went slack, looking at Will in betrayal.

"Will!"

[rendevousz]

the favourite

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: you are the baby avenger and everyone is platonically whipped for you.

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: none, maybe just my inability to write good endings

word count: 3497

note: um second oneshot hope this one's good gaaah

"hey, doll. whatcha' reading?" you glanced up to see bucky, who then plopped down next to you on the couch in the common room. "it's called 'shadow and bone'. it's a novel that's turning into a netflix series in like a month," you smiled at the super soldier, lifting up your book a little to show him the cover. his eyebrows raised at the information, lips tugging into a knowing smirk.

"yes, bucky, i'll watch the series with you." you rolled your eyes playfully at him. ever since he officially became an avenger and moved into the tower with the rest of you, you've been helping him 'get with the times' —as sam likes to call it— just as you did steve a few years prior.

steve had told his best friend that you were the best at stuff like this. after all, you were the youngest avenger. and you had a lot of free time on your hands; having no school since you were pretty much the only one besides vision who could compete with tony's or bruce's intelligence.

so really, school wasn't mandatory for you according to tony. at least, after you had asked him if you could just not attend and he cracked ten seconds after you pulled the puppy dog eyes.

you also had significantly less trainings than the rest of the team. this one wasn't because you were an expert on the field or something —well, you were, but so were the rest of the team but they still had almost daily trainings while you had half the amount they did— this was because you had cap wrapped around your tiny little finger.

and as for the team, they couldn't even be mad about it because if they were in the captain's position, they would probably be the same. everyone just loved you too much.

"do you mind if i turned on the tv?" bucky asked, afraid that you wouldn't want background noise while you were reading but obviously you didn't mind so you shook your head as you continued to read. not long after, you closed your book with a bookmark between the pages you stopped at before shoving in into bucky's hands and running up into your room to quickly grab your blanket.

he watched you run out of the common room in confusion before chuckling when he saw you run back in looking tiny with a huge, fluffy blanket in your arms. you went back to your spot on the couch next to him, spreading the blanket over both your laps, bucky smiling fondly as he watched you fix it before turning to him. "comfy?" you asked and he nodded, giving you back your book as you cuddled up to him. he smiled down at you and wrapped an arm around you while you leaned against his chest.

"what's this? movie night without me?" you two looked up at the owner of the voice and saw sam walking in, making his way to the kitchen, probably to make himself some coffee. "what movie are you guys watching?" he asked, leaning against a pillar to look at the tv, trying to figure out what movie was playing.

"actually, only bucky's watching the movie—it's mean girls, by the way—and i'm just reading my book." you told sam without looking at him, lifting your book up high to show him before lowering it back down to continue reading it.

"barnes, what are you doing watching a movie while y/n is reading? she won't be able to focus with all that background noise, shut it off." sam told him off, now back in the kitchen to make his coffee. you shook your head at the man's antics. "sam, it's fine. i told him it was okay,"

"of course you did, you're too sweet to say no to anyone." he quipped back, now standing nearby, watching the tv too, seemingly interested in the movie playing. you only rolled your eyes playfully at him before going back to the book. after a few minutes of him just standing, bucky spoke up. "just sit down if you want to watch the whole movie, birdbrain."

and sit he did. on your other side, snuggling comfortably under your blanket after putting his now empty mug on the coffee table. this caused bucky to huff as he pulled the other end of the blanket which led to them having a tug-of-war over the blanket, you unfortunately stuck in the middle of it. deciding that it was too distracting to read while squished between two grown men who were also fighting for the blanket, you finally closed your book.

"sam, can you help me put this on the coffee table?" you handed sam your book and he immediately took it, stretching his body forward to place it on the coffee table. with the book out of the way, you could finally settle comfortably and the blanket was now shared between the three of you equally. not long after, your head was back against bucky's chest with his arm around you while your legs were over sam's lap under the blanket, one of his arms resting over it above the blanket. if it had been someone else doing that to sam, they probably would've had their legs chopped off already.

"movie night and you didn't invite me?" you chuckled at the question by the newcomer, tony, finding it funny how sam said almost the exact same prior to him. "you're welcome to join us, tony." you offered kindly, to which he replied with a small chuckle.

"i'm just kidding, cupcake. i came up for a drink and a little snack but that's it, i have stuff to finish down in the lab." you nodded understandingly, turning back to the screen in front of you.

"hey, stark, while you're there can you grab me a bottled water from the fridge?" bucky asked him. "oh yeah can you grab me chips from the snacks cabinet too?" sam added.

"you guys have legs for a reason, get them yourselves, i'm not your maid," tony sassed and you bit back a chuckle. bucky and sam then decided to rock-paper-scissors the situation to decide who had to get up and get the water and chips. bucky ended up losing and he begrudgingly got up and came back quickly with his water and sam's chips.

shortly afterwards, tony approached the three of you on the couch, with a juice box and a small bag of pretzels; your go-to movie snack. "here you go, cupcake." he handed them to you and you accepted them happily, beaming at him while he ruffled your hair.

bucky and sam shared a look of disbelief at tony's actions. "what gives, man? we asked for stuff and you didn't want to do it but y/n gets her stuff without even having to ask for it?" sam complained.

"that's because y/n's my baby. now shut up and let her watch the movie in peace." he scolds before leaving the common room, leaving the two men to huff in annoyance. it soon washed off though when you laughed out loud at a scene and they returned back to normal, loving the sound of your contagious laughter.

when the movie ended, it was already late and you had fallen asleep on an also asleep bucky. sam took a look at you and chuckled. he slowly removed the blanket from over himself and you, gently scooping you up into his arms and taking you back into your room, laying you down on your bed. he noticed the lack of blanket on your bed and remembered the blanket you brought down to the common room. he opened your closet for a spare blanket, retrieving it before covering you with it, tucking you in. "night, kiddo." he whispered, kissing your forehead before leaving the room.

-

next morning came and you groggily stretched, noticing that you were in your room. last you remembered was falling asleep mid movie. you deduced that it was most likely either bucky or sam who carried you back to bed. you went to your closet to grab work out clothes since you had training today, before realising what day today was. wanda's breakfast day. you quickly ran to the bathroom and got ready.

once you were done, you dried your hair and left your room, practically bouncing with excitement when you thought of what wanda probably made for breakfast. the week had been a bad breakfast week since everyone who had so far been tasked breakfast duty, sucked at cooking. the only good cook of the team was wanda, explaining your overexcitement.

before you could get far though, you slammed into a solid body, being caught by your wrists before you could fall. "be careful, lady y/n!" a deep voice spoke and you look up, a large smile on your face before you jumped happily, taking the man into a big hug. "thor! you're back!"

he laughed, returning the hug, you almost disappearing due to his big frame before you let go of each other. "where were you headed to so eagerly?"

"it's wanda's breakfast day, thor! i haven't had a decent breakfast all week because no one in this tower except wanda can cook to save their lives. come on, big guy!" you cheered, trying to get onto his back for him to give you a piggy back to the kitchen but he was too high for you to reach. he watched your attempt in amusement before bending down so you could get on his back. you gratefully got on, lightly patting his back and dramatically pointing ahead of you. "to the kitchen we go!"

when you two arrived in the kitchen, clint and wanda were talking as the latter made breakfast. thor's booming laughter echoed through the room as he zoomed with you on his back, laughing your heart out. "we have arrived to our destination, my lady." clint and wanda turned to you, adoring smiles on their faces when they heard you giggling uncontrollably.

"i thought you had more important things to do that you couldn't even walk 10 feet to grab me a spoon." clint raised his eyebrows at the demigod. "yes but y/n needed a ride so i provided her one." thor gave your hair a ruffle before he left the room, going to do what he initially left the kitchen for before you managed to get him to bring you back there.

"morning, kiddo." clint ruffled your hair right after you just fixed it, causing you to glare at him before fixing it again. "morning," you grumbled, sitting down next to him.

"morning, y/n!" wanda greeted, placing your plate of perfectly made blueberry pancakes with extra blueberries neatly placed on top, butter in the middle of it with maple syrup dripping down. your mouth watered. had it really been that long since you had a good breakfast or was it just because it was wanda's creation? or was it both? "here ya go, bubs. your favourite," she grinned at you, placing your glass of orange juice beside the plate.

"thanks, wands! i love you!" you thanked her, already beginning to dig into your breakfast.

"what the heck? you gave me burnt pancakes and didn't let me have extra blueberries because you said there already were some in the pancakes," clint whined to wanda from beside you, watching you eat happily.

"that's because the extra blueberries were for y/n, she loves them. and about the burnt pancakes...yea i just didn't want to give her burnt ones. look how happy she looks," the two turned to you, looking at your cheeks being filled up, making you look like an adorable squirrel.

"okay, fair point." clint slumped down on his chair, continuing to look at you fondly, like a proud father.

-

after breakfast, you made your way down to the training room where steve, nat and peter were training. when you entered, peter immediately noticed, waving and you from the treadmill with a huge smile on his face. nat, having just flipped steve over her her shoulders, smiled at you. "hey, bub." you smiled back at her and steve who struggled to give you a wave but did it anyways from his position.

"alright, y/n, you can warm up and run 2 miles first before we start." steve says once he had gotten up from his position on the ground. you mocked a salute before walking to the treadmills.

"what?! how is that fair? i'm running 5 miles!" peter exclaimed from beside you just as you started your run. "you're enhanced, peter. if anything, it's unfair for y/n/n. actually, that's right, it is unfair for her. y/n/n, you can go ahead and just do a mile."

peter's jaw dropped at this, his mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. "b–but.."

"get back to work, peter. once you're done, we'll start both your and y/n's training." the boy only huffed in annoyance, focusing back on his run while you smirked, internally cheering in victory.

-

"boy, that was tiring!" you dramatically plopped back onto the mat, limbs spread out as you tried to catch your breath. it had been a gruesome 3 hours of training and you were beat.

"y/n/n, get up. sam, bucky and clint's gotta train soon," nat tells you after steve and peter left and you were still sprawled out on the ground. "but i'm tired!" you whined childishly.

"y/n, if you don't get up, i'm gonna leave you here to be trampled on by the boys when they train." nat nagged, hands on her hips as she made a disapproving face at you.

"no you're not. you're gonna carry me to my room so i can shower and sleep soon." you tell her, eyes already closed as the fatigue washed over you. after a few seconds of silence, you heard her sigh out loud before you felt her crouching down beside you.

"get on my back in five seconds or i'll leave you." she threatened. you quickly opened your eyes, grabbing your small towel and water bottle before getting on nat's back. she mumbled something about you being lucky that she loves you or else she really was going to let sam, bucky and clint trample on you.

"what's wrong with her?" you could hear steve's concerned voice asking nat when you two reached—you assumed— the lobby. you were too tired to keep your eyes open so you left them closed while your arms were around nat's neck.

"nothing," you heard nat reply as she walked you both into the elevator. "kid's just too lazy to get up and walk on her own so she made me carry her." you internally rolled your eyes. she made it seem like she was forced to do it when everyone clearly knew she would do anything when it came to you.

you heard steve chuckle before nat started walking again, probably towards your room. you heard the door open and nat finally let you down, prompting you to open your eyes.

"do you want some food after you shower?" she questioned as you looked through your closet for comfy clothes to change to before ultimately deciding on cow print pyjama pants and an oversized tee you stole from steve.

"i'm good, nat, thanks. i just wanna take a nap." as if on cue, you yawned right after. "okay, bub. you'll have to get up later for dinner and movie night though, okay?" she reminded and left the room after you replied an 'okay' back.

-

when you were woken up a few hours later, it was by an annoying scream and a body bouncing on your bed. "y/n/n, wake up! it's dinner! mr stark ordered your favourite!"

you groaned, putting your pillow over your head to block out peter's annoying voice. "come on, y/n/n wake up! you haven't eaten since breakfast and it's movie night tonight!"

"okay, okay, i'm up. you can shut up now, pete." you grumbled crankily. it was quiet for a few seconds before peter yelled out once again. "wake u–"

he never got to finish though because you kicked him off the bed. "i said i'm up, dude." you then sat up, stretching before getting up to wash up, ignoring peter who was on the floor rubbing the side of his head which hit your lamp when he fell off your bed. he then got up, deciding to tidy your bed up a bit while he waited for you to finish washing up so that you two could go down together.

-

"is that my shirt?" was the first thing you heard when you walked in with peter. the team were all sitting, eating your food from your favourite place. "i uh, maybe?" you answered sheepishly, sitting down next to sam and peter settling down on your other side. "i've been looking for that shirt since forever."

"aw, let her have it, steve! she looks better in it than you do, she looks so adorable!" wanda screeched, absolutely adoring how tiny you looked in cap's enormous shirt. she continued to gush over you, even taking out her phone at one point to snap a picture of you. you chuckled at her antics, proceeding to eat your dinner while the team talked.

after dinner, everyone slowly made their way to the common room for team movie night. you guys collectively agreed to watch 'white chicks' after steve revealed that he hadn't watched it.

you sat down next to bruce, who gave you a tired smile when you smiled at him. he must've been working in the lab all day, you thought. halfway through the movie though, a bathroom break was called by tony. a few took the chance to get up and get snacks while you told bruce you were gonna sit closer to the tv since you couldn't hear properly with sam and bucky squabbling over every little thing they could. you could even hear them arguing in the kitchen at the moment over hot chocolate.

when tony came back, you told the two bickering children in the kitchen that you were starting the movie again. not long after you started, you could hear them still bickering, except now they were closer, probably back in their seats. poor bruce, you thought. you escaped the two but he was still stuck next to them.

meanwhile in the back, sam and bucky were still busy fighting over the hot chocolate. you paid them no mind as you focused on the movie, having not watched it in a hot minute.

"dude, i made this for myself! go make your own hot chocolate!" bucky whisper-yelled, moving his mug away from sam's reach when the latter tried to reach for it. "you took my snack now i'm gonna take your drink so it's fair!" sam countered.

before the two of them could stop it, the steaming hot chocolate spilt. not on the carpet, but onto the doctor whose patience had already been running thin with the two quarrelling next to him for the past hour.

his face slowly turned green, clearly a sign that he was fighting so that the other guy didn't come out. the team stared in horror, preparing for a fight to break out with the big green monster.

you, being the closest to the tv, didn't notice this all happening as you happily watched the movie that you couldn't hear properly for the past hour.

you laughed joyously when your favourite scene came on, trying to control your giggles that were starting to get louder and louder. bruce was currently hunched down, trying to even his breathing. but when he heard your laughter, he immediately looked up at you.

the team panicked, thinking that you could be a target for hulk since you just attracted attention to yourself. they were about to get up to protect you as they looked at bruce apprehensively, when the doctor smiled, the green on his neck slowly, but surely disappearing.

the team looked at each other in confusion and bruce smiled weakly at them. "sorry about that. i'm...i'm gonna move up and sit with y/n." he got up and made his way to you. you smiled when you saw him. "got tired of them too?" you joked and he nodded, making himself comfortable next to you.

you nodded and turned your attention back to the tv. it was clear you were oblivious to whatever just happened and the team couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. you really just unknowingly calmed down the hulk.

the team didn't know if you were aware of how much power you actually held over them. nevertheless, you were their little baby and they were willing to do anything for you.

[rylanprattmodel]

“First time i’ve heard you complain about that.” Rylan chucked, the serious look on the daughter’s face was equal parts funny and adorable. She was such a perfectly blended sass of the two of them it wasn’t hard to tell who her parents are just by being around her for a couple of seconds, Savannah was truly Rylan and Nate’s daughter. “Oh, I can share the bed too? You’re so generous baby! I think that’s a very good idea, but maybe just at the weekend, we can have sleepovers and watch Frozen.” The suggestion entirely selfish, she wanted her boyfriend all to herself sometimes. It was hard for the two of them to have special time just the two of them with a wriggling two year old sleeping in the middle. “What do you think Nate, weekend sleepover and movie nights?” She rose an eyebrow at him with a grin, knowing that wouldn’t stop the two year old from running into their room in the early hours of the morning like she did most nights, but it was worth a try. 

God, was Nate perfect or what? As she was pulled carefully towards him by the hand on her ass she dropped a kiss against his lips gently, smiling against them before moving away properly. Forcing herself to remember they were in the middle of the Ikea showroom rather than at their own apartment, or even in the car which would provide a little more privacy. “You’re too good to me sometimes, but you already know that.” A disapproving glance because he had such unrelenting faith in her it was often hard to understand how he managed it, she only saw her failures, but Nate seemed to just see her positives instead. Maybe that was why they balanced each other out nicely. “Bob!” She laughed as Savannah clapped, passing her across to Nate so she could grab the handle of the shopping cart and follow them towards the restaurant. “Yeah, good point, maybe we’ll cut your meatballs into little bits just while you’re so little baby. Mama would never forgive herself if she choked on your dinner.” Eliciting the little girl’s tongue to come pointing out of her mouth towards Rylan as a response, making her have to try and suppress her smile knowing it would just encourage that behaviour in the future. “Hey, less of that missy, if the wind changes you might stay like that.”

As they arrived at the cafe she parked up the cart before instructing Nate and Savannah to find a table for the three of them so she could go get the food. Miming to the man to check he wanted meatballs and French fries, knowing that’s what the toddler would have but on a much smaller scale of course. With copious amounts of ketchup, there was nothing she wouldn’t eat with that stuff smothered all over it, much to Rylan’s confusion. It being something she personally hated. Sliding trays of food in front of them all carefully she stole a French fry from Savannah’s plate before starting to cut up her food for her, there were some things she had down as a mom at this point, making sure nothing bad happened to her little princess was one of them, making sure to divide up the food before Savannah even had a chance to argue on the matter. “Do you think they’ll deliver the stuff today?” She asked Nate as she carried on with her task, wondering if they’d have to keep sleeping on a mattress on the floor a little longer or if the bed might actually get into the house tonight. “I want to see that the bed is strong enough, that’s all.” Shooting him a wink as she passed the fork across the the little girl, watching as she stabbed a bite with it enthusiastically, shoving it into her tiny mouth with all the dramatics someone performing on stage. 

"You take my hoodies, I take the beds!" Nate argued back with a grin. He really didn't mind Rylan wearing his clothes- in fact, it was wonderful to see her wearing them- and this was all down to teasing. After all, at the end of the day, he slept best with Rylan in his arms, and he knew it was the same for her. They'd spent plenty of nights talking to each other for hours while Rylan had to be away, and now that they had the luxury of being together each night, Nate wasn't going to let that go. So when Savannah frowned, thinking hard about what her mother said, trying to understand what to do, he couldn't help but laugh. "It's okay, honey. Mama can sleep like that all she wants, but we get to cuddle." He assured her with a playful wink, and the girl nodded immediately, thankful that there was a resolution to this before she lost it. "Unless Mama wants to share the bed with the two of us, and we can all spend the night cuddling? What do the two of you think?"

"I think you could do whatever you want, and you'd succeed at it, love." He smiled at Rylan, genuinely believing it. Rylan was so amazing, so beautiful, so perfect, that it made sense to him; no matter what she was willing to do, she would absolutely succeed at it. She was already amazing at modeling, and she was perfect at being a mom to their daughter. And now, she was perfect at teasing him back, urging Nate to do more. So his hand remained on her butt, playfully albeit carefully moving her towards him for another moment or two before he finally let go. After all, he would have more than enough time to make up for it when they were back home, testing out the new bed.

"Bob!" Savannah clapped along gleefully while her mother sang, much to Nate's delight. It didn't matter to him that they got a look or two from people around them because all he cared about was his girlfriend and his daughter. It was so weird to think about Rylan as just his girlfriend, but he was still terrified about facing the obvious and admitting the awful secret that he was holding all to himself. The longer he waited the higher the possibility was that she would leave him over it, and the fear was paralyzing. It was easier to pretend that all was fine than face the unfortunate reality. His mind quickly shifted away from those thoughts when Rylan spoke up, making him laugh out loud before a blush crept up his cheeks. "Maybe don't be as eager and... capable as mommy is, darling." He offered to Savannah, despite a quick glance or two he cast Rylan's way. Instead, he focused on his daughter, quickly picking her up from Rylan's arms when he noticed the way his girlfriend was clearly straining to hold her. "And Savannah would love to help me with my workouts, right, Sav?" He grinned at Savannah, lifting her up joyfully and making the girl squeal. Leaving the trolley to Rylan, he was quick to play along to their daughter's requests, leading the way towards the restaurant.

[honeytae]

You’re distracting the chef, sweetheart.

hey guys! so…this is literally just domestic bliss with yoongi…need i say more? no but this is such a self indulgent piece i really just…love me some husband material which is exactly what yoongi is. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i do </3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: fluff

warnings: tooth rotting ‼️

word count: 1.4k

Your eyes followed the stitches of the pillow beside your head, knitting your eyebrows at the peculiar sewing pattern.

Flicking the fabric with your thumb, you broke your eyes’ fixation off the object with a shake of your head, a disgruntled noise echoing through your chest.

So this was boredom.

With a frown, your eyes flickered across the couch to Yoongi as his leg bumped yours in his slight shift of position, settling back into the pillows behind him with his right arm holding his phone above his face.

Sighing, you watched your boyfriend from where you were perched on the opposite side of the sofa, the man seeming perfectly content with the otherwise silence and mundane air in your apartment as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

Not that you could blame him. Days like this in his schedule were far and few between, where you could lay around together like this. But you were beginning to get restless, feeling the need to get up and do something before you died of boredom.

Frowning, you sighed slightly louder, pout increasing when he either didn’t hear you, or acted like he hadn’t. Unbothered, your boyfriend continued his useless scrolling of his thumb on his phone screen, while you itched out of sheer nothingness across from him.

“Yoongi.”

Showing his surprise, Yoongi raised his eyebrows at you, lowering his phone to lay flat on his chest as you pushed your foot against his knee.

“What’s that for?” He chuckled, catching your foot in his palm and soothing his fingers along your knobby ankles.

His features twisted in amusement from his perch on the pillows, dancing his fingertips across the top of your foot mindlessly.

“‘M bored.” You shrugged, the man snorting back another laugh as you needily pushed your foot further into his hold.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about that, love.” He replied smugly, a shrug of his shoulder making you scoff as you pulled your foot out of his hands.

“Now you’re just being mean.” You crossed your arms stubbornly, letting the man take your limb back in his hand as he soothingly trailed his palm up and down your calf.

His eyes sparkled in amusement at your stature, the attitude radiating off of you in waves that made him hum in the back of his throat.

“Okay, okay, let’s see, what do kids do when they’re bored?” He wondered aloud, casting his eyes up to the ceiling as he lazily smirked at your offended gasp in the background.

“Did you just compare me to a kid?” Placing your palm on his thigh to boost yourself up into a sitting position, your jaw dropped as he absentmindedly hummed in the back of his throat.

“Well why don’t we look into the Grandpa agenda then? Wanna try some geriatric activities?” You quipped, Yoongi laughing through his nose at your sass.

“I’d love that, actually.” He said, grinning when you groaned in frustration. Settling his hands on your kneecaps, he gripped them in a gentle squeeze, nodding at you once with a fond smile.

“Alright, Grumpy. C’mon.” He gestured for you to stand up with him, grunting as the motion stretched at his muscles, rolling his eyes when you muttered another grandpa remark under your breath.

With a hand gripping your wrist, Yoongi guided you until you were daintily draped over the stool at the island in your kitchen, facing the oven as he stuck his head in the fridge.

“What are you doing? I don’t want any more tea and scones.” You smirked, the man exhaling a scoff as he straightened his back out into a standing position, arms cradling an array of ingredients as he walked over to set them all out across the counter.

The way he did his signature waddle across the room had you smiling immediately, your grin barely hidden by the clamp of your teeth down on your bottom lip.

“You better watch it over there. I’ll mess the sauce up on purpose.” He teasingly wagged his finger at you, making you giggle as you fondly watched him retrieve the necessary pans and measuring tools he needed for his sudden plan.

“Are you cooking for me, Min?” You asked, eyebrows raising as he immediately nodded in response.

You were truly of no use in the kitchen, something both you and Yoongi were well aware of three years into your relationship.

Too many near-oven fires had occurred, blackened pans and smokey kitchens leading to an all out ban of you using any of the kitchen appliances without his supervision.

So Yoongi was perfectly content with him doing all the cooking and you doing all the observing, occasionally prompting you to open up the oven for him or set a timer for precisely thirteen minutes, otherwise it’ll get soggy.

“I am. Someone seems a little grumpy, and what better cure for grumpiness than jjajangmyeon?” He posed with a small smile, grinning wider when he spotted your pout out of the corner of his eye.

“I am not grumpy.” You said, whiny in your tone as he chuckled at you.

“That seems like something a grumpy person would say.” He shrugged smugly, lining the knife up with the zucchini before concentrating on slicing the vegetable up to the desired amount.

Staring at him for a moment, you admired the man in front of you, bottom lip tucked into his mouth as he scrunched his eyes in concentration. The veins in his hands bulged slightly as he gripped the last stub of the zucchini, slowing down his kniving to not risk a finger.

Looking at him, you couldn’t imagine a more lovable human.

His soft stomach pressed up against the counter, equally soft hair hanging over his forehead, socked feet bumping against the cabinet every so often as he shifted along the floor.

“You’re staring.” He suddenly spoke up, making your eyes drift up expectantly to his face, pulling your eyebrows together when you noticed his back was still to you.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he transferred the vegetables to a side plate, reaching for the leftover pork from the other day to slice that up as well for your impromptu lunch.

He was obviously proud of catching you in the act, not that you cared.

“You’re hot.” You shamelessly responded from behind him, the man shaking his head with a shy chuckle as you tapped your fingers against the counter beneath you.

“This is hot? This does it for you?” He grinned as he lifted the anime patterned cutting board he’d been using, a gift from one of his aunts on a birthday nearly a decade ago now.

Laughing, you hopped off the counter with a shove of your hands against the marble, practically floating over to your man. A clatter of the knife he’d been using against the counter was soon followed by him wrapping his now free arm around you with a fond smile.

Neglecting his dish for even a moment was something Yoongi swore against in the kitchen, but when it came to you, he couldn’t care less.

Besides, if he messed it up, you’d be paying for it anyway.

“Hm. I love when you get all domestic on me.” You murmured, laying your head on his shoulder as he dipped down to press a lingering kiss to your hair.

Tilting your chin up to look at him, you found nothing but pure adoration in his dark brown orbs, your heart leaping in your chest at the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body.

Familiar, as it was the same feeling that ignited your heart each and every time he looked at you like that.

Both leaning into each other, eyes flitting closed, your lips met in a tender kiss, enjoying the exciting spark that still happened via the action.

It was moments like this when you were convinced of the fact that you were the love of this life and the next for him, and him yours.

His tongue felt smooth against your own, gentle yet passionate in the way it swept around your mouth and tangled with your own muscle.

Blindly setting the cutting board back onto the counter, he neglected the tray in favor of your hips, gripping and massaging at the flesh with a low hum as he pulled you flush to him.

Your hands were doing much of the same, mapping out the landscape of his toned back with your palms as your fingers appreciatively dug into his soft flesh.

Humming, he broke apart from you for only a moment, chuckling when you surged forward to chase after his mouth.

“Ah ah ah. You’re distracting the chef, sweetheart.”

Staring at him with your mouth gaped, Yoongi only laughed in response, pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead before stepping back to continue his chopping work.

“You’re,” you paused at a loss for words, “you’re so mean.” You said, baffled at his teasing as he chuckled in response.

“Just trying to make sure you get your jjajangmyeon, angel.”

Once the dish of noodles was steaming and ready to eat, he blushed slightly at your praise when he finished plating, turning you back toward the island with a nudge of his elbow to your spine along with a bashful smile gracing his face.

“Just eat it, you brat.”

[storiesofsvu]

Mistletoe

Rita Calhoun x reader Warnings: language, sass, fake dating trope, alcohol consumption, smut. A/N: an old story, I’m just uploading everything to the new blog now And adding in the new tag lists.

*

“Arrggghhh!” The strangled cry from your office gained Rita’s attention as she’d crossed through the firm back to her own, the vision of your cell phone going flying through the room causing her to pause, leaning against the door frame.

“Barba driving you insane? Or do you have one of those clients I warned you about?” She smirked softly. Your huffed out a sigh, looking across at her, annoyance ever president on your face.

“I would rather be dealing with a very guilty baby killer than this right now.” You groaned, running your heads over your face before it dropped to the desk in front of you.

“What’s going on?” Rita moved into your office easily, swinging the door shut behind her.

From the moment you’d started at her firm the two of you had become friends, you had a ferociousness that she rarely saw in new lawyers, and you were one that immediately started to work for the defence. You still had your morals, but you knew where to draw the line, knowing exactly what situations you were getting into before you got into them. Rita was more than okay with spilling a few of her overflow clients your way, and amazed at the way you managed to defend them perfectly in a courtroom. She particularly loved the way you absolutely eviscerated Barba nearly every time you went up against him. Despite the age gap the two of you had gotten along swimmingly, even more than the others in the firm, usually spending working lunches together, or pursuing drinks after work as a way to wind down. It’d been nearly four years and honestly, you were some of the closest friends the other had after so long in the industry.

“My fucking Mother.” You groaned, rolling your eyes, nodding a thanks as Rita dropped the tossed cell phone back onto your desk. “Every year since I was in high school it’s like a goddamn sin if I don’t bring someone home for Christmas and I am sick of it.” Rita chuckled softly, “two years ago I bribed Jensen to come with me in an attempt to piss of my parents and they barely flinched when I told them he was someone from work..who got off on a technicality for three homicides. They only cared that he was a nice enough looking man!” Rita nearly howled at that,

“You brought a fucking serial killer to your house on Christmas?!”

“It wasn’t my house!” You shrugged, “besides, you always told me they’re much more likely to go after the D.A’s not those defending them.”

“I didn’t mean they were okay to bring home to mom and dad!” She countered, a laugh echoing through the room as she perched herself on the side of your desk. You let out a hefty sigh,

“I’m just at the point where I honestly don’t give a fuck. I don’t want to go home at all but if I don’t, I’ll have my brother at my goddamn door on Christmas Eve ready to drive me up to Danbury no questions asked. I just..want to piss them off past no belief. Bring someone home who they don’t expect, even if it’s not real, just fuck them up enough they’ll finally shut up for a few years.”

“Have you ever brought home a woman?” She asked.

“Yes. I tried that. They know I’ve fought for years that I much prefer women, they just don’t seem to get it. The last girl I brought home they were convinced was just my friend. Though she was too chicken for any amount of P.D.A, I don’t even know if she was out to her family. Clearly that one didn’t last too long.” You rolled your eyes again as Rita chuckled.

“Well…what about someone substantially older than you?”

“Rita,” you laughed, “I think all the men from sugar daddy apps have their own families to be with on Christmas.”

“I have no obligation to see mine.” Your head cocked as you looked up at her, a brow raised.

“Are you offering to come with me?”

“All you have to do is ask.” She smirked. You dropped your pen, cupping one of her hands in yours as you gave her the best fake puppy dog eyes you could muster.

“Rita Calhoun, will you be my fake girlfriend this Christmas to piss of my horribly fucking annoying family?”

“I’d love to.” You laughed when she bent forward, kissing your head playfully before hopping off your desk, “You’re in luck too, I’m a high upgrade from a convicted serial killer.”

“Not convicted! I got him off.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Not like that!” She cackled as she dodged the stapler you hucked at her, safely escaping your office.

*

“You sure you’re fine not seeing your family?” You asked, eyes trained on the road.

“I am more than okay with it.” Rita replied, “This will be far more entertaining than sitting around being asked when I’m going to finally have a kid and being told that time’s starting to run out.”

“Oh God, this shit never ends, does it?” You glanced over at her, noting the laugh on her face.

“It really doesn’t. And I am more than content just being Aunt Rita.”

“Yeah you can mark me down for staying as the fun wine Aunt any day.” The other woman chuckled at your remark.

“How many kids are going to be there today?”

“Two. Cassy’s six, Maggie just turned one. Both my younger sister’s kids, my brother’s the baby of the family and somehow gets out of the constant questioning of when he’s settling down. They’re good kids, I mean…the baby’s…”

“A baby?”

“Exactly. I mean, she’ll be walking now…I think? Fuck if I know how kids work.” You laughed, “It was horrible last year, like, no..I don’t want to hold her, she looks like an alien. Can I please have more wine?”

“Agreed completely.”

The conversation varied between a few other things, you ran over any basics of your family, how Christmas dinner was usually structured. The drive was just over an hour, but the roads were already starting to turn, it’d been snowing since noon and honestly part of you was praying it would get worse and you could bail before you even got there. Then again, you’d miss out on the fun that was torturing your parents with this whole façade.

You pulled into the driveway behind the car that you knew was your brother’s, knowing his plan was usually to drink heavily and crash in his old room. Since you knew the weather wasn’t going to be great, (and while your little Toyota did just fine in the city when you needed it, it didn’t deal well with highways full of snow) you’d suggested bringing overnight bags just in case. You grabbed your bag, along with the bag nearly overflowing with presents and head Rita to the door, thankful it was unlocked and you wouldn’t need to deal with keys.

“Hi!” You called into the house, dumping your bag in the sitting room off to the right, motioning for Rita to follow suit. Kicking off your shoes you heard a pattering of small feet as you started undoing your coat.

“Auntie!” Cassy yelped in glee as she raced towards you, hands outstretched. You were lucky enough you caught her wrists in time, stopping her half a foot away thanks to the icing nearly coating her hands.

“Woah…let’s keep those sticky hands away from the Prada, baby.” You plopped a kiss to her head, turning her in your arms, “How about you go wash up and then you’ll get a hug?” Rita chuckled at the entire interaction, knowing she would’ve done the exact same thing. Your brother popped around the corner next, beer already in his hand,

“Hey.” He gave you a one armed hug, a quick kiss on the cheek as he grabbed the presents from you. His eyes moved behind you to Rita, extending a hand, “Patrick.” She gave a quick greeting in reply before he turned back to you, “Mom’s gonna fucking kill you.”

“At this point I’m purposely trying to give her an aneurysm.” You joked, reaching for Rita’s hand as you moved into the vast combo living and dining room.

“Ma! We’re all here now!” Patrick called out, dropping the bag of gifts at the foot of the tree, he shot you a smirk as your Mother called back from the kitchen.

“Oh excellent! Y/N I can’t wait to meet the wonderful young man you’v-“ She cut herself off suddenly as she moved through the kitchen doorway, her eyes landing on you and Rita hand in hand. You giggled softly, wrapping your free arm around Rita’s bicep, snuggling against her briefly before kissing her cheek.

“This is Rita. She’s one of the senior partners at the firm, hell, she’s one of the best defence attorneys in the city.” You redirected your attention to Rita, gesturing “My Mom, Lisa.”

“It’s…so nice to meet you.” Your Mom gave a small smile alongside her greeting.

“Likewise. I’ve heard wonderful things. Thank you so much for having us tonight, I know how hectic the holidays can be.” She smiled softly, “Your daughter is…truly magnificent. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Turning to you Rita cupped your cheek with her free hand, gently nuzzling against your nose before kissing the tip of it, “She’s an incredible asset to the firm as well, she does fantastic work.”

“Oh stop…” you playfully feigned embarrassment, ducking to kiss her shoulder.

“Well..” Your Mother broke into the moment again, “Drinks?”

“Oh yes please!” You followed her into the kitchen, leaving Rita in the capable hands of your brother to make quick introductions as the rest of the family made their way into the room.

You handed Rita a glass of Pinot as you returned, dropping down onto the couch beside her, kissing her cheek gently. She nuzzled into it, smiling warmly at you before returning back to the conversation, her free hand draped across your thigh with ease. You had to give it to her, she was damn good at this, it was more believable than the actual girlfriend you’d brought a few years back. Though you knew she enjoyed the chaotic ness of the entire thing just as much as you did.

The family socialized and caught up for a bit while your parents finished up dinner, your Dad popping in to greet your ‘girlfriend’ briefly before turning back to the kitchen. There were a few offers to help, but the only one they took was for your brother to come carve the turkey once it was done. Drinks were flowing and the festive mood easily sunk into the room as the group moved from the living room to the dining room table, multiple comments about how everything looked and smelt wonderful spoken through the room. The clattering of dishes and muted conversation took over as the food was passed around the table before everyone was settled in beginning to eat.

“So, Rita.” Your father began, both of your faces glancing up towards the man, “I hear you work with y/n at the firm?”

“Yes.” She smiled softly, glancing back to you quickly with warmth in her eyes, “It’s how we met.”

“How long have you been practicing law?”

“Long enough.” She shot you a wink you were barely able to hold back a giggle, the act in full play now.

“What made you want to start with the defence?” Your Mother asked, you rolled your eyes and shot a look at Patrick, she’d always been fighting you on your choice.

“Oh I actually started with the prosecution.” Her free hand squeezed at yours on the table as her attention turned back to you, “I commend y/n for diving right into the deep end, not a lot of people can handle it and she does absolutely incredible.”

“I just don’t know how you do it, I mean, standing up for criminals-“ You couldn’t help but cut your Mom off.

“Really? Cause that’s not how you felt when one was sitting at your dinner table Mom.”

“Oh sweetheart he wasn’t convicted, you said so yourself.” You snorted,

“That just means I did a damn good job, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t guilty.” You shot a glare toward her, “You gave a literal criminal your best behaviour without giving him the second degree and I’d appreciate if you did the same for the woman I love.” You held back the smirk at her near gasp at your drop of the L word, smiling at the way Rita leaned in to kiss the side of your head softly.

Your Mother stopped with the bullshit after that, and instead of the awkward small talk grilling that you knew would normally ensue, the conversation flowed between everyone at the table. You teased your brother relentlessly over a number of things, did your best to listen as the six year old chattered through multiple stories that made zero sense whatsoever, and internally groaned as your brother in law droned on about his car dealership.

Once everyone was finishing up, you and Patrick took on the normal roles of starting to tear down the table. Your sister and Mom wrangled the kids into the living room with promises of chocolates while your Father and brother in law headed outside to indulge in some cigars. You were in the midst of scooping potatoes into multiple Tupperware containers for everyone to take home when Patrick popped up beside you.

“So…what’s the deal here? You guys are just friends…or fuck buddies…and you wanted to screw with Mom?”

“Oh my God Pat!” You rolled your eyes, rinsing out the dish before putting in the dishwasher, “What, you wanna know cause you wanna take her home?”

“I mean…she’s hot.” You smacked him with a spatula, a look of disgust on your face.

“Patrick! Stop! Not gonna happen!”

“So you are actually together?” He smirked as you shot him a glare.

“Darling is he hassling you?” Rita’s voice broke through the kitchen, she gently wrapped her arms around you as you dolled out stuffing into containers, kissing the back of your neck.

“No…” you turned in her arms, your voice lowering so no one would overhear “and honestly, you can drop the act in front of Pat.” You turned to your brother, “cause if he even so much as hints to it being fake I’ll tell Mom about the three separate abortions he paid for this year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You know I would!” Before he could rertort, or before Rita’s arms dropped from your waist your Mom popped into the kitchen,

“When you’re done with that will you be a dear and bring some refills out?”

“Pat’s on it!” You called back, shooting him a glare. He scowled at you, knowing you weren’t about to let up on your threat, and knowing you…you had the reciepts to prove it. He wasn’t about to try and fight it out with a criminal lawyer. You let out a quiet groan, your head dropping to Rita’s shoulder briefly, “I’m so sorry to drag you into this, I should’ve just sucked it up and dealt with it myself.”

“You kidding me?” She chuckled, “We made it through dinner without anyone screaming or making any horrible comments. All things considered this is one the better Christmases I’ve been to, fake or real.”

“Thanks.” You gave her a soft smile, turning back to the counter as she moved beside you.

“You need any help?”

“That’d be great.” You slid her the empty stuffing bowl, “if you can toss these in the dishwasher, rinse it if it needs it.”

“‘Course.” She shot you a smile as you picked up the dish of carrots, dolling portions out between the containers. When the two of you had finished you refilled your wine glasses with a heavy hand, Rita shooting you a knowing glance as she grasped your hand once again before entering the living room.

Cassy basically cheered, knowing it was present time once everyone was back all together. Your hand brushed Rita’s hair over her shoulder as you relaxed back agaisnt the couch, making sure it didn’t get trapped. Your fingers softly tracing the side of her cheek before her lips gently met your palm, the look of fake adoration in her eyes. The longer the night went on the more you realized how much acting really was part of a defence attorney’s job. You were impressed by both of your performances, realizing how similar it was to convince a jury a perp was innocent or convince your family you were in a relationship.

Most of the presents were for the kids, a few gift cards or specifically asked for things for the adults. Your parents always said they never wanted anything so they ended up with a few bottles of wine or bourbon that usually got indulged into that evening. Your arm was wrapped around Rita’s shoulder, your hand softly stroking her arm as conversation flowed between everyone as the kids explored their presents. You shifted slightly, curling your legs under yourself as you leant into Rita’s embrace, kissing her shoulder softly right before she kissed your forehead, your older sister making a quiet comment about how adorable you were.

You could practically feel your parents tensing at how comfortable you were around each other, realizing that they weren’t exactly going to get rid of Rita anytime soon. The family tradition was to watch the live action Grinch, Cassy’s favourite, once presents were done and you sunk even deeper into the couch, humming over a sip of wine as the movie started.

Not surprisingly, Cassy passed out halfway through, snoring gently in a turkey and sugar induced coma. Your sister was already snuggling the baby against her chest, and you knew your Dad was about two minutes away from waking everyone up with his snoring from the lounger. As your sister started to wrangle everyone up you nudged Rita softly, mentioning that you should head out.

That was of course until the door was opened, the thick blanket of snow that had been there when you arrived increased by at least a foot. You let out a hefty sigh, your brother in law had an huge SUV with four wheel drive..and they still lived in town, they’d have no problem getting home. But..as suspected, you were trapped, at least overnight. Your parents said goodbye to those who were leaving, and then quickly said goodnight to the remaining three of you before heading upstairs.

“Rumple?” Patrick turned to you, a daring look in his eye already.

“Really?” You rolled your eyes, “You can’t seriously still be drinking that shit.”

“Oh come on! It’s tradition, he dragged you over to the liquor cabinet, “two shots each, that was the deal.” You shot Rita a sympathetic glance as your brother pulled out shot glasses.

“Fine. But then you’re on your own, we’re going to bed.”

“Fine with me.” He grinned sliding two full shot glasses over to each of you, “Merry Christmas.” The three of you cheersed the first round before throwing it back, a series of grimaces as the liquor burned down your throats. Patrick chuckled as he instantly picked up the second glass, causing the two of you to curse at him, doing your best to toss back the second shot. You grabbed his hand as it moved back to the bottle,

“No! I said two was the deal. You do whatever you want, but it’s bedtime for the grown ups.” He laughed, moving back to the table where he grabbed the open bottle of wine.

“Fine…but you’re missing out.”

“Sure…” you teased, “on watching my idiot brother get so drunk he pukes at our parents house at the tender age of twenty nine…sounds great.” Rita outwardly laughed at that, the smile remaining on her face as you grasped at her hand, moving her from the living room. You grabbed your bags from the sitting room, leading her upstairs to your bedroom.

You were ever so blessed that your childhood room hadn’t held onto all of its nostalgia, your parents converting it mainly into a guest room, especially since you did your best to not come home. The twin bed replaced with a gorgeous queen, the boy band posters replaced with a few pieces of tasteful art.

“This is…surprisingly nice.” Rita joked, smiling back at you, causing you to laugh.

“The perks of being the black sheep, I get the nicely done guest room while Patrick’s stuck sleeping in a twin bed with ninja turtle sheets.” She laughed as you flicked on the bedside lamp, moving back to shut the bedroom door.

“You know…your family’s less chaotic than I thought.” She began as you moved into the en-suite, shrugging out of your cardigan, “I mean..your brother could definitely be an issue, but there weren’t any huge fights.” You returned to the doorframe, makeup wipe in your hand,

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t expect a man to show up with me that they could try to force on me.” You barely noticed Rita’s eyes flashing up quickly above you back to you gaze,

“It certainly doesn’t….” she smirked, “your room’s been booby trapped.” Your face scrunched at her before you glanced upwards, spying the mistle toe pinned to the ceiling. You cocked a brow at her, noticing the innocent gleam in her eye,

“I mean..it is tradition..”

“If you insist.” She smirked, taking the half step to close the space between you. Your breath hitched as her lips met yours. The kiss was gentle, a test of the waters, your lips moving with grace as your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling you to her. You practically moaned against her mouth as her teeth nipped at your lower lip, the sensation shooting through your body before you lightly pulled away.

“You know…” You raised a brow as your hands trailed down her arms, “I can think of another thing that would definitely piss of my parents.”

“Is that so?” You gave a knowing nod before letting out a soft moan, a soft ‘oh fuck’ barely echoing through the room. “Oh darling….” Rita smirked, “I know you can do better than that.”

“Why don’t you make me?” She chuckled at your bratty response, her lips kissing down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as your hands grasped at her sweater, the noises coming out of already more than your fake ones. Her hand cupped your chin, brining your gaze back to hers, “but only if you want it.”

“I do.” You barely got the words out before launching against her, your lips crashing against hers with ferocity.

Your hands moved swiftly, tugging at every inch of fabric covering the others skin before you dropped into Rita’s lap on the bed. Your hands trailed up her sides, cupping her chest, a groan escaping your lips as her mouth wrapped around one of yours, whining at the feel of her teeth scraping against your nipple. Your hand dug into the roots of her hair, pulling tightly resulting in a moan from the other woman as you felt a hand trail down your body, toying with the hem of your panties. You managed to pull yourself away from her glorious mouth, barely able to clamber off her lap,

“Wait…” She gave you a confused look as you nearly stumbled to your closet, digging through a few piles before you returned with a shoebox, “help yourself.” You smirked, dropping into her lap again.

“You keep sex toys at your parent’s house?” She teased.

“My family’s stressful!” You swatted at her shoulder, “and this is the easiest way to beat stress.” Rita kissed you softly, though nearly sucking the sass out of you as you chased her lips when she pulled away.

“Well, I can help you with that darling…” You watched as one of her hands dug through the limited box for a moment before the other gently closed around your jaw, redirecting your attention to her face, “eyes here.”

A smirk splayed across your lips as the two of you continued to play for power, your lips kissing down her jaw, teeth gently biting across her neck, relishing in the soft whimpers she let out before her free hand shoved down your panties.

“You better be good for me..” Rita’s lips pecked soft kisses across your chest, your cheeks your lips, you could barely contain yourself, the tantalizing feeling of her hands tracing along your bare skin torturing you before her hand finally fell between your legs.

You practically buried yourself into her shoulder as her hand cupped your heat, a groan louder than you expected leaving your lips as the tips of her fingers ever so slowly swiped throug your folds. You nearly shuddered against her as she circled your clit with your juices, wrapping your arms tighter around her neck, thrusting your hips toward her hand.

“So needy sweetheart…” she murmured, nipping at your earlobe, “you want to fuck my fingers?”

“Yes…” you breathed out, probably too quickly, “yes please.”

“All you had to do was ask darling.” Rita’s lips softly hit your shoulder as her fingers delved into your folds again. A solo digit sunk into your heat, the two of you both groaning at the feeling. You were lost in a sense of euphoria as Rita slowly began to plunge in and out of you, easily adding a second digit, curling to hit the spongey spot inside of you.

She on the other hand felt your breath picking up at the feeling of your pussy clenching around her, the sounds you were making ever so clear that you were having the time of your fucking life with simply two fingers. You started to lift your hips up, rolling them back down against her hand while you braced yourself on her shoulders, your pace increasing while your nails dug into her skin more and your moans increased volume. At this point you weren’t thinking about anything but how wonderful Rita’s hand felt against you, how badly you wanted to make her feel the same.

A loud gasp left your lips as you realized what she’d grabbed from the toy box, a small vibe that fit as a ring wrapped around her thumb . Though the vibe itself wasn’t what was doing it, it was the way she moved it on your clit, rotating positions and patterns as her fingers continued to pump inside of you, her mouth swallowing as many of your yelps as she could, her own groans escaping as you found your teeth burning into her skin. You shuddered heavily against her, doing your best to muffle your cries into her shoulder as you jolted away from the vibe. You felt the fire within you burst like never before, a rush of juices practically shooting from your cunt.

It took a few moments, Rita letting you calm down before she pulled her fingers from you. Your hand shot out, grasping her wrist in your hand, bringing her dripping fingers to your lips, your eyes not straying from hers as you sucked them clean.

With barely a second to think, you battled for dominance, flipping Rita fully onto the bed, tugging her pants down as you crawled down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses in your wake. You nippled heavily at her inner thigh, she nearly swatted at your hand before your tongue swiped through her pussy. You sunk yourself in faster than you could imagine, sucking out the juices easily, smirking against her at the fact that getting you off turned her on this much. Your mouth fucked her with ease, grinning as the soft moans she let out, the way her hands clenched into your hair. You moved your lips up to her clit, knowing it wouldn’t take long now, tongue flicking against the swollen nub as you slipped a finger in, curling just where she needed it. Rita let out the best of a quiet yelp as her thighs quaked around you, her breath panting heavily. You softly kissed her thigh, trailing yourself up her body until you collapsed beside her, kissing her shoulder softly, humming in appreciation as her lips hit your head.

“Safe to say I have no complaints about this Christmas.” Rita laughed at your remark, curling around your body.

“Neither do I.” Her lips hit your bare shoulder softly before you bid each other good night, easily drifting off.

*

You awoke the next morning to the feeling of tingling up and down your side, the touch trailing down your waist, your hips nearly rolling at the ghost of a touch. When you felt the arm around you, rolling you to face them, you remembered, cracking your eyes open at Rita, a smirk on her face as her hands traced your still naked form.

“Morning.” You murmured, she smiled back at you, pecking you gently.

“I’d hoped I’d get to wake you up with this.”

“Hmm..” your hands buried into her hair as her lips traced a path down your body, “With wha-“ You were suddenly cut off at the feel of her mouth against your lower lips. You couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, holy shit did she know what she was doing. Rita’s tongue swiped through your cunt, lapping at your juices, her lips wrapping around your clit as her fingers toyed with your g spot. Your whimpers did their best to stay quiet as your hips thrusted up, doing your best to keep from fucking her face. You felt electrified, the coil in you building faster than ever, your hips shot up off the bed, your free hand clamping over your mouth as your practically shrieked against it. Your body vibrating on the mattress, Rita gave a soft kiss to your stomach before dropping on the bed beside you.

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had.” You laughed, smacking her hip, still unable to form words, taking a few more minutes of heaving breath before you spoke.

“Fuck Rita….” You rolled your head to face her, “you’re really fucking good at that.”

“So I hear.” You both laughed at her response. You slowly sat up, crossing to the window as you pulled the curtains back.

“Looks like it’s mainly melted. You wanna shower here or just head back to the city?”

“I know how much you want to get out of here, let’s go.”

“And this is why you’re my favourite.” You laughed, kissing her cheek quickly while the two of you moved throughout the room, tossing each other clothes until you were fully dressed.

You half jogged down the stairs, collecting everything you needed. Rita thanked your parents again for having her before they disappeared to the family room. You plucked a fresh pop tart straight out of Patrick’s hand yelling something about a happy new year while he turned towards the door,

“Doesn’t your girlfriend want breakfast?” He shot to back to you.

“Oh I already ate, don’t worry about it.” She smirked in response.

Confusion took over your brother’s face in the time it took the two of you to dart out of the house, laughing at what you knew would be his reaction.

Christmas this year certainly was a successful one, even if it was unconventional.

_____ @natasha-danvers @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @oliviaswifey @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @molllss @wosoimagines @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @addictedtodinosaurs @disn3y7 @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @muscatmusic18 @ladysc @alexusonfire @season4scullyhair @lannister-slings-and-arrows @1-lindsay83 @mmemalwa @ms-calhoun @holycrapraewth

[absolutepokemontrash]

They Grow Up So Fast

Masterlist

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Part of the one year anniversary of the Half Demon series!!!

Warnings: Use of alcohol

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

April 20, three days until Venus’ birthday.

“I forbid you from growing older.”

Lucifer was staring down his brothers and niblings’ report cards, while Venus lay flat on their stomach on the floor of his study, gleefully playing with the cat.

The Avatar of Pride’s head was buzzing and his vision was growing hazy, but he was sure he hadn’t had too much Demonus. Venus looked up at him, propping their head up on an outstretched hand.

“Why, father? Are you getting sentimental in your old age?” The child cheekily asked.

Lucifer sighed and clicked his pen impatiently. “No, I’m just worried about the amount of laws you’ll be able to break and get sent to the dungeons for when you eventually become of age.”

Venus scoffed and rolled onto their back, picking up their cat and holding him above them. “I’m not that much of a troublemaker, father. Besides, Dia would never arrest me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” Venus put on a self important smirk and cuddled Detective Toe Beans to their chest. “I’m too adorable.”

It was Lucifer’s turn to scoff and shake his head. The words and numbers on the report cards had begun to blur, which was a sign that maybe Lucifer should head to bed. The demon needed to sleep sometime after all.

“It’s getting late, Venus.” Lucifer squinted and looked at the clock on the wall, completely ignoring the portable and easier to read digital clock in his DDD, yet another sign that he had drunk a little too much to be awake. “Go to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

“Father it’s Friday,” Venus pulled out their DDD and checked the time. “Well, it was Friday.”

“What I said before wasn’t a suggestion, to bed with you. On the double.”

Venus snickered and pulled themselves off the floor, picking up Bean and adjusting their glasses. They gave Lucifer a mock two fingered salute before turning on their heel and heading to their room.

“Alright then ‘sir’, I’m going, I’m going.”

Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Lucifer prepared to stand up, but when he wobbled on his feet, he slowly sank back into his office chair. Okay… maybe he needed to sit still for a second. Jesus… How much did he drink? It was less than half a bottle-

Lucifer stared at the label, then mentally face palmed, that was some strong Demonus he decided to break out, and for what? Reading report cards?

Another sigh escaped the demon’s lips as he rubbed his eyes. No, Lucifer was smart enough to know it wasn’t the report cards that had him leaning on Demonus.

His child was growing up. My my, how the mighty have fallen. Lucifer Morningstar, Avatar of Pride, right hand to the future king of Hell, an awful, evil demon, was upset at his child getting older before his very eyes.

Too soon… the demon thought, eying the bottle of Demonus before pouring a bit of it into his glass. I just got used to them, now they’re changing…

It seemed like only yesterday he was watching them stumble around the Devildom, they tripped over their own feet like they were still growing into their own body. Lucifer couldn’t help but note how much more confidently Venus carried themselves as of late.

He remembered how nervously they acted whenever they had to interact with him, how they stared up at him with such awe and reverence, but also mild embarrassment. It took Lucifer back to his days as an Angel, all his younger subordinates looking up at him like he was the greatest, most amazing thing they’d ever seen.

Now… Now Venus wasn’t afraid to sass him.

Venus had grown so comfortable in their time with him that they weren’t afraid to poke a good amount of fun at him. Not that Lucifer wasn’t afraid to fire back some teasing at them either, especially when he was teaching them how to fly.

Lucifer nearly burst into laughter as the memories flooded back, but they were cut off by an onslaught of hiccups. Stupid Demonus

His child was no flying prodigy, Lucifer knew that from the moment they first attempted to take flight. They crashed face first into the grass immediately. They hopped right back onto their feet and frantically brushed down their clothes, but neglected to wipe the grass stains off their face and glasses. That would be the first of many wipe-outs, but eventually, they could fly with almost zero difficulty.

Lucifer’s chest tightened as the laughter he was resisting faded. They learned so quickly… he’d never get to teach them that again…

He’d missed out on walking them to RAD on their first day… Mammon and Beel had done that. Lucifer was far too busy cursing himself for “ruining” Diavolo’s exchange program. Lucifer now cursed himself for taking so long to take actual interest in his child. He wondered what they looked like… he wondered if their face lit up when they saw the talking portraits, the moving statues, the magic used in each lesson… all these things that had become so mundane and normal to Lucifer, but extraordinary for them…

Lucifer then wondered… How much did he miss of them before the exchange program? Before he knew about them existing? Before he-

…

Before he cared…

First steps… First words… first time their wings grew in… first time magic sparked between their fingers…

So much he had missed… so much he’d never get back…

Lucifer shifted in his seat, his grip tightening on his glass. Razor thin cracks began to form beneath his gloved fingers as his hand shook slightly.

He’d never get those moments back…

Lucifer placed his glass down on his desk, the liquid inside was untouched. The demon yawned and stretched his back and arms before he rose from his seat. He needed to get some sleep…

After closing his office door, switching off the lights in the library, and making his way down the hall, he heard a noise from the kitchen followed by frantic shushing.

“Shhhh!”

“Oh you shhhhh!”

Lucifer peeked his head into the kitchen, and saw Venus, knees up on the counter, reaching up for one of Beel’s boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Cecil, was standing on the ground, holding two boxes of thin mints and looking guilty as all hell.

“I thought I told you to go to bed.”

At the sound of Lucifer’s voice, Venus jumped and shrieked, toppling off the countertop. If it weren’t for Lucifer lunging forward and catching them, they would probably have gotten a concussion.

“Theft, really, you two?” Lucifer cooed. Venus, still wide eyed and shocked, looked from Lucifer, to the box of cookies, to Cecil, then back to Lucifer.

“Uh…” Venus bit their lip, then held up the box of chocolate caramel cookies that they had grabbed. “Cookie, father?”

After a moment of silence, and Venus gently shaking the box as if to entice him, Lucifer barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Both of you, off to bed. Now.”

“Yes sir…” both of them mumbled. Venus tried to wiggle out of Lucifer’s arms, but Lucifer didn’t let up, he simply smiled and carried them down the hall to their room.

“Are you gonna…” Venus laughed nervously. “Put me down?”

“No, I can’t trust you.” Lucifer said, trailing after Cecil. “Enjoy your cookies then go to sleep, I’m not about to let your sleep schedule go to hell.”

“But we’re in hell-”

“Quiet, you.” Lucifer gently plopped Venus down into their bed, and watched as they quickly squirmed under the covers. They placed their glasses on their nightstand and dug their hand into the box of cookies.

“You sure you don’t want a cookie, father?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“Ah, right, old men only like hard candies.” Venus said with a smile. “Anyway, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight Venus.”

“Night uncle Lucifer.” Cecil said from their bed.

“Mmmmm…” Ash added, half awake and stuffing a few thin mints into their mouth. “Night…”

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a burst of warmth spread through his chest. Maybe it was the Demonus, maybe it was love, maybe it was the acceptance of being able to make new memories like this as Venus got older, but one thing was certain…

Lucifer needed to go to bed, because he could barely stand.

________

Author’s Note

Guess who convinced herself the anniversary of this fic series was next week and not this week..? Ya girl right here.

Ah well, you’ll get the rest of the fic over the course of the next three days! I’ll be sure to be extra sappy in the author’s notes!