#waited the whole night for my post to get approved

[finnieforkys]

My comm pricing post got ignored because i don't have friends i'm so doom lol

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

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“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue. 

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders. 

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied. 

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you. 

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come. 

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed. 

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too. 

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that. 

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes. 

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict. 

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day. 

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly. 

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.” 

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them. 

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute. 

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together. 

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path. 

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy. 

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side. 

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds. 

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place. 

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add. 

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one. 

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight. 

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too. 

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his. 

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too. 

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it. 

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around. 

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight. 

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason. 

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion. 

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now. 

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt. 

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm. 

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face. 

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.” 

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat. 

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you. 

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days. 

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world. 

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore. 

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet. 

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry. 

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

.

.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

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taglist is closed

[azulpitlane]

boss' daughter I ln4

pairing: lando norris x brown!daughter reader summary: lando is down bad for zak brown's daughter but shes a little hard to get notes: I know this isn't pt 3 of my other mini series BUT i thought of this idea and had to do it immediately hehe, I really like this one masterlist

y/nbrown

liked by landonorris, zbrownceo and 21,492 others

y/nbrown nyc living

view all comments

user i wanna see her at races shes so cute😭🫶

y/nbrown vegas! ill be there🤭 liked by landonorris

user help why's lando in his boss' daughter's likes

landonorris 🤩

user norizzzzz user is this him shooting his shot AHAHHA user NO LANDO SHES MINE

user IT GIRL

user landooo👀

y/bff/n pretty girl

y/nbrown love u babes

posted september 2023

y/nbrown

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 19,384 others

y/nbrown college student by day, dj by night😝

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y/bff/n ur so unserious babe

y/nbrown i ate, the people loved me

landonorris as a retired dj maybe you can give me some inspiration to start again

user LANDO??? user he's crushing so hard OMFFFF user zak brown reading this: 🤨🤨

zbrownceo dont have too much fun!

y/nbrown 🫣 user such a dad reply lol

user y/n brown slaying once again

user so excited to see you back in the paddock soon🫶 liked by y/nbrown

danielricciardo you're perfect for him

y/nbrown who???

posted october 2023

y/nbrown

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 30,341 others

y/nbrown vegas babyyy

tagged zbrownceo, danielricciardo, y/bff/n

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user gorgeous girl

danielricciardo finally reunited with my favorite brown

y/nbrown was too busy girlbossing sorry danielricciardo what a shame, there's someone who's been waiting to meet you... y/nbrown hm, i didn't meet anyone new🤷‍♀️ danielricciardo next race then user is daniel hinting that lando didn't meet his crush sjsjkskks user wait he hasn't EVEN MET HER?!?! user im guessing not, shes been pictured with other drivers but never lando

user here for landos comments

landonorris maybe you should come to a race where I'm not crashing😅

user norizz strikes again user its the fact that she never even replies and he's still trying HAHA user hes fr out here risking his seat for her just not to respond back

mclaren 🧡

user shes finally back in the paddock!!!

user im surprised she doesn't go to more gp's, her dad's literally the ceo of mclaren😭 user i think she's mentioned shes very busy with uni so her schedule usually never aligns with the races

posted november 2023

y/nbrown abu dhabi, UAE

liked by landonorris, zbrownceo and 25,482 others

y/nbrown escaping cold new york weather

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user OMG shes gonna be at the gp again this weekend!!

user landos got one more chance to shoot his shot before the season ends😭

landonorris hope to see you at the paddock!

danielricciardo thanks for letting me borrow that $10 mil bro I owe you🤝 maxverstappen1 thanks for saving my cats out of that burning building, you're a true hero🤝 alex_albon thanks for paying off my whole family's debt mate🤝 carlossainz55 thanks for gifting me that mclaren, i love it mate🤝

user ALL THE DRIVERS IN HER COMMENTS IMDEAD

user his rizz was so bad they had to step in omg. user and she still hasn't acknowledged lando AHAH user a true girlboss, I love her

user i need to know what zak brown thinks off all of this😭

user next season of dts gonna be craZy

user everybodys focused on the comments and not at the fact that these lyrics sound a little sus...

posted november 2023

landonorris posted a story

dannyyyy🤠 y/n wyaaa im in the mclaren garage rn

y/n aren't you suppose to be in umm idk YOUR OWN GARAGE?

dannyyyy🤠 yeah but I need to do something real quick so come

y/n does this have anything to do with lando?

dannyyyy🤠 maybe...

y/n im sorry but he's exactly why im not in the garage rn

dannyyyy🤠 WHAT WHY pls dont tell me I hyped him up just for you not be interested...

y/n im not NOT interested but he's my dad's driver danny this can get messy so fast and what if he doesn't approve

dannyyyy🤠 oh you americans and your dramatics hes already talked to your dad dummy

y/n wait really?

dannyyyy🤠 you really think he would PUBLICLY hit on his boss' daughter without asking first?

y/n idk never really thought about it

dannyyyy🤠 JUST COME DOWN HERE YOU MUPPET

landonorris

liked by y/nbrown, danielricciardo and 830,391 others

landonorris didn't win the race, but i won her heart

tagged y/nbrown

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user FINALLY

y/nbrown cheeseball liked by landonorris

user HE ACTUALLY GOT HER

danielricciardo youre welcome

y/nbrown you pushed me in front of him then ran away...not the best wingman danielricciardo its not like landos rizz was gonna get you together🤷‍♂️ y/nbrown true landonorris hey! I wasn't that bad... y/nbrown whatever helps you sleep at night hun!

user y/n blink twice if you need help

y/nbrown blink blink landonorris 😔

user obsessed with y/n bullying lando in the comments

user I know I love them already

zbrownceo better take good care of her lando

landonorris sir yes sir🫡

user we can no longer make norizz jokes. sigh.

notes: what did y'all think of this one? I loved making it🤸‍♀️

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi fawn! hope you're doing ok

so, sunshine!reader and post prison!spencer, but r is all serious during work situations and spencer only finds out about this sunshiney side over their time together ☝️

Spencer thinks you’re a hardass and he likes it, but he’d be a horrible profiler if he didn’t realize that there was more under the surface.

You’re rigid and unmoving in most everything you do in the field, and you’re never wrong. But the minute it’s not work, you’re lighter in a way he can’t put into words.

Spencer notices what he terms, ‘the changes,’ during your mornings.

You’ll make his coffee the way he likes it and set it on his desk, or you’ll bring extra of whatever you baked over the weekend for him and the office.

Also, on some occasions you walk in on the phone with this grin that he swears lights up the whole room and your voice light and sweet as whipped sugar.

He’s fond of those mornings for your smile but he’s also raging jealous, that much he can admit to himself, of whoever is on the other end of the phone making you smile like that.

“Morning, Spence.” You’re late today, only two minutes but over the year you’ve worked there Spencer knows you hate it.

Maybe it’s why your face is set in a serious frown as you set your bags down. When you yawn and stretch he thinks maybe not.

“Hi, how was your first night back on Eastern Standard time?”

You sigh, headed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. “Hell. I didn’t realize I’d be that jet lagged.”

Spencer coos something adorable, you feel it in your chest. He’s quite possibly the sweetest man you’ve ever met.

It’s possibly why you allowed yourself to get so close to him, why you’d become friends with Spencer and why you’re leaning into him as he stands next to you, your temple hovering over his shoulder.

He can smell your perfume this close and only hopes that it rubs off onto his shirt. It’s a scent so much like yourself he wonders if you realized that when you’d bought it.

It’s spicy and then after a couple seconds, amber and vanilla and something floral he can’t place takes over- it’s exactly you.

Spencer spots the change in demeanor the second on of the newbies pass by, the way you stand straighter and lean away from his space a little.

Still, he trails a hand from his side to the small of your back, a shiver racing down your spine as his hand touches you. Spencer bites back a smile- always pleased to be reminded by how he affects you the way you do him.

“Maybe if we’ve not got much going on here I can drive you home early.” The words are soft enough only you hear them, and there’s a touch of something you can place in his voice. Adoration? Love? You really shouldn’t assume.

“If Emily approves it.”

Spencer shrugs, mixing your coffee the way you like and handing you the warm mug, handle out towards you. “Or I can get you home first and tell you her you weren’t feeling well.”

You narrow your eyes as you take a sip of the coffee, relief and comfort flowing through you as your shoulders sag. Even you can’t quite make your coffee this well.

“Ask permission later, essentially?” You tease, Spencer smiles, a private smile only for you as you start making your way back to your desks together.

“For you? Yeah. She won’t mind either way.” It’s true, but the idea of Spencer possibly getting in trouble or going over Emily’s head to take care of you does make your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You flirt too much,” you say with a smile. Spencer hasn’t even shown you the half of it. “C’mon, I wanna hear my morning facts about orcas and ladybugs. Don’t keep a girl waiting.”

Spencer touches your shoulda as he gets past you, just to get his insect book and the orca book he’d gotten just for you. “Oh I’d never, honey.”

[adventuringblind]

charles having a baby fever

Father Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: fluff but also kinda smutty

Request: I saw this and my brain immediately went down the gutter. I appreciate you for this request 🙏 also my requests are open so send me things

Summary: Charles gets a case of baby fever and you're willing to indulge him ;)

Warnings: sexual themes ahead, not the whole thing but it's definitely in there. Talks of pregnancy.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I'm not a hoe for this man. Written in third person.

Masterlist

The following media is not intended for anyone below the age of 18. If your are under that, please do not interact with this post.

Charles had managed to take notice of every child in the paddock that day.

He'd recently been noticing small things. Things like baby clothes, small children, family interactions.

He'd watched Sergio and Kevin with their kids. Seb had brought his family around. It was starting to get to him.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't want kids. Starting a family was always a dream of his. Something him and his wife talked about often. They just hadn't really tried for a baby.

He knew she was at their house. Waiting for him to come home with groceries. It felt peaceful compared to the life they lived during race season.

As he walked, he could pick out every family. Kids bundled up in their winter clothes. Adults holding them upright so they don't slip and fall.

He could hardly take it. He's never walked home so fast in his life.

She was in the kitchen when he appeared behind her in the doorway. She was prepping to make dinner.

Charles looked disheveled, out of breath. She was concerned and yet simultaneously turned on by his appearance.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Charles quickly came back to his senses. Dropped the bass on the floor and wrapped her in a hug.

"We should have a baby." He was looking directly into her eyes. His face completely straight.

She was taken off guard for a moment. Then, realizing the proposal, she started excitedly shaking her head.

Charles was waiting no time. Vigorously kissing her lips. Heavy but passionate.

She was giggling at him. "What are you laughing at?" He asked as he swiftly picked her up and set her on the counter.

"Nothing, I just find you adorable."

He was mumbling French into her collarbone and Italian into her chest. Letting his hands roam her body freely.

"You are so beautiful. Soon, you will become a goddess. Pregnant with our child." He cradled her face in his hands.

"Charles I swear if you don't stop teasing-" She couldn't get any farther as Charles practically ripped her clothes off. Now left in only her underwear.

He ran his fingers lightly across her now bare skin. Memorizing the feeling. Paying attention to the way she reacted to his touch.

His shirt and jeans were next. His lips only breaking away from her for a second. Her fingers begin tracing every line on his body. The way his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.

“Mon Amour, shall we start here, then maybe move to the couch, then into the bedroom.” He’s voice is dripping with need. He is going to take her on every piece of furniture even if it takes all night.

Her brain was already turned off. The act of thinking to much with the feeling of his fingers worshiping her. She practically fell into him, humming her approval.

Charles lifted her for a second, her only remaining garment now tossed aside.

Then he took her on the counter, then again on the chair, the dining room table and the couch. Finally they made it to the bed where Charles made love to her softly. Her body trembling with every ministration.

Charles is the ‘king of aftercare’ as she likes to call him. Something he occasionally gloated about. Much to Pierre's dismay.

He grabbed a wet rag and a cup of water. Using the rag to clean off the bodily fluids that covered both of them.

She curled her body into Charles. Her head rested on his chest.

"I think you'll make a great dad." She mumbles. Charles laughs at the notion.

"Why do you think that Mon chère?"

"You just seem like father material, ya know."

"Guess I should learn some dad joke then." The two were both laughing now.

Basking in eachothers presence. Fantasizing about what life will be like with a growing family.

[r-eatyourfriends-n]

SMOKED | l.hs 이희승 | Collide pt. 2

bestfriend!heesung x bestfriend!reader

READ PT 1 HERE.

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, overstimulation (sort of?), no use of "y/n", light switch!dynamics from both reader and heesung, car sex, unsafe driving lowkey, dryhumping, minor argument, heesung is down bad honestly.

wc: 3.8k

synopsis: days have passed after your first hook up with Heesung, though neither of you have said anything about it. Instead, you continue your search for a good one night stand somewhere else, but your mind and body know where you should be.

a/n: wow! the moral obligation I had to finish this before posting anything else was crazy, but after a huge block it's finally here. If you think this is better than pt1 it's because it is, but it's also because it has been approved by the one and only @molloygendered !!!!! my bestfriend and editor. he wanted to review this again before posting it but I'm a kid on sugar so I held him at gunpoint to approve this. any feedback is appreciated !!! hope you enjoy.

4 unread messages.

sorry to bother u so late

can u pick m up? pls

[Address]

idk if ure awake sorry

Heesung's screen lit up on his desk, breaking his focus from the heated game in front of him. He unlocked his phone, the other hand still gripping the controller tightly. His eyes moved quickly from the texts popping up and then back to the screen, which nearly got him killed. 

The team won eventually, but just barely. Heesung logged out as soon as it was over. He spent the whole time wanting to check his phone.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”Jake yelled at him through the call. “We almost lost."

“My bad. Gotta go,” he said in a monotone voice, showing no remorse as he hung up the call despite Jake's groans.

He looked back down at his phone and texted back a short "omw" before getting up from his chair, stretching his arms. His bones cracked, so loud it made him wince at the sound.

With quick steps, he changed into something a bit more decent, just a plain white t-shirt on top of his cargo pants, which had been slowly losing their black tone after each wash. The chains on his thick belt dangled as he walked out of his room and began to head out of his apartment, taking his keys from the cat-shaped key holder you had put on his wall. He had been surprised the first time he hung his keys and a white cat popped up. It was supposed to be a prank, but Heesung never found it in him to take it off despite the fact that it didn't match with the overall vibe of his room one bit. The kitten disappeared inside the box as he left.

The distance to your location was short, or perhaps Heesung was driving a little too fast. Either way, he arrived about fifteen minutes after telling you that he was on his way to pick you up. He parked in front of a small, black gate which led to some stairs. The complex seemed fairly little, but somewhat cozy, with small balconies filled with pots and all kinds of houseplants. Although it was past midnight and dark, he could still make out the colors of the flowers that were placed by the edges of the windows, leaves moving along with the wind.

Leaving the car on, he hopped out, leaning back against  the driver's door to wait for you. Admittedly, it was ill-intended. He hoped your date would see him and would be thrown off. 

The wait felt like eternity. When the door opened, your figure finally appeared in a white dress with black dots, just a bit above the knee. The cleavage allowed for the black choker to stand out, your name's initial dangling softly. Heesung had always wished it was an H instead.

You smiled at Heesung when you saw him, tilting your head in confusion because why was he out of the car? Heesung smiled back at you, a soft beam on his lips. Then looked to your side when a boy appeared next to you.

He eyed your guy up and down as he said goodbye to you. He was tall like you liked them, with flawlessly tan skin and a face that was nothing short of charming, with a sort of boyish appeal to him, and it was obvious why you had said yes to a date in the first place. Heesung swallowed hard, his own jealousy burning down his throat.

You didn't seem too enchanted by the guy, though, looking almost uncomfortable as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You fake-giggled (at least, he thought you did) and grinned at him politely before making your way to Heesung. The guy appeared to be a little turned off by you getting picked up by another man, for he did not take his eyes off of Heesung as he walked to the passenger's seat to open the door for you, a gesture that you were used to. Before hopping back in, Heesung winked at him, a smug grin forming. After that, you two were off speeding down the road. He'll take the long way home, he decided.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you broke the silence after a few minutes of driving. “You didn't have to wait outside though, it's freezing.” 

"I was trying to scare him off,” Heesung chuckled, a half joke that managed to pass as just something playful, making you laugh and hit his arm.

“I don't think he liked that,” you said after your laugh subsided.

“I think it was you who didn't like him.” 

You went silent for a bit, sulking on your seat.

“So, how was it?” 

“I liked him,” you mumbled, biting your lip in thought. “It was good, yeah.”

“But?” Heesung inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I was hoping for something more... intense?”

Heesung turned his face, pretending to check something on the rearview mirror so that you wouldn't notice him biting his lip. He hoped you were referring to him, about the intimate moment you two had shared a few nights before, about the bite that was still decorating your shoulder so beautifully. A purple light enough to resemble a bruise; poor clumsy you, tripped and hit yourself with his mouth.

“Intense how?” he asked.

“To hell if I know,” you shrugged.

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing your way quickly. 

“You clearly do know.” 

“I don't. If I did I would tell you, Hee,” you said, confused.

“Like how you told me you were off to see another douchebag?” Heesung spat. 

His words made you quickly turn your head. And although he wasn't looking at you, you knew he could feel your glare burning through his skin. The sudden change in attitude had been nothing short of baffling. He seemed to keep his eyes on the road to avoid your stare rather than for safety. You couldn't tell if bouncing his leg was anger, anxiety, both, or something entirely different.

“How do you know he was a douchebag?! I told you it was fine!” you whined.

“Did he even make you come?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to fight back, but the only sound that came out was your breath hitching. It had been such a simple question, but it ignited the memories of your one time affair with him. The soft promises, the surpassed expectations, the sweet, sweet release. Your body began to tingle in the places where his hands had lingered, and you found yourself shuddering on the seat. Of course Heesung had asked that, while knowing your answer, too.

“Sex is not all about that.” you said finally, voice low with uncertainty. 

“Oh, so that's why you fuck every idiot with a mushroom cut.” Heesung mumbled.

“What the hell is your problem? You don't even know him!” your ears rang as your voice raised in pitch.

“Oh I know him; clerk job moron who thinks sticking it in is enough.”

You tried to ignore the fact that he was a receptionist at your esthetician’s clinic who you happened to make conversation with during a long wait. He had been bold enough to ask you to grab dinner and two days later you were kissing in the elevator of his one-bedroom apartment. 

That kiss had set your expectations through the roof, hoping that you had landed your perfect match. And it had been nice, sort of, but not like you had wished for, or had imagined. The way you had envisioned things and the way said things happened were complete opposites. Maybe it had been your fault for already having something in mind.

The conflict his words caused reflected in your face, a turmoil evident as you stumbled out your next words.

“I still don't understand why it bothers you so much. I know I'm sleeping with a bunch of idiots.” 

“You're hellbent on letting these assholes touch you.” he grunted.“ I can't stand it, I don't get it. It's pointless, it's…”

You were barely able to make out the words; he was just rambling, or so you concluded.

“How is that your problem?” you cut him off, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Only then, Heesung realized the slip up. Yes, you were right, and regardless of how close the two of you were, it was ultimately your call who you slept with, which bothered Heesung to no end. Why were you so against calling him again? Why didn't you ask to have sex again? Why did he finally have you, only for you to slip through his fingers? 

He hoped you hadn't caught onto it, but you knew him too well not to. Everything made sense after; his seemingly sudden offer, waiting for you outside of the car, this angry fit.

“I said, how's that your problem? What about it?” you pushed, in response to Heesung's answer, which had been silence.

“You can do so much better than that.” he finally said.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Think you can be my better?”

Heesung pulled the car over, so quickly your body flew towards the door, and he almost hit his chest with the steering wheel. His grip on it was tight, and he began panting. You thanked god about the empty, dark road, otherwise it could've ended in a nasty crash.

Both of your eyes meet, his pupils blown out with a hint of a gleam in them. There was hope, a tad bit of anger, and an undeniable desire. His hands were twitching, itching to touch you, and you didn't remember ever feeling so wanted.

Heesung's gaze slowly drifted to your lips, almost involuntarily. Your mouth fell open to breath, uneven and quick. The car was cold, but your temperature went up like a fever.

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

His gaze met yours once more. “Can I?”

You nodded. It was all he needed to pull you in, holding your face with both hands as gently but firmly as he could. Afraid, in a weird way, that you would disappear if he let go. That this was all a sick dream from his hungry mind and that he was soon to wake up alone, in bed, with you far away from his grasp.

Despite how much he wanted to keep it slow, the kiss was just plainly instinctual. It had started soft, as if he wanted it to last forever, which he did. Then it was relentless, like nothing was enough, with your faces pressed so tightly together that you almost felt you couldn't breathe properly. Heesung allowed you a few seconds of air before he was onto you again.

It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, because this was what you wanted anyway. It was hard to tell if you would ever get to feel something like this again; the desperation, your blood pounding in your ears from the anticipation before he made the move, and your whole body shaking in excitement as if it had a memory of its own, and could recognize the touch. 

“Backseat,” you muttered between kisses. 

He heard you, loud and clear, he just couldn't stop himself. He wanted more. Heesung wanted to do so much with you, and to you, that he was unable to do anything at all. He couldn't bring himself to separate his mouth from yours despite needing the air, and his hands roamed mindlessly and only for the sake of getting a feel. The once deliberate and calculated Heesung was now a wreck in your hands, melting in the heat like a popsicle. Sweet.

But you really had to pull him off, otherwise you'd turn blue. Your nails scratched his scalp as you yanked him back, making him whimper in the process. The way he looked burned in your memory; eyes half-lidded, lips pink and swollen, parted, panting. Even with his eyes nearly closed, you could see his darkened eyes.

“I said backseat, Heesung,” you repeated, letting go of his hair. “Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

In every single position there was. Fingers, tongue, cock, he wanted to give you everything and more, so he scrambled to the backseat as you had ordered. 

This is who you were; demanding and controlling. That one time he manhandled you? Only that, a one time thing, now you wouldn't give in so easily. Not after the little jealousy number he pulled, at least. You weren't all that resilient yourself, but you would drag it as far as you could.

Heesung thought that he had chosen the worst type of clothing possible. Had he kept the sweatpants instead of changing into something else, then maybe the friction would've been more bearable. The rough material of his pants brushing against his cock made him groan whenever he slightly shifted. And when he finally found comfort, you seated yourself on his lap and grinded, hard. 

“Ohfuck,” he whined, his hands flying to your hips to find some leverage. His nails dug into your sides. “You're gonna— I'm not gonna last.” 

You grinded down again. And again, until you set your pace, ignoring his cries. The nails trying to claw at your skin drove you further despite the sting. As much as he tried to slow you down in the name of ‘lasting longer', he still thrusted his hips up to meet you halfway, though his eyes were tightly shut, and lips pressed in a straight line.

“Please, please baby, I don't wanna come yet, please.” 

“Did I just hear The Lee Heesung begging?” 

He looked up at you, teary eyed. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, as sweat had already begun to drip from his hair. That had been enough of an answer.

Yes, you had. It had been about the hottest thing you had ever heard as well. Usually confident Lee Heesung, always took the lead Lee Heesung, would rather die than humiliate himself Lee Heesung, whining and whimpering about coming too fast after some kissing and humping. That same Heesung that had been able to get not one, but three orgasms out of you before even getting close. It was a sight to see.

You stopped, and Heesung sighed in relief, although the calm didn't last long. As a smirk formed on your lips, his eyes grew panicked. 

“If you come, I'll leave this car,” you said, rolling your hips again.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut again, the shape of his fingers imprinting onto your skin. Back then, when the two of you first had sex, this was the reality of what Heesung felt, even when he did a good job at not letting himself seem so desperate. 

He'd be damned if he looked like a loser in front of you, or so he thought. Because now that your wet underwear was soaking his pants, he was a mess. A hard, pathetic mess, desperately trying not to burst in his jeans from having you on top of him.

You yourself didn't believe you could keep torturing him, only because you were also torturing yourself in the process. His hard length along with the rough fabric of his pants brushed against your clit in a way that sent jolts through your body. It was harsh and uncomfortable while still feeling good enough not to stop.

Heesung's hips twitched with a mind of their own, searching for release against his wishes. You halted, leaning your body back to unbuckle his belt. He groaned at the loss of contact though didn't complain any further, and instead helped you get rid of his restraintments quicker. His breath ghosted over your skin as he sighed in relief, which made you shudder. 

His fingers went down to tease you under your dress, rubbing over the wetness seeping through your panties, and even with the layer in between, he could feel his fingers dampen. Heesung continued until you were left whining and attempting to grind your hips harder onto his hand. Only then did you feel him push the fabric to the side, and the tip of his cock pressed against your cunt.

After Heesung had you the first time, he knew that he couldn't let you go. Days went by where he would still feel your lips against his; the skin of your thighs, hot and sweaty, burning his cheeks as you closed your legs around his head while you came on his tongue. Not one day went by where he didn't fantasize about pushing himself inside you, and in some dreams, he would just stay there. 

But nothing was able to prepare him for when it actually happened. He thought the desperate way in which you lowered yourself on his cock might be too much for you. In reality, it was almost too much for him, as it forced a deep moan from his throat.

It was a little painful, walls tightening and loosening around him to accommodate the quick stretch, though the sting was worth Heesung's debauched expression. You wondered why,despite the uncomfortable, small space, it felt so much better than the first time. Maybe it was how much both of you had seemed to crave it, or the car forcing even more proximity between you two, as the things you could do were limited. Regardless, you could feel your lower region sticky and warm with the slick that had, apparently, dripped out of you and spread around your thighs and ass. 

You could barely hear your over breathing over Heesung's heavy one. His hands massaged the skin of your waist where he held himself, mostly to ground himself to earth, or so you guessed, because he looked completely gone. His cheeks cherry red and his lips a peach pink, and you succumbed to the urge to kiss him. 

This time, it was slow and calculated. He took the time to feel the rest of you, from threading his fingers in your hair, to ghosting his fingers over your spine from under the dress. You didn't fall behind, though, raising his shirt as much as you could to run your nails over your stomach, stopping to feel his muscles tense beneath your hands as you began to move your hips.

“Slow, baby, please,” he breathed out, it came out way more high pitched than he intended to. 

As much as you wanted to keep messing with him, the world had seemed to fade away, leaving you two alone with the car and the small piece of road that you were parked in, and you didn't feel like breaking the moment just yet. You placed your hands on his shoulders for better stability, and rested your forehead on the crook of his neck.

Whispers of praises poured from his lips. You're beautiful, you're amazing, could stay here forever, and another handful that got lost between all the shit's and fuck’s that also came nonstop. He followed all of his words and phrases by kissing your neck, sometimes even biting. You might find a mark when you look in the mirror, but you cared little about that. Instead, you decided to leave a mark of your own, sucking and biting on the most visible place that you could think of. That's when he began to meet your movements, thrusting up messily in an attempt to pick up a pace. 

“Say you're—,” he gulped, interrupting himself. “You're mine.”

“Always have been,” you smiled against the light red bite mark. 

Your voice as you rode his cock kept driving him closer to the edge. Every moan and whine just made him go faster, having already been close to his orgasm from the grinding before. And as you grew tired, it felt as if he was regaining some form of control. Heesung smirked when you laid, practically limp, against him, allowing him to set the speed that he wanted. He remembered that he loved being in control as much as he had loved giving it to you.

“F-faster,” you pleaded lowly.

Heesung pouted, even when you couldn't see him. “No manners, sweetheart?” 

Most likely, you were about to pay a small price for threatening him to leave. 

You swallowed, so loud you were sure he had heard. “Please.” 

“What? I didn't hear you.” 

“Go faster, Hee, please!” you nearly yelled. It had been hard to get the words out after getting him where you wanted.

“There we go!” 

Were you being pushed down on his cock or was he pushing up into you? By this point, you weren't really sure. What you were certain about, though, was that he reached wherever you needed him to, and the squelching sounds were at its loudest.

“Was he good like me?” Heesung asked, grunting through his teeth. “Were you thinking about me while he fucked you?”

He wasn't expecting to get answers, and he didn't. You were too focused on the feeling of your body overheating from the inside out, and all of your muscles tensing. Your walls clamped around him involuntarily as pushed you closer to the orgasm that you had been chasing since the beginning of your date a few hours ago.

Heesung wanted you to finish first, he truly tried, but there was no way to stop the waves of pure pleasure that hit as he came, and the fact that he got to come inside of you just made it hit harder, and you had to help him ride out his climax because he really couldn't move, just kept himself there with his brows furrowed.

You were close as well, so you didn't really stop despite Heesung reaching his orgasm first. Even through his over sensitivity, he helped you reach your own high. He sneaked his hand between your bodies to rub messy circles on your clit. You kept it slow on him, but he went fast. 

It didn't take long for you after that. Feeling you on his cock as you orgasmed almost made him hard again, if it wasn't so late and you hadn't been going at it for what felt like forever—not that he was complaining—. He got to watch your face contort into pure pleasure, better than any daydreams.

Heesung pressed his forehead against yours, unable to do anything other than show you something, whatever that something was. It lingered in the air, in the way he looked at you through his teary gaze. He kissed you, slower than ever before.

Whatever was going through his mind was deeper than lust, you could feel it in the way his lips moved so softly against yours, holding your face with both hands. You wondered if he knew that you didn't plan on slipping away again.

[dhampling]

Your fics/headcanons give me the feeling of eating freshly baked cookies with warm milk while wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. Just so sweet and comforting. Your post the other day about the number of kiddos he'd want got me wondering: how would astarion handle his partner being in labor? I feel like he would be freaking out so badly internally but trying so hard to keep it together for them. Does it get easier with each baby? Does he cry each time? Also, I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute with his growing family and I'm dyinngggg. Thank you again so much for all the wonderful fics sorry this message was kinda all over the place I LOVE YOU. ❤️

hello my sweet angel!!! firstly - you inspired me. I'm inspired. i wrote something based on the introducing the siblings idea. see below!

He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of it.

Feign exasperation, absolutely. Roll his eyes in jest, move things along with the smallest ‘away, away’ of his free hand at the faces pressed against the inside of the kitchen window as you both approach the house in a beleaguered stumble - snout noses and wide grins, breath fogging the glass trying to gain a glimpse. Incredulously sigh at the fact that it’s just a baby.

It looks like a baby. Sounds like a baby. Smells like a baby. The house tends to have at least one kicking about at any given time, gods; there’s absolutely nothing unfamiliar nor noteworthy about a baby dhampir in Baldur’s Gate at this point. If anything, he’d be surprised if the townsfolk weren’t banging down his door come morning with a council-endorsed petition to encourage him to stop breeding the little shits.

Frenetic. He’s still practically vibrating with adrenaline from the birth still. Shaky hands stilled under the weight of the baby basket. Legs flying.

Another girl, obviously. Another ‘A’ name conjured from the recesses of his ancient wisdom. Some variation of a label he saw in an apothecary a week ago - you’re past the point of putting too much thought into their names, a fact that becomes obvious to anyone who lends it too much of a thought.

Apothecary. He ponders the viability of that one. Apothecaria? Apothe. Antiseptic. Asbestos. Arugula.

Fuzzy as the door swings open into the night and the stew-warmth of the kitchen bleeds outside. He holds the door, the carrier containing the baby; hospital bags strapped to his back, the weight of another little thing on his conscience. A pack mule. He pulls a face.

The eldest steps from the sitting room through the parted gaggle of waiting Ancuníns and takes a look at the new addition.

A brief moment passes.

Then she smiles as anticipated, nodding her approval - a time-honoured tradition in your household ever since the second was unleashed unto her sister - before falling to the back of the crowd, pulling out a chair for an exhausted you; and resigning from her primary carer duties for the evening.

It’s bittersweet. At this point, Astarion can never be sure if this time, the whole bustling through the doorway in the middle of the night with a newborn thing; will be the last.

But as each previous youngling steps in line to greet the newest addition to their chaotic sisterhood, he finds himself looking over to you fondly. The way your hand still rests atop the round of your belly, the other supporting your head as your elbow rests firm on the table. Cheeks aflush, lids drooping closed with each breath; and yet you sit there instead of retiring straight to bed to watch them.

Their eager faces, hushed whispers; fingers poking and prodding the small exhausted thing presented to them once more. Rolling her name around their mouths to get used to the sound. You watch each movement with a warm heart and dopey grin.

Obviously you want this again. He wants this again. This moment of soft whispers and unfettered love amongst siblings.

No, he resolves;-

this won’t be the end.

-

i LOVED THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

with regard to the labour:

astarion cries with the first two babies.

after that, he realises it's probably more important to be supportive to his partner at this moment in time.

he can compartmentalise any emotions he's having with the logic that they can wait, honestly.

none of his worst fears are going to materialise, he knows this now. he's done it before.

with the later babies he's a pro.

he even has the nerve to sit there and exclaim at points that he's bored, and that you need to hurry home as he has a client coming to the shop later.

despite both knowing it's a jest, this always earns him a pillow to the face.

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I LOVE YOU!

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary; After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 5036

Smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso X Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tagged 🏷️

@paigereeder @biancasreign @pinkwithhearts @jstarr86

2.

TIANA

I was at work doing my final client's nails for today; she just wanted some French-tip nails with some gems on something pretty simple. As I was doing that, I saw that Josh had texted me, saying that he was on the way to come see me at my workspace.

Ever since yesterday, while we were on the phone together, we've been texting each other non-stop. Sometimes, it would be flirting or something sexual, but I was still keeping my guard up because, like I said, I didn't know where his energy was.

But I did have this crazy ass wet dream last night about him, and I was literally sweating bullets this morning.

As I was finishing up her nails, I saw a car pull up to my shop. I saw him get out of his car, enter the building, and look around for me.

When his eye darted towards my direction as he put a smile on his face, causing me to see his grills while walking towards my direction.

"Hey, pretty mama." Jey said.

'Him calling me "pretty mama" does something to me.'

I stood up as he placed his hands on my ass, giving it a good grip as I looked down at my feet, blushing like crazy.

"I still have a client to finish, sir, so you can sit and wait until I'm done." I said while sitting back down.

"Your nail shop looks so pretty here, ma." He commented.

"Why thank you, sir. My parents helped me pick everything out."

He hummed in response while pulling out his phone to be on as he waited patiently for me to get done.

I kept stealing glances at him as he sat there, man spreading, looking all good, wearing all grey, and again, his shoe game was on point until the girl said something that kind of threw me off.

"He's fine as hell, girl. Is he single?" She asked.

I shrugged my shoulders at her while curing her nails, "ion' know if he is probably taken." I could see her face being displeased at my response to her question.

The curing light had turn off as she pulled out her nails, looking at them.

"Ouuu girl you do it right every single time."

"You know I do." I said while smiling at her.

She paid me and gave me a good tip as well while I took pictures of her nails and posted them on my story like usual. That's when I saw her get up and go over there towards Josh, trying to get his attention.

I monitored the whole interaction, reading Josh's body language. It seemed like he was uncomfortable talking to the ol' girl, brushing her off as she left the building embarrassed.

I just chuckled while cleaning up my space. As I was wiping down the table, I felt Josh's presence around me, and he touched me, causing me to jump a little.

"My fault; I didn't mean to scare you, mama." He said softly as he placed his hands around my waist, nuzzling his neck onto my shoulders.

'He's getting way too comfortable with this right now, but I'll let it slide this time.'

"It's okay, Josh; just don't distract me while I'm cleaning," I said as I proceeded to clean my table and equipment.

Knowing that he wasn't going to listen to me, I felt him feeling up all over my body, including my breast gripping them, causing me to softly moan enough for him to hear.

"J-Josh, knock it off." I let out a breath.

"why mama? It's just us in here ain't nobody finna come in." He said while giving me kisses on the neck.

"Joshhhhh."

He stopped while chuckling at me as my face was flushed. While giving him a stern look, I walked up towards him, hitting him in his chest.

"My god, you're so annoying boy." I said while being annoyed.

"what? you is fine as hell girl." Jey said.

I rolled my eyes at him while continuing to clean everything before closing up shop.

✧.*

After closing up the shop, I told Josh that I was going to go home really quickly, take a shower, and change into some new clothes before going to lunch with him.

I pulled into the driveway, turning off the ignition in my car while unlocking the door. Bianca was watching TV with Montez, and they both looked at me.

"Hey girl how was work?" Bianca asked.

"It was good; I made some good money, and Joshua stopped by," I said as she sat up, wanting to hear more about this.

"GIRL WHAT? today?" She said.

I nodded my head, yes, as I went upstairs. She was following me to my bedroom, shutting the door behind her. "What'chu getting ready for?"

I looked at her while taking off my clothes and throwing them in the dirty bin. I was picking out a cute little outfit with a skirt.

"Joshua is taking me out for lunch." I replied as I heard her squealing from the top of her lungs.

I really couldn't really stand her ass, bro, like nothing is going to happen after this.

"Girrrrrl, you gotta lemme fix your hair and makeup for this date." She said.

"It's not a date B."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, girl, hurry and take a shower so I can do your hair and makeup."

I nodded my head yes while heading to the bathroom to take a shower. I let the water hit my body gently while lying on the wall next to me, just in my thoughts as usual.

MINI SMUT WARNING I was thinking about him earlier after what he did I just couldn't stop thinking about it it's like I wanted him to do more of just kissing me on the neck.

I felt myself touching myself in, imagining him beating my back out while pulling onto my hair, slapping my ass, choking me.

I felt my breath getting uneven, not trying to moan loudly while Bianca was in my room as I continued to rub myself thinking about him.

'Why is he making me feel this way when aren't around each other?'

I was holding my legs together while moaning his name softly so that Bianca wouldn't hear me I haven't touched myself in so long it felt so good to do so.

I felt a pit going down in my stomach as I rolled my eyes in the back of my head while continuing to rub my clit faster.

Imagining it was him rubbing it while eating it, too? I bet his head game was on point, and his stroke game was, too. He seems like the type to be dominant whenever it comes down to it.

"F-fuck J-Josh." I moaned softly as I heard a knock on the door.

"Hey girl, are you done c'cmon? We gotta get you ready." Bianca said.

"I-I'm a-almost f-finish!" I felt my legs tightening as I came all over myself while breathing heavily. SMUT OVER

I wiped myself down with my rag while turning off the shower, exiting the shower and wrapping my towel around my body.

I walked back inside my room and closed the door behind me, while Bianca looked at me with a perplexed expression.

"Girl, you good? Why do you look so flushed?" She asked.

"Nun girl let's focus on getting me ready." I said while pretending like I ain't just touched myself.

✧.* Bianca got me together while fluffing my hair up one last time. She smiled while looking at how good I looked for this mini date—' well, 'that's what I would call it.'

I texted Josh that I was ready for him to come get me while I sent him the address to our place. He texted back, saying that he was ten minutes away.

'He's not fair from where we are at?'

"Ouuuu, girl, you look so good. He's going to be all over that today, so you might as well pack a sleeping bag over there," Bianca said as I hit her in the arm while she winced.

"Girl, don't play with me right now. We are not going to be doing nun of that," I said.

"T, I know you're going to be pouncing on Joshua soon enough once you see a fine specimen like him, " she said as I gave her a stern look.

"Girl shut up."

She chuckled a little as she saw a car pull up in the driveway. It must've been Jey pulling in. " Ya man just pulled me, Tink."

"One last time, he's not my man B." I said as she threw her hands up in defense.

'I mean, is she lying about what she said? I mean, this man is way too fine to be single fr.'

I looked in the mirror one last time before opening the door for Jey. As I opened the door for him, I was captured by his pretty face, not even noticing the bouquet of roses he had in his hands.

'Damn, he looks so good right now, making me think about earlier.'

His fit and color looked good on him, too. As he smiled, it looked like he had fresh-cut grills in his mouth, and I did the same thing.

He was wearing a tight, deep black shirt that looked like it was made from silk, so I could see his muscular body and arms. He was also wearing a Rolex watch and some nice leather pants, including the golden chain he had on. This man was prepared.

I snapped back into my senses as he walked up towards me, handing me the roses, which were my favorite, especially since they were white.

"Josh, you didn't have to get me roses." I said while smelling them.

"I'll do anything for a pretty woman like yourself." He said while grabbing me by the waist, pulling me into him.

'This man will be the death of me I swear.'

He didn't even acknowledge Bianca, who was standing right there watching us. Instantly, I folded for this man. I couldn't even keep eye contact with him because he made me nervous. No man has ever made me feel like that.

'Not even Malakai so Jey is the only person to do so.'

"C'cmon, love birds, let's get you all outta here, please. I don’t want to see all that in front of me," Bianca said as I looked at her in disbelief.

She gave me the don't start look, and I snickered at her as Josh and I left to get something to eat together.

We were in his car, driving towards the place while listening to some music that he was playing in the car. He had his hand on my thighs while driving with one hand.

God, this man was so fine without even trying, bro. It doesn't make sense. I was looking outside the window, enjoying the car ride, when I felt him squeeze my thigh, making me look at him.

"You good mamas?" Jey asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine Josh." I said while giving him a faint smile.

"Ight I was just making sure, with yo cute ass." He gave my thigh a little slap on it as I hissed at the stingy sensation I felt on my thigh.

I mean, mugged while rolling my eyes at him, "Keep rolling them eyes at me. Imma' give yo ass something to roll 'em about." My face felt a bit flushed when he said that kinda got me excited but I digress.

When we finally pulled up at the restaurant, it looked so pretty, and the aesthetic was very pleasing to look at. I felt like I was on the set of a show or something, you know?

We sat down at our tables while waiting for the waitress to come, but he kept stealing glances at me every chance he had, which seemed pretty amusing if you asked me.

"What, boy? you've been looking at me for the past minute now." I said as he licked his lips.

"I mean, what can I say? You're a very beautiful girl. How can I not look at you?" he said while rubbing his beard.

'I like his energy fr.'

"Stoppp, Josh." He was making me feel nervous. He chuckled lowly as we saw the waitress coming.

"Hello, guys. I'm Stacy, and I'll be your waitress for  this evening. Can I get you all something to drink?" Stacy said.

"I'll take a water with ice and lemon please." I said.

"How are you sir?"

"I'll also take the same thing but without the lemon."

She nodded her head, yes, while letting us know that she'd have our drinks here in a bit. Meanwhile, Josh and I just couldn't stop glancing at each other, monitoring our features.

I couldn't keep eye contact with this man anymore, so I looked down at the ground for a bit, trying to keep all of my dirty thoughts to myself until he spoke.

"Lemme see that pretty ass face mama, don't be shy." He compliments while rubbing my thigh with his hand.

'He was making me feel wet right now.'

I want to do the things I want to do to him right now, but we are in public, so that's going to have to wait. I had to break out of this, "Whatever, so you're a tattoo artist?"

He nodded his head yes, "Yeah, I've been doing it for like four years now, and I own that tattoo you were in when we first met." Jey said while folding his arms.

"Oh, fr that's dope as hell, Josh. By the way, I loved the aesthetic of your tattoo shop," I said as he smiled and showed off his grills.

"Why, thank you mama." God, I am melting at this point with these pet names.

✧.*

Josh was taking me back home after our evening together. It's almost making me believe in love again, but I'm still going to keep my guard up and protect myself.

He was passing the blunt towards my way as I smoked it a few times before giving it back him we were high as a kite not even going to hold you, mind you I was already feeling him.

He stole a glance at me as his eyes were red and low, turning me on, but that had to wait because I was not ready for allat shit. His probably bigger than Malakai, ion know, but I didn't want that thing near me.

"You know what would be good right now? seeing yo ass bouncing on this dick." Jey said lowly.

"Mhm, we'll see boy." I said feeling him squeeze on my thigh.

"you scared, huh? you scared you won't be able to handle it." His ass read me like a damn book; how did he even know that? It was probably my energy, and I can't help myself when there is a fine specimen driving me home.

We continued to smoke out the rest of the blunt together felt like we were on cloud nine in his car; I felt even more hornier than ever.

We pulled up to the driveway as he turned off his ignition in his car as we both sat there in silence and high as fuck, I noticed him reclining the back of his seat while looking at me.

"C'mere mamas." he said while unbuckling my seatbelt, pulling me onto his lap, and holding me in place with my hips.

He looked up at me while licking his lips, slowly moving his hands onto my ass, gripping both cheeks, causing me to feel an electric shock down my spine all the way to my pussy.

"J-Josh Bianca and Montez are here." I said.

"So? What that gotta do with me, ma?"

"I'm just saying that's all."

He nodded his head while continuing to rub both of my ass cheeks, giving it a good smack on both of em making me yelp.

I felt him getting hard up against me, which, honestly, I wanted to escape before getting my back blown out by him. Ion know how he is when it comes to fucking.

"Shit girl, you getting me all bricked up and shit." Jey said while thrusting up his hips a bit for me to feel it.

Jey sat up, and my face and his were close to each other, eyeing each other's features and details. It was like we were trying to read each other.

He looked down at my lips and then back into my eyes. I could read him carefully; he wanted something as I felt him grab my throat with his hand while placing his lips onto mines.

Gripping my ass tighter, causing me to moan in the kiss, feeling him smoking under it, for some odd reason, I started moving my hips onto his hardened dick, causing him to moan.

We continued to tongue kiss each other as he replaced his lips onto my neck, sucking it , marking me up while gripping onto his mullet hair along with moving my hips still.

"you. finna. make. me. fuck you. if you keep playin' with me lil' mama." Jey growled in between the kisses.

I didn't want to get myself in trouble so I just stopped my movements while continuing to make out with him in his car, he held onto my throat firmly ass both our tongues were fighting for dominance n of course his won.

He marked me up perfectly while pulling us away from each other to take a breather as we looked into each other's eyes deeply. Mind you, we were still high as hell.

Now he was hard as a rock underneath me. He pecked my lips softly as he placed his hands back onto my ass, gripping it.

If there is any light movement right now, I will probably be folded like a pretzel in the back seat.

"why is yo' ass so pretty ma?" He asked while playing in my hair.

"I don't know, sir, why don't you ask my mama?" I said as I played with his face along his mullet.

'There's something about him that's different from Malakai, I just can't put my finger on it.'

We were both horny and high, but I didn't want to go far because I needed to get to know him more before we headed towards that stage.

"If I pull these panties down along with my boxers, you goin' to let me beat it in?"

My mind was foggy, and I couldn't think straight due to us being high, so I nodded my head yes while continuing to play in his hair.

"Hmm, you lucky. You're home right now, so I'll wait." I nodded my head while shifting off of him back into my seat before me and him started walking out of the car.

I made sure I grabbed my purse and keys. Meanwhile, Jey walked me up to the door, turning me around to face him.

"when am I going to see yo' pretty ass again?" Jey asked while holding onto my hips.

"Whenever you want to see me, you know where I'm at and where I stay." I said wrapping my arms around his neck.

"hm, bet imma see you later then mamas." He pecks my lips a few times before pulling away from each other's grip.

I unlocked the door, and Bianca was in the living room. She noticed my hickies, and that's when she started yelling from the top of her lungs, probably enough for Jey to hear.

"DID YALL FUCK WHEN YALL GOT HERE!?" She shouted as I rolled my eyes at her.

"No, B, we didn't fuck. We just made out and gave each other hickeys, that's all." I said while holding onto the wall as I was taking off my heels.

She sniffed her nose like she was a dog or something.

"Y'all smoked some weed?" Bianca asked.

"Yes we did I didn't even know he get down like that."

I went upstairs towards my bedroom while shutting the door behind me  sitting down on my bed feeling relaxed.

I felt my phone beeping. I had two attachments and one video from Jey. When I went to open the messages, I almost had a heart attack looking at them.

He sent me two attachment of his dick and a video of him stroking it a whole one minute video of him stroking it while moaning my name.

It almost wanted me to send him some pictures, too, but we were getting way too comfortable with each other until he sent me another message.

Jey: I wanna beat your pussy in so bad rn looking all good like that today. 😮‍💨

I liked his message before heading in the shower.

✧.*

Josh and I were on FaceTime together. I was watching a movie, and he was on the game like usual. I propped him up on one of my pillows so that he could see me as he did the same.

'It was like we were doing couple things without being a couple.'

FACETIME Jey: mama what'chu sleeping in right now? Tiana: something comforting Jey: lemme see

I removed my blankets off of me showing him what I was wearing, I was wearing a tank top with some booty shorts on while purposefully bending over just to tease him a little bit.

He licked his lips while rubbing his beard with both of his hands.

Jey: don't play with me tiana like I won't come over there and beat that shit in. Tiana: hm ion think so but okay Jey: Bet. Tiana: what you mean bet? you aren't actually driving down here right?

He didn't say anything but put on a shirt and his sweats hearing him grab his keys as he ended the conversation, 'I know his ass ain't coming over at this time of night.'

I think Bianca and Montez were still downstairs watching a movie together, so they'll probably let him in, knowing how badly Bianca wants me and him together.

Maybe teasing him wasn't the right move because I'm not prepared for him to beat my shit in with that big ass dick he got, my assumptions were right he was wayyy bigger than Malakai.

Seeing a car pull up in the driveway I knew that it was Josh because he plays Loud music in his car, I heard him knocking on the door knowing that Bianca would let him in hearing them talking downstairs.

"Yeah, she's upstairs right now, probably sleeping."

I heard him chuckling

"oh fr? well, she has a surprise."

I heard their footsteps stop near my door before they started to knock. I stood up, acting like I was sleeping, opened the door, and saw Josh and Bianca standing there.

I pretended to yawn while rubbing my eyes, stretching. I knew that Josh wasn't buying my act, but Bianca had no clue what was happening.

"My bad girl I didn't know you were sleeping," Bianca said.

"Yeah, I guess I might've slept for too long." I said while looking at Josh.

"Well, okay, then I'll let you two be." She walked back downstairs, and Josh stood there with his arms folded.

I turned around, walking away as I heard him shut the door behind him, grabbing me up by my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his torso.

He gaze was dark and lustful as he walked us towards my bed sitting on it and holding me in place on his lap.

He proceeded to grab my throat firmly while keeping his eyes on me, monitoring my features as I did the same thing.

He began to capture his lips onto mines as we both moved them in sync as I felt his hand slowly moving towards my ass giving it a good grip on it meanwhile I felt his tongue sneaking inside my mouth causing me to be taken aback by this until he pulled me in closer making it more aggressive and passionate at the same time.

MINI SMUT WARNING.

"when I give you this dick, yo ass betta not run you hear me?" He demanded while looking into my eyes.

I nodded my head in response as I felt a slight slap on my thigh, causing me to winch in pain, "lemme hear you say it, mama."

"Yes I hear you Josh." I said softly.

He began putting his face in between my legs and started to eat my pussy out causing me to moan loudly.

His nose was rubbing up against my clit while I was gripping onto his mullet.

'This man gives wayyy better head than Malakai.'

I felt him stick two fingers inside of me as he continued to rub his nose onto my clit including moving his fingers at a normal pace.

He was working magic onto me I felt so overstimulated right now this man had me seeing stars.

"F-fuck Josh..." I moaned while continuing to grip onto his mullet.

"Uh-Huh...mama... it feels good, doesn't it?" he cooed as he kept his pace going.

"Y-yes. " I felt like I was on cloud nine right now, as his tongue was doing the work, and his beard tickled me a bit.

I felt his fingers moving a bit faster as he looked up at me with his hooded eyes, it satisfied him seeing me squirming around his touch.

He rubbed his nose and tongue faster onto my clit having me roll my eyes in the back of my head while breathing heavily.

"J-Josh!"

"Give me that shit mama, cum on my face, c'cmon you got it baby." Jey encouraged as I felt a heavy pit going down my stomach.

I felt my legs tighten as I squirted into this man's face seeing him sucking all of my juices down causing me to shake violently.

"fucccccck Joshhhh." I moaned loudly as I was breathing heavily.

Josh pulled his face from my pussy seeing him suck his fingers tasting my essences, he pulled down his red psd boxers as my face went into complete shock.

He smirked down at me seeing his nice eight inch brown dick sprung up from his boxers ion think I'll be able to handle this.

"Come suck it mama, I wanna feel your mouth around it." Jey said as I put my hair up in a pony tail pulling his dick towards my mouth.

I was bobbing my head up and down on his tip as he was moaning in pleasure while throwing his head back.

I kept stroking it up and down as my tongue circled around his tip driving him insane as I felt him grab a full load of my hair and begin thrusting inside of my mouth lucky for me I didn't have any gag reflex.

"Fuuuuck mama your mouth feels so good around me...shit." Jey grunted as he kept moving his hips.

His dick was deep inside my throat as I was holding onto his thighs trying to keep up with his pace causing me to stop him trying to gain some type of control.

I went back to stroking him while constantly licking his tip it was a lot of saliva dripping down on the bed sheets and my thighs.

"this yo' dick mama, all yours." I love hearing that so much coming out his mouth hearing him moan and groan.

I was squeezing his balls as he tightened his legs a bit while I continued doing what I was doing, swirling my tongue onto his sensitive tip.

He wanted to grab onto me but didn't as I felt his dick twitch inside of my mouth, knowing that he was close to busting inside of my throat.

"D-don't stop, Mama... keep goin'," Jey moaned, throwing his head back.

I could see him roll his eyes in the back of his head while gazing down at me caressing my cheek.

"Fuck you're so beautiful." I smiled at him while bobbing my head faster so he could get his nut.

He grabbed my hair once again, thrusting inside of my mouth in a fast past, letting him gain control again while I held onto his thighs.

He threw his head back at the pleasure he was feeling as he kept his pace up, making me breathe through my nose.

"When I nut, I want you to eat that shit up, you hear me?" He grunted as he kept face fucking me.

My throat and jaw were in pain but I had to keep pushing through it as I pushed myself back to jerk him off as he whined.

I found it amusing to hear him whine as I kept stroking his sensitive tip up and down feeling him quivering under my touch.

As I gave it one last stroke, he groaned very loudly while cursing under his breath as his nut splattered all over my face, feeling this sticky sensation on my face.

SMUT OVER.

I went towards the bathroom to wipe down my face until I felt him behind me kissing my shoulder as he tapped his dick onto my ass.

"Didn't I say when I give you this dick, yo' ass betta not run right?" He said.

"Y-yes?" I said nervously.

"Well c'mere and give me this pussy then mama."

Under your touch.

biancabelairwwe, shelovekai, MontezFordWWE and 88,999 people liked your posted.

tianasworld: get you a man that can take you out to a nice lunch thank you @ uceyjucey 🥰

biancabelairwwe: GIRL HE TOOK YOU THERE? HE GOT MONEY FR YALL BETTER START DATING LIKE NEOW! tianasworld: @ biancabelairwwe girl...relaxxx shelovesemma: wait a minute you got a new man? tianasworld: @ shelovesemma 🤫🤫 shelovekai: she don't got a new man I bet he probably a bum fr 😑 uceyjucey: @ shelovekai but I'm beating her guts in better than yo' goofy ass so move around. 💁🏽‍♂️ MontezFordWWE: @ uceyjucey 👀👀

A/N: phew I didn't expect to write this much today lol but I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments.

Stay Ucey.

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma�� started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[ilikesaladforks]

this uh paldean e4 audio drama thingy

rika said grusha-san yay

Edited 1: fixed one of rika's lines

Good ol' Rika here can't wait for it either! > Good ol' Rika here's looking forward to it so much I won't be able to sleep a wink unless it's night time!

Edited 2: fixed Larry's line (and Rika's)

The Paldean Elite Four's leisurely lunchtime

(I couldn't catch everything sadly :( )

Rika: MmmMMmMM! Go-For-Broke Grill in Mesagoza never fails to hit the spot!

Larry: Hassel, do you mind if I order an Ajillo?

Hassel: Why, of course, Larry! Go ahead and place your order!

Larry: Then allow me...

Uh, excu-...

Ah-

Excuse me...

Rika: Larry, you might just wanna speak up a little bit more.

'SCUSE ME! We'd like an Ajillo please!

Poppy: Poppy would like another glass of fruit punch, please!

Hassel: The Terastallization course has finally come to a close.　Naranja Academy is truly bustling with life as the school began preparations for the battle tournament.

Poppy: I'm sho eckshaited!

Rika: Good ol' Rika here's looking forward to it so much I won't be able to sleep a wink unless it's night time! After all, I've got a fave I'm cheerin' for this time!

Hassel: Are you referring to Liko?

Rika: That's right! Seems like she failed her practical test with Grusha, but getting the hang of Terastallization ain't the whole purpose of the course. She should be back and stronger than before!

Larry: Excuse me, I'd like to also add a plate of potato tortillas and escalivada, please.

Hassel: I personally have high hopes for Roy myself.

Rika: Ye mean that kid who Ryme gave her seal of approval for?

Hassel: Indeed! His prowess during his friendly battle against me was so magnificent! Just recalling it fills my heart... wibb so much... BWUH HWUH HWUH HUOI HOI HOI!

Poppy: Don't cry, Grandpa Hassel! There, there, it's all okay!

(blubbering Hassel)

Larry: Excuse me, I'd also like 4 servings of Paella as soon as they're ready.

Rika: How many orders are you placin', Larry?! There's no way we can finish all that!

Larry: Not to worry. I will gladly savour them all.

Poppy: How amazing, Mr. Larry! You're such a gourmand!

Rika: How was that kiddo? Yanno, the one you met, Larry.

Larry: Hmm. Dot. A sharp strategist, and an intriguing trainer whose feats included evolving her partner mid-battle, I would say.

Poppy: Quaxly evolved?! I want my pokemon to play with her again!

Rika: Regardless, it looks like we've got a ton of promising trainers gathered for this battle tourney.

Hassel: (sniff) Let us observe the final leg of the Terastallization course as one Elite Four!

Larry: How does everyone feel about a post-lunch parfait?

Rika: You're STILL eating?!

[chronically-ghosted]

i breathe you in (and it changes me)

rating: teen pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader word count: 2K summary: you've been here with him before - rock bottom. But this time, he gives you reason to hope for something new. warnings: alcohol use, mentions of drug use, physical fighting, blood, wounds, bruises, mentions of past toxic behavior a/n: your original ask @bitchwitch1981 got swallowed up by tumblr, so i had to create a new post :( but I wanted to say thank you so much for requesting this - it was more therapeutic to write than i initially thought!

1K ask:

Sweet Taylor, Congratulations on the amazing milestone! 💜 I have decided to go for astrology for The Midnight Seance. I have chosen the prompt “Hold my hand please?” “When you ask so nicely.” and my own darling Dieter Bravo.

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Dieter Bravo Masterlist

The damp heat of the night is made worse by the thick knot of chittering spectators by the back alley of the club. You can hear the fleshy blows, hear the flesh rip and tear the veins, the delighted groan of the crowd after a particularly sickening crunch. White lights of camera flashes flicker, the smell of blood acidic on your tongue, the metallic taste getting stronger the closer you get to the front of the crowd. You see the blur of an arm just as you shove aside a man recording the whole scene with his phone; how much will TMZ pay for even seven seconds of that video?

Across from you, a thick shadow with bloody knuckles paces like a caged tiger, snorting with rage, the spectators jeering and howling their approval. The man, twice as thick as you are, waits at the edge of the fight, his vision locked forward, massive hands itching to rip apart something alive. 

Whatever is left alive of the heap of clothes in front of you.

It shudders, arms and legs curling beneath it, and rolls backwards. The crowd lets out a disgusted groan at the sight of the bloody face. Your heart sinks to the sticky concrete.

Oh, Dieter.

Asphalt digs into your knees as you kneel down next to him, the sounds of the crowd fading as panic swells within you. He doesn’t even register that you’re there until you touch his cheek. One eye completely swollen shut, blood running down from his nose over his upper lip, he meets your gaze and flinches. 

“Sorry,” he slurs – either from his split lip or being drunk out of his mind, you can’t tell, “you look like my ex.” 

“Dieter, it’s me.” 

His collar is torn, blood speckles cover the front of his shirt, and his jeans are filthy. Judging by his own shredded knuckles, he might have actually gotten a few good hits in. Gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning. You put a hand on his shoulder, looking for any other open wounds, for more blood – and he shoves you off.

“Go away. I’m kicking this guy’s ass.” 

Groaning, Dieter staggers to his feet, the blood freely flowing from his nose now. He gets upright and immediately stumbles, hands going to his knees, much to the deformed glee of the crowd. They whoop and laugh and hold their phones higher. 

Even in heels, you’re several inches shorter than him and you intentionally didn’t wear that much clothing – you were going to club with your friends to forget – but you try to shield him from the camera lenses anyway. 

From the back of his throat, Dieter spits out a wad of blood. “Fuck, my head hurts.” The drool that slips from his mouth is pink and frothy.

“Dieter, c’mon, we’re going.” 

You drag his arm over your shoulder, shifting as much of his weight onto you as you can. His entire back and underneath his arm is drenched in what you pray is sweat. Behind you, you know the other man is yelling, shouting, something about teaching that fat mouth a lesson, but you do what you’ve alway done when it comes to Dieter: you put yourself between him and an oncoming car crash. 

Hoping a grown man won’t take a full swing with a woman in kitten heels and a slinky dress nearby, you half-push, half-carry Dieter back towards the way you came in, but you make it two more steps before he pushes you away again, his fingertips drifting down your shoulder. His face is twisted up in agony.

“Fuckin’ stop. I don’t need your help.”

You grab him by the bicep, twisting him to you again, and he stumbles, muttering a gruff sorry. Blood from his nose drips down onto your bare chest. He watches it, transfixed, his emotions crackling from one high to the next low. 

You cup his bruised, swollen jaw and his wet eyes meet yours and for an instant, no one else exists. His bottom lip trembles. 

“Dieter” you murmur, low enough for just him to hear, just enough for him to lean forward, to let himself be captured by you – briefly – just as he always had been. “We’re going home, okay?”

He nods, eyes shut, swaying, and lets himself be dragged away. 

Beyond the black partition, you hear music. Too soft to be distinct, too faint. Yet it sits between your teeth all the same, hums in the back of your jaw. Static noise. 

In your lap, lays Dieter’s head. Your skirt feels damp from where the blood from his nose gathers. It stopped dripping minutes ago but the spot still feels cold, still thick with it. Your hand curls in his hair, loose but weighted. Grounding. He always said this was his favorite spot in the entire world. 

You didn’t tell the driver to go east, towards Sherman Oaks, but the opposite direction, towards the rental property you kept by the beach. Before that, home had always been Sherman Oaks, but . . . in the after, you couldn’t even bear to see the name on the sign. 

Partially it’s practical. Given the swarmed mob, there most likely was another one waiting for him at the gates to his mansion. He doesn’t have his phone, you know, which is most likely a curse and a blessing. When it comes to moments like these, you’ve learned to deal with the problem right in front of you, one at a time. Or rather, the one in your lap. 

You swore you’d never be here again, you swore that you’d learn to unremember what here even feels like, and yet you ran to him all the same. This is not the first time you wonder if leaving him bleeding and drooling into the concrete would have been the right thing to do. 

The car drives you both towards the rental because you want him there. You want him to fill up that empty space in your bed, smear the too messy sink in the bathroom with uncharged electric toothbrushes and toothpaste that tastes like cotton candy, and bring a sense of wonder back into your increasingly dark days. But with all that, comes this. The black partition ahead of you blurs, your eyes grow hot and tight, submissive to the beaks of birds, and the back of your fingers not caught in his hair press harshly to the back of your mouth. You fight a shudder because you know he can’t bear to see you cry. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

His apologies always start like this, a little broken, a little roundabout way of getting to the heart of things. You sniff, your hand slipping to his shoulder and grasping it tight. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, okay, baby?”

“I didn’t want you to see me take pills.”

Your head bumps the back of the seat, as you swallow a sob and a laugh all at once. You squeeze him – no, no, of course not, you never mean it, you never mean any of it — 

“My therapist said they would help. And then they did. But I couldn’t get you back.”

He mutters something, rubbing his face slowly in your lap, like a blind kitten, his big hand over your knees, but you’re too stunned to parse out his babbling. 

“You went to therapy?” 

“Still in it.” He wheezes through a bruised rib. “She’s gonna be so pissed about this.” 

“You’re not high?” 

He shake-rubs his head again, the curls at his forehead catching against the sequins of your top. “Just drunk. I fucking hate being drunk.” 

He babbles some more, the words looped on tangled string, but you sit up, and gently turn his face towards you. The bleeding has stopped, but the swelling has set in. His right eye is black and blue, the skin puffy and tender. There’s a cut across his left cheek and his lip is split down the middle. Fuck, if these don’t heal right, that could be the end of his career. 

Goddamn it – and why would you care about that? It’s not your job to care anymore. 

You reverently trace a finger over his black eye, his cheek, his lips, to the blood on his temple. Tragedy always looked so good on him. 

His hand catches yours. You think his good eye might be filled with tears.

“I tried to get better . . . for you. For us. I took all the right pills, instead of the wrong ones this time, and I thought I was better.” Dieter shifts, so his back is against the seat and he’s looking straight up at you. He holds your hand to his chest, his other rising up to cup your cheek. That single touch cracks your resolve, your rule against letting him affect you, and you cry. He watches the silent tears roll down your cheeks, over his thumb. You think he looks remorseful. “I tried to get better and you moved on without me.”

It only just now occurs to you that he had most likely been inside the club when you had, had probably seen you and never said anything. He watched you dance and drink and try to forget him with other sweaty bodies and he never said a thing.

Bruised anger, the kind that melts off your ribs, flares bright within you and you jerk your face away from his touch.

“You don’t get to blame me for your shit anymore, Dieter.” 

His fingers curl and he swallows, the dried blood around his mouth cracking. “No, baby, I’m not. I’m not. I’m sorry I ever did. I didn’t mean it, I never mean it – never meant to hurt you. But I do, don’t I? I hurt you all the time.” 

Your anger throbs. “Then why? Why, Dieter, would you wait to get help until after I was gone? Didn’t you want to try . . . to salvage something, anything between us?”

His hand drops to his chest. 

“I didn’t want you to see me take pills.”

You suddenly recognize the weight of his head on your lap, the density of his shoulders against your lap, and you, in a cycle of regret and love, want to scream at him. Want to shake him. Instead you brush his sticky curls off his forehead and a single tear escapes the corner of his eye, down his temple. 

“You silly, silly boy.” You sniff, tears freely flowing, and curl a strand of his beautiful hair in your fingers. “I would have been there for you. I’m glad you got help, and I hate that this was a relapse, but I would never have judged you for trying to get better, even if you failed. You were the one who didn't want me to see that side of you, Dieter. I never stopped loving you.”

For a moment, he goes still, the darkness of the night street obscuring his face, blurring him into one dark shadow that wheezed and sighed. You’re about to seek out his hand in the dark, if not his face, not his wounds, when he lets out the most broken noise you’d ever heard come from anyone. 

It’s a noise that will haunt you in nightmares for years to come.

“Oh,” he says. 

The car rolls to a stop, the faint music barely heard over the rush and crash of the waves on the other side of your rental. The radio goes silent and the partition rolls down. 

“We’re here, miss.” 

You wipe your eyes, mascara streaks turning your finger tips black, and cough to clear the knot in your throat that beats in time with your heart. Hands curling under his shoulders, you move to lift him up off your lap.

“C’mon, Dieter, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up–,”

“Wait.” He visibly swallows, nothing else on his face so clear in the dark. You feel a faint drop on your skirt. “I mean, I’ll go but . . . hold my hand – please?” 

Despite yourself, despite him, despite your tear-drenched lips, you lean down and kiss his forehead. Your shared shaky breaths are trapped between your chest and his.  “Only when you ask so nicely.”

+

[hierba-picante]

I'll Be There Ch.1

Summary: You are Gregory's older sibling! :D He tags along with you to your interview for your new job at the pizza plex!

Edit: Fic is now on AO3!

A/N: GUYS!!! THE LONG AWAITED FIIIC YIPEEE!!

I'm sorry this took a while to come out- I thought today was Friday--my bad guys :'D- I did also say I was going to post this to AO3 but uhm erm,... I was unaware of the invitation and having to wait a few days to get approved..SO I POST THE TWO CHAPTERS HERE!! They will later get uploaded to AO3 once I have the account settled!!

Word Count: 6k!!

Tags!: gn!reader, many hijinks, no use of y/n, Gregory is a little shit, the daycare attendants are goofy, Moon, Sun, and Eclipse are all separate animatronics!, Daycare attendants have transatlantic accents, Alternate universe- Canon Divergence, self insert, 2nd person POV, mentions of minor injury!!

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Serene. Quiet. In the warm grasp of your peaceful slumber. Your toasty blanket completely engulfed you whole. Your face poking out just enough to let air flow into your nose for proper breathing. Your room was cozy, well, your side of the room. A desk cluttered with trinkets and paperwork. Scribbled notes on top of books. Your soft bed adjacent to said desk. Some fairy lights strung about as to not let it ever be a full dark night. Plush animals strewn about to occupy the remaining space of your bed and floor beneath it. Ah yes, one could get used to such luxury.

The other side belonged to your little brother. A handful he was, one you kept close to your heart. His own plush animals are thrown around to mingle with his light boards and remote control cars. A small desk with crayons and construction paper. Some snippets of color here and there. A small pile of markers missing their caps. No matter, you’d find them another time. His bed laid empty, his liveliness unbeknownst to you. For now.

You awoke to a plush object falling onto your face. Your little brother’s laugh rang through the room. Feeling his weight shift onto the bed as he giggled and nudged you awake. Smiling to yourself, you sat up and let the object fall onto your lap. A yellow teddy bear with a blue gingham ribbon. How cute.

With a yawn and a stretch you greeted your sibling by ruffling his hair. “Morning, pudge.” He shook his head away and lightly smacked your hand. “Hey!”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your throat. “Heyyy!” Mocking him with a smirk, you ruffle his hair once more. A harsh nudge of his head sent your hand flying off. Before you could react, he sent himself shooting right into your abdomen. “Oof-!” You breathed out. Minor pain aside, he curled himself up into your lap and started babbling about a dream he had.

You glanced out your window as your hand tucked his hair behind his ear. The sun hasn’t come out yet. Blue hour. Smiling, you closed your eyes with a hum. Right on time.

This was routine for you and your little brother, Gregory. He’d wake up at around four in the morning and immediately run up to your bed. Toss his plush as high up into the air as possible and let it fall onto your unsuspecting self. Of course, Gregory only wakes you up for the important things, consisting of: a glass of water, a sweet bread, some cereal, or just to talk your ear off about the wildest dream he had. This time, he chose the latter.

Normally, you’d wait for him to talk to himself to sleep, but you were particularly tired this morning. So you scooped up your little brother, interrupting his dream talk session. 

He expressed his dismay by tugging on your shirt and raising his voice. You got off the bed briefly to remove some of your plush animals. Once satisfied with the space you made, you cradled him back to bed with you. Giving him most of your pillow as he made himself comfortable. Humming a short tune as you bundled up the blankets around the two of you.

“Alright, tell me what else happened in your dream,” you said, smiling and pinching his nose. He laughed and scrunched his eyes closed.

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The bright sun is what woke you up first. You sat up with a groan. Not quite the morning person you used to be, you sat up with eyebrows already knitted together, squinting at your window with repugnance. Begrudgingly, you made your way to shut the pesky light out with curtains. Only to get cut off by a sudden crash downstairs.

Oh come now, what time is it even? You thought to yourself. The clock read 6:32 a.m. That checks out. Gregory, still being the morning person, was usually making himself some sort of breakfast by this time. Grabbing a sweater, you made your way down the stairs. Dreading what sort of mess you’d find on your arrival.

“Don’t come down!! I dropped a glass bowl!!” he warned you. You paused and looked down at your fuzzy socks. You left your slippers upstairs. Admittedly a bad habit, but one that Gregory took into account. 

“Did you get cut? Do I need to get the bandages?” you hollered back to him as you made your way back to get your slippers. 

A few seconds of silence passed by. Taking that as a yes, you made swift work of retrieving the  bandages from the mirror cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, along with some antiseptic if needed. You smiled to yourself. Remembering how clumsy Gregory had been in his younger years. Often running to you in tears after scraping his knees, or getting stung by a bee he'd been chasing. It was rare to see him without a bandage somewhere. Your thumb traced over the bandaid box gently. You yourself were rather clumsy. Often bumping your nose into something or getting cut by the most random things. Just like Gregory, you'd be seen with some sort of bandage. Or even a bruise here and there.

Laughing to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen. Gregory had already swept up the glass debris. He dumped it into an old kitchen rag before tying it with a rubber band. All while wearing oven mitts. Something you'd taught him to avoid any further injury. Whether it be you or anyone else who comes across it.

"C'mere, lemme see," you offered with a hand. Embarrassed, he made taking off the oven mitts as slow as humanly possible. Mumbling something about it not being that bad. "Gregory." Warning him as if you'd already begun to count to three. He groaned out a "hmph" and let his wrist fall onto your hand.

The cut itself was wide. About a quarter size to be exact. It looked like he peeled a sliver of skin off, enough so to have little specks of blood forming. Not a deep cut, thank goodness, but a cut nonetheless. You hummed and dabbed some of the antiseptic on. Your little brother grimacing a bit at the sting. 

"How did you get this from dropping a bowl?" you questioned as you slipped on a bandaid. Keeping your hold so he wouldn't find a way to weasel out. 

Gregory huffed, "I didn't. I got it from cutting strawberries. I didn't wanna use the cutting board, so I cut them in my hand. But the knife slipped and...yeah…” he trailed off.

You hummed, seeming satisfied with his answer. Hand hovering just an inch above his bandaged wound. You smacked it. "Ow!! What??" he fumed.

 "You couldn't be bothered to wash a cutting board? Now look. You have a quarter sized piece of skin missing," you gestured towards his wrist. 

"So?" he cradled his wrist towards his chest. 

"So?" you parroted back, "You know how easy these can get infected if you don't take care of it properly? Knowing your ass, I'm gonna have to remind you to regularly keep it clean."

Gregory's voice grew quiet. "Nooo." 

You chuckled. "Yeaaah," you said, mocking his tone. Your brother laughed as he shoved your shoulder. 

"Go back to bed, don't you have that interview at two?" he commented as he made his way back to his fruit. 

"I do. Did you wanna come with?" 

He thought for a moment, "Hmm..I guess so. Knowing your ass, you'd probably forget where you park." A knowing smile danced across his face.

It was your turn to laugh, "I mean I do—but it's also just a fun place, I think. I figured you can look around and play games while you wait for me."

 Gregory feigned his deep thought, "Hmm…wellllll.” 

You chuckled and pinched his nose, "It's either yes or I leave you here alone for three hours. I don't want an 'I guess.'" Your brother shook his face away in laughter.

"Okay, okay! I'll tag along!"

You smiled at his answer, "Alright, be ready by 1:30." You ruffled his hair before heading to the stairs. The faint sound of chopping on a cutting board could be heard once you reached your bedroom door. Your shoulders relaxed. "Good egg,” you whispered to yourself.

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The drive there wasn't too bad. Early afternoon on a weekday. People were either working or in class. Either way, it allowed you to arrive ten minutes early. You turned your car off and rummaged around in your bag before exiting your car. You looked at the massive building before you. A silent gasp fell from your mouth as you opened Gregory's door.

"I didn't expect the pizzaplex to be that big…" you mumbled as your little brother laughed. 

"Didn't you read up on the job offer before applying?" he poked at your side.

You jumped and swatted his hand away. "I did!” You exclaimed as you shut the car door. “…The important parts at least..." Your answer only gives more fuel to Gregory's laughter.

True, you had read up on the offer itself, the expectations and what not. Just not the rest of what the place had to offer as entertainment. You were there for a retail position. Specifically, a spot in the Lucky Star's Gift Shop. Expectations were: know how to manage a register, minor custodial experience, customer service, and general knowledge of the products you'd be selling. Those products being: plush toys, candies, apparel, trinkets, etc. An easy job surely.

You didn't expect the pizzaplex to be the size of a super mall and then some. Your wide eyes glued to the building as Gregory dragged you to the front doors. The parking lot was thankfully not as full. You felt comfortable in trusting your sibling to guide you to your destination.

A small chime rang once the two of you arrived. The smell of pizza and freshly cleaned carpeting wafted in the air. The ceilings were higher than the sky. Tiled floors waxed clean and carpeted floors as vibrant as the day they'd been installed. Gregory let go of your hand as he took a step ahead. Eager eyes darting around all the possible things he could do: an exciting collection of bowling, racing, arcades, and a food court, to name a few. He felt his stomach growl. His window shopping, however, got interrupted by a robot. A cute little thing. Just an inch taller than Gregory. Colored cheeks and the animation of a stiff broomstick. A colorful sunny shirt with the words "Daycare!" littered across its chest. A quick scan from your head to toe gave it all the information needed.

"Interview number 24, scheduled in 8 minutes. Early. Punctual. With a—" it stopped and gave a slight nod, "—plus one. I am one of the daycare's staff robots, greetings. Would you like me to show you to the location of the interview? Do you need to enroll the young one into the daycare while he waits?" It offered its metallic hand towards you. 

You smiled and shook your head. "Thank you! But he’s alright on his own, I appreciate the offer though!" You made quick work of fishing for your credit card in your wallet. "Alright Greg, I'm leaving you with this to use responsibly. Food and a few games. Keep your phone volume on high and with you at all times. I'll call you once I'm done, alright?"

His eager hands snatched the piece of plastic, "Alright!" And with that, he was gone. Laughter hummed through your chest as you took the staff bot's hand. Just an interview. In and out. Then you'd find Gregory and be on your way home.

The walk there helped you familiarize yourself with the layout of the first floor. You took note of a few bathrooms and emergency exits. The bright neon lights arranged in stripes along the wall caught your eye. How you didn't notice that upon first entering was beyond you. The larger than life statues in the dead center as well. The Glam Rocks, in golden splendor.

You kept making mental notes as you followed the staff bot up the escalators—a gift shop or two on the side, a few designated party rooms—just some things you'd expect to see in the pizzaplex. You almost bumped into the bot as it halted. Pristine walls were decorated with a fun blue sky and the words “Super Star Daycare!” Two painted over doors sat in the middle. The right door had a small screen on it. A small wave of the staff bot’s hand had the screen flashing a green color. The doors click open, granting you both access. You watched in awe at the interaction, smiling to yourself at the notion that kids under Fazbear care were taken very seriously. Enough so to only allow a select few during working hours.

What you didn't expect was to hear the reverb of a band. Wasn't this a daycare? You didn't recall reading about there being two bands within the facility. That or the Glam Rocks hosting shows for the smaller children.  Sensing your confusion, the staff bot chimed, "While this is a daycare, the attendants do like to offer shows to both children and family members. A sort of break from taking care of all the little ones running around. It keeps them still long enough while me and the others get nap time essentials ready—or when organizing the place during a busy day." You nodded at it's explanation. The staff bot took your hand once more and guided you into the hallway.

The glittery ivory flooring wasn't new, but the light fixtures were. Instead of intense neon, this section of the pizzaplex favored a warm light hung by chandelier. There were faint wooden walls staring back at you. It felt elegant to say the least. Catching you off guard, as you wouldn't expect this sort of appeal from a daycare. But a place to hold shows? You could picture it. 

The daycare itself was enormous. The front doors loomed over you, as did its walls. Your eyes trailed up to find a sort of railing at an even higher level. You could only assume it was to help clean and maintain the structure. While it was walled off, the daycare offered viewing windows for anyone who dropped off their kid. Or in this case, for you to peer into. 

The bot led you a bit aways from the daycare. Noticing a small fault in your steps, it offered you a small stop to look through the side window. Paying attention to your growing curiosity for the daycare attendants. You smiled in thanks and turned your attention to watch.

A bright sunny animatronic held the position as lead guitarist. His rays dancing about with little head shakes along with his background vocals. His counterpart, a sleepy night capped moon animatronic, played what looked like a bass while also taking lead vocals. Easily keeping up with the sun's guitar. Behind them, another animatronic was on drums. He resembled the sun, but had a darker color palette and a dark silhouette in his rays. He had a calmer smile to him. While he didn't sing along, he did keep up with their energy. An eclipse themed animatronic, you deduced.

Next to the moon was another guitar player, a more human looking animatronic. His color palette matched the sun's while taking the personality of the moon. Rays shooting out from his curly hair. To the sun's left was a female animatronic, another human-esque one. A violin in one hand and a wide smile and energy to match the sun's. Though her color palette resembled the moon's more than anything. Even sporting a similar nightcap.

"A Thousand Eyes, I believe that's what they're playing. It's a popular choice here. Bobby Vee?" the bot nodded, "Yes Bobby Vee, a classic." You continued looking on, impressed by their performance.

Your eyes danced across their attire: the sun sporting an exciting patterned button up shirt, bright yellow suns decorating his arms and chest. His pants were high waisted and loosely flared at the legs. Having a clown like ruffle at both ends, with cute sun's at the knees. The moon wore a red vest atop his own button up shirt. A puffed short sleeve with moons leading into a tight long sleeve seamlessly. Sporting similar pants as his counterpart, the main difference being the moons on his knees and a faint change in fabric color at the hips. As well as the buttons, which formed in a triangular pattern at his waist. Their clothing is reminiscent of both a 50s working man's attire and a 50s clown costume.

The eclipse was vastly different in clothing. An eclipse patterned button up yes, but short sleeved. No elongated pants either. Instead, he was clad in high waisted, two toned shorts with two pairs of belts. A pair of knee socks hugged at his legs before leading into his jester shoes. You couldn't help the smile growing on your face. While his counterparts had casual working man's clothing, he wore a relaxed summer outfit. 

The human leaning designed animatronics had contrasting aspects. While the male's color palette resembled the sun and eclipse, he had somber imagery: a yellow short sleeved button down riddled with rain clouds and drops. His pants flaring with ruffles. The latter being cleverly white with raindrops defying gravity and drifting up his legs. His female counterpart sporting sad blues to match the moon. Specks of happy suns littered her puffy sleeved button up. Her own vest was colored a happy yellow with four pointed stars. Her high waisted shorts were a two toned blue with similar stars dancing at the ends. A sun patterned nightcap atop her head. 

"So remember when you tell your little white lies that the niiiight~ Has a thousand eyyyyes~!", The sun and moon sang while their human counterparts accompanied with a falsetto. The eclipse excitedly hit his symbols to signify the end of the song.

The daycare erupted in cheers and you couldn't help but clap softly. The animatronics bowed as flowers and toys were thrown to the main stage. The sun was the first to rise, his smile widening as he made eye contact with you. You smiled back and raised your hands up a bit. Wanting to make sure he saw you were clapping. Only for said clapping to stop once he winked at you. You couldn't help the silent gasp you let out. The girl animatronic jumped up from her bow, waving to children excitedly. Turning to yank her other half up. Her eyes briefly caught your's, her smile growing that much wider.

“Two minutes remaining until the interview. Shall we be on our way?” The staff bot unknowingly offered you an out to your awkward expression. "Y-Yea! Let's!" you agreed. This time you took its hand in yours as you walked away. 

"Ah—I see you were familiar with the way to the Lucky Star's Gift Shop?" you stopped abruptly. 

“Uhm...nooo..." sheepishly admitting you were, in fact, not. 

The bot laughed, "Don't worry, it's a few steps in front of you."

You glanced up from your stance and saw the sign in front of you. "Oh—! Well look at that…" biting the inside of your cheek as you continued leading the staff bot there.

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"Guys! Did you see them? The new interviewee for the gift shop?" Sun exclaimed. His fellow bandmates looked around for said interviewee. 

"I don't think we did," Moon admitted, "Brother?" 

Eclipse shook his head, "Sorry, afraid not. PeyPey?” he turned to the human animatronic. 

"Hmm...can't say I did, Caro?" his counterpart excitedly nodded.

"I did! I think they were absolutely darling, wouldn't you agree Sun?" she rested her head on PeyPey's shoulder. 

Sun excitedly nodded his head, "I do! Darling and kind! They clapped for us after we played! Oh, I can't wait to meet them!!"

Moon chuckled, "That's if they get hired, brother dear. And knowing the luck with past interviews, I'm afraid their chances look slim."

Eclipse clicked his tongue, "Well, never say never, Moon. Don't sour Sun's optimism." 

PeyPey nodded in agreement, "I think this is the first one to actually stop and watch a bit of our show.”

"Right you are! I'm sure we've more than grabbed their attention, enough so to have them really aiming to win this interview~!" Sun sang out as he began to put his guitar away. The rest of the band mates followed suit with their own instruments.

"Well, possibly…maaaybeee," his lunar brother teased as he put on his neck ruffle. 

"I just hope it all turns out okay," Eclipse added while also fitting his own neck garment on.

"Oh come now, I'm sure they'll ace it! They've already made quite the impression on Sun, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to convince the company otherwise if it all came down to it," Caro commented.

Her other half chiming in, "It'd be nice to finally open up the gift shop. The staff bots help a lot but none have what the higher ups are looking for, even with all the programming they do."

Moon hummed in thought, "What do you suppose they're looking for?" He opened his palms as if waiting for something. All eyes turned to PeyPey.

"Well...someone kind and patient, who can connect with guests, and…someone who has experience with children? Especially the younger ones. Someone who has a real knack for it," he concluded.

Eclipse twirled his drumstick. "That sounds about right. Certainly the type of person I'd want working in a gift shop right next to a daycare," he smiled.

"Speaking of daycare: our other jobs await! Come on!" Sun spun his rays as he ran off to the growing number of children waiting to get checked in.

Eclipse laughed and followed his brother. "Hold on now! Let me just wrangle up PeyPey and Caro!" Moon called over to his brothers.

He held out his arms and nodded towards the two animatronics. Both of which did a quick jump into the air. After a small popping sound and puff of clouds, they were the size of pineapples. Landing softly into Moon's embrace.

"Why they made you two as both small and tall will always confuse me," he quipped as he jogged over to the check in.

"Aww, Moon, don't you find us helpful when the kids get into small spaces? Or when you need an extra pair of hands for paperwork?" Caro asked while tugging on his ruffle. 

The animatronic rolled his eyes with a smile, "I suppose so."

"Or how about when you need us to walk around the daycare during nap time? The other two aren't aren't too great at sneaking like us three. Especially on a full day. Are we helpful then? Or how about—" PeyPey's words got cut short by Moon's hand gently patting his head.

"Alright alright! You're both helpful even when the size of fruits! Happy?" he exasperated. The pair nodded, satisfied with his answer.

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The gift shop was pretty homey, reminiscent of a mom and pop shop, and matching the personality of the daycare indeed. Faint primary colored wooden walls surrounded you, accompanied by cartoons of the attendants frolicking about. Ivory tiled flooring at your feet, white wooden shelves with card labels for what would be set out. ‘Sun plush toys here,’ read the one. ‘Eclipse plush toys here,’ read another. The shop was well kept. No dust in sight and your reflection smiled back at you from the floor. 

Yep, well kept.

"Alright, I've got your papers all settled here. Now let's see…" What would be your manager beckoning you to the front register. You loudly gulped and nodded as you made your way to her.

She was a warm woman. Pansy was what she went by. She was average height and wore a black button up with some slacks. A pen held up her messy bun. Glasses hung at the bridge of her nose. During your initial interaction, you'd find out that not only was she this giftshop's manager, but the manager of pretty much every other shop here in the pizzaplex. How does she manage all the inventory and employees? You'd never know. Trying to think about it made your balance shift off its axis. Even with the technological advancements of staff bots roaming around, managing that many stores must be exhausting. What with customer service whilst also making sure everyone on the team was okay. 

"Your resume is nice, your experience certainly fits our criteria. We would love to have you, but you must answer one question correctly," she watched you through the rims of her glasses.

With nervous eyes, you nodded at her once more. Urging her to continue.

"When you see a child begin to cry after a fall, what do you do?" The question itself wasn't one you were expecting.

Befuddled, you recounted the times that child was Gregory. "I...I don't make it into a big deal. If I do, they learn that every little problem is a bigger deal than it's supposed to be. Help them up, make sure they're okay and point out how there's no injury. Gravitate their attention to something else," you glanced back at her and tried to read her reaction.

This was how you raised Gregory. For whatever accident happened. You made sure not to baby him as much, and to show him ways to get back up. On the off chance you weren't around. It's how your parents had raised you, so you raised your little brother the same way.

She nodded and scribbled a few things onto her pad, "Well, consider yourself hired!" She immediately grabbed your hand and shook it.

Your air left your lungs in a gasp, “Really?” attempting to match the strength in her own handshake.

"Of course! Every interview I've had failed to give an honest answer. It's always, 'cradle them until they stop crying' or 'leave them there to cry until they stop', I was beginning to doubt I'd ever open this shop up!" her laughter raised into the ceiling.

"The position you're applying for is no daycare attendant, but to hire someone without at least that sort of experience? Right next to a daycare?" she waved her opposite hand, "Don't even get me started! I know I can confidently leave you here to handle any child. After your training period of course! If you can calm a kid down before the waterworks, you've made it!" her laughter died down as did her handshake.

Your mouth hung open in a smile, "Well-thanks! I owe it all to raising one!" 

Her eyes widened a bit, and her hand stilled. "You're a parent…?" she asked as if it was the most otherworldly thing she'd ever heard.

"Oh—! No, no! I raised my younger brother!" you laughed. 

She sighed a breath of relief. "Goodness—I was about to ask you for your skin routine!" You couldn't help the happiness constantly growing on your face.

Pansy wiped a tear from her eye, "Woo! What a hoot! Alright, what day are you able to start?" she asked, readjusting her glasses. 

You stood there contemplating for a moment. In all honesty, you were ready to start then and there. You had been let go of your previous job due to seniority and having to make some cuts. Unfortunately, you were one of said cuts. A bit of worry seeped into your brain. What if they view you as too excited? Maybe a bit of a try-hard? You could wait until the shop was fully furnished. Or maybe the following day…tomorrow...yea!

“Tomorrow's good! But of course I can see the shop needs its products, so I don't mind waiting until it's all stocked up, whichever works best!"

Your manager's smile grew, "I'll notify you once the shops all settled in, we'll start easy. Just some managing the floor and customer service, how's that sound?"

You happily offered your hand, "Sounds like a plan, I look forward to it!" She matched your enthusiasm with a firm handshake. The second one of the meeting. "As do I. Welcome to the family!"

You felt something in your grasp once she let go. Your name tag. A pretty, holographic lenticular tag. Shifting it to the left would shine a sun, in the middle a calm eclipse, and to the left, a sleepy moon. You stared in awe at the exquisite piece of plastic. This was the most beautiful name tag you'd ever been given.

“We'll get this little guy properly labeled with your name in a second, love. Just need to remember where I left that pesky hand machine…” she mumbled the last sentence as she walked around the front desk to look for it.

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"Moonie I simply must know!" Sun grunted as he tried reaching the daycare's front doors. His brother held him back without much struggle.

"We'll know in due time Sun. No need to pry for information," he chuckled.

Eclipse had started a game with the kids. A classic game of cops and robbers. Such a game in the daycare proved to exercise a kid's brain. With many places to hide such as the ball pit, jungle gyms, slides, cubbies, and so on, one had to get creative in this space. This time the attendants were playing the cops and the kids were the robbers. Caro and PeyPey had more luck than the lunar and solar triplets. Their smaller size proved useful in getting the stealthiest of kids. They'd started a system of chasing the kids out of hiding and straight into Eclipse's waiting arms.

"Come on Sun, don't you want to play with the kids? It's cops and robbers, one of your favorites,” Moon tried convincing his twin. 

"But Moon! What if we never find out? What if they didn't get hired?" Sun whined in his brother's hold.

Moon sighed and reluctantly carried a protesting Sun to the game. "You had confidence earlier. Where has it gone?" The animatronic passed by the window, not thinking much of it.

"Oh hey it's the interviewee!" Caro exclaimed as she popped her head out of a jungle gym.

"Where?” Sun jumped out of Moon's hold with his eyes darting across the room.

"Out there, they're shaking hands with Pansy...I think I see something sparkly on their clothing," Eclipse added while carrying four giggling children.

His solar twin excitedly gasped and ran over to watch. What he said was very much true. There you were, talking with Pansy as if the two of you were old friends. A fresh name tag glistening below your smile.

"I can't thank you enough Pansy, thank you!" you exclaimed.

Your manager shook her head. "No, no—I should be thanking you! Two years this shop has been here—two years without a proper employee. You're doing wonders by just being you, love!" She smiled warmly.

You felt bashful and rubbed the back of your neck. "Aww, I'm glad we could help each other then! I look forward to being able to help in any way I can!"

She patted your back with vigor. "There we are! That's what I like to hear!" 

Sun failed to notice bandmates and children crowding behind him to get a look at the new hire. 

"They did it! I see their name tag!" Caro hollered from Eclipse's shoulder. 

Moon nodded, impressed. "Huh, Look at that."

All comments fell on deaf ears. You did it. Finally they found someone competent enough to run the gift shop! Someone who's genuine—kind even! Sun couldn't contain his excited rays dancing about as he watched, resembling a puppy happily wagging its tail. He could see it now: his siblings and friends all palling around, with you in the middle! Catching up and having a swell time as you take your lunch break. Sun sighed at the thought.

Pansy turned curiously at all the muffled yelling. Her laughter got caught in her throat, "Oh! Would you look at that!"

Curious, you peered towards the direction she was looking in and gasped. Not only the animatronics, but the children as well had been watching you. Not knowing what else to do, you offered a small smile and waved. The crowd waved back with a muffled "Hi!" except for Sun. He stood there with his shoulders relaxed and smile tilted. 

As you were about to take a step, he joyously screamed and launched himself away from the window. The kids erupting in laughter as Eclipse and Moon can be seen calling out to him in chase. Caro and PeyPey, still at the window, poofed themselves to their tallest height, herding the kids away from the front door.

Sun rushed out with a trail of smoke behind him. He was a foot away from you in an instant. "Hello there! My name is Sun! I'm one of five daycare attendants and a member of the Starlights band! Who might you be, dear?" he cheerily asked.

His height was alarming. You barely reached his chest. While his tone of voice was welcoming, and you couldn't help the anxious flips your stomach did when you briefly raised your eyes up to his. This was the performer who winked at you—a type of interaction you weren't used to. His charming transatlantic accent didn't do you any favors either. You quickly glanced at Pansy for guidance. The only guidance being a nod to go ahead.

Your name trailed out of your mouth awkwardly as you reached a hand out for Sun to shake. "A lovely name! An absolutely darling name!” He matched the same enthusiasm of Pansy’s.

His siblings caught up to him. "Sun! You can't just run off like that, we've got children to look after!" Eclipse scolded as he placed a hand on Sun's shoulder. 

“Yes, just look at them all wiggling about in your absence." Moon observed once he reached the small crowd amongst you.

You peered past Sun's waist. The children had been trying to weave themselves through the other two attendants. So much so that you've noticed the two sprouted a second pair of arms just to manage the lot. 

"I'm sorry…" you trailed off. You didn't mean to cause this much excitement.

Eclipse shook his head, "Think nothing of it. It's our brother's fault, truly. We really must go before they get any more restless," he admitted with a short bow. Pulling his solar brother by the arm with him to the daycare. 

"We'll be seeing you around!" Sun called from Eclipse's grasp.

"Yes, sorry for the short introduction—I'm Moon, that one's Eclipse. The girl is Caro and the boy is PeyPey, the two there at the window," the lunar animatronic gave a small bow in turn. "We look forward to working with you, dear," rushing off to help get Sun back in.

You faintly heard Moon and Eclipse scolding their brother. Who in turn could only muster up "I couldn't help myself!" Your brain wracked against your skull. All three were charming, you had to admit. What with their manners, transatlantic accents, and just the way they carried themselves with each other. 

Both Moon and Eclipse smacked Sun upside the head in a playful manner before running in through the front doors. The latter took this as an opportunity for a chase. From the window you could see the children and two human animatronics briefly pause their actions. All heads following Moon and Eclipse as they excitedly ran across from them. The crowd turned their heads to Sun. All of them caught momentum once they noticed the attendant had begun to go after them as well. The children shrilled in joy as the other two attendants joined. Scooping up any stragglers on the way.

Pansy burst out laughing once more. "Those five know how to liven things up around here. Get ready to see more of them, especially with their merchandise in the giftshop."

You sheepishly smiled, "Can't wait!” Your eyes glued to the window a few feet from you. Admittedly, you missed when Gregory was that small. Laughing at almost everything, getting excited over the smallest things. It made your heart feel warm. This must've been how your own parents felt when you yourself grew up. 

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TAGLIST WEEE!!

@cosmog-mcgee

@antwithwaffles

End of chappie ooone :]!! I hope you guys liked it! I enjoyed writing it and my friend @by-the-chapel-gates did me a huge favor and was my beta reader!! I love her very much she are my booboobear :]💖💝!!!!💖💝THANK YOOOOUS💖💝Please leave your thoughts below!

Wanna keep reading it on tumblr? Chapter 2 is here! :]

[auseyre]

So the LITA special is a whole hour of Disney(you know if Disney had lgbtq couples and kink) straight-to-DVD sequel frivolous madness about Rain and Sky being angry at their boyfriends for being hot, rich, and in demand?

Featuring the epic return of unhinged Rain(I really love the way his friends lean in hard on the teasing because Rain is all kinds of extra and it’s sweet they enjoy that most of the time.)

And sassy Dom Sky (who I did not see enough of in his story)

Y'all Prepai is so delighted here. You'd think he was some poor little innocent lamb who has been waiting his whole life for someone to guard his virtue from all the hot men and women constantly throwing themselves at him, instead of a big ole' "former" ho(affectionate).

Boys sitting around exchanging stories of getting dicked down in kinky ways.

(This boy has the appropriate level of horniness for a young, hormonal person getting that good-good on the reg and I heartily approve.)

Boys getting dicked down in kinky ways,

and one of the few solely comic relief characters in Thai BL I can stand(I love you Nawin from LoA!). 

I have to compliment them on doing a really good job of showing the difference in the relationship dynamics between the two couples even while the two “forgiveness” scenarios played out very similarly.

Prepai knows he has no clue about relationships, so he assumes that he actually did screw up somehow.

Payu knows that Rain is a pouty flibbertigibbet and, while it’s possible, he did inadvertently do something wrong. It’s more likely Rain is just being Rain. 

Also, it's a perfect demonstration of service sub/top vs bratty sub in action. (I consider Payu and Sky both soft Doms obvs with different kinks and techniques)

Man, This Prepai and Sky I really like. There was an absolutely fun RomCom about 80s-coded player Prepai hooking up for an anonymous one-night stand and then accidentally falling for 90s-coded earnest Sky just waiting for these characters/actors instead of what we got. (I originally wrote this up before I saw the trailer for Love Sea and it was like the BL gods answered my prayers.)

This special was goddamn delightful

Saw a post somewhere questioning if this special was necessary and yes, yes it was. Things that spark joy are always necessary.

Okay and I watched the LITA scenes in The Wedding Planner and I love that you can see how Rain has matured and how the relationship has matured, but that he’s still enough of a little gremlin to want to compete with Sky. 

[pray4saint]

Hello! Currently thinking about dteam and chuckle sammich honeymoon hc's! Where you'd go, what you'd do, how was IT was mm

dteam & chuckle sammy on their honeymoons

dteam masterlist & chuckle sammy masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. gn!reader.

a/n. omg bae, i've got you! also thoughts like these are gonna be rotting my brain for the next month / nsfw versions: dteam / chuckle sammy

dream

either hawaii or france.. idk what to tell you he's a cheeseball, sticks with the classics OR on the complete opposite, somewhere thailand (but for the sake of my sanity and writing ability we're going with kona, hawaii)

definitely picked a b&b over a hotel, he wanted the privacy for that first night as a wedded couple

leaving around 11am to go to beaches all day or go shopping

when you're out shopping, he always finds a way to not-so-subtly mention that you guys have just gotten married / he thinks he's subtle

standing in a pacsun, the cashier scanned the tags of the clothes you were buying, asking the usual customer service questions, ”how are y'all doing, did you find everything okay?” and you look up at your husband before nodding, but he still spoke up, ”doing good, we just got married, this is spouse, and yeah,” he turns to you, ”i think we found everything okay.” ”mhm.” you smile at his incessant need to announce that you're married.

tbh powerbottom!dream but in an absolutely sfw, fluffy way / how he looks at you with, essentially, heart eyes when he says something begging for your approval but also making it widely known that you're his and that you're married every chance he gets

dream most definitely has that 'nothing can bring me down' mentality while on your honeymoon

also in the evenings when the sun sets and you're sat next to him or on his lap, he thanks any and every higher power he's ever heard of that you came into his life because you're stunning and he loves you so much and can't imagine his life without you

doesn't even register if fans come up and ask for a picture until you point them out, he's just so invested in you

he also doesn't get on any of his social media except to post the occasional instagram story despite how much you told him it was fine and you didn't mind if he checked twitter or updated his snap story

”clay, aren't your fans gonna worry if you go MIA from twitter?” you set your notebook aside, turning to face him. ”no honey i'm gonna spend time with you, they can wait.” he smiles at you. ”yeah i know but-” ”no buts. they can wait.”

also he inevitably gets sick on the last day of your honeymoon, which is fine because you were getting tired of going out every day / you made him soup with the small amount of food you'd bought at the local costco and he finally took to twitter to tell them how wonderful you were being

sapnap

i think he's taking you on 2 honeymoons, the first is for two weeks in texas to spend time with his family, just so you know you can always depend on them when you need them

the other is for three weeks in greece; the people, the culture, the food, he loves it and he wants to surround you in it

probably picked a hotel over a b&b

also on all the flights, during airport security, in taxis/ubers, when waiting for flights, in the hotel, he kept repeating the same words

mrs./mr./mx. armstrong, he just loves saying it, SO MUCH

”i love you, [mrs./mr./mx.] armstrong.” your newlywed husband spins you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest. ”i know mr. armstrong, and i love you.” you press a kiss to his lips, trying to get out of his arms to get back to unpacking your suitcase

i think for activities, lots of lunches out and dinners in

also a whole lot of museums and art galleries and ancient ruins, spending time talking about greek mythology and your own theories and opinions on it

sap also sometimes calls you bro on accident and you sometimes call him dude still and all you guys can ever say about it is 'it is what it is'

”what are you gonna get, bro?” he asks as he closes his own menu. he didn't even realise what he said, but the waiter did, and he just watched with intent, unsure of what was happening. ”i don't know dude, whatever you're having i guess.” you close your menu. the waiter speaks up, ”i'm sorry i know it's none of my business but uhm- are you two not, married?” he sounds nervous, as if he thinks he's interrupted some secret affair. ”wh- what? we're married. we've been married.” sap is the one to point it out, taking your hand in his. ”ah, it was just how you called each other 'dude', and 'bro'.” the waiter laughs nervously, walking away with the order written down. in unison, ”it is what it is.”

i also think he takes you shopping because he believes the people who gave you the best wedding gifts should also get a gift in return in addition to a thank you card

lots of hand swinging with your left hand to show off your ring, and hugging in lines, and kissing-bordering-on-making-out in public, he just has no reason not to anymore, you're married

george

george couldn't decide where you went for awhile, so he asked of your friends and his friends and ended up at first with iceland (this is george guys remember) but then changed his mind and picked italy and romania, one week in each

b&b >>> hotels with george, he prefers the privacy

he spent months before the wedding trying to learn the basics of the italian and romanian languages despite how widespread english is

definitely takes you out to eat A BUNCH, except for two nights in each country where you and him cooked dinner for yourselves

you can expect lots of late mornings and late nights with george, he just can't get enough of his new spouse

definitely emphasises your last name being davidson whenever there's a reservation or when he feels the staff is being a little too forward

”last name?” the host asked, eyes glued to the kiosk screen in front of him. ”mr. and mx. davidson.” your husband smiled at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

takes you to a store at the start of the trip so you have food where you're staying / bonus if you convince him to go to a farmers' market

every day of the trip you and him have set aside an hour to talk to your respective friends on the phone (he's louder)

also forgets to tell you that he booked a redeye for the first flight out of italy/romania because when he booked it he forgot he was planning for two people instead of just himself / he apologised a lot for it

”y/n i'm sorry, if i had been paying attention i would've booked it for later in the day tomorrow.” ”george, baby it's fine. i really don't mind. it's not like i'm going anywhere.” you flash him your ring with a smile to emphasise you point, to which he returns the smile before looking at his own ring.

he apologised again when the plane was about to take off

ted

i think ted takes you to japan for your honeymoon, at least for a week to try those capsule hotels that you and him been dying to try for months

i think he wants to go see all sorts of attractions in japan; theme parks, cat cafes, boardwalks, boat tours, and maybe take you to see an anime film (my brain is rotted from wanting to see an anime film in japan im sorry)

he booked a hotel because in the moment, it felt the easiest

even in japan he would get recognised, but not nearly as often as he did in the states and he would kindly turn down any fan who wanted a picture because he was busy on his honeymoon

lots of small kisses; at the end of a boardwalk, right before you sit down at restaurants, when you get back to the hotel room, when he brings you coffee, tea, or water in the morning, just outside the restaurant when you're leaving, when you two depart in a mall for a set time of 20 minutes

i think he likes seeing the trending tags on twitter surrounding your wedding

”what'ya smiling at, like an idiot baby?” you ask him, drying your hair with a towel from your recent shower, as you walk around from where your suitcase was to where he was stood in the mini kitchen. ”'the nivisons,' we're trending honey, that's all. i think it's sweet.” ”you know coming over here and giving me a kiss is even sweeter.” his phone is on the counter and he's encasing himself around you so fast.

he definitely texted his married friends for ideas when he started to run out / also before you left he logged into your pinterest on your computer and looked for anything he could use as an idea

you guys start binge-watching a new show while on your honeymoon and made inside jokes about it (yeah you became that couple)

holds your hand when you're walking around and getting into taxis and doing pretty much anything in public because he's scared he'll lose you in a crowd

he talks to you like he would a child. ”don't let go of my hand.” ”i won't ted, don't worry.” you shake your head at his antics once he turns away.

books a later in the afternoon flight out so that you can sleep in and he can pack for you and wake you up and get you out the door slowly, without a huge rush and stress

charlie

charlie takes you to 2 places, to start, you get 3 weeks in bali plus a week in new zealand (jrr tolkien/hobbit/lotr fans are gonna love this one)

in bali, he rents a whole house, 1 bedroom & 1 bathroom with a rate of $110 (usd) a night

while you're there, he takes you to sightsee places like gunung kawi temple, pura lempuyang luhur, ubud monkey forest, tukad cepung waterfall and holy spring (tirta empul)

of course wherever you go he insists on holding your hand, just to keep you close by

”baby you gotta let go of my hand i wanna take pictures.” your husband huffs a small, ”fine.” he releases your hand, but his hands find perch on your waist while you take pictures of the water, or the shops, or the wildlife, whatever.

definitely asks if he can use some of the pictures you took for his instagram story (it's the most he's ever used his insta story) and you tell him yes but only if you get to pick them / also on the same note, if either of you snap anyone during your honeymoon or just take selfies in general, they're always of you two kissing or giving each other cheek kisses in the house or at a restaurant or at a location you're visiting

he spends a lot of time just looking at your ring and how the ring on your finger looks against his fingers and vice versa with his ring against your fingers

”charlie?” he looks up from your intertwined hands in surprise. ”hm, what?” ”whatcha thinkin' about?” ”mmm, nothin', just admiring you.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, making you smile and a small tint to cover your cheeks.

in new zealand it's a hotel but it's a hobbit hole hotel, complete with tours of everything new zealand could offer about the tolkien's lord of the rings/hobbit universe

more eating out here than in bali despite how much more expensive it is

(if you're not a huge tolkien fan:) lots of thank yous from him for putting up with the trip so he could enjoy it // (if you are a huge tolkien fan:) a ton of excitement for both of you during the entire trip, and lots of talking about your own theories as you learn more about the fictional world

also vlogging the new zealand trip with charlie >>>> / and cataloging the film in the airport just before your flight for you to edit when you get home

schlatt

canada. idc, canada, that's where you're going. or iceland. somewhere cold.

i'm kidding, he told you that as a prank and then took you to australia (i apologise if you can't stand the animals there but this is schlatt we're talking about c'mon)

hotel over a b&b because even he, being the big guy that he is, was a little worried about finding a massive spider in the bed

probably quite a bit of alcohol that first night as a married couple

”y'so- god sweets y'so pretty.” schlatt twirled you around with one hand, beer bottle in the other. you giggled, the alcohol affecting your words and actions. you kept one hand tangled with his while the other held a grip on your bottle of beer. ”j..y'so handsome, you know that?” he blushed, and it must've been the alcohol because your boyfriend– husband now, never got flustered over something as small as that.

there's one night where you two go out dancing and when he sees all the prying eyes of the men and women around you, he makes sure to emphasise your ringed hands, keeping one of his hands planted firmly on your side

somehow you ended up going to see some aniaml fight with schlatt and when it got a little.. gory, you'd cover your eyes with your hands and tuck your head into his shoulder or his chest

”you alright baby?” he asked, flicking his eyes between you and the fight, arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer. ”i guess. jus'wanna leave though.” you whispered up into his ear and he nodded, waiting another minute before walking out with you tucked into his side, repeatedly asking you if you're really okay.

schlatt who takes you out to dinner every other night, with the rest of the nights being used to talk to both his and your friends and watch films together

also schlatt who believes in taking turns making lunch; whether it be sandwiches (it usually is), or pasta, a frozen pizza, etc, you take turns, after all you're married now, everything is 50/50

you probably both get sick at the end of the trip from something you ate and at first you were really worried, but he got better after a day and you two days after that

i also one hundred percent believe schlatt wanted to get home as soon as possible and picked an earlier in the morning flight / him plucking you from the bed three hours before your flight so you could shower and get ready, finish repacking, etc

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[lemon-sugarcoats-nothing]

Darkstone Family dinner✨

[Mod Note: so sorry for the late continuation of the ongoing plot! Further explanation will be posted onto my personal blog, @may-bee-its-just-me but for now, on with the womp womp]

With the family growing concerned at Kodiak's uncharacteristic absence, the kids chatter amongst themselves. Luna and Kai exchange worried glances to each other, wondering if they should leave to find their father - Sadie sits in silence, overwhelmed by all the new sights and sounds, and worried for his papa.

Just as Kai opens his mouth to speak up, Kodiak busts through the dining hall doors, with Cinna following close behind.

"I had something important come up last minute-! We're here now haha- I brought a few ponies, I hope that's alright-"

Luna and Kai step closer to greet their father. Luna at seeing Cinna, lights up, and speaks up first. Kai, at the thought of having even more ponies join them for dinner, mini-panics but quickly regains composure.

Kai: You didn't message any of us, we were getting worried! Who's the other guest..?

Kodiak, still catching his breath from running, looks behind himself and notices that Sagi lagged behind.

"Oh he's...Well he's also family, just. Maybe not someone you'd expect to be..."

Sagi walks in at a leisurely pace, unsure of what to make of this whole situation. He stands before the rest of the Darkstones (and Kokoros), waiting for their approval or dismissal.

Kodiak: Everyone, this is Sagi...

Sadie, coming back to reality, lights up at seeing a new person to meet. He runs over and greets Sagi. [Night]Shade follows close to Sadie's side to bodygaurd, having heard stories of Sagi through the group grapevine.

Sadie: WOW!! your outfit is super cool!!

@ask-cinnavanillamelody

Credits:

All art featured in this post was drawn by myself, Mod Bee.

Cinna - Outfit and character belongs to Mocha from @ask-cinnavanillamelody

Kodiak - Outfit and character are from yours truly

Luna - Character belongs to Mocha from @ask-cinnavanillamelody, Outfit design was on me.

Kai - Character and outfit are mine, all MINE lol

Sagi - Character belongs to @ask-cinnavanillamelody but the outfit modifications were from yours truly.

Nightshade - Character and outfit are my fault

Sadi(e) - Character and outfit are frome mee

[turcott3]

main thing

kirby dach x fem! reader

warnings?: mild smut at the beginning, disgustingly tooth rottingly sweet fluff and cursing (i wrote this for myself and my delusions tbh)

~all i wanna do is spend my time with you, even when the learnings done and nothings new~

positions fics masterlist

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“oh fuck.” you moan out. you could feel his bright blue eyes piercing your body as your eyes squeezed shut, an orgasm quickly approaching.

“so so good for me baby.” he coos as you collapse over his chest, feeling weak and shaky as your orgasm jolts through your body, hips stuttering as he coated your walls with his own high. you laid on his chest as you both breathed heavily.

“i love you so fucking much.” you say between breaths, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“i love you more.” he replies, delicately wrapping his arms around your weak body. you laid there for a moment inhaling his sweet scent with your eyes shut.

“baby, you gotta get up.” he giggles brushing your hair out of your face as you sat up slowly. you get up off of him, collecting his discarded shirt and pulling it on over your freshly-fucked body. it was moments like these that you felt the most beautiful. you learned very quickly that post sex glow is very real if you're with the right person.

you slid on your underwear and pulled the lazy brunette out of bed, forcing him to put sweatpants on and tugging him into the kitchen.

"y/n it's 11 pm."

"and i want a bowl of cereal with my boyfriend? i dont see the issue." you giggle as you pull the bowls out of the cabinet.

"fair." he replies emerging from the pantry with the box. this was your average night. you always see couples going out together and partying, which was fun in the beginning but you both quickly learned that both of you preferred staying home with each other. you were home bodies.

“hey baby.” he muffled with his mouth full.

“yeah.” you replied after you swallowed.

“you need your back rubs tonight? you didn’t get em last night.” he says finishing his bite.

“oh, you don’t have to it’s okay.” you reply, heart melting at the gesture. when you were younger, you dislodged a disk in your back during your solo. it had bothered you ever since. occasionally causing you intense pain and somehow, every show week you had he remembered. he’s spent the whole season out with and injury which was both a blessing and a curse. you loved that he was always at your beck and call but it broke your heart knowing that he had to miss an entire season of the one thing he’s most passionate about.

“you don’t seem relaxed, you seem stiff.” he replies which was the truth but most times it felt ,to you, like a burden on him.

“kirbs, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” you reply running your finger through his soft curls.

“no i do want to. i want to make sure you sleep so good tonight. you have a big show coming up baby. i can’t wait to see you look so fucking beautiful on that stage.” he smiles, kissing your cheek sweetly.

“okay.” you smile at the gesture, putting the bowls into the sink. you laid flat on your mattress, pulling the shirt up to your shoulders as his warm hands worked out the tightness of your muscles. you sighed as the pressure was lifted from your back and into thin air. you frowned as his hands left your back for the last time.

“feel better pretty girl?” he says lowly close to your ear and you hum in approval as he presses a soft kiss to your back. a ritual the two of you shared, kissing your “ouchies” better.

it could be all in your head, but it felt like the pressure of his kiss always solved your pain. physical, or emotional.

“thank you baby.” you smile sitting up as a relief washed over your body.

“of course.” he smiles back, kissing you sweetly on the lips. only a smile and a giggle breaking it apart.

“you ready for bed sleepy girl, you got a big rehearsal tomorrow.” he says as you tuck yourself into bed.

“oh definitely.” you yawn out as he joins you in bed. you roll over facing the boy who was already admiring you.

“sorry for staring.” he giggles.

“oh never apologize for that, i’m just as guilty.” you giggle as he pulls you to his chest snuggly.

“you’re just so gorgeous, my beautiful baby.” he whispers into your hair.

“stop.” you giggle turning red.

“what? am i not about to gloat about how lucky i am to be with someone as beautiful and talented and sweet and,”

“kirby.” you say sternly leaning up to his cheesy smile.

“what?” he giggles.

“not too much, you know me and compliments.”

“baby i already told you, you just need to say thank you, you do not have to compliment me back. just let me admire my gorgeous girlfriend.” he replies kissing you on the forehead as he speaks.

“thank you.” you smile.

“of course, you deserve it all baby,” he says placing his chin on the top of your head.

“goodnight my love.” he whispers

“goodnight handsome.” you giggle, pressing a short, sweet kiss to his lips.

the pet names practically made you sick to your stomach with sweetness but with time you grew to love them. you felt so lucky to have been chosen by a man like him. so effortlessly loving and generous.

“i love you.” he whispers, reaching to pull the lamp chain.

“i love you.” you reply as your eyes grow heavy at the sound of his heart thumping calmly in his chest.

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