#what i did not realize is that by a 'large' serving of mashed potato.

[ratcandy]

something happens in my brain when faced with mashed potatoes man . i go full opportunistic-feeding koi the moment those potatoes are put in front of me

[mytheoristavenue]

TMNT Thanksgiving Special!

Summary: How you spend Thanksgiving with the trutles!

Warnings: None, just fluff!

It's worth mentioning that the turtles had never had a traditional thanksgiving dinner before they met you. Usually, it wasn't something Splinter could have pulled off with his lack of resources. Though he did very much want the boys to experience the Japanese version of the holiday, considering their secrecy, celebrating the way he had as a child would have been out of the question.

This year was going to be different though, because they had you, who knew how to cook, at least half decently, and April, who could at least follow directions.

It wasn't a very large affair, just a turkey that you'd managed to find on sale, some mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. All made by the two of you, of course.

All of the boys, (apart from Raph and Casey) had offered to help, but the pair of you would simply share a look, giggle, and send them off on some time consuming chore to make them feel helpful.

Currently, Donnie and Leo were setting the table, murmuring to each other about how nice their misshapen silverware looked all wrapped in paper towels, or how fancy the kitchen island looked with the tacky plastic table cloth that you'd snagged from the dollar store (on clearance) laid across it.

You had to giggle at them as they marveled at things that were so mundane to you. You often times forgot how fascinated they could be by the simplest things, due to their short time on the surface.

Figures often bustled in and out of the kitchen, prompting you and your assistant chef to immediately come to blows with anyone deemed unworthy of being in the space. In your defense, it was usually one of whom you'd nicknamed the 'Lazy Trio', trying to sneak bites of whatever you were making at the time.

Occasionally, Splinter would come in to make a fresh pot of tea, or Leo or Donnie would offer to wash up the dishes made so far, which you always obliged.

When the feast was ready to be served, April whistled through her fingers, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that, for maybe the first time since you'd met the turtles, everyone in the lair had obliged, all now waiting eagerly at the table.

A few, including Mikey and Casey had trouble keeping them contained, struggling not to reach across the table to dig in before the meal was actually served.

When it was, Splinter was awarded the honor of carving the bird, something he wasn't prepared for, but graciously accepted anyways.

"Many years ago, my life was changed forever." He began a speech, head held high, so not to show tears welling in his eyes. "I suddenly found myself a father, once again, and I have always done what I felt was right to honor my sons, even if that meant shielding them from all outside factors. However, over the last several months, I have come to realize that not only do I have my four sons to cherish, but I have the loveliest of daughters as well."

Your cheeks burned at his words, and the way your 'brothers' cheered you both for making this holiday possible for them.

"And of course, my son, Casey." Splinter finished with a smile, having spotted the boy pouting in his seat from not being spoken of.

The meal was followed by everyone gathering in the living room, watching a live feed of the Macy's Day Parade, resting off your amazing cooking.

You yourself sat cuddled up to someone special, nuzzling your face into his arm and dozing off, securely enveloped in scaly arms.

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15

[iyumeu]

Pillow Fort Movie Time! - with the Brothers

After begging, pleading, wheedling, and scoring As for all your tests, Lucifer had finally given in and allowed you to use the House of Lamentation's common area one (1) time to do whatever you wanted.

And you wanted to build a pillow fort.

However! You were not content with just a pillow fort. No. You wanted a Cinema Pillow Fort: large, extravagant, and with a television you could watch a movie on.

And so you went to Mammon, knowing that he had a large flat-screen television hoarded somewhere within his room that he wasn't using at all.

⭒☆━━━━━━━⸜₍๑•⌔•๑ ₎⸝━━━━━━━☆⭒

> When you asked Mammon for the television, he was somewhat reluctant to part with it at first. After all, it had cost him a pretty penny and it was fragile!

> However, after telling him what you wanted to do with it and inviting him along (because he would be part of your pillow fort movie party. C'mon. He never leaves you alone and it'll be better to invite him rather than have him try to squeeze his way in. Inviting him would make him feel wanted and you definitely wanted him there!), he had blushed and said that it wasn't that he wanted to help you, but you had asked and he just so happened to be free so he would help you set up both the television and the fort! But he wasn't being nice! He was just... making sure that your pillow fort didn't suck! Because he'd be in there too! (Because he was your first! Your man!) And he didn't want to be in a pillow fort that sucked!

> Mammon had no idea what a pillow fort was. But he wasn't going to tell you that.

> He plugged up the television and hung up the canopy of the pillow fort, layering the blankets and cloth (and why had Mammon been hoarding so much good cloth?) and attaching them to the part of the ceiling where Lucifer usually strung him from so they were nice and secure.

> Your excitement and joy was rubbing off of him and he found himself looking forward to seeing the end result of the pillow fort the two of you were building together.

> Meanwhile you placed some futons and thin mattresses — whatever you had lying around, really — on the ground before covering them up with a few layers of plush and fluffy blankets for the base of the pillow fort.

This was when Belphegor trailed down the stairs, sleepily rubbing at his eye with one hand and holding his pillow in the other, pausing in his step when he saw caught sight of the utter mess you and Mammon had turned the common area to.

⭒☆━━━━━━━ʕ -ᴥ-ʔ━━━━━━━☆⭒

> Belphegor's first thought was honestly to just leave you guys be. It looked like more trouble than it was worth and he couldn't really muster up the energy for it.

> But then you smiled at Mammon so openly and so sweetly, thanking him for his help, that Belphegor suddenly sound himself standing next to you, arms around you and his chin resting on your head.

> "MC... what are you doing?" he asked, ignoring Mammon's demands for him to keep his hands to himself.

> "I'm building a pillow fort!"

> Despite having a demon hanging off of you, you move with a practiced ease as you shifted the futons and mattresses around to ensure that there were neither bumps nor gaps in your base.

> With a similarly practiced ease, Belphie nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder.

> "What's a pillow fort?"

> You briefly explain to Belphie what a pillow fort was (pretending to ignore how Mammon listened in on the conversation as well): a construction made out of blankets, pillows, and other soft material resembling a sort of den or nest. It was supposedly very comfortable and cozy.

> This piqued Belphegor's interest. He asks if he can help. He wants to be praised too, like how you praised Mammon.

> You tell him to bring all the pillows he's willing to part with. This was something he could do. He had a lot of pillows, after all, and he would ask Beel to help him drag them all down.

> While Belphegor went to retrieve his pillows, you already had a few beanbags chairs that you bought specifically for this day that you placed around the fort. You piled your pillows together with them to create a few sizeable and steady piles to either lean back or bury yourself in.

Eventually, Beelzebub came down the stairs along with Belphegor, arms pull of pillows and cushions.

⭒☆━━━━━━━ᙙᙖ━━━━━━━☆⭒

> After setting down the pillows and watching Belphegor lie face first into a pile and fall asleep, Beelzebub's attention was immediately drawn to the pile of snacks you had set aside for your movie night.

> First, there were the snacks you had specifically imported from the human realm. Popcorn with various flavors, marshmallows, potato chips, ice cream... you even got yourself two buckets of cotton candy!

> Apart from those, you had spent the day cooking large servings of mac n' cheese, mashed potatoes, and warm soup (in a thermos!). You had also baked cookies and although half of them "mysteriously" disappeared when you were cooling them, you still had quite a sizeable serving left.

> Why did you have so much food? Because you planned ahead of course! From the very beginning, you knew that even though pillow fort movie night was something you planned for yourself, your wonderful, beloved, amazing, clingy demonic housemates would somehow become a part of it.

> The only thing you weren't sure was the number of demons joining you.

> It didn't matter though, considering Beelzebub was here.

> You had to stand between Beelzebub and the food, sternly holding your ground and talking him down. It was an extremely difficult endeavor, considering the lethality of Beelzebub's puppy eyes, but you pulled through. Just barely.

> You lied. You gave Beel the mashed potatoes.

> When you noticed that Beelzebub was still eyeing the rest of your food, you firmly told him that the food was saved for your movie night and that if he wanted to eat it, he had to wait until then.

> "When will movie night start?" he asked.

> "When the pillow fort is set up," you replied.

> +1 helper, get!

> He helped with most of the heavy lifting, bringing the high-backed dining chairs to act as boundary wall for the fort, tying the blankets to them.

> Your pillow fort was taking shape!

> However, it seemed a little too dark. You had completely forgotten to order the fairy lights you planned to use as mood lighting. Thankfully, you know someone who definitely had what you were looking for.

⭒☆━━━━━━━₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ♥━━━━━━━☆⭒

When you knocked on Asmodeus' door to get some of his charmed candles (spelled to keep the flame to themselves! no more burns! no more accidental fires! no more fire hazards! get yours from akuzon now, for only—), he demanded to know what it was for.

> "Is it for a date? A candlelit dinner, maybe?" Asmodeus sidled up next to you, wrapping his arms around one of yours and snuggling close. "Or perhaps to set a romantic, sensual mood for certain... activities?"

> Was it just you or was Asmodeus' grip getting tighter?

> "Since when did you get a paramour anyway," he pouted. "I thought we were friends? Close friends, even! We're supposed to tell each other our secrets!"

> "It's for my pillow fort," you answered. "I'm making one downstairs with Mammon, Belphie, and Beel. You're welcome to join if you want to."

> "I'd love to join!" Asmodeus let go of your arm to grab his candles. "Scented or non-scented?"

> "Non-scented please, we'll be eating snacks while we watch the movie."

> Asmodeus gasped. "A movie? We're going to have a movie date? Ooh, I want to sit next to you! Can I?"

> "Uhhh, I don't mind, but the others might—"

> "It's settled!"

> Asmodeus looked so happy that you decided that you had to make space for him by your side, even if you were faced with ten thousand puppy eyes.

Just then, you saw that Leviathan's door was open and he was looking at the both of you with a pinched expression on his face.

⭒☆━━━━━━━～>º˵)ニニニニ>━━━━━━━☆⭒

> When he realized that you were looking at him, he panicked.

> "MC!!" he blurted out. "I wasn't eavesdropping!"

> His face was flushed red but you noticed that his gaze was still enviously fixed onto you and Asmodeus.

> "Do you want to join us in the pillow fort as well?" you offered. Levi's face turned redder and his grip on the door tightened. Ahh Levi, you're warping the wood.

> "I don't need to join in on your normie activities!" he spat out and then immediately regretted it. "I mean, I don't need to, but I don't mind it! Since you've asked, I suppose I can join in on your movie night and pillow fort!"

> "You don't have to if you don't want to," you said. Half of you was trying to be nice. The other half just wanted to see Levi flustered. You couldn't help yourself. A flustered Levi was a cute Levi!

> Levi mumbled something under his breath. You blinked and leaned in closer.

> "What did you say?"

> "I said I want to!"

> You grinned at him and discovered a brand new shade of red.

> You reached out to link your arms with Asmodeus and Levi.

> "C'mon, let's get back down. The pillow fort should almost be done by now!"

> "Oh right MC," Asmodeus suddenly said. "I've been meaning to ask; what exactly is a pillow fort?"

> "..."

When you were done explaining to Asmodeus and Levi the intricacies of building the Ideal Pillow Fort, you saw Satan standing in the common area, looking curiously at the fort.

⭒☆━━━━━━━(=🝦 ༝ 🝦=)━━━━━━━☆⭒

> You swear, if you had to explain what a pillow fort was one more time—

> "Hello MC, is this... a blanket fort?" Satan asked.

> Oh thank god.

> Or the devil?

> Religion is hard when you're in hell.

> "Yes! I call it a pillow fort but blanket fort is one of its names as well."

> "I see."

> Satan had come across blanket forts — or pillow forts, as MC called them — before in some of the human romance novels he's read. Usually they were used during terribly intimate moments between the romantic leads, or between two very close friends.

> Huddling together and trading hushed whispers, intertwined fingers and shoulders brushing against each other, a small part of Satan has always wanted to try it out with someone.

> Try it out with you, you, it could only be you.

> But he hadn't known how to make a blanket fort and if he were every to do something like that with you, he would want it to be perfect.

> He couldn't find any books on the subject of making blanket forts either so he eventually gave up on his fantasy.

> But now, here it was. The blanket fort.

> It was a little bigger than how he imagined it to be, but it was fine.

> There were also more people compared to how things were in his fantasy but that was also fine.

> He took careful notes in his head. Next time, he would be able to replicate a blanket fort and hopefully you would be willing to share it with him.

> "Would you like to join in?" you asked because Satan was really eyeing the pillow fort with a strange intensity.

> "If you don't mind," Satan replied with a smile.

It was just then that Lucifer came home.

⭒☆━━━━━━━[ᓀ˵◇˵ᓂ]━━━━━━━☆⭒

> "When you said that you wanted free reign over the common area, this was not what I had in mind," Lucifer commented.

> "Haha," you said. And because you already had like six out of seven of the brothers agreeing to join you in your fort, you decided to test your chances with Lucifer. After all, it would suck for him to feel left out. "We're all gonna watch a movie together, would you like to watch with us?"

> There was a long pause as Lucifer looked at you, at the pillow fort, at his brothers, and then at his suitcase.

> Just as you were sure that Lucifer was going to turn down your invitation, he sighed and gave you a small smile.

> Tiny, miniscule, microscopic softening of the eyes, but you knew him well enough to tell that it was a smile.

⭒☆━━━━━━━✿ᏊㅇꈊㅇᏊ✿━━━━━━━☆⭒

> It took a while but eventually you all got yourself settled into the pillow fort. It wasn't a very tight fit, but it certainly was cozy with your clingy demon housemates squeezed tight all around you.

> Each of them had to have a part of their body touching yours, like you were their life source and it brought back memories to the time you went to the beach and, in the hotel, they all formed a circle around you to sleep like some sort of deranged ritual.

> Still, they wouldn't be your beloved demon housemates without all their oddities and quirks and you love them all dearly for it.

> It also helps that not all of them ran hot; some of them actually ran cold so you didn't have to worry about getting overheated anytime soon.

> Anyway, you were comfortable and once you made sure everyone else was too, you loaded your movie and hit play.

"I'd never given much thought to how I would die—"

[obeymeoasis]

What MC Packs On A Picnic For The Boys

You’re out shopping in the early morning for groceries and realize just how lovely the weather is today. It’s warm but there’s a slight breeze in the air, which is a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the past few weeks. You decide to plan a lunch picnic for all of the brothers out in the garden. They’re about to find out why you consider food to be one of your love languages.

Lucifer

For Lucifer, you pack cucumber sandwiches. You lay down thinly-sliced cucumbers and a layer of lemon-dill cream cheese onto soft white bread with the crusts removed. The sandwiches are light and dainty, perfect for Lucifer who tends to avoid heavy lunches.

You nervously watch him take a bite and then sigh in relief when you see his eyes widen slightly, which is as surprised as Lucifer is ever going to get.

"Pet, these are delicious." He dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and you chuckle at how elegant he looks while sitting on the picnic blanket.

Mammon

For Mammon, you grill up some thinly sliced steak, bell peppers, and onions. You add fresh guacamole and pico de gallo before wrapping everything up in a warm tortilla. You hope this will satisfy Mammon, who prefers to have a heartier lunch.

You watch him take an enormous bite and laugh at how he has managed to get guacamole all over his mouth. "Treasure, this is amazing! Probably the best thing you've made me so far."

You smile, incredibly pleased, but have to turn away from Mammon as he eagerly digs into his meal and starts spilling bits of food over the blanket.

Leviathan

For Levi, you prepare a fresh batch of sushi rice. You take some in your hand and add spicy salmon filling before shaping it into onigiri. You decide to make another one with umeboshi, pickled plum, and wrap both of them in seaweed before sprinkling them with sesame seeds.

When Levi sees the onigiri he practically squeals with delight. “MC! Did you really make these for me? These look just like the ones Ruri-chan’s human classmate made for her when they went on their school trip!”

He takes tons of pictures but refuses to eat the onigiri, saying that he’s going to keep them safe forever. Only when you promise to make them for him whenever he wants does he take a bite, munching happily.

Satan

For Satan, you roast some chicken, carrots, and potatoes in the oven with rosemary, thyme, and garlic for seasoning. With the drippings from the chicken you make a quick gravy to go on top. 

You laugh at how proper Satan looks, sitting with his legs crossed on the picnic blanket and using his knife and fork to eat delicate bites of his meal. He closes his eyes after a mouthful, something he only does when he’s really enjoying his food.

He reaches over to gently stroke your cheek. “This is absolutely wonderful, love. Thank you for cooking.”

Asmodeus

For Asmo, you make penne pasta with grilled shrimp. The combined mixture of tomatoes and heavy cream in the sauce make a lovely pink color, and you garnish with fresh basil and grated pecorino cheese.

Asmo practically lets the food go cold because of how many pictures he’s taking. “Darling, this is stunning! So cute! Will you cook other things for me too so I can post them on my Devilgram?”

Once he finally takes a bite of his meal he showers you with compliments, saying how impressed he is with your skills. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek for your efforts. 

Beelzebub

For Beel, you make a Shepherd’s Pie in a large casserole dish, usually meant for serving dinners. You brown and season ground beef and combine it with corn, peas, and carrots. The mixture is topped with creamy mashed potatoes and grated cheese before being baked in the oven to a golden brown. 

You hope the meal is hearty enough to satisfy Beel. And even though you’ve seen him eat before, you can’t help but watch in amazement as he practically inhales the whole thing, even though it’s still quite warm.

He smiles at you and rubs his stomach. “MC, this was really good. Will you make more for me next time?”

Belphegor

You know Belphie is going to be asleep for most of the picnic. It would be difficult for him to overcome his sleepiness with the warm weather and cozy atmosphere. You make him a simple smoothie with blueberries, bananas, almond milk, and honey.

He takes a few sips gratefully before laying his head on your lap. He practically purrs as your thread your fingers in his hair and lightly scratch his scalp.

Before he drifts off to sleep he looks at you and whispers "Thanks, MC. You always take good care of me."

The brothers are horrified to learn that because of how much effort it had taken to prepare all their meals, you didn't have any time to pack anything for yourself. They take turns feeding you bites from their meals and everything is washed down with glasses of iced peach tea and strawberry lemonade. Feeling the wind in your hair and hearing the rustling of the leaves in the garden you close your eyes, feeling utterly happy and content.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

We Met at the Coffee

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x Short! F! Reader 

Warnings: Fluff. I have never written for Flip or and Adam Driver character but I was inspired with this weeks photo. @clydesducktape​ let’s see how it goes. 

“You okay over there?” you call out to the man looking between the cans of coffee and mumbling to himself. His head snaps up and you feel the hum in the air as your eyes meet, and he cracks a grin. 

“Is it that obvious?” he chuckles, standing up from his space kneeled down on the ground. You have to look up because he towers over you, and you step closer looking down at the cans. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling shy before clearing your throat, “can I help? Did your wife send you with a grocery list?” You glance down at the paper clutched between his oversized hand, the man is a giant compared to you. 

“No wife to speak of, just the guys at the station. It’s my turn this month to do the grocery run and all they wrote was coffee. I honestly never realized there was so many different kinds.” 

You giggle down at the paper that obviously was written by a man, based on the generic list before glancing back at the coffee. You bend down and grab the familiar red and black can and hand it to him, “you can’t go wrong with Folgers, it’s the original coffee brand. You know the best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup,” you sing and then cringe glancing at the floor. You keep hoping the floor with open up and swallow you whole but no such luck. 

He chuckles and you risk a glance up at him, seeing him smile down at you. You clear your throat, “what station? Are you a firefighter or police officer?” 

“I’m a detective, with the Colorado Springs P.D.” 

“That must be exciting,” you smile and walk back over to your cart, “you must see some pretty amazing things.” You feel your heart flutter when he steps in time beside you, his cart pushing through the aisle. 

“It can be, it’s an awful lot of paperwork, long hours, it can be really lonely sometimes.” He looks surprised when you put a hand on his arm. 

“I imagine it’s got to be awful lonely,” you whisper, both of your carts stopping next to the cream of chicken soup. “Maybe- maybe I can be your friend. We can go grocery shopping or get lunch. I just moved here a couple months ago from Arizona and I understand feeling lonely.” 

He nods, silent, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes, and you hold your breath when he bends down closer, “I think that sounds really nice. I’d like to have a new friend.” 

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek and you tremble, the words slipping out without your consent, “you just want to be my friend, Detective?” 

“Flip,” he mumbles before clearing his throat, “my name’s Flip Zimmerman.” 

“Flip,” you roll the name around in your mouth, and whisper back your own, your toes curling in anticipation as he whispers it back almost like a caress. 

“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?” he bends closer and whispers in your ear. His lips graze the skin of your cheek and you shiver, and nod. As if you could resist. 

“I’d love to, Flip, if you want you can come over to my place for dinner. Since I already was planning to cook tonight.” 

He turns to face you, his lips but a inch away, “and what’s on the menu, doll?” 

“Roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans...I could even serve you a slice of my cherry pie.” He grins and nods, before rising up to his full height. 

“It’s a date. I got to finish up this shopping and then drop it by the station, can you write down your address?” 

You pull out a pen and paper from your purse, quickly scribbling down the address with a little heart. You hand it to him and he pockets it, “I’ll see you tonight.” You frown when he walks away, disappointed that you didn’t get to taste his lips against yours. But that quickly fades when he turns back around and strides right up to you, taking your face in his large hands and kissing you softly. 

He’s warm and so big in your arms as your wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling him bent almost in half to kiss you. When he pulls away you chase after him with a smile, and hold a hand to your chest to slow down the beating of your heart. He brushes his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to the tip, “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.” 

[plant-flwrs]

(2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

similar shadows // george weasley

entire request:  (1/2) okay I'm finally here sending the ask. So can I have a reader x George (idk who else to ask for). So the reader is Draco's twin but in Ravenclaw. Her and Draco are really close and Draco is very protective over her but not overbearing. She's shy, book nerdy and socially awkward so she tends to stay with Draco; Draco understands her (cue sweet brother). (2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

masterlist!

a/n: ugh i love writing draco as a brother even if his characterization is completely inaccurate for it, he just has such little brother energy to me (and a warning, i took a lot of creative liberties for draco’s personality in this, i couldn’t resist it. it just made the brother/sister dynamic sm better in my opinion). also included flirty!george in this just bc i love it. i hope u like this, tysm for the request!!

summary: Living in the Malfoy shadow conditioned you to behave a certain way, avoid certain things. But, once your able to use the Quidditch pitch to finally prove you are something different than your last name, everything seems to fall into place. You even catch a certain Weasley’s eye.

(4.9k)

------

The air in Malfoy Manor was always thick; thick with unsaid words, hateful tension, and awful regrets. It was a blessing for you to leave and go to Hogwarts every year.

The train ride was something you looked forwards to. Curled up in the window seat, because Draco always let you have the window seat, with whatever book you were reading at the moment. You tuned out Draco’s usual complaining to Pansy and Blaise, indulging yourself in the novel perched on your lap.

The trip never lasted long enough, though, and soon you were shuffled into Hogwarts. Draco gave your shoulder one last bump and a weak smile before you went to sit at the Ravenclaw table. You tilted your head back, gazing up at the ceiling with wonder in your eyes. The Ravenclaw table was filling up, and you managed a seat closest to the professors’ table. Your eyes scanned the Slytherin table until they found the familiar head of platinum hair you were looking for. Even if he wasn’t with you, just seeing Draco made you feel a little safer.

Dinner went quickly with your head shoved in a book, and soon you were excused to your common rooms. Draco slid away from the mass of green ties, walking with you to your common room. The two of you walked slowly, falling from the crowd to stroll by yourselves.

“I heard that the Ravenclaw Quidditch team needs a new seeker this year,” Draco started, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, “maybe you should try out.”

“I don’t know,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, “Quidditch was always your thing.”

“You’re a great flyer, Y/n,” Draco glanced at your hesitant expression, “look, it can’t hurt to try out.”

“Maybe,” you offered him, enjoying the way he smiled proudly once you gave in.

He wrapped a brotherly arm around your shoulders, marching you up the endless amount of stairs to the Ravenclaw common room. 

The next day of lessons came far too soon, and your timetable clutched in your shaky hands was giving you a headache. You looked up, seeing a familiar room number, but upon looking back at your timetable, you realized you were on the completely wrong side of the castle.

You turned on your heal, starting down a new corridor. Glancing at your watch, you saw you were already late for lessons. While your eyes were off the hallway in front of you, you hit the hard chest of someone coming your way.

“In a hurry, Malfoy?” the voice said as you both stumbled back.

George Weasley stood in front of you, a playful and happy expression on his handsome features. You knew he was only joking when he called you ‘Malfoy’, but you really did hate it. People called Draco that, and you didn’t often like to be associated with the reputation your father had curated with the last name.

“You two!” someone called from the end of the hallway.

George groaned, looking over your shoulder, “Great.”

“Detention, tonight, my office,” Filch told the two of you, pointing a finger in your faces.

You pulled back, eyeing his finger suspiciously. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but as George looked at you he noticed you were doing the signature Malfoy sneer.

“Thanks,” George said sarcastically, bumping your shoulder as he passed you.

You took a deep breath, starting off to find your class again.

“How were your classes?” Draco slumped next to you on the bench, pulling out a piece of what you thought might be pumpkin bread.

He tore off a chunk, eating it slowly. He held a piece out to you and you accepted it gratefully.

“Awful,” you said simply, putting your head to rest against your hand, “I couldn’t find half of them.”

“You should have told me, I could have helped,” Draco said, looking a little annoyed at you.

“You had your own classes to worry about,” you defended, taking another piece of pumpkin bread from him.

Draco rolled his eyes, looking around the courtyard until his eyes fell on Harry Potter sitting with a few other Gryffindors.

“Given any other thought about Quidditch? Tryouts are next week,” he mentioned, tearing his eyes away from Harry.

“I don’t know, depends on how hard my classes are,” you made up an excuse.

“Your classes are never hard for you,” Draco teased, giving you the rest of the bread, “and besides, I think you have a real chance of being a better seeker than Potter.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain the surprised laughter that bubbled from your chest.

“Yeah right!”

Draco scoffed, joining in your infectious laughter. You finished off the bread in your hand and reluctantly went to serve your detention with Filch.

You had never had detention before, so nerves racked your body. You looked around anxiously, twisting your hands behind your back.

“Malfoy,” George called to you from the end of the hallway.

You turned around to look at him, and waited while he jogged to catch up with you.

“You’re actually going to the detention? Figured you would have thrown a fit to Dumbledore to get out of it,” he said rudely, giving you a critical glance.

You ignored him, biting your tongue. You walked a few paces ahead of him, also ignoring his scoff.

You opened the door to Filch’s office, not bothering to wait for George. You sat on one of the old chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Filch’s sneer to turn into words.

“You two are going to polish the frames on all the portraits in this corridor,” he growled, placing two toothbrushes and one rag on his desk.

“All of them?” George repeated, sounding bothered.

“All of ‘em,” Filch said, his mouth turning up in a smile at the sight of misery.

You took a toothbrush and the rag, standing from your seat. You wordlessly walked out into the hallway and went all the way to one end. You kneeled, getting to work on a low hanging portrait. The portrait was a family sitting at a dining room table, mounds of food piled in front of them. There was a mother bouncing a baby on her knee, lifting food into it’s mouth. A young boy sat across from her, shoveling mashed potatoes into his small mouth. The father at the head of the table watched them both happily, cutting the large chicken at the center of the table. They all stopped what they were doing at the sight of you crouched in front of them, but once they saw you begin to clean, their cautious looks were replaced with thankful ones.

You watched the family, smiling faintly as they began eating again.

George had went to the opposite side of the hallway, and you began moving towards each other as the sun dwindled from the sky and candles dimly illuminated the hall. Soon, you were a few feet apart, both scrubbing with heavy hands. You moved onto the next portrait, craning your neck to look at it’s place much higher than you could reach.

You stood on the tips of your toes, extending your arm as far as it would go. You couldn’t even reach the bottom of the frame. Suddenly, George’s taller frame was hovering next to you, watching with an entertained smirk as you balanced on your toes. 

“Need some help?” he drawled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

You fell to stand flat on your feet, nodding your head shyly. He chuckled, moving past you and effortlessly cleaning the frame.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the rise in his shirt that exposed the beginnings of his toned stomach. You watched the way his biceps flexed under his sleeves as his hand moved back and forth against the portrait. Your eyes drifted back to the wall, sitting with your legs crossed to clean a portrait closer to the floor.

“You don’t talk as much as Draco does,” George said suddenly, looking down at you from his position above you.

You didn’t respond, only giving him a quizzical expression.

“Every time I see him he’s ranting or complaining about something or other,” George continued, playfully smiling.

“Complaining is one of his hobbies,” you teased, smiling at the sound of George’s chuckle.

“So you’re his twin?” he asked, dropping his hand from the portrait and leaning against the wall again to look at you.

“Yeah,” you said, still focused on the portrait.

“You guys don’t seem too similar,” he said, furrowing his brows.

“Well, are you and Fred too similar?” you quipped, and he chuckled again.

“ ‘Spose we aren’t,” he said, turning back to the portrait, “good thing really. Gives me the opportunity to be the better one of us.”

You giggled at George’s joke, and stood from your spot on the floor.

He handed you the rag and you gave one last swipe to the portrait you just scrubbed. You placed your hands on your hips, looking down the hallway and admiring your work.

“Guess that’s it,” George said, twisting his brush in his fingers.

“Guess it is,” you said sheepishly.

You turned to walk back to Filch’s office, George trailing behind you.

Something about that little interaction made your spirits higher for an entire week. You didn’t know why, but the idea of making George Weasley laugh gave you some confidence that you lacked before. Your entire life at Hogwarts, people assumed you were like Draco. You fell in Draco’s shadow and people associated you with him and his mean tendencies. When you spoke with George, you knew he could relate to you. You knew he fell in Fred’s shadow some times, everyone knew that. Fred was the louder one, the one who usually had a girlfriend cheering for him at his Quidditch matches. George was quieter and thoughtful. You felt drawn to George.

You riding the coattails of that minor interaction with George was the only thing willing your legs to move towards the Quidditch pitch. Well, that and Draco’s firm grip on your shoulders making sure you didn’t turn and run away.

Draco had written to your mother after his first mention of Quidditch to you, and she sent you everything you needed with no hesitation. You gripped your new Firebolt in your shaky hands and tugged at the heavy pads wrapped around your forearms. Once you stood in front of the Ravenclaw team captain, you bent over slightly to adjust your knee pads. Draco’s hands left your shoulders.

“Good luck, you’re gonna do great.” he mumbled into your ear, glancing around to make sure no one else heard his kind words. He flashed you a thumbs up as he walked to the elevated grass near the goal posts, sitting down to watch.

You pulled your gloves on tighter, afraid they would fall off and affect your playing. You gulped as the captains eyes scanned you critically.

“Malfoy?” he asked, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Yes?” you squeaked, gripping your broom tighter.

“Oh,” he said, a pleasantly surprised look on his face, “nothing, just didn’t expect to see you here.”

You faked a smile at him, biting your tongue. You were already here, why not try to make a good impression?

You followed all the directions. The drills they had you do were nothing compared to what Draco and you used to do in the garden during the summer. You easily flew laps around everyone else, a combination of your impressive broom, and your skills alone.

The captain had reservations about you, eyeing Draco suspiciously as he cheered for you from the ground. However, after your third successful time catching the snitch, he didn’t care much about your last name. 

He told you that you made the team a few days later, telling you when to show up for practice, and when the next game was. It was Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff, and your captain sounded quite confident about it. So did Draco.

“You’re going to kill them!” he said enthusiastically, not hiding any of his excitement as you two walked alone along bank of the Black Lake.

You giggled at his enthusiasm, unable to stop the confidence bubbling in your chest at the thought of you catching the snitch during your first Quidditch match.

“Well, it is Hufflepuff,” you joked, shoving his shoulder with yours, “I doubt they’ll put up too much of a fight.”

Draco made an ‘ooo’ noise, his shoulders jostling with laughter.

“Trash talking already? Before your first match?”

You smiled sheepishly, not often getting to talk this freely with anyone. You enjoyed your private talks with Draco. He didn’t have to put on a hard façade, and you didn’t have to put on a painfully nice one. You were both free to be yourselves, and you hoped one day you would have someone, who wasn’t your brother, to be yourself around.

You had gone over the plays tirelessly with your captain. You didn’t eat for three days, too nervous to find food appealing. You had to force down some eggs and toast before your match, just so you wouldn’t pass out. 

You pulled at your gloves uncomfortably, fidgeting with every detail on your perfect broom just to make sure it was all in order. You stepped onto the field, hearing the roaring crowd. Everyone in the school was there; it was the first match of the year. 

You felt your eggs and toast fighting their way up your throat, but you swallowed hard, willing them to stay put. Your chin shook with the intensity in which you clenched your jaw, eyes darting everywhere at once.

“You’ve got this,” your captain slapped you on the back, jolting you forward a bit. You stumbled, using your broom as support to catch yourself from falling on your face.

Once on the field, you hovered easily face to face with the Hufflepuff seeker. Your entire body was shaking with nerves, and just before the whistle was blown, you heard the entire Slytherin and Ravenclaw student section joined in chanting your name. Your first name.

You smiled widely, enjoying the change. You were being recognized for more than your last name, for more than your family crest. You weren’t the girl who bore a striking resemblance to the meanest boy in your grade, you were more than the Malfoy’s blonde hair and grey eyes. You were you. You were Y/n.

The game was over faster than it started. The chasers in blue had only scored four goals on the Hufflepuff's before you caught the snitch, diving down to the ground with your hands wrapped tightly around the little golden orb.

Lee Jordan screamed from his spot on the teacher’s balcony, and you thought it would have made the ears bleed of anyone within 100 feet of him. Your team huddled around you, lifting you from your feet and throwing you into the air. You never let go of the snitch, keeping it clutched in your hand until you spotted Draco strolling over to you on the field. You tapped the shoulder of your captain, and he told everyone to put you down. People jostled your shoulders, clasping your back and sending varied praises your way. You nearly felt like crying, you were so happy.

You ran to Draco, tossing your broom cautiously on the ground. You jumped into his chest, his unsuspecting hands still tucked into his pants pockets. He made a disgruntled noise, stumbling back as you wrapped your sweaty arms around his neck.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your face a flushed pink.

“I know!” he screamed back, smiling at your enthusiasm. 

“Let me see it,” he said, putting you on your feet and picking up your hand with his.

You let his palm hold yours, opening your fingers slowly. The snitch stayed put, resting still in your gloved hand. Draco’s mouth cracked into a smile, his pale face illuminating with happiness and pride. He was proud of his sister.

“I knew you would do it,” he said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders again and bringing you into a suffocating hug.

You trekked up the hill to the castle, blue surrounding you in a huddle. The only thing out of place was Draco’s all black suit he wore, but it didn’t matter. You walked side by side, and no one questioned his presence, because you just caught the snitch.

“Nice game,” you heard a voice from behind you, falling into step with you.

You looked to your left, seeing the tall frame of George Weasley. He wore a knit beanie over his ginger hair, and a sweater with his initial on it. You beamed at him, your cheeks still flushed from the excitement.

“Thanks,” you said, not taking your eyes off of him until he looked away, laughing.

“Who knew you had it in ya?” he joked, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“I did,” Draco mumbled from your other side. You turned to him, sending him a warning glance, and then looked back at George.

“Well, the Hufflepuff's certainly didn’t,” you said, referencing the way their seeker had barely even glanced at you when the game was starting.

George laughed again, and you felt your knees go a little weak. Who’s wouldn’t at the sight of an older and handsome boy laughing at a joke you made?

“Not looking forward when we have to go against Ravenclaw in a few weeks,” George said, an impressed and admiring look on his face, “you’ll definitely give Harry a run for his money.”

Draco snorted from beside you, and you sent a sharp elbow to his side. He groaned, moving a hand to nurse the spot. You kept your dazed eyes locked on Georges. George’s eyes flickered to a semi-hunched over Draco, his smile widening. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, smirking at you. 

You watched his long legs carry him away, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Don’t tell me you fancy a Wea-” Draco started, but you winded your elbow up as a warning and he stopped suddenly.

“Shut up,” you said, still watching the way George moved through the crowd as if he was untouchable.

It was in that moment that you felt normal. You didn’t feel ostracized or different. You felt like a normal teenager with a normal annoying brother, playing a normal sport, and having a normal schoolgirl crush. Your smile felt like it would never leave you that night.

And it didn’t, it only managed to grow larger. You felt two large hands clasp around your shoulders at breakfast. You were stuffing your face, finally finding food appealing again, and with cheeks filled with food you turned and locked eyes with the always handsome George Weasley.

You stopped chewing, food sitting docile in your mouth. Your eyes widened, and you brought a hurried hand to cover your mouth as you began to chew again, ducking your head slightly as George looked at you, amused.

“Just wanted to check and see how the post-win glory was treating you,” he said, straddling the bench next to you.

You swallowed hurriedly, taking a sip of water from your goblet to wash down the food. You smiled nervously at him.

“Well, I don’t feel too different,” you said, grinning.

He laughed, resting an elbow on the table and pushing his hair back slightly with his large hand. You gulped as you watched his biceps flex at the movement, admiring his strong jaw as his head turned into his hand.

“Really?” he teased, a crooked grin on his lips as he shamelessly looked you up and down.

“I got my appetite back,” you said, buttering up your third piece of toast and putting it on your plate, “couldn’t eat for days before the match.”

“Harry gets like that,’ George said casually, “Fred and Ron eat more than ever before a match.”

You giggled, and George smiled at the sight.

“What about you?” you asked him, meeting his brown eyes with your grey ones.

George seemed taken aback, like no one often asked about him.

“Oh,” he said, smiling shyly at you, “I don’t know. I guess I eat less before matches.”

You nodded your head, and George cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Alright,” he began to stand, looking down at you, “just wanted to check in on ya.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing wildly as he sauntered back over to the Gryffindor table.

Practice only got harder and longer, and soon, you barely had any time to sleep. You managed to get most of your homework done in class, but you still had some extra assignments creeping up on you. You spent most of your nights on the pitch, and the evenings grew colder. Every night, though, you could glance to the green student section and see Draco huddled in some type of fur, watching you practice. He often brought his own homework up there with him, using it to pass the time when you weren’t doing anything particularly impressive.

Draco met you on the pitch as the moon illuminated the grass around you. You drank some water, sweating under your thick robes.

The two of you walked back to the castle, and Draco slid you a roll of parchment from his bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, unrolling the paper.

“It’s your potions essay,” he said, “I knew you’d forget to do it, so I took care of it for you.”

“Thank you,” you sighed out, feeling tremendously relieved at the thought of one less assignment to to, “I feel exhausted.”

“You look it,” Draco mumbled, and you hit his arm with the tightly rolled parchment. 

You made it into the castle, the halls squeaking with the sound of your teammates walking to the Ravenclaw dorm. Draco followed you, the two of you breaking off from your team. He carried your parchment for you as you untied all the pads and equipment hugging your body.

“Both the Malfoy’s in one place? To what do I owe this pleasure?” you turned, seeing George Weasley slipping from behind a tapestry hanging on the wall.

“Where did you come from? Is there something behi-” Draco lifted the tapestry carefully, and while he moved, George replaced his spot next to you.

Draco felt the hard wall behind the tapestry and you watched him with a smirk on your face as his hands continued to inspect where George had managed to come from.

“Hello,” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi,” you said shyly, painfully aware of your wind-thrown hair and sweating face.

“What are you two up to?”

“He’s just walking me back to my dorm,” you said, still fiddling with one part of the pad on your arm that always gave you trouble.

“Well, I’m sure he needs his beauty sleep. Think I could manage getting you back safely?” George purred from beside you, speaking so Draco couldn’t hear him as you watched your brother hit his knuckles on the hard stone wall.

“Could you? Pretty big shoes to fill,” you joked, pointing at Draco’s fancy dress shoes that were obviously smaller than George’s.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in those shoes,” George joked back, and at the sound of your loud giggle, Draco stopped looking at the wall.

“What’s so funny?” he snarled, sending a foe intimidating look at George.

“Draco,” you said sternly and warningly, “George is going to walk me to my dorm, you can go and get some rest.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at you, weighing his options. He could give up easily and leave you to a presumably awkward walk alone with George, or he could embarrass you a little. He chose the latter.

“Alone? Are you mental-”

“I swear to god Draco,” you cut him off, the sheer tone of your voice making his eyes widen a little in fear.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, adjusting the tight sleeves of his dress shirt.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” he cast a glance at George, looking stern, “In one piece?”

George was smiling like a fool, suppressing a giggle at the interaction. Draco shoved your parchment into your chest, and you held onto it as he stalked off.

“Thank you, Draco! Love you!” you called after him in a sing-song and sisterly voice.

He waved his hand, back still towards you, and you and George laughed.

You two started walking again, falling easily into step with each other, You struggled holding your parchment without crushing it as you still worked on that one part of your arm padding.

“Do you need some help?” George asked from beside you, offering his hand out.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, handing him the parchment as the two of you began up the stairs.

He watched you for a moment, your delicate fingers struggling to untie a complicated knot.

“Here,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder to cease your walking. 

You stopped, and he took a step down so he was on a lower level of the stairs. You were eye level, and his brown eyes bore into yours as he waited for you to hold your hand out. You did, and he crouched to place the scroll on the step next to him. He returned to your height, his strong fingers going to your arm.

He held your hand for a moment, pulling it to the side as he looked at the knot. His hand slid down your wrist, over the padding, and to the knot near your elbow. You kept your eyes on his hands, afraid that if you looked at his face you might explode.

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling like your lips would crack and fall off if you said anything more.

“Of course, darling,” he whispered back, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You felt your legs tremble, your entire body seemed to have fireworks shooting through its veins. You did everything in your power not to throw your head back and start giggling manically.

Soon, the padding was looser on your arm, and George held it as it fell off. He gave it to you, placing it gently in your outstretched hand. You took it, holding it by some of the string at the top. He turned you by your shoulders so you stood directly facing him. You felt your throat close a little.

He was bending his knees suddenly, crouching at your feet. His face was by your hips, and you felt your face burn red at the close proximity. You felt his long fingers working on the knee pads you still had on. One of his warm hands lay flat against your shin for support, as the other pulled easily at the string holding your kneepad on. Your fingers tightened around the arm pads you were holding, and once again you were willing yourself not to let out some sort of desperate giggle.

He rose, meeting your eyes.

“All better,” he mumbled, his voice deep.

He held your knee pads for you with one hand, and the other held onto your parchment. You both stood for a moment on the stairs like that, face to face at the same height. If you took a slightly deeper breath, your chest would have expanded and brushed against George’s. You took shallow breaths.

“Let’s go,” he said, but made no effort to move. He sounded entranced and dazed, and you caught his eyes flicker to your lips. You licked them nervously, not realizing what you were doing until George’s eyes followed your tongue gliding against your mouth. You saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and your eyes widened a little. 

You turned suddenly, going to take another step up the stairs. George’s strong hand wrapped around your wrist, steadying you as you stumbled back to the lower step. You nearly fell, but his strong chest was there to catch you. You were pulled against him and his arm wrapped around your lower waist. He looked at you for a second, and then pulled you down another step so you were on the same one as him. He bent his neck down, and you tilted your head up, your lips meeting in the middle.

One of his hands moved to wrap around the back of your neck, willing your face closer to his as if there was any space between you two. You heard the clatter of you knee pads as he set them aside a few feet away, and you dropped the arm pads you were holding. Your hands slid to rest on his chest, feeling the soft material of his sweater beneath your cold fingers. You pressed a little against him, his toned chest not that far from your touch. He smirked as you ran your nails down from his collar bones to dangerously close to the top of his belt. You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You both breathed deeply, lips parted.

“Draco’s gonna kill me,” you whispered with a small smile.

“You’re thinking about your brother right now?” George joked back, tucking a piece of your blonde hair behind your ear.

“Should I be thinking about your brother?”

George pulled away from you completely, his hearty laugh filling the small staircase you were in. You laughed too, picking up your padding.

George held the padding and your parchment in one hand, and you held both of your arm pads in one hand. He slipped his hand into yours, and the two of you walked up the stairs.

As you went, neither of you felt like you were in the shadow. George was his own person apart from Fred, with his own interests and his own jokes. You weren’t the brooding Malfoy, you were the girl who laughed and kissed boys in stairwells. 

[asmo-ds]

(1) okay so mc and dia are married, this is their first christmas as a married couple but dia is feeling very overwhelmed and stressed out (they have a pact since they're married and mc can feel to an extent how dia feels bc of it) bc he's basically the king of hell, so they suggest they go and spend christmas in the human realm at mc's house. and since mc is an average person they do normal person things, and they're just very domestic and cute.

Home For The Holidays

Diavolo x MC Fluff

Word Count: 1468

a/n: I really hope you like this I really enjoyed writing it! It was very relaxing and nice to imagine :)

Summary: Though he wants to celebrate the human holiday, Diavolo fears he would be offending his kingdom by celebrating a holy day; so his lovely spouse, MC, suggests they return to their home for the Holidays so he can truly feel the Christmas spirit that humans feel annually

Diavolo stared over his kingdom with sorrow as he drank a cup of hot cocoa. Little did he know his spouse stood in the doorway watching the mopey behavior he’d been showing for days.

MC knew how badly Diavolo had wanted to celebrate Christmas in the Devildom, but they also knew he couldn’t celebrate the birth of a religious figure in Hell. As they made their way towards the large demon he heard their footsteps he shook his head and put on a fake smile.

“Dia, you seem troubled,” MC wraps themselves around him, nuzzling his voluptuous chest with their cheek.

“Do not worry, my love, I was just lost in my thoughts I suppose,” he sighs heavily.

“You know, even demon princes need vacations sometimes, perhaps you could finally see my home in the human world and we could spend Christmas there! What better way to understand the human holiday than witnessing humans celebrating it!” Mc leans back to look at him, keeping their forearms resting on his broad shoulders. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he lifts up his spouse, spinning the, in the air with joy.

“You’re absolutely right! Then it is decided! Tomorrow morning we leave for the human world!” Diavolo loudly proclaims as he leaves kisses all over MC’s face. “BARBATOS,” he calls as he runs off.

“If anything happens to him in the human world,” MC spins on their heel to look at Lucifer who had been standing on the other side of the wall eavesdropping, “the punishment will be severe, MC.”

“... Lucifer I’m married to him you don’t have to threaten me like when we first started dating.” -

The couple emerged from a portal in front of a tiny home that resides in a quiet neighborhood, snow filling their vision which caused MC to groan.

“Shit I can’t even see the driveway - here, Dia, take the bags and this key and head inside I have to shovel before anything else,” Diavolo stares at them, astonished. He nods and opens the front door while MC grabs their shovel and begins to move snow away from their car and their access to the street.

“Demons aren’t built for the cold... so I’ve never thought of coming here during winter,” Diavolo walks back outside murmuring to himself as he watches his lover shovel from afar. He crouches down sticking his hand in the white that coats the doorstep, “Snow...” His eyes glimmer with joy as he brushes the snow around with his bare hand.

“Dia, dear! You’ll catch a cold like that!” MC falls to their knees taking Diavolo’s snowy hand in their own. They lift it up to their face and breathe hot air across the back of his fingers, rubbing the rest with their own cold hands to create heat. Diavolo admires their rosy nose and cheeks as they sniffle occasionally before he looks down at the spot he swept away. ‘Home Sweet Home’ the mat that had been previously hidden read and he smiled as he looked back at his spouse who was now shivering as they attempted to warm them up. He nuzzled his cold nose against their own lovingly before leaving a soft kiss on their lips.

“Come on, let’s head inside!” Dia drags MC to their feet and heads inside, abandoning MC’s mission to shovel their driveway.

When they get inside Diavolo finally takes a look at MC’s small home.

“Wow it’s so...small,” he says, making MC blush and wave their hand in an embarrassed matter.

“Sorry I know it’s not much we can totally head back to the castle if you’d like haha!” MC nervously laughs before Diavolo puts a hand on their cheek, both still cold from the outdoors.

“No no, my love, it is wonderful! It feels so homey and less like a workspace made to hold the responsibility of a whole realm,” he laughs, “I feel more at home here than I do at the castle to be completely honest.” He takes in the scent of MC as it now surrounds him.

“This was my childhood home- my mother and father passed away when I was a teen so I’ve lived on my own until you summoned me for the exchange program,” MC blushes as they look around at the home they’d left behind a few years before. 

“So your entire life was spent in this one home?” Diavolo looks at MC with a small smile. “Well, I’m honored you allowed me into such an important piece of you,” He gives a big goofy grin, and MC giggles.

“We’re married you, dork, of course, I’m going to give you all of me - no matter how small of a piece it may be I will share it with you.” 

After putting their things away MC realizes they have no food that hasn’t expired in the three years they’d been gone. “Oh, do you want to see a human world Grocery store, Dia?” His face brightens up as he nods enthusiastically.

They make their way to the grocery store, Diavolo constantly pointing at random human world winter things and expressing his joy to see them in person.

“Ah, MC, what is this?” He smiles pointing at a candy cane a man in a Santa costume was giving out for donations to some charity.

“A candy cane! Here try it- it’s sweet!” MC exclaims- knowing damn well that it was minty as all hell and their oblivious husband was about to get a very cold mouth instead of the sweetness he was expecting.

Their plan worked as Diavolo immediately spat out the minty treat in surprise, “What is this flavor?! We don’t have things that make our mouths cold where I’m from!” He shouts -  grabbing his water bottle and chugging it and spitting it out as the ice-cold water made contact with his minty mouth.

The whole time Diavolo was flipping out MC was crying with laughter as they watched their husband try and figure out how to get the cold sensation out of his mouth.

After they had finished grocery shopping (which took hours as Diavolo kept asking what every single food was) they headed back to MC’s home and MC offered to cook him a human world dinner that was typically served on Christmas.

Diavolo sat at the dining table as MC placed a plate in front of him with various human world foods he had yet to see.

“MC, what is this?! This mushy buttery stuff?!” He asks through a mouth full of mashed potatoes. “YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE BROWN MISHAPEN EGGS YOU GOT AT THE STORE TURNED INTO THIS?!”

“Yes Dia, they’re not eggs they’re potatoes and don’t talk with your mouth full,” MC giggles reaching over with a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth before placing a soft kiss on the freshly cleaned spot.

As they finished Diavolo offered to start a fire in MC’s fireplace as they set up blankets and pillows in front of the heat with a Christmas movie playing on the tv that hung above the fireplace. 

“Your cooking is very good, MC! Perhaps I should hire you to cook for me instead of Barbatos,” Diavolo pipes up with a hand on his tummy- rubbing the full organ softly.

“If you think my cooking is good wait until tomorrow. Tonight was Christmas eve so we stayed here but tomorrow you’ll get to meet my grandmother- she’s the one who taught me how to cook and I could never prepare.” Suddenly Diavolo sat straight up, staring down at the human.

“You really want me to meet your family?” He softly says looking as if he were about to cry. He was honestly so touched that MC trusted him enough to bring him home to their family.

“Yes of course! You’re my husband and I always talk about you, my grandfather seemed excited to meet you when I called yesterday to tell him I would be home this year-” MC is interrupted by slightly chapped lips on theirs.

They kiss the demon prince back and they lay there for a few minutes making out, relishing in each other’s passionate embrace.

Afterward, Diavolo lays back down, wrapping his arms around his spouse and holding them close. “MC, I am so completely and utterly in love with you, I couldn’t be happier to call you mine. Thank you for allowing me to come here with you. I haven’t felt so relaxed since my father left me as a young boy to carry the responsibility of all evil. I hope you will allow me to join you like this every year.”

“Of course, Diavolo. For the rest of my life and after I swear I will show you what its like to be relaxed and truly loved,” they respond with a big yawn at the end.

After a few moments he looks down to see his lover fast asleep with small snores falling from their slightly parted lips. He chuckles softly and brushes some hair out of their eyes before placing a kiss on their forehead and closing his own eyes, falling asleep to the sound of a dying fire and the credits of a Christmas movie.

[pikablu410]

Christmas Gift

Apologies for a Christmas-themed story being a few weeks after the holidays. I hope you enjoy regardless

“I don’t care that it’s December 23rd! I’ll get them gifts eventually!” 

“You better before Christmas or your presents are going to Goodwill!” 

The Kolstit family wasn’t exactly your vision of a nuclear family. They had a mother, father and children, yes, but they didn’t behave like what you’d expect of a typical, american family. For one, they were an immigrant family from Ecuador. They had moved just about a decade ago, when Adam was 8. The family was hesitant at first, but with promises of a better life from relatives it was hard to pass up.

Now, the Kolstit family comprised of a mother, a father and three sons. The mother, Norma, was a kind woman, but strict on her children. She had deadlines for chores, high expectations for grades and above all wanted them prepared for the world on their own.

Her children didn’t really see that, especially the middle child, Adam. Adam was the child who got the most verbal smack from his mother, a result of his desire to “be one of the popular kids in school” as Norma put it. Adam tried to shirk off his responsibilities at home as much as possible in order to hang out with his friends or play football, better known as soccer amongst Adam’s peers. Norma had other ideas for her son, however, which usually involved him cleaning up around the house.

“I’m going out.” The dark-haired boy simply said as he walked out of the house with a ball in his hands, a blue soccer jersey and gray track pants on. 

“Put on a jacket at least! It has to be near freezing out there!” Norma shouted as her child abandoned her cries. She shook her head and went back to preparing dinner.

Adam furiously walked away from his home. “Why does she always put so much pressure on me? I’m just a high school kid!” Adam thought to himself as he walked to an empty field. 

The grass was stiff and cold, as if intimidated by the air. Two poles rested a few feet apart on one side of the field, the other side only having one pole. Dirt marked the playing field, the only place where there wasn’t a plentiful amount of grass. Rabbits scurried away as Adam approached, hiding back in their dens as a gust of wind blew the grass aside for them.

Adam sighed as he dropped the ball down and started to faintly tap it, slowly bouncing the sphere back and forth from each foot. He didn’t want his mother to hate him and he didn’t want to hate his mother. She was just so annoying sometimes. If he wanted to live his life one way why should she prevent that? Adam punted the ball down the field, hitting it right next to the singular pole. He imagined a crowd cheering as he scored a goal. He missed football season and wished it would return sooner. Unfortunately he had to wait another year for it, and Adam went back to weakly moving the ball across the field, moving slowly up and down as time passed by.

As the sky turned to a dim orange, Adam realized his time at the field was up and decided to head back home. As he went to leave the field, though, he felt incredibly tired and weak. He wasn’t sure why as he hadn’t really exerted himself. This was mostly to calm down and relax a bit. A huge gust of wind blew past Adam, causing his body to shiver from the chill. He saw a wooden bench and decided to sit down to regain his strength. When he sat down, though, Adam felt like he was going to pass out. He had fallen asleep at an airport before, and Adam figured sleeping on a park bench wouldn’t be much different, so he decided to lay down on the bench. “Maybe just a...quick nap…” Adam yawned before he crashed. Though before he closed his eyes Adam saw two figures approach him, as if they wanted something from him.

When Adam woke up he thought he was still asleep. It was so dark he couldn’t see his own nose. Plus, he was sitting up instead of lying down like he had been on the bench. Suddenly, a light turned on above him, though he still couldn’t really see farther than 5 feet away. Surrounded by darkness, Adam just decided to try to find his way out only to be stopped completely. He looked at his body and saw that he was tied down to a wooden chair, and tightly at that. Wriggling his wrists and legs, Adam tried to struggle against his restraints only to be met with no sign of them letting up. 

A few moments later, after Adam had given up trying to get up, he heard footsteps in the dark. Out of adrenaline-driven fear, Adam cried out, “Who’s there?” A figure in what looked like a space suit emerged shortly after, holding some kind of syringe in his hand. “Just sit still and this’ll go by quickly.” They said, with a voice muffled through their helmet. It was almost like they were directly out of a sci-fi film which gave Adam hope that this was just a dream. 

Adam decided to listen to the strangely suited figure, whether that be out of fear or his own will. He felt the syringe pierce his skin as whatever was inside flowed into his bloodstream and eventually the rest of his body. After that, the person walked away and left Adam alone in the dark once more. Adam wasn’t sure what was happening, but after a few minutes of being alone again he felt his tummy rumble. How long had he been out? Long enough to go without a meal, clearly, but how long was that? A few hours? Half of the day? An entire day? Adam was really worried now, especially since nobody knew where he was.

Eventually the grumbling of his stomach grounded Adam’s mind, bringing him back to reality. And reality smelled pretty good, almost like a feast prepared on Christmas Eve. Just as Adam thought it, the lights turned on and before him laid a table filled with food you’d see a family eat for a holiday celebration. Stuffing, mashed potatoes and slices of ham lay across the table on many plates. Fried chicken, french fries and spaghetti were even on the table, to Adam’s surprise. His family usually ate those things as a tradition so it was something pleasant he wasn’t expecting. Near his hands, a tall glass of milk was set, as a drink for the meal Adam assumed. In the middle, a giant, stuffed turkey laid ready to be cut. It took up twice as much space as other plates did, and just the smell of it nearly made Adam drool.

Then, to Adam’s further surprise, the restraints were undone around his hands. Immediately, Adam reached down to undo the ones on his legs, but a voice overhead said, “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Adam stopped, his body jumping in shock of hearing the booming voice. “W-what do you want with me?” Adam tried to ask. There was a pause before the voice responded with, “Just eat your feast and then we’ll talk.” Then, silence. Silence only to be broken by Adam’s stomach growling in hunger. 

Adam decided he might as well eat, if only to survive and find out why he’s here. He grabbed the large serving spoon that was dipped in the mashed potatoes, trying to find a plate to set it on to eat. Finding no such plate, Adam decided to eat the mushy meal right from the spoon. Setting it in his mouth, Adam could taste an explosion of flavor. Whether it be from his starving appetite or the taste of the dish, Adam didn’t decide to question it and went right back in for more. Though, as he ate the potatoes Adam couldn’t help but notice a strong, buttery flavor. He shrugged it off, though, as he was hungry and the stuff tasted too good to deny eating it.

The other dishes continued in a similar fashion. The stuffing melted right in Adam’s mouth, melding right along with all of the other dishes to not only enhance them, but revamp their tastes completely. The ham was sweet, but seasoned in just the right way so it wasn’t overpowering. The chicken was fried to perfection, with the chicken still being moist beneath its flaky skin. The fries were similarly prepared, though they were covered with a decent amount of salt. His milk was creamy and delicious, but it didn’t take away from any of the dishes Adam ate. And the spaghetti was divine, being covered with parmesan cheese and a tomato sauce that Adam swore was from the ripest tomatoes. 

After Adam finished all those dishes, he looked back to the table to see the giant turkey sitting, waiting for him. He decided now was as good a time as any, and decided to cut into the beast. Just like Adam expected, the turkey was phenomenal. The meat was still juicy and melted on his tongue. Adam kepting taking pieces off the turkey, not realizing how much of it he was eating. Only until the fork met the base of the plate did Adam notice his immense appetite. He had eaten the entire turkey without noticing. 

Letting out a slight burp, Adam decided to sit back in his seat, expecting his bloated belly to take up a lot of space. However, when Adam leaned back he noticed his belly wasn’t as large as he had expected. It wasn’t as bloated, either. In fact it didn’t look bloated at all. Adam lifted up his jersey to find a tan, chubby belly where his flat stomach used to be, much farther off than he had expected. Adam put his jersey down and noticed the outlines of small moobs beneath his shirt and shorts that had much less space because of his thicker legs. Now nervous and scared of what would happen next, Adam tried to untie the restraints on his legs only to be forcefully pushed to the back of his seat by one of those space suited people. They tied his arms down again, Adam now regretting trying to make a move.

“Now you see our goal for you. You’ll eat and grow until we decide you stop.” The voice came back to ring overhead. Adam was now angry, in addition to his fear from before. He wouldn’t be able to play football if he was too fat, plus, no one would recognize him as a tub of lard. He had always been the lean, football player, not some food addicted fat ass. “Why do you want me fatter?!” Adam shouted at the ceiling. “Oh, you’ll find out later. For now eat like you did before.” And once again, there was silence after that. 

Though Adam still did smell good food, the table was still empty. Out of the shadows to his left, a person dressed in the strange astronaut suit walked out, holding some kind of bowl. On the right, another person emerged, but they were holding a plate of ham. The one with the bowl lifted up a large serving spoon filled with mashed potatoes and held it to Adam’s mouth. “Eat.” The person bluntly demanded, nudging the spoon on Adam’s lips. The food smelled so good, but Adam didn’t want to grow any fatter. 

Despite eating tons just minutes prior, Adam’s stomach let out a growl. Upset his stomach betrayed him, Adam felt it wasn’t long before he snapped under the pressure. Sure enough, he was taking the spoon in his mouth, swallowing the entire spoonful of mash before eagerly opening his mouth for more. Adam didn’t want to eat, but he was just so hungry he didn’t feel like he had a choice. A second after he opened his mouth, Adam tasted the other person shoving a forkful of ham into his mouth. He alternated bites from both of the people in front of him, not even realizing when they switched to a different food. 

Eventually, the two people in suits stopped feeding Adam to let him drink some milk. Adam had been so enraptured with the food’s taste that he hadn’t been able to keep track of himself. He looked down to a terrifying view. His stomach had gotten so big it lifted his jersey up just above his belly button, the tan piece of flesh resting on his wider lap. Moobs were clearly outlined under his jersey, poking against the fabric. His shorts looked even more strained than before, basically stuck to the sides of his thighs. Adam couldn’t see behind him, but if he were able to he’d see that his shorts and undies had been pushed down from the added weight to his rear and they were close to revealing his crack. 

Adam freaked out as he finished the milk. He desperately tried to get out, but again to no avail. His added weight tired him out further, too, making him struggle less than before. “Still concerned about your weight, it appears.” The voice rang overhead. It was quiet for a few moments, but the two people in suits came back with more food. One had a tray of cookies and one had a platter of pie. As Adam resisted their demands to eat, a loud ‘thunk’, followed by a ‘click’ was heard before he saw a movie being played on a television in front of him. It was just beyond the dining table, but large enough that Adam didn’t have to strain his eyes to watch.

“How about you relax by watching something while you eat.” The voice suggested before disappearing again. As Adam’s gaze turned towards the TV, he let his guard down long enough that the person with the cookies was able to sneak one into his mouth. The taste was divine and Adam knew resisting now was futile as his bigger stomach took the lead, forcing him to eat whatever was placed in front of him.

What Adam didn’t realize was the film he was watching was designed to alter him. There were short flashes of guys putting on weight and growing fatter. Some images were of guys who were already fat, enjoying themselves in luxurious lives. Quiet, almost inaudible messages saying things like “Grow bigger,” and “Fat is hot,” played throughout the film. Though, Adam wasn’t really to blame for not noticing. The entire point of these things was so Adam would subliminally start to desire to be fat and grow fatter and so he didn’t notice his mind was being changed to do so.

Two films and a lot of eating later and Adam was being fed more milk as a break from all the food. The TV switched off, bringing Adam back to reality. He remembered his situation and looked down at his body one again. His jersey could barely hold his body, his belly completely on show. It was so big it was starting to become divided into two rolls. This left his jersey to only cover his moobs, which looked like they would burst out if Adam put on any more weight. His shorts had split on his thighs, slowing becoming more and more undone as Adam put on more weight. His pants and underwear had been moved further down because of his growing ass which now showed off his plump butt crack, though he wasn’t aware.

However, Adam didn’t seem as worried when he saw his body. He looked at it for a few seconds before looking back up and saying, “I wonder if Melissa would like me like this. Maybe she’ll even feed me good food too.” 

To his surprise, neither of the people in space suits responded, but the voice overhead replied with, “Who’s Melissa?” Adam, being more relaxed now, gave the voice an answer. “Melissa’s my girlfriend,” Adam started, “She’s really nice to me and I was hoping my body wouldn’t turn her off.” Adam told the voice. More quietly, he mumbled, “I hope she’s not worried about me.” 

A few seconds passed with Adam figuring whoever the voice was had just left again, but Adam was surprised by the voice saying, “That’s strange. I don’t remember you liking girls.” Adam was puzzled. He had never said anything about his relationship, nor his romantic life, before talking about Melissa. “What do you mean? I’ve liked women for as long as I can remember.” Adam replied, and after a few seconds the voice further replied with, “No you don’t, Adam. You like men.” 

Adam’s head was spinning. What were they talking about? What was even going on. “W-what are you talking about? I’m not gay.” Adam bluntly said. The voice replied more quickly now, saying, “It seems you’re flustered. Why don’t you watch some more movies and eat to calm down.” 

The people in space suits, not giving Adam much choice, shoved a spoon of chocolate pudding into Adam’s mouth as the TV turned back on. Adam admitted defeat early, habitually opening his mouth for the other person to feed him a piece of cake. 

Again, Adam didn’t realize that these movies were designed to manipulate his mind. All of the movies had incredibly attractive men cast as actors, with the actors becoming more important with each consecutive movie. And, once again, whispers of messages played in addition to the previous ones. Though this time the messages were saying things like “Men are sexy,” and “Don’t you just love when a hot guy takes off his shirt?” All the while, he was being fed by the two people in space suits, but Adam just ate like it was normal. He just habitually opened his mouth and chewed whenever something was placed in it, used to the process by now. 

As one of the movie’s credits rolled, and Adam was being fed a large glass of milk, Adam realized he had just watched quite a few movies and figured he had been distracted for a long while. He looked down at his body, finding it harder to do so now, to see what the hours of eating had done to him. Adam first noticed his belly, which was now pooling into his lap, covering basically all of it. The tan mass of flesh nearly reached Adam’s knees and was now dividing itself into multiple rolls. The legs his belly rested on were quite thick to be able to hold the large, jiggly piece of fat. Adam’s thighs were nearly twice as wide as his waist was before he started eating and his legs weren’t far behind. Because of their size, Adam’s shorts had torn off during the movie, but he was too busy having his face stuffed to notice. His shirt had torn off too, allowing his large moobs to be on display. They rested on top of his ginormous belly and were big enough to hold in your hand. Additionally, because Adam’s shorts tore off, his ass was completely out and the two globes of flesh could be seen clear as day. They looked to be as big as bowling balls and provided Adam with enough cushion so he wasn’t uncomfortable on the wooden chair.

And speaking of the chair, constant creaks were heard from the thing. Adam was too fat for the chair to contain. His belly looked squished between the arm rests and his ass was starting to get a bit cramped too. After Adam was fed another fudge cookie, the chair snapped and left Adam to fall on the ground. His entire body shook, jiggling for at least a minute from the force of the fall. 

Adam could’ve escaped then and there, but he was having a hard time getting up with his fat body. Giving up after trying to get up one time, Adam just decided to wait for help. With his arms free now, he decided to feel his grown body up for the first time. He grabbed his belly and let it fall back into his lap, feeling the jiggling sensation go throughout his body. Adam then cupped one of his moobs in his hand, then doing the same to the other one. “This isn’t half bad.” Adam said to himself.

Just then, the two people in strange suits had come back with a new chair. It looked pretty sturdy, being made out of metal and having a wide seat for Adam to grow into. The seat also looked like it retracted, which confused Adam, but he really wasn’t in a place to question them. The two people helped Adam sit in the chair, allowing the big boy to rest somewhere other than the ground. 

“It seems like you’re enjoying yourself more.” The voice said once Adam was comfortable in his chair. Adam agreed, so the voice asked, “Did those movies help jog your memory?” Adam was a bit confused at first, but remembered what the voice was referencing. “Yeah I have to admit, some guys are pretty cute.” Adam said, which pleased the voice. But then Adam also added, “But I still prefer girls, and it’s not like I’d want a guy to fuck me. I’d be the one on top.” 

The voice was quiet for a few minutes. Then, out of nowhere the voice said, “It appears your memory is still cloudy. We can help with that.” After that, one of the people in suits shoved a tube in Adam’s mouth. Shortly after Adam felt something flow through the tube, which he shortly after tasted in his mouth. It was incredibly delicious and Adam couldn’t help but suck the stuff down. He didn’t know he was eating an incredibly fattening combination of grease, lard, fat and sugar. Then, the TV screen came back on, but this time a movie wasn’t playing. This time there was a black and white, swirling spiral on the screen. Adam was confused and wanted to look away, but found it incredibly difficult to do so, strangely enough. Finally, Adam felt a part of the chair beneath him retract, which further confused Adam. He let out a yelp as the chair seat came back, only this time Adam felt the chair had stuck something in his butt. It was cylindrical, almost tubular. Then it started to move further into Adam’s rear and then slowly moved back to its original position, the entire motion causing Adam to let out a loud, muffled moan. This helped Adam confirm that some kind of dildo was in him, or something of the sorts. Each thrust caused Adam’s entire body to jiggle, the constant movement causing Adam’s mind to be even more thrown off.

“Hopefully a night with this will help bring you back to your true self. Goodnight, Adam.” The voice said. The two people in suits left Adam’s view, with Adam letting out confused moans that were muffled by the tube in his mouth. Adam was completely lost and his mind was starting to be clouded by immense pleasure. Shortly after the voice and people left him, Adam came all over his underbelly, making a mess from the pleasure. Adam was embarrassed but knew he couldn’t help it. The dildo object in his ass was hitting some kind of pleasure nerve and it was hard to resist it. 

Feeling like there was nothing else to do about his situation, Adam just stared at the TV and let his mind drift off. Adam was left in a daze, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the continuous spiral. He didn’t feel like he had much of a choice to do otherwise. All the boy felt like he could do was wait for tomorrow, and whatever came with it.

Luckily for Adam, it felt like the next morning came quickly for him. The TV shut off, causing Adam to come back to reality. Even though he had been wacked out of his mind for the entire night, he had still been drinking down whatever substance was constantly being pumped through the tube. Not only that, but the buttplug thing in his ass had been pushing into him the entire night. He eventually got used to the feeling, but it still brought him immense pleasure each time it thrusted into him.

“Good morning Adam. It seems your night was fruitful.” The voice said shortly after Adam came back to his senses. Adam was confused at first, but looked at his body to realize what the voice was referring to.

He had grown massive overnight. Adam’s feet had grown so fat that they had finally snapped his sneakers and socks off during the night. His feet looked like plump little marshmallows attached to a fat piece of meat. Adam’s legs were also much thicker, growing wider as they approached his thighs. His thighs were basically tree trunks now, maybe even wider than that. Adam’s belly rested on his thighs, well for the most part it did. It had grown so fat that it was starting to hang over the edges of his thick thighs, causing flab to hang from Adam even when he was sitting. This wasn’t to mention the numerous rolls that Adam’s belly had, and each looked sweatier than yesterday, most likely due to the treatment Adam’s rear was receiving. Pillow moobs sat atop his belly and they looked like they may start sagging off of it soon. Each moob was about the size of a beach ball and it made it difficult for Adam to look down at himself. As Adam tried to move his moobs to see himself, he realized how heavy his arms were. It was incredibly tiring to move either of them, and when he did move them tons of fat sagged and jiggled off of the appendages. Adam’s face was filled with fat too. He was working his way to a third chin, and his cheeks jiggled whenever he moved now too. 

It would be safe to be on Adam not moving a ton now. He looked like he was already overflowing the new seat he had been given. And Adam didn’t even look phased by this. In fact, as he looked over his body, one could’ve sworn that Adam came a few times.

“So,” the voice started, “how are you feeling today Adam?” 

The tube was removed by one of the people in suits, Adam not noticing them walk over to him. Just as the tube was removed, Adam let out a humongous belch. It caused his body to jiggle for a good minute and the person who removed his tube had to step back a bit from the surprise force.

“I’m hungry.” Adam bluntly said. Shortly after, he came and added, “And horny.” 

There was a pause once again, but after a few seconds the voice said, “Good! So it would be safe to assume you remember what your life is really like, yes?” 

Adam was puzzled, scrunching his face up to say, “Huh?” He let out a burp as he said this, not nearly as large as the last one. He also let out a fart, despite the dildo-like object still being in his ass.

Adam couldn’t see it, but the person behind the voice smirked before continuing. “Oh, you know.” The voice said in a friendly tone. “Things like your weight. You’ve always been a fatty. Too lazy to do physical stuff, like sports. Always hated gym and running, none of that.” 

As Adam listened to the voice, childhood photos of him appeared on the TV. There were pictures of him in gym class, his chubby face looked tired and, in a later image, exhausted. More images popped up, this time from a few years later. He was sitting on the couch, naked with his chubby belly out, eating a bag of chips and chocolate. This continued until more recent photos popped up, school yearbook photos of Adam as his fat ass self. 

“Yeah...I’ve always been huge…” Adam said as memories started manifesting in his mind. He started to forget about his love for football, it being replaced with food. Whenever he felt pressure from his parents or anyone else to succeed, Adam would always eat. It calmed him down and he quite liked being bigger. 

“Of course I remember that. I know I’ve always been big.” Adam said, almost as if he was offended.

“Oh? So then you remember your boyfriend, Jason?” The voice went on.

“Wh- huh?” Adam blundered again. 

This time, an image of a brown-haired boy with blue eyes appeared on the TV. 

“He asked you out in 9th grade. You’ve been together ever since. He’s helped fatten you up. I wouldn’t think you’d forget about him, you two are quite inseparable.” The voice added.

As Adam looked on at the images of the boy, more memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered when he first met Jason, in one of his English classes. When Jason asked him out, Adam was ecstatic, further so when Jason told Adam about how Jason wanted him fatter. He remembered nights of being stuffed to the brim, and some moments of Adam begging Jason to feed him. Any memories of being straight or liking girls had left Adam’s brain.

“He’s so hot…” Adam said in awe as he looked on at the pictures of his boyfriend.

The photos of Jason continued to come and with each photo it looked like Jason lost more and more clothing. Eventually Jason was completely naked, but Adam seemed happier about this than disturbed. He let another burp out before the voice continued to talk.

“And I’m sure you remember how...dominant...Jason is.” And Adam did. He remembered how coercive Jason was when feeding Adam, getting him to down an entire table in just under an hour. Jason made Adam feel like a fat pig, and this was no different in the bedroom. Adam couldn’t remember once being on top, always wanting to please Jason as much as he could.

After a few more minutes of naked Jason photos, the TV went pitch black before turning off. Adam had nearly cum 4 times throughout his “reminders” but he didn’t really seem to notice. He had ejaculated so much during the night because of the chair that he didn’t realize when he busted his load.��

“Now, it’s breakfast time. Eat up!” The voice finally said to break the silence. But Adam didn’t even realize the voice had spoken, his face full of bacon and donuts from the two people in space suits. The voice was then quiet as Adam ate. The boy continued to be pleasured from behind, feeling a constant state of hungry, horny and pleasurable relief. 

Just as fast as Adam was fed breakfast, he was fed lunch. “Hungry, mphf, need to eat…” Adam said as he was stuffed with burgers and fries, among other greasy junk. Grease dripped down his chins and onto his moobs, as well his chubby cheeks. Burps and farts continued to be released from the growing pig and he seemed to be sweating more too. He looked to be exhausted just from eating the food shoved in his face. Adam didn’t think anything was wrong and just wanted to eat.

Dinner soon came and Adam didn’t flinch at the sound of several carts being pulled up to him. He didn’t see them because of the dark room and his fat obscuring his vision, but he didn’t really care what the food looked like. Adam cared about it being in his gut, opening his mouth wide to be fed more. Greasy pork was shoved in his open maw, along with more fries, creamy potatoes and more juicy turkey. “Want...more...hungry…” Adam panted out before a belch erupted from him.

All the while Adam’s ass was still being toyed with by the chair. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t rock hard, his dick somehow still spurting out cum. Gluttony and lust clouded his mind, Adam being reduced to his base desires. He continued to be fed, sweat dripping in between his rolls and onto the chair.

As Adam finished a turkey, he opened his mouth expecting more food. Nothing came, however, which annoyed him a bit. The feeling in his rear stopped too, with a loud “plop!” sound being accompanied with the feeling of his ass being empty. No longer was there pleasure from behind or food from the front, so Adam was left with nothing to do but wait.

Adam tried to admire his body as he waited, seeing how big he had grown from all the eating he did. His belly drooped down in front of him, hanging nearly to his ankles. Each of his moobs looked to be the size of two pillows stacked in one pillow case, his nipples now as wide as a pepperoni slice on a pizza. Adam didn’t feel like he could move his arms, or at least move them very well. The same went for his legs, which were connected to thighs so wide they’d intimidate a redwood tree. Adam’s face was swaddled with 3 chins that were dangerously close to adding a fourth. His cheeks were as big as his face once was, jiggling whenever Adam made the slightest movements. And Adam’s ass, which had been constantly jiggling from the treatment from the chair, was holding him up about 3 or 4 feet in the air. Each butt cheek looked to be around the size of an exercise ball, all completely made out of adipose.

The sound of footsteps snapped Adam out of his admirable trance, figuring the two people were back to feed him some more. However, they appeared empty-handed and simply said, “Let’s go.” “No desert?!” Adam shouted, but realized that took a lot of energy out of him. “I...need to...eat…” He panted afterwards.

“Oh, you’ll get enough desert to last you until next year. Just get up so we can get you to where you need to go.” The person in the suit said. However, that’d be easier said than done. Adam looked like he was stuffed into the chair, his love handles over flowing from the arms of the chair and Adam’s ass and thighs were pouring out of the spaces under the chair arms. The two people in suits tried to lift the sweaty boy up, but it only resulted in creaking from the chair. Eventually, Adam felt the creaking grow more intense until it finally snapped under him. Adam jiggled for a good 5 minutes, his belly and rolls bouncing up and down along with his ass cheeks and moobs. 

Afterwards, the two people heaved the fatty up, struggling to keep hold with all the sweat pouring from Adam’s body. Adam tried to help by lifting his legs, but that did nothing but move his belly a bit. The fat boy let out a fart from all the movement before panting, “Where...are...we...going?”  

The people in suits didn’t even look at him, waiting a second before saying, “You’ll remember soon enough.” Remember? Were they taking him to a place he had been before? Did Adam actually know these people? What was even going on? Adam plagued himself with enough questions that he passed out from mental and physical exhaustion, not even being conscious to leave the room he had been trapped in for so long.

When Adam woke up, his eyes had to adjust to the sunlight. Was he outside? The more his eyes adjusted the more he realized he was just inside a well-lit room for the first time in a while. He was in front of a beautiful fireplace, the sides made out of well-crafted stone with a wooden finish on top. The walls were also beautiful stone, and Adam realized he was sitting on a very comfortable black leather couch. Looking to his left, Adam saw a very well decorated Christmas tree with numerous delicately wrapped presents underneath. Adam felt very out of place in this fine, luxurious room being the sweaty, fat pig of a slob he was.

However, Adam felt like he recognized this room. But, where exactly was it? As Adam tried to think, he got a massive spike of a headache thinking of his life. Luckily a loud, excited scream, one he recognized, put him in a good mood. He turned towards his right, where the scream came from, and gave an excited, “Babe!”

The brown haired, blue eyed boy ran over to the sweaty blob and gave him a big hug. “This is the best present ever!” He shouted, giving Adam a big kiss on the lips. “Well, we had to make it for the best son ever!” The father said, and the mother followed up with, “Merry Christmas Jason. You still have more presents to go through with Adam!” 

The family enjoyed their opening of Christmas gifts, Jason receiving seemingly everything he asked for and Adam getting some new clothing, most notably an incredibly large thong. Adam remembered he was visiting...no wait...he lived with his boyfriend, Jason. Adam couldn’t remember living otherwise, so he was puzzled as to how he got any other idea in his mind.

After unwrapping presents, everyone headed towards the dining room for Christmas lunch. Adam, of course, would be getting a Christmas dinner later, but Jason and his parents usually filled up on Christmas lunch so much they couldn’t spare a bite for dinner. Adam sat in his huge seat, almost like a throne, though it looked the same as all the other chairs. Jason sat on Adam’s sweaty lap, which was mostly just Adam’s belly at this point. Jason fed Adam nearly everything that wasn’t on his parents’ plates, nearly forgetting to eat himself. Adam graciously ate whatever Jason held in front of him, letting out a belch as he finished the food.

“Lunch was great Mrs. Trebuk!” Adam thanked Jason’s mother. She graciously thanked him for the compliment as Adam tried to stand up, with Jason’s help of course. Adam started to waddle towards the living room to relax, but Jason had other plans. “We’re not done just yet.” He whispered to his large boyfriend. Adam felt his tool poke into his fat at the sound, excited for what came next. 

Jason led Adam into his bedroom, which looked to be the size of a regular master bedroom. The bed was bigger than a king sized bed, which was necessary for Adam’s size. Jason heaved his boyfriend on the bed before he started stripping down. “This is my Christmas gift to you, fatty.” Jason said as he let go of his thong, revealing his sizable package. Jason then got on the bed with Adam, who was lying on his stomach, and then behind Adam. 

Adam braced for what came next and excitedly moaned as Jason entered him from behind. “I’m so glad I have my fat piggy to play with. You’ll love this too I bet, you sweaty blob.” Jason said as he rammed himself into Adam, having to because of Adam’s ginormous ass cheeks. Adam just moaned, everything just bringing him massive amounts of pleasure.

A few moments later, the bed was covered in Jason and Adam’s sweat, though it was mostly the latter’s. Adam could feel himself coming to a climax, as well as Jason. Jason moaned out Adam’s name as he released into the pig, shortly afterwards saying, “Merry Christmas fat boy.” Adam came himself shortly after, panting and mumbling to himself, “This...is the best...Christmas...ever…” Adam passed out shortly after, waiting for his Christmas dinner, which would be just as fulfilling.

Epilogue

The Trebuk family was a very well-off family. Mr. Trebuk had inherited his family’s programming company, among the other stocks his father had invested into other companies. Mrs. Trebuk was a famous psychologist, renowned for her study in psychoanalysis and suggestion. Having made several books and gone on many early morning talk shows, she brought in nearly as much money as her esteemed husband.

Their son, Jason, was also well-off, but more genetically than in regards to his success. Jason had inherited his father’s metabolism and body, but his mother’s eyes and hair. The combination made Jason a typical pretty boy, though Jason had a bit more muscle than the average ‘pretty boy’ archetype you’d expect.

Jason was also peculiar in the fact that he was gay. With his fame on social media apps like Instagram, TikTok and Twitter for his body, one would expect him to be straight, just like most other boys were. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing about Jason either. Jason liked bigger guys, and not guys who were just more muscled and had a bit of fat on them. No, Jason’s ideal boyfriend was one who was huge, fat and barely mobile. 

He had even expressed this to his parents, as the family was very open about their lives. So, when his parents asked Jason what he wanted for Christmas, it wasn’t surprising when he said, “I want a boyfriend who’s a fat pig, but I don’t want someone who’s already fat. I want a guy who’s thin and fit, like me, but make them fatter. And I want them to adore me. And I want them to be a slob. And…” Jason trailed on and on, his parents getting a little skeptical they could even fulfill his wish. Hell, they were concerned they could even get their son a boyfriend. 

They proposed saying something on social media about it, but Jason told them he didn’t want his online personality to invade his life. He’d rather his fans think of him as a typical, attractive guy who flaunts his body online. Jason had been hoping this would bring him modeling opportunities, which it did now that he had turned 18, but he would be lying if he didn’t say he appreciated the attention.

As Jason finished up with what he wanted, his mother asked, “Is there anyone at school you like? We could try to base our ideas from there.” Jason eagerly went to his room, but his parents weren’t sure what he was doing. He came back with his yearbook, flipped to a marked page and pointed to a photo of a boy in his same year. 

His father put on his reading glasses, while Jason’s mother tried to lean over for a view. “Adam Kolstit?” They both asked in unison. “Yup! He’s sooooo pretty! And I think he’d look even better as a fat pig!” Jason said, his parents afraid of him going on like he had earlier.

“Well, why don’t your mother and I talk about this for a bit and you’ll see what happens on Christmas.” Mr. Trebuk told his son. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Jason said, hugging both his parents tightly. The parents laughed and went back to their bedroom, locking the door so they weren’t disturbed.

“That boy is a handful.” Mr. Trebuk said. “And a half!” His wife added, then going on to say, “How are we gonna get a boy, another human, as a Christmas present?!” Her husband didn’t respond, busily typing away on his computer. “Are you even listening Dave?!” She yelled at him. “Quiet, Amanda, I think I’ve got our out.” Dave said, motioning his wife to his monitor.

Being the CEO of the programming company the town uses on a majority of their technology, Dave had access to nearly every computer in town, and this included security cameras. On screen, he had the camera right outside of a restaurant downtown. “That’s him!” Amanda said, pointing towards the boy. “I know it’s him that’s why I called you over here!” Dave yelled back. “Well follow him!” Amanda retorted. Dave kept switching to cameras until he saw an open field. 

“Great Dave, we lost him.” Amanda whined. Dave kept watching the screen though, and said, “Don’t think so.” He pointed to a figure in a blue jersey with long, white pants on. They had a ball in their hands, which they dropped to the ground and kicked around. “So he likes soccer. Big deal.” Amanda said, walking away from the computer to sit on the bed. “It is a big deal! We know where he goes in the afternoon now!” Dave said 

“Well now what? It’s not like I can just psychologically make him what Jason wants.” Amanda muttered. Dave then sat up, “But what if you could?” “Huh? I swear you get more senile every-” Amanda was interrupted by her husband saying, “The old warehouse a few miles out. We could store him there.” “And then what? We fatten him up in under a month?” Amanda questioned. Dave smirked and said, “Don’t worry, I know people. With your cooking and their science, we can make him ten times the size he is now.” Amanda then perked up to the plan, “And with my suggestive techniques…” “Now you’re getting it!” Dave complimented his wife. The two had a plan and just needed to execute it. Jason would have his fat boyfriend by the time Christmas came around.

[cotncandyboifics]

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

AO3 Link

My Main Masterpost

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukexiety

Word count: 6.9k (Remus would be proud)

Story summary: A pseudo-songfic; 5 times Remus called Virgil high, and one time Virgil called Remus high.

Content Warning: Marijuana, Characters high on Marijuana, Description of the experience of being high on marijuana, Food, descriptions of eating, descriptions of preparing food, vague anxiety descriptions, insomnia, cursing, Remus Being Remus,(let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is just. dorky fluff stuff. Idek lol. Enjoy

...

Virgil grimaced vaguely at his phone, which had begun to buzz periodically. More specifically; Virgil was glaring at the displayed name at the top of the screen, communicating who was currently calling him.

TrashMan 42069 is calling...

Remus never called Virgil. As in... never never. And even if he did, it was 7 am; Virgil sincerely doubted that Remus I-wake-up-at-2-pm-every-day Prince had ever been awake at this time of morning in his life.

The call didn't stop after 5 buzzes, and so Virgil picked his phone up, hurriedly accepting the call and pressing the phone to his face.

"uuum, hiiii...." Remus drawled from the other end of the line. Virgil scoffed under his breath. "I'll have a.... extra large cheese pizza, and another extra large with... extra anchovies...." Remus continued. Virgil genuinely couldn't tell whether Remus thought he was actually talking to a Pizza parlor employee or not, but more pertinently, he was very much disconcerted by the way Remus was acting. He had half a mind to ask if he'd hit his head on something, but... Virgil was gradually growing used to Remus' antics, and every time he'd asked out of his own anxieties in the past, Remus had been More Than Fine. He pushed his nerviness aside with a heavy sigh.

"Re, what are you doing?" his voice came out a bit husky, and Virgil realized this was the first time he'd spoken that day.

Remus didn't reply for a few long moments. Of course, this had exactly nothing to do with the fact that he was having a gay panic over the sound of Virgil's morning voice, which - again - was decidedly not happening.

"Haay Virge," Remus scarcely strung his words together, and they fell on top of each other as they rolled off his tongue in a quite klutzy fashion. It was almost soothing, in its way. "I thought if I pretended that you... that I was... that I thought you were a pizza man, then I'd forget to do... why I called you." Remus scrunched his nose to himself, taking his time to find his words, but eventually he got there. Virgil had been struck with realization part way through Remus' rambling, and was now scowling as if Remus could hear his facial expression through the phone.

"Remus, are you seriously high right now?" Virgil hissed.

"I mean... I think so... I definitely remember..." he pointedly enunciated each syllable of 'definitely remember,' before seemingly getting distracted by his thoughts. Virgil cleared his throat to prompt him. "...uhhhh... I don't wanna call you. Why did I... think that was...good." Virgil couldn't tell if Remus was talking to himself or not.

"Dude, go take a shower and... like, drink some water or something. I'll see you at work later. Please come in a better mental state than you're in now." Virgil hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk face-down, resuming his script read-through of the next production being put on at the theater he worked for.

Several hours later, Virgil was adjusting a few bolts on a light fixture, one of many all lined up on the long bar that he'd lowered from the fly deck earlier. He and Remus were stage technicians, and had both worked at this theater together for nearly two years now.

Remus burst through the set of doors off stage left, arms wide and his custom green tool belt slung over one shoulder like a sash. He bowed a bit dramatically to the stage and everyone on it (which, at the moment, was only Virgil; they were the only two in the theater, since Virgil regularly showed up early and Remus was here early too for once for... some reason) before stepping in long strides toward a burnt out light fixture, a few feet away from Virgil.

"You good?" Virgil murmured, feigning intense focus on a particular few wires. Remus had learned by now that Virgil was a man of few words and many thoughts; there was always a lot more to what he was saying than the small string of words he poured out.

"Heh. Sorry about that. I woke up in a funk, and though a wake and bake might... help. Didn't anticipate calling... you, though." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, focusing his line of sight on the company logo branded into the lighting fixture. "Can't say it won't happen again though! If I call you when I'm that stoned it means I really, really like you," Remus waggled his eyebrows, winking (specifically to highlight his sarcasm - a wink was a telltale sign that Remus' words were entirely a joke) at an utterly deadpan Virgil.

"Sure." Virgil paused for a moment. "Why're you here so early though?"

"Huh?" Remus replied, finishing twisting the bulb out of the fixture before looking up at Virgil, who was now presenting his phone screen to Remus, showing him the time. "Damn! High me can get punctuality! I thought it was three, not  two... I was wondering why you were the only one here!" Remus had resumed his adjusting of the light fixture, hunkered over and partially upside down in a way that made Virgil's stomach churn. He only grunted in reply.

...

A recent sound design project had Virgil and Remus talking a lot more than usual - nearly every day. Virgil thought Remus would be a massive pain in the ass to work with, but he was a surprisingly diligent project partner. His ideas were often... eccentric, and at times too far-fetched, but they served as an excellent foundation. They clashed well with Virgil's taste and general groundedness (by extension, a minuscule helping of insecurity) that he brought to the table. They'd worked together over discord for the last few days, voice chatting and messaging through brainstorming sessions and developing their project.

It was 5pm, and Virgil was just beginning chopping some potatoes for a mash dinner when a message notification popped up on his phone.

TrashMan 42069 im tiiiired. gotta get up early to head into the theater, can we work tmrw mornin instead of tn ? wanna have an early night

Virgil smirked to himself, typing out a response.

since when do you sleep before 1am

but like, go off ig

see ya in the ams

Remus never responded, and Virgil resumed his chopping, and soon was plopping the potato portions into a pre-simmering pot.

Night arrived and fell entirely, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts in bed, staring at the ceiling desperately as if it would put him to sleep. His bouts of insomnia made for horrible company, and yet another reminder of just how awfully lonely he truly was. He rolled onto his side, facing his bedside table just as his phone lit up and started buzzing.

Remus. Again. Odd. And it was... 11pm, according to the bleary text in the top corner of Virgil's phone screen. Not too bad, I might get to sleep by 2, Virgil noted to himself. He accepted the call before his drowsy brain could think through the decision.

"Shit, hi," Remus breathed. The usual sharp edge of his brash voice was gone, leaving soft, rolling words in its wake. Virgil sighed to himself.

"Hi."

"Did I awaken you from the sleep? I didn't think you'd answer..." Virgil recognized the drawl in Remus' voice then, but he didn't mind it so much. He was too tired to be grumpy about this.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I thought you were having an early night?" Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, rolling back onto his back.

"Ah... right... I told you that..." Remus spoke slowly, as if carrying each word, each syllable the way a mother carries her child. Virgil smiled softly into the darkness. "I was feeling like shit, so... I was just gonna, toke up. Knew I... wouldn't be able to... do any of the project... like this."

"Gotcha," Virgil mumbled. He had closed his eyes, letting himself ease into the sound of Remus' uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Remus started humming on the other end of the line, and that only proved to relax Virgil more. He felt himself grow heavy in the bed, limbs going slack and muscles and tendons untensing.

"Are you still alive?" Remus spoke suddenly. Virgil hummed.

"Yeah, I think so," Virgil said. "Your humming is putting me to sleep," he laughed lightly. Remus grew silent. "Uh, that's not a bad thing," Virgil resolved, "I have a hard time... sleeping, sometimes. Nothing usually helps. That's... uh, helping. If you wanna keep... humming, or talking..." As he spoke, Virgil realized just how weird what he was saying - what he was asking for - truly was. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"I have nothing better to do right now, I can hum you to sleep, Virge," Remus' careful voice replied, ever so slowly. "If that's... what... you meant."

"Um," Virgil chewed on his hoodie sleeve absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he finally huffed, "I'd... like that."

Virgil anticipated a lot more awkwardness at this entire situation from Remus. But Remus was a generally oblivious person to awkwardness, seemingly especially so when he was stoned. He almost immediately resumed his humming, and Virgil was out like a light less than ten minutes later.

"Virgie? Did you go... fall into the sleep?" Remus asked after a while. When he was met with silence other than subtle, even breaths, he smiled to himself. He'd helped someone, even while he was like this. He truly didn't want to be doing anything else right now, so he just kept humming into the phone for a while. Maybe it'll help Virgil sleep even better.

The thoughts that an intoxicated mind produces truly are an enigma.

...

Remus and Virgil's sound design project was one of three being proposed to the directors and head technicians for the next production. The three were created as presentations, just the general idea of the design put together so that the one chosen of the three could be put into proper production by the entire sound team.

Virgil's and Remus' won.

They celebrated by indulging in a pizza lunch together before they were to head into work. A large, half pepperoni and half anchovies.

"Are those things actually good, or do you just eat them because everyone else thinks they're gross?" Virgil asked, chasing the floppy end of his next slice with his mouth. Remus grinned with a glint in his eye that Virgil knew all too well; it meant one thing, and one thing only. Mischief.

"Whah if ih's bof?" Remus spoke through his mouthful of anchovy pizza. Virgil scrunched his nose, punching Remus in the shoulder.

"Chew your food and don't talk with your mouth full, that's hecka nasty dude," Virgil laughed. Remus rolled his eyes in a very unconvincing manner, considering he was still smiling.

"Yef, mom," Remus spoke again through his unfinished mouthful. Virgil shoulder bumped him, and finally took the first bite of his next slice.

Not a week later, Virgil woke up rather late. Well, late for him; around 7am. He slapped a hand to his forehead, sitting up a little too fast. He set his hands on the bed beside himself to try and fight the onset of dizziness. After a few deep breaths and shaking his head and hair out, he reached for his phone.

No notifications, other than 2 missed calls from Remus, at 3:12am. Virgil sighed, laughing to himself slightly. He opened his messaging app.

why do u only call me when ur high lmao

...

Virgil was at the grocery store, milling through the dairy aisle, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised to see Remus' contact as the displayed caller ID, although not that surprised. Remus had called Virgil a few times while he wasn't high since Virgil had sent that message, usually to discuss theater-related things. Though, it wasn't like him to call at 8 in the morning. Virgil pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Re, what's up?" Virgil said as he started checking the expiration dates on a few cartons of heavy whipping cream.

"Virgieee... Are you walking around with no shoes on?" Remus' voice was calm and subdued.

"Uh-" Virgil was so caught off guard by the question -and the petname- that he literally looked down at his feet to check. Nope, he'd definitely put on his black high tops that morning. "No? I'm at the grocery store. Wh... what?"

"I saw someone," Remus blurted, speaking slowly. Oh, right. Virgil's lips tightened into a annoyed-and-disappointed expression. Of course he's just baked again. "They looked like you, kinda... no purple hair... but jacket- or, i mean, sweater... uhhhm, no... what's it called?"

"My hoodie?" Virgil offered, glancing down at his purple patchwork hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah, that," Remus drew in a long heavy breath. "they had a hoodie." Remus stopped then, as if awaiting Virgil's explanation expectantly. Virgil scoffed.

"So. You saw someone walking around with no shoes on, who looked kind of like me only based on the fact that they were wearing a hoodie?" Virgil recited.

"Well, yeah!" Remus said as if offended that Virgil needed to ask. "They were black shoes, and... and the hoodie was... just like your black plaid one."

"The one that I like... never wear? How do you even... have you even seen me wear that?" Virgil didn't know why he was asking; he must have if he knew of it.

"You did," Remus started slowly, "one time. The pizza time. Said your other one was dirty." Remus spoke like a small child who was being scolded and felt really bad for what they'd done. "And I thought... maybe you'd... dyed your hair back. I don't know why." Virgil sighed.

"Okay? Well, I promise I have my shoes on, and my hair is still purple, and I'm not wearing that hoodie today. I'm at the grocery store right now." Virgil's voice was harsh and quick, and he immediately felt guilt drop into his stomach like a brick. He had no real reason to be this cross with Remus... he was just a bit cranky that morning. "Can I... pick you up anything while I'm here?" Virgil immediately cringed at his attempt at amendment. What a weird thing to say-

"Ooh! Are you at Trader Joe's?" Remus' voice had a newfound excitement. Virgil smiled to himself, glad that his fumbled recovery wasn't really very fumbled, thanks to Remus'... Remus-y-ness. "They have these chocolate truffles that are soooo good..."

Remus gave moderately incoherent directions to where the truffles were shelved, though Virgil knew his way around the store enough that it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he came upon a small red carboard box with cursive gold lettering and a picture of a chocolate truffle on the front.

"Found them. I... text me your address? I can be over in... well, soon. I guess I don't know where you live." Virgil invited himself over extremely awkwardly.

"You got it, sunshine! See you soon," Remus' tone was a lot lighter and he spoke more quickly and sharply, as he did when he wasn't stoned out of his mind. Perhaps the prospect of having his favorite chocolate truffles had granted him some mental clarity.

The call ended, and moments later, two texts came through from Remus. The first was an address, as promised. The second left Virgil with a familiar sense of blind confusion.

ill start heating the milk

Virgil slid his phone back into his pocket, humming to himself. He'd gotten all the items on his grocery list already, so he headed to checkout. Soon after, he was loading a couple bags into the back seat of his car, setting the two boxes of truffles for Remus on the passenger seat as he strapped in.

The drive was surprisingly short to Remus'; less than ten minutes. He triple checked the address when he pulled up to a three story Victorian house, three doors lined up at the top of a set of marble steps.

He took a breath or two, staring down at the boxes of truffles in his hands and reassessing his situation. You're standing in front of Remus' house like a massive dork because you felt bad for getting annoyed at him on the phone. You decided completely on a whim to bring him some chocolate - of all things, but at least he's the one who specifically asked for it - and show up to his house???? his house. Yeah, this totally isn't weird at all.

Virgil took the steps two at a time, ringing the doorbell at the door farthest to the right. He heard the chime from inside, followed shortly by a shrill screech. A few moments later, there was stomping sounds, and Remus came into view through the window on the door, trampling down the stairs like an eight year old rushing to an ice cream truck. He made it to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"VIRGIE!" Remus yelped, looking ready to bear hug Virgil, but was quickly distracted into marveling over the boxes of truffles Virgil was clinging to his chest. "You bought two!? Gods, this is better than Christmas! Get in here," Remus stepped behind the door, allowing Virgil to step inside.

"Did you... screech, a minute ago?" Virgil asked, looking around. He and Remus were standing in what served as a tiny, tiny foyer, a small rectangle of flooring that gave direct way to a rather large flight of wooden stairs. Virgil could see a shoe cubby and coat rack at the top of the steps, and started stepping up them cautiously as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. People usually can't hear if I say words, like 'COMING!', so I just kinda... scream. It works!" Remus was tromping up the steps a few stairs below him, and Virgil quickened his pace.

"Got it..."

Virgil slipped his shoes off at the top, stuffing them in the cubby. "See? Shoes," he gestured to the shoes now fit snug in one of the cubbies. Remus smiled a bit too wide, nodding his head harshly. "I also don't have that hoodie on today," Virgil spread his arms, displaying his usual patchwork hoodie.

"I'm mainly glad your hair is still purple. It looks h- I mean, I like it." Remus coughed slightly to himself before stepping around Virgil, starting to sock-slide down the hardwood floor hall. "Kitchen's through here! The milk should be ready!"

Virgil laughed to himself, stepping into the hall to follow Remus' trail. He came upon a slightly ajar door, and seeing a glimpse of a stovetop, he slid into the room.

"I also made some whipped cream!" Remus gestured behind himself at a bowl of whipped cream on the counter as he stirred at a simmering pot of milk.

"What's... what's it for?" Virgil asked slowly, feeling like he missed something entirely.

"Oh! Right," Remus seemed to realize he hadn't filled Virgil in. "The truffles are so frickin good by themselves, but I discovered - sort of by accident, don't worry about it - that they make the best hot chocolate. And I... well, I figured we could have some!" Remus spun around at the last part, saucer of milk in hand and smiling a bit maniacally at Virgil. He stepped over to the counter where there were two mugs beside the bowl of whipped cream. "Bring them things on over here. This show can't go on without the starring role."

Virgil shuffled over to Remus, setting the truffles down beside the whipped cream bowls. He felt the need to speak, but couldn't think of any suitable words.

"one or two? I usually do two, I like mine real rich," Remus said, tearing open one of the boxes of truffles.

"Two," Virgil coughed. Remus smiled brightly at him again.

Virgil observed Remus' process. He plopped two truffles into the bottom of each mug - in the process, popping one into his mouth and offering another to Virgil, who accepted - before pouring the steaming milk over them, nearly to the brim of both mugs. Virgil hadn't expected the truffles to float, but there were two bobbing brown balls rolling around on the surface of the steaming milk in each mug. Remus retrieved a small spoon, stirring gingerly as the truffles rapidly shrunk and dissipated into the darkening milk.

"Will you grab the chocolate syrup? It's in the door of the fridge," Remus commented, beginning to spoon whipped cream onto the surface of the hot chocolate. "Oh, and- nevermind, I got it." Remus reached into a drawer beside him, pulling out a small cheese grater.

Virgil returned with the chocolate syrup, setting it beside Remus' arm.

"Check this out," Remus said, pulling another truffle from the box. He started grating it over the whipped cream dollops, and it gently snowed chocolate shavings. "Isn't it pretty?" Remus glanced at Virgil as he switched mugs.

"Yeah," Virgil breathed, watching the little flakes fall and settle on the surface of the whipped cream.

Virgil felt himself becoming infinitely more relaxed and less anxious the longer he basked in Remus' presence. It had always been this way with him, although maybe it was slightly amplified now that they were alone. He leaned himself on Remus, chin on his shoulder. Remus didn't react, other than softening his movements significantly, as though he were afraid he'd scare Virgil away.

"Yes, yes, yes! Man, this is the good stuff!" Remus exclaimed as he squirted a trail of chocolate syrup over the flakey rain on the whipped cream mountains. Virgil chuckled, reaching for the mug nearest him. "Hey! Not yet!" Remus batted his hand away lightly.

"What else could you possibly want on hot chocolate? Come on, it's getting cold," Virgil whined. Remus only smirked.

"Pantry, top shelf, you'll know it when you see it," He spoke, glancing at the cupboard door a few paces away. Virgil stepped toward the pantry cautiously, opening the door slowly. There, presented proudly on the top shelf, was a bag of mini marshmallows.

"Oh fuck yeah," Virgil reached up, realizing he was far too short to reach the bag. "Uh, one sec," he said, stepping entirely into the pantry, reaching up with all his might. Even stretching as far as he could, he barely reached the base of the top shelf.  Remus chuckled from over by the mugs.

"Here, let me help." Remus came up behind him, making to reach over Virgil's head just as Virgil tried to step out of the pantry and out of Remus' way. Virgil essentially walked right into Remus' chest, face to face with his stubbled Adam's apple as he reached for the mallows easily.

Virgil was frozen in place, feeling his face grow hot. Remus looked down at him, suddenly realizing their physical predicament.

"Shit! Sorry!" Remus stepped back, mallows in hand, giving Virgil more than enough room to step out.

"s'fine, don't worry," Virgil mumbled, cheeks red and staring wide-eyed at the floor. Remus laughed a bit nervously, stepping back over to the mugs and beckoning for Virgil to follow.

Once their mugs were properly marshmallow'd (although not s'more'd; neither wanted to go full Ned Flanders on this rainy Saturday afternoon) Remus led Virgil out of the kitchen and further down the hall, to the door at the end which opened up into Remus' bedroom.

Virgil didn't know what he was expecting Remus' personal living space to look like, but whatever it was it wasn't this. There was a very cozy-looking bed that took up most of the floorspace, and a very soft patterned rug at the foot. Against the far wall, beside a wide windowsill, sat an equally cozy-looking loveseat. There were blankets and pillows absolutely everywhere, crowding the loveseat, covering the bed and turning the windowsill into a cozy sitting nook. There was no other furniture, aside from a rustic-looking wooden bedside table that matched a small, overstuffed bookshelf. The walls were entirely covered from floor to  ceiling with posters, art pieces, the like; but more than anything, sketches. Scores upon scores of sketches covered every wall, pinned up with colorful tacks and a certain few of them connected to others with  small segments of colored string. As well, strung up on some of the hardier tacks were a few strings of fairy lights. Those, plus the salt lamp set on the bedside table made for some extremely lovely mood lighting.

"Woah," was all Virgil could say as he looked around in wonder.

"This is where the magic happens," Remus shoulder shimmied, sidling around Virgil to sit cross-legged on his bed, beginning to nurse his cocoa as he set down the boxes of truffles. Apparently they were far too precious to keep in the kitchen, where Remus' brother could very well steal them.

"Yeah..." Virgil stepped up to a particularly large sketch, one whose tack was connected with string to several others. Something occurred to him. "Are these..." He gestured vaguely at the walls, "are these all yours?"

"All the sketches, yeah," Remus breathed, hiding behind his mug as he took a large sip. He watched Virgil over the brim as the man stared in complete awe.

"That's..." Virgil couldn't think of the right words, and so drew a large sip of his own cocoa. Remus was right, the truffles made for an incredible hot chocolate. He sighed slightly, smiling to himself.

Remus finished his cocoa, tilting his head back to slurp at the residue and remaining whipped cream as he leaned back on his bed slightly. Virgil smirked behind his own mug, licking at his whipped cream.

Remus set his mug beside the salt lamp on his bedside table, beckoning for Virgil to sit with him on the bed. Virgil did, cross-legged an leaning against a pillow that was propped against the wall. He glanced to the windowsill nook.

"You got something of a view," He murmured, craning his neck slightly to see out the window. Remus giggled.

"Yeah! That's where I saw mx. no-shoes earlier." He smiled at Virgil giddily.

"Oh, I see." Virgil smiled back. "Well, I'm here now, purple hair and truffles in the complete package," he spread his arms slightly, and Remus' smile turned into a full grin. He retrieved a truffle from the open box and popped it into his mouth, then throwing a second one at Virgil. It hit him in the chest, and he picked it up, starting to gnaw at it. "You were right, these are super fricking good," Virgil mentioned, taking another large gulp of his cocoa.

"I know right!? Where have you been all my life, beloved truffles," he picked up the unopened box and held it high in one hand, beginning to serenade it. Virgil laughed at him, slapping him on the arm.

"You're a massive dork."

Remus' eyes glinted. "Well I-" He stopped short, the glint disappearing as soon as it returned. Virgil watched his face. No, no dick jokes right now. He gulped and cleared his throat, retracting his arm and pulling out another two truffles from the other box. He held one of them out to Virgil on the palm of his hand. Virgil took it carefully, holding it between his fingers as he took the final sip of his own cocoa.

"Here," Remus reached his empty hand out to take Virgil's mug, setting it beside his own behind them on the bedside table. Remus resumed chewing his truffle, watching the comforter shift with his weight as he leaned back and forth slightly.

"Can I?" Virgil pointed to a few more sketches over the head of the bed. Remus nodded. Virgil got up onto his knees, nearly pressing his chest into the wall as he looked at the many sketches.

Remus got up onto his knees too, sort of knee-waddling over to Virgil's side. Virgil's eyes continued scanning the sketches before they fell onto a particularly familiar looking one. His breath caught in his chest. He reached up to it, tracing the familiar purple plaid of his very own patchwork hoodie. Remus cleared his throat from beside him.

They both spoke at the same time.

"Um, you should probably know that-"

"Remus, I wanted to tell you-"

Virgil turned to look at Remus then, and belatedly realized just how close together they were. Remus' lips were pursed, and Virgil could see that he was chewing at the inside corner of his mouth.

Virgil drew in a breath to speak as Remus moved slightly closer. Pursing his lips shut, he changed his mind, deciding to take a risk.

He surged forward suddenly, shutting his eyes. Remus met him in the middle, and just like that, they were kissing.

It was soft and still at first, lips pressed firmly into each other's. Remus reached one hand up, gently cupping Virgil's cheek.

Virgil pulled back suddenly, but Remus' hand didn't leave his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, I really should've- asked- I meant to say things, i mean, before-" He stopped as Remus set his other hand on Virgil's waist. His face looked incredibly soft and gentle, lips parted slightly as he looked at Virgil like he'd hung the moon.

Virgil intertwined his fingers on the back of Remus' neck, and Remus pulled Virgil back into the kiss.

...

two days later, Virgil was up late again, unable to push himself into unconsciousness. His body was restless even if his mind was exhausted - or perhaps it was the other way around, his mind restless and his body exhausted? He really couldn't tell.

It was nearing 3am, and he was sitting curled in on himself, hugging his knees as he watched the stars out his window. His phone, face-down on the bed beside him, began buzzing.

He tilted his head, sighing as he fought an oncoming wave of exhaustion. He picked up the phone, flipping it to see the caller ID, although part of him hoped knew who it would be.

He pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Remus."

He heard Remus gasp on the other end of the line, before murmuring a small "hi."

"I... are you not sleeping good tonight?" Remus' curious and confounded expression was almost palpable through the phone. Virgil smiled lazily, recognizing Remus' demeanor immediately.

"No, I'm not, but that's okay. The stars are pretty tonight." Virgil paused, scratching at his chin a bit. "Are you stoned again?"

A long pause. "Yeah," Remus blurted. "Sorry I... I nodded, but then, I realized... you can't see me."

Virgil smiled to himself again. "It's okay."

A long, comfortable silence followed. Virgil was too tired to feel the obligatory need to make conversation, especially with Remus. He'd be a fool to expect any awkwardness after a make out session with the spontaneous blob that is Remus, but he'd still been nervous to see or speak with him again. That all melted away now though, exhaustion and vague contentment taking its place.

"Virgie - uh, Virgil?" Remus piped up after a while, rousing Virgil from his trance.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, remember..." Remus trailed off, and didn't speak for long enough that Virgil almost responded to prompt him. "Did you come to my house, and also, kiss me, or was that a dream?" Even through his stoned lilt, Remus spoke a bit quickly, like he was trying to shove the words out of his mouth before he could change his mind.

Virgil chuckled. "That wasn't a dream, Remus. Yes, I remember." I don't think I could forget it if i wanted to tried.

"Oh." Virgil could hear the smile in Remus' voice. "Can we- I mean, do you want to, uh, do it again? Some time?" he didn't sound hesitant, no; just hopeful, and perhaps as though he felt like he needed to be excessively gentle. It was the sweetest tone Virgil had ever heard.

"I'd like that," Virgil smiled.

Remus sigh-laughed on the other end of the line, and Virgil's smile grew. "Cool," Remus said almost under his breath.

Virgil didn't do it consciously, but a big, loud yawn decided to worm its way out of him at that moment.

"Are you sleepy Virgie?" Remus asked in a strange partial baby voice. Virgil snorted at him.

"I'm literally always tired, so if the answer was no, that would be more concerning," Virgil quipped, but his voice sounded spent. Remus giggled a little.

"Can I hum to you?" Remus asked, smile still discernable in his tone. Virgil felt something warm spark in his chest, like a lighter being flicked and lit.

"I'd like that a lot, too," Virgil murmured, curling up beneath his covers as Remus started to hum.

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes.

And if Remus stayed on the line for another half hour or so, humming to him and listening to his even breaths, who was to know?

...

Virgil felt like an idiot.

That wasn't an entirely rare feeling to him, but this particular time was different.

Despite his general edginess and rebel-against-society vibe, Virgil had never touched a drop of alcohol or gone near any intoxicating substance in his life. Until today.

He'd been Remus' boyfriend for almost three months now, and it was everything he could have hoped; haphazard night trips to convenience stores that ended in oddly romantic motorcycle rides, the odd gestures Remus's... eccentric mind came up with, and Virgil was in dire need of more hoodies he could let Remus steal. All this, but Virgil was still Virgil. He still had his anxiety disorder, he still dealt with insomnia. Though, sleeping in Remus' arms was proving an impressively effective remedy to the latter.

So, when Remus suggested Virgil look into the medical benefits of marijuana in regards to both anxiety and insomnia, Virgil was... intrigued, to say the least.

He did find a lot of supporting evidence through his research, and... well, he thought, what the hell, right? If Remus smokes it pretty much every day, and if this many articles are claiming its reliability... what harm would it do to try?

So here he was, sitting on his couch, having taken a couple of edibles, waiting for the high to hit him. His hand ghosted over his jean pocket, assuring himself that his phone was there in case he needed to call 911 or something. He was trying to do breathing exercises to maintain some sort of calm, but sitting still wasn't his strong suit.

He'd chosen edibles since he didn't want to have to deal with the whole... smoke and coughing side of things. And he really didn't like the sound of vaping. He figured this would be fine as an introductory experience, but he realized that he had no clue when the edibles would kick in.

He pulled out his phone, typing into google.

Marijuana edibles generally take 30 minutes to an hour to induce any psychological effects on the consumer.

Oh.

Well, he figured, there was no way he could sit still for that long.

He stood, deciding he'd make himself some dinner. Something to busy his hands with, and the leftovers he'd planned on heating up would last another day or two anyways.

He settled on some fettuccine alfredo, fairly simple but one of his childhood favorites. He had a feeling he'd appreciate the comfort food while he was... in an altered state of mind.

Virgil, however, hadn't accounted for the fact that he had an almost unnaturally high metabolism, and before he'd even gotten the pasta in the boiling water, things started to get a little funky.

The first thing Virgil noticed, before he'd even registered that the edibles were kicking in, was how he could hear his thoughts. Not literally, but it felt as though his stream-of-consciousness thoughts were more slow and clear to him, as though he was speaking directly to himself.

As he thought this, his vision suddenly came into alarming focus, and felt oddly like an unstable skyscraper. He stared down at his feet, and they seemed so far away, the floor looked far too far away... He gripped the counter nearest to him, trying to steady himself even if he wasn't actually falling. He didn't feel like he had any control over his center of balance, and even if he was mostly stock-still as a pencil, he thought he might fall down at any moment, down the many stories of building beneath him. But there was no stories beneath him... it was only his legs, which he didn't remember being so long. He stared a little harder at his feet. They weren't abnormally far away, were they?

Virgil vaguely registered the sound of over-boiling water as the realization hit him.

Oh. So this is what it's like.

He turned so that his lower back was stable against the counter, sliding slowly down onto his butt. Standing didn't feel safe right now, even if that made no sense.

He didn't really like this. He felt so isolated, so alone in this moment. He was too out of it to focus hard enough on those thoughts for them to really take root, but he was generally aware of them. So, he did the first thing he could think to do.

He pulled his phone very slowly and carefully out of his pocket, as if he thought it was a brittle sugar cookie. He stared at the dark screen for a solid minute, wondering why it wasn't turning on. Then he realized he had to actually touch the screen for that to happen, and so he did.

From there, it was relatively easy; he unlocked his phone, found the calling app, scrolled around a little haphazardly up and down the contact list before finding Remus' contact.

If anyone could help him feel less alone, if anyone knew what he was experiencing... it would be him.

He took a deep breath and held it as he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his face as it rang.

It only rang twice before Remus answered. "Hello, Jack Skellington! What can I do for you this evening?" Remus' voice sounded a little extra mischievous, and Virgil couldn't even begin to place why.

He was quiet for a little too long, vaguely trying to decide what to say. "Hi." Not the most eloquent, but it worked for a start.

"Hi," Remus replied, the troublemaking lilt of his voice dissipating slightly. "Is everything okay, Surly Temple?"

Virgil giggled a bit. Your brother is funny. You keep stealing his nicknames for me. "I'm, yeah. Sorry, talking. it's hard. Right now." Virgil spoke haltingly, each word firm but isolated from the last.

"Hmmm..." Remus stroked his mustache from the other end of the line. Virgil giggled again, realizing he couldn't actually see Remus stroking his mustache, but could imagine it vividly all the same. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing exactly that.

"Oh, 'm high," Virgil added quite belatedly.

"Oh! Well that makes a lot more sense!" Remus laughed, but quickly composed himself again. "What are you doing? Are you feeling okay? Is this your first time? What's happening?"

"Skyscraper," Virgil replied matter-of-factly, as if that cleared the air entirely.

"...right..." Remus replied slowly. "Stormcloud, is it okay if I come over? I don't... I want you to be- uh, to feel safe right now."

"Yes, please," Virgil clung to the phone like it was Remus' arm. "I miss you I'm kinda scared," his words slurred together, but at least he managed to say something slightly coherent. Remus grunted in acknowledgement.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten. Want me to stay on the line?" Virgil could hear shuffling around in the background.

"What're you doin?" He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator door, since he couldn't actually look at Remus.

"Putting on my shoes, silly! What room are you in right now?" Remus replied, a sense of protectiveness twinged in his voice.

"Kitchen. floor." Virgil swirled his fingers on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay- oh, fuck it. I'm staying on the line till I get there, okay Virgie?" Virgil heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by vague trafficky noises.

"You're coming," Virgil spoke, registering it in his mind finally.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Remus repeated, and the sound of Remus' car starting sounded shortly after.

Virgil smiled at nothing. "I love you."

The words were a bit slurred together, but he heard them out of his own mouth loud and clear. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth, a little horrified that he'd just said that.

Sure, he'd known he loved Remus for a while now, but they hadn't said it before. He'd almost said it, once, earlier that week while he was laying in Remus' arms on a drowsy Sunday morning, watching the lines of his face shift and harden as he slowly woke up. But he didn't. And now he'd just gone and said it, while he was stoned out of his mind for the first time, sitting on his kitchen floor about to break into tears-

Remus' voice, a little bit strained, interrupted Virgil's thoughts.

"I love you too."

A pause. "I'm almost there, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

Virgil snuggled down further into his hoodie.

"I know, cus you'll be here."

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

When a Demon Seduced an Angel

Context: this is a (rather large) snippet from my own prompt in which Bruce is an adorable and fierce Angel who, instead of having fluffy, white, birdlike wings like all the other angels, has black, leathery bat-like wings and is tormented for it. To show the other Angels that he is good and not a demon in disguise, Bruce has taken on several high risk missions on his own, and successfully stopped numerous demon campaigns. Unfortunately, this causes the demons and their generals, The Legion of Horribles and the Brigadier Generals, Jim and Alfred (who all, strangely enough, have birdlike wings unlike their demon underlings) no small degree of vexation. So they catch him and present him to their generals... and they are stunned! This cute, little baby bat is the one causing so much trouble? Jim is the one who suggests they take the pup’s loyalty and twist it to them. The others agree, and this is Alfred’s ‘session’ with the cute little Angel.

Alfred made sure he had everything set up before allowing the pup to be brought in; the candles were lit, the wine was comfortably chilled, and his secret weapon would be in full view of the pup when it was time. He knew exactly how to make that pup sing like a nightingale, Jim and Victor thought they had broken through with all their Daddy Play the other day but he was going to have the pup leave his body by the time he was done. He looked up when some demon grunts brought the boy in, more than one sporting bruises and scratches. He wondered about the ‘All-Father’s’ sense of humour in creating such an intoxicating creature and putting him on the side of the angels. The white clothes he had been captured in had done nothing for his skin, but the dark clothes he now sported showed off his creamy skin, his dark hair, and beautiful dark green eyes. The boy was sin personified but he was on the side of the Bible humpers; he wondered if the boy was supposed to be the ‘great reward’ for being good, wholesome, and all around boring. He certainly appeared to be a tall glass of holy water.

He watched as the underlings maneuvered Bruce until he was in the center of the room, removed his shirt, and attached to a hook hanging overhead. Alfred smirked as he watched the pup try and get his balance; he had arranged the hook so that Bruce would only be able to stand on his tiptoes and any kind of struggling would have the boy flailing in the air. And Alfred could foresee a fair bit of struggling. As a gift however, he nodded that those beautiful, butter soft leather wings be released of their harness. He heard Bruce sigh a little in relief at the release of pressure and smiled as he came into view of their baby bat.

“Comfortable?” He relished in the glare he received in return as the pup responded,

“If I was in anyway comfortable, I would be home right now instead of being surrounded by demons.”

“Such attitude when we’ve done our best to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Oh yeah; those chains you used to pin me down and keep my wings bound the other day were really comfortable.” Alfred merely shrugged and replied,

“You tried to leave without saying goodbye pup; that’s bad manners and Victor and Jim had to get tough with you. Though, judging by your reactions, you didn’t mind being their ‘Daddies Boy’.” Alfred smirked as Bruce blushed and looked away before continuing,

“Tell me, Brucie, what do you know of the senses?” Bruce glared at the ‘Brucie’ bit before responding,

“They are a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.” Alfred rolled his eyes before yawning and responding,

“Figures an angel would give such a dry description of something so essential. I think you need a little lesson on the senses.” So saying, Alfred produced a red silk blindfold and wrapped it around Bruce’s eyes.

“First, we are going to start off with two of the most disregarded senses; taste and smell. You ever eaten pup?”

“Of course not; angels have no need to eat so why waste the time?” Bruce responded as he tried to keep track of the demon.

“Demons don’t have to eat either Baby Boy; we do it because we enjoy it, something I doubt you’ve ever actually done. So, let’s see if I can’t help you understand our enjoyment of the act. We have a chef down here that is so good; it’s said that when her husband sold his soul for some idiotic reason, she offered her own soul that she could make a dish that would bring tears to Mephisto’s eyes. Poor dear didn’t realize that Mephisto didn’t have tear ducts but the meal was so good, when he took her soul, he placed it in the kitchens, allowing her to try all manners of dishes. Last I checked, she’s never been happier, and she hopes you’ll like what she made up for you. She made you a lovely herb encrusted lamb with some lovely roasted Brussels sprouts, some creamy herb mash potatoes, and a lovely purple cabbage salad with cranberries and mandarin oranges to cut through all the richness of everything. To start you off we have a lovely, refreshing chilled watercress yogurt soup that will do a lovely job of waking your taste buds up and for dessert, she made a delicious blueberry and lemon tart that will top things off beautifully. On the off chance you don’t like the tart, I also have some lovely strawberries and cream, which is a favourite of mine.”

“I really don’t see the point in any of that; angels and demons feed on cosmic energy, we have no need for such things.” Bruce retorted at the food listed. He honestly had no concept of any which had been described to him, and didn’t see the point in consuming human food that would not give them any extra energy.

“That’s the whole point; decadence, doing things not because you have to or because it serves some kind of function. Doing them simply because it feels good, which you are about to get a lesson in, so open up.” Bruce didn’t want to but knew the sooner he indulged this demon and showed him how pointless such a thing was, the demon may get irritated enough and send him away. He opened his mouth and let the demon place the spoon with the cold soup on his tongue before it was tipped down his throat. He had to admit, there was an interesting flavour to it and it was rather refreshing

“You like that?” Bruce was fairly certain he could hear the smirk on the demon’s face so responded,

“I never said humans don’t know how to prepare food to their liking, I just don’t see the point on wast- hmph!” Bruce suddenly found the spoon back in his mouth with more soup as the demon responded,

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me in teaching you about indulging; fortunately for you, I have the patience of Job, so we can keep at this for however long it takes.” Alfred took a mouthful himself before giving Bruce another. It wasn’t long before the soup was done, and he wondered how the stubborn angel would deal with the lovely rack of lamb. He cut off a nice sized piece of the medium rare lamb and held it first under the angel’s nose so he could get a good whiff of it.

“That, my pretty little bat, is a perfectly cooked medium rare lamb. For humans, the scent alone can be enough to get their mouths watering and scent is a powerful memory trigger so, the next time you are around humans, you will remember this scent and remember that a demon was the one who woke these senses up in you.” When Bruce opened his mouth to retort, the piece of meat was tucked into him mouth and the forced closed as Alfred instructed,

“Now, we don’t choke but it can be uncomfortable to swallow a piece of meat like that whole, so take your time in chewing it, but just let it sit on your tongue for a minute, let the flavour of the meat, the herbs, the tender sauce all mix together on your virgin tongue, and try to tell me that it’s not worth savouring and eagerly awaiting the next bite.” Bruce did as instructed and let the meat sit on his tongue, and couldn’t hold back the moan as the flavours seeped into his tongue and it felt like there were fireworks going off behind his eyelids.

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Bruce slowly chewed the piece of meat, indeed savouring it before swallowing it and taking a moment to collect himself before responding,

“Yes, it’s good, but angels aren’t meant to indulge in such things; it’s wrong!” Alfred swallowed his own piece before replying,

“If it’s so wrong, Brucie, then why did the ‘All-Father’ give you taste buds? Is it wrong on the same level as those who condemn homosexuals? I know more than a few angels who would like to see them down here.”

“No! No, the All-Father loves us all! He wants us to love each other, not hate!”

“Then those angels are wrong in their condemnation?”

“Yes!”

“Then why are they right about their opinions on food right? Or their opinion of you for that matter?” Bruce shrunk in on himself so Alfred sighed and gave him another piece of meat, this one with some of the mash potatoes, creating a lovely combination of flavours. After a couple more bites, he gave him some of the salad, and he seemed to enjoy the refreshing acidity. Soon, Alfred poured the conflicted angel a refreshing glass of wine and pressed the rim to his lips.

“This is a delightful little wine that pairs beautifully with lamb that offers the restraint to complement the delicate, gamey flavor of lamb and the deliciously jammy sweetness to go with the fig-port sauce. And so help me if you give me some speech about how angels aren’t supposed to drink spirits, I am going to get a Succubus in here that will tease you for hours, and even you can’t handle that.” Bruce whimpered as he parted his lips and allowed himself to take a few sips, finding it bracing and actually quite nice.

“Now, you ready for your dessert?”

"I would... like... to try... them both, since I’ve never actually had fruit, though I’ve noticed humans enjoy it.” Alfred smiled as the pup asked for something he wanted, even displayed a little greed and gluttony as the pup wanted to try both, and cut a small piece of tart before presenting it to him. He parted his lips and took the tart with the firm crust and enjoyed the sweetness of the blueberries and the zing from the lemon. Alfred then took a piece of strawberry and scooped up a bit of cream before presenting it to the abandoned angel. He watched as Bruce seemed to enjoy the strawberries just a tad more, so he grabbed another piece and, when he opened his lips, he used the strawberry to trace the pup’s lips. As confusion fluttered over the pup’s face, Alfred very casually asked,

“Did you know that some people consider certain foods to be aphrodisiacs? They are seen as being able to arouse a person. Strawberries are one of those foods; I suppose it has something to do with the juiciness and some say that a ripe strawberry, after you’ve bitten into it, looks a lot like a woman’s pussy.” Despite the fact it should not have been possible, Bruce found himself choking on the strawberry he had just gotten.

“You alright love? You want some more wine?” Bruce didn’t know how a demon could sound so innocent, but this one pulled it off quite well.

“Humans enjoyed using food for sex long before we even dreamed of it. I happen to know that it was some decadent woman in Greece who one day, tired of her husband ignoring her, actually started inserting grapes into her pussy. She and a slave boy had a lot of fun trying different foods, right up until her husband killed them both. It was a little closer to modern times when they started using things like whipped cream and chocolate spread, something I’ll have to be sure to bring next time as there’s more than one part of your body that would look good covered in chocolate and cream. Now, if you’re done eating, I think we are ready to help you learn about your next two senses; hearing... and touch.”

To Be Continued...

[0spacecase0]

Grumpy SOB

Bo side-eyed you as he grumbled underneath his breath. Out of your peripheral you saw him adjust on the couch and turn the volume up on his wrestling match. The booming voice of the sports announcer drowned out any further comments of his displeasure and you went back to making dinner for the boys. 

You had told Vincent a few days ago that him and his brothers should spend more time together and designated Friday as family dinner night. You had yet to tell Bo that Lester was coming and you simply invited Lester over when you saw him yesterday. By the way Bo was acting this was not gearing up to be a pleasant night. He cast one more nasty look in your direction and you decided that enough was enough.

“What is it, Bo?” Maybe asking him head-on was stirring the pot a little but you were past the point of caring. You had spent the better part of the day preparing everything for a nice evening and you weren’t going to let his attitude ruin it. The family had already kidnapped you and prevented you from leaving. At least Lester and Vincent were nice about it, Bo took every opportunity to antagonize you and make your life harder. 

Scowling like you had insulted him, Bo spat, “Excuse me, but it’s Friday night and seein’ as I’m the only one in this goddamn house that’s got a job I’d like to spend it watchin’ my shows and havin’ a beer! Which I can’t do with the goddamn ruckus yer causin’ in there!” His southern accent poking through the angrier he got, he ended his tirade and turned the volume up once more. 

Deciding that you were going to salvage this night if it killed you, you furrowed your brow and braced yourself to yell back at him. “I’m sorry if my cooking is too loud for you! I could just let you fend for yourself y’know! I’m surprised you could hear me over how loud the TV is. What is it at, 60?” 

Turning back to the steaks you were cooking you mumbled, “Goddamn grumpy son of a bitch…” As you turned to put the pie in the oven you bumped right into the towering form of Bo Sinclair. You weren’t given much time to wonder how he had gotten all the way over here before he shoved his face right up close to yours. His hat was off and he had errant curls framing his face. 

Breathing heavy he simmered, “What did you just say to me?” His voice was at a regular level and that in and of itself was almost as terrifying as if he were screaming.

But apparently it was not enough to deter you. 

Not knowing where the suddence confidence came from you pushed your face closer to his and said, “Which part? When I called you helpless or when I called you a son of a bitch?” His cheeks were flushed from rage — or maybe alcohol — and your eyes went wide as you realized that you had really put your foot in your mouth. 

Just then Vincent came up from the basement and stopped in the kitchen causing the two of you to look over at him. He tilted his head as if to ask: “What’s going on?” And when you looked back at Bo he simply scoffed and rolled his eyes. Ripping open the door to the fridge he snatched a beer before stalking off to the living room once more. 

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding you looked over at Vincent who was now appraising the various dishes you made. 

“Do they pass inspection?” His eye darted up to your face and you could see he was smiling as he nodded.

“Good, let’s just hope your brothers like it too.” Giving you a sympathetic look, as best he could with that mask of his, he grabbed the plates to start setting the table. The two of you worked in silence until you heard the familiar sound of Lesters truck pulling into the driveway. The two of you heard Bo shift in the living room and you gave Vincent a look that said: “Let the shit-show begin.”

“What in the fuck is he doin’ here at 7:00 in the goddamn evenin’?” You and Vincent snapped your heads to the doorway to see Bo glowering at the two of you. 

Deciding to make it seem like you had invited Lester on a whim you replied, albeit shakily, “I saw him earlier and I thought he might like to have dinner with us.” 

It seemed like fate was working against you because Lester chose that time to slam open the door and yell down the hallway, “Hey guys!” 

Rounding the corner into the kitchen he started to say, “Hey Y/N, thanks fer inviting me yesterday, I sure do ‘preciate it. I been thinkin’ ‘bout whatcha said and I think you’re right. We should start to eat dinner as a family more-“ He looked up into the kitchen and was met with Bo glaring at him beneath the brim of his trucker hat.

Turning to you, Bo cocked an eyebrow and you could only wish that they had actually killed you when you first stumbled into Ambrose. 

“Saw him earlier?” He drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Thought he might want some dinner?” Realizing you had been caught red handed you looked to Vincent and Lester for some help. Vincent only shrugged and Lester seemed to have finally clammed up. 

Bo’s voice increasing in volume made you whip your head over to him again. With you looking like a deer in headlights he continued, “Well, it seems like we have a fuckin’ contradiction on our hands here.”

Stepping into your personal space Bo sneered, “It’s bad enough that Vincent and Lester want you alive but don’t go thinkin’ yer apart of the family.” 

Cursing yourself for cowering under his imposing form you mutter, “I’m sorry Bo, but you don’t have to be so ornery all the time.” His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to respond before Vincent put his hand on his brother's chest and pushed him out of your face. 

Lester tried concealing his laughter as he giggled, “ornery” under his breath. Bo’s eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tense as he looked between his brothers and you. Exhaling harshly he ripped Vincent’s arm off of him and dragged one of the chairs out from the table. 

Plopping down onto it he snapped, “Well as long as we’re all here we might as well eat some of this shit.” 

Vincent glared at him as he brought the bowl of mashed potatoes to the table and Lester pulled out his own chair looking meekly at his lap. It hurt you to see the brothers fighting all the time and you couldn’t help but feel like your attempt at remedying it had gone down the drain before the night even really started.

The table was tense as everyone served themselves. You felt like one wrong move would cause Bo to start hurling insults at everyone. Lester helped himself to the mashed potatoes, grabbing a large spoonful of it. The precarious pile started to tip and before you could warn him he had the mush all down his shirt and lap. 

You and Vincent looked at each other as Lester froze in shock. You were all waiting for Bo’s anger to explode but instead of biting insults and yelling all that came out of his mouth was a short chuckle. Glancing wide-eyed at Lester you tried to brace yourself for the inevitable fight that was sure to break out. Pushing your chair back from the table you scrambled to get more napkins in order to clean up the mess. As you turned back to the table Bo burst out in boisterous laughter. He threw his head back and banged on the table. You hesitantly turned to the other brothers for reassurance but they looked just as lost as you. 

“You- You should have seen your face! Lester-!” He cut himself off with another round of raucous laughter. 

“Lester- He- He looked so fuckin’ surprised! Like a deer in fuckin’ headlights!” By this point Bo was on the verge of tears and as his hooting and hollering continued Lester started to relax and laugh along as well. You looked over to see Vincent’s shoulders shaking as he laughed in his own silent way. Watching the brothers cut loose like this, you started to laugh as well. It began as chuckling until slowly all of you descended into hysterics, until the sounds of your giggles filled the entire room. 

As the laughter died down, all of you were left smiling at each other and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for the boys. They were deprived of this closeness and happiness for their entire lives. The more you thought about it the more you realized you had never seen any of them laugh that hard before. Feeling as though the evening had been revived, you all started to dig in after Lester cleaned up his mess. 

The night wore on and the plates were swapped out for beer — for Bo, coffee, and tea. You sat around and watched as the brothers told what few happy memories they had from their childhood and once again you were hit with an overwhelming feeling of loss. In some sort of twisted way, they had become a sort of family to you and you felt as though you should try and contribute in a way that helps them. You may not be able to change their childhood, but now you were determined to give them as many happy moments as you could moving forward in order to make up for it. 

Slowly Vincent rose from the table, gesturing that he had work to do in the basement. Before he turned to leave he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. You were a bit taken aback, as Vincent was generally more reserved. You smiled back at him to show your appreciation. Your attention was drawn to Lester as he slid his chair back from the table, smiling from ear to ear. 

“I best be gettin’ home ‘fore it gets too dark to drive. This sure was great, Y/N. Thanks fer havin’ me, I had a ball.” His smile faltered and he looked as if he wanted to say more. 

“Sure thing, Lester. Is there anything I can get you before you leave?” You furrowed your brow, wanting to know what was bothering him but feeling like it wasn’t your place to ask.

Wringing his hat in his hands his eyes flit between the ground and yours as he spoke once more, “Yeah, I was wonderin’ — if it’s not too much trouble — if’n I could come back fer supper again next week? O- Only if yer havin’ it.” He clenched his jaw as he looked at you wide-eyed, nervously awaiting your response. Your heart damn near broke for this man, looking so unsure. You wanted to wrap him in your arms and never let him go.

Holding your arms out you gestured for Lester to come hug you. He hesitated at first but after you said, “C’mere” he almost knocked the breath out of your lungs from how hard he hugged you. 

While he was hugging you, you murmured, “Of course, Lester. You’re always welcome here. Even if you just want to drop by to chat.” Your eyes flitted over to Bo, expecting him to be upset that you had given Lester permission to come up to the house anytime he wanted. Instead, you saw him tracing the label of his beer bottle with an odd sort of half-smile on his face. He almost looked… sad. Or nostalgic. Maybe a combination of the two. Either way, you squeezed Lester once more before drawing back and holding him at arm's length. Looking him in the eyes, you cocked your eyebrow and he nodded back at you, a large smile splitting his face.

Stealing a cookie on the way out, he waved goodbye to you and Bo before yelling a goodnight down the stairs to Vincent. You were standing at the sink with your back to the rest of the kitchen when you heard Bo push his chair back. Looking over your shoulder you saw Bo leaning against the wall behind you with his arms crossed. Wondering why he was just standing there looking at you, you decided to ask him.

“What’s up, Bo? You gonna head to bed?” Turning back to the sink you waited for his response. You thought maybe he’d yell at you for inviting Lester without his say in it, or if he was in a good mood maybe even help with the dishes. 

What you didn’t expect was to hear him say, “Nah, I’m gonna thank you.” Your head snapped around so fast your neck almost hurt. You couldn’t believe his words. 

Chuckling at your slack-jawed stare he continued, “I know me ‘n Lester ain’t very close. I just don’t know how to handle ‘im sometimes. I sorta feel bad ‘bout it, seein’ as Vincent ‘n me are ‘bout as close as I can get.” Looking down at the floor he scuffed the toe of his work boot across the linoleum. He looked almost sheepish and if you were shocked before you were downright flabbergasted now. You had seen Bo show a lot of emotions — mainly anger and sometimes, when he was drunk enough, sadness. You had seen him flirt like hell and be sarcastic. But you had never seen him be as vulnerable as he was right now. You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off before you could get a word in.

“But tonight… Tonight was real nice, even though you went behind my back to do it, sweetheart.” You knew that it must have meant a lot to him for Bo to even consider thanking you. Even if he was poking fun at you, you knew that this was about as open as he could get. 

“Bo…” You hushed out, “You don’t need to thank me, I’m happy to do this for all of you. Even if I am being held here against my will, I guess I should pitch in somehow. Besides, I only feel bad that you guys aren’t as close as you could be.” Looking back at the dishes you expected the conversation to be over. For Bo to make some sort of snarky response or grunt in your direction before going on his way. 

But it seemed like he just wanted to surprise you today because his hand fell on your shoulder and as he turned you around he said, “So Lester got a hug and I don’t get nothin’? That don’t seem mighty fair to me, seein’ as I’m the one who paid fer the groceries.” Your jaw fell open as you tried to comprehend what he just said. You were half tempted to ask what he had done with the real Bo because this was an obvious imposter. 

Managing to stutter out a, “What” you slowly got your wits together. 

“Am I not as good as Lester? Is that it? You like ‘im better than me?” Bo started to look more defensive and you gaped up at him.

“Bo, are you… Are you jealous?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Bo Sinclair, macho-man extraordinaire was jealous because you had given his brother a hug and not him. You couldn’t help but smile as Bo furrowed his brow and turned his head. 

Scoffing, he stepped back from you and hissed, “No. Me? Jealous of that sorry son-uva-bitch that smells like rotting shit? No fucking way, forget I said anything.” He turned and started making his way out of the kitchen. 

Chasing after him you laughed and yelled, “Bo! I’ll give you a hug if you want. All you had to do was ask!” You caught him by his sleeve in order to stop him. He turned back to you, still frowning and you moved forward and wrapped your arms around his torso. You felt him tense and his arms hovered awkwardly away from your body before he peeled you off of him. Grumbling to himself he stomped up the stairs and you were left shocked in the hallway listening to the echo of his door slamming. 

Trudging back into the kitchen feeling slightly put out, you finished up the dishes before returning to your own room. As much as you wouldn’t like to admit it, it had taken you a while to fall asleep. You couldn’t help but remember how vulnerable Bo had looked earlier and how upset he was when you had finally hugged him.

Unless Vincent was still awake from working all night, you generally woke up before Bo. He liked to sleep in and often went down to the garage at 10 am. While getting out of bed you decided that a cup of coffee would be a good way to start the day. Walking into the kitchen you were surprised to see Bo already sitting at the table staring into a cup of black coffee. You flushed when you realized you were still in your pajamas and probably looked like a mess. Turning to the coffee-maker you cursed yourself for thinking that because you really had no business liking Bo like that. He was your captor for pete's-sake! But then again, Bo had no business looking that handsome. 

Once you had your mug in hand you steeled yourself to meet his gaze and leaned your back against the counter. Looking closer at the man at the table you realized that his hair was ruffled and he had dark bags under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. 

“Good morning.” You figured if you asked what was wrong he wouldn’t say anything. He’d probably just yell at you, so you might as well act like there wasn’t anything weird going on. 

He just grunted a reply and kept looking into his coffee mug. He didn’t look you in the eyes as he heaved a sigh and pulled himself out of his chair. Pouring his mug out then setting it down in the sink, he turned back to the table. Pulling his hat on he pushed in his chair before ambling down the hallway, his eyes trained on the ground the whole time. You stepped out after him and watched him make his way toward the door, your brow creased in concentration. Making up your mind you walked after him before stepping in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, obviously confused, before stumbling back from the impact of your hug. His hands hovered just like they did last night before you squeezed him tighter and he finally rested them on your back. 

Speaking into his chest you told him, “I know I said all you have to do is ask, but I figured you wouldn’t do that.” You heard his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“Am I gettin’ that easy fer you to read?” He seemed just tired enough to not put up a fight at your words and instead went along with them. 

Smiling into his sternum you responded, “Maybe, or maybe I just thought you looked like you needed a hug.” He tightened his arms around you before drawing back. 

Considering your face for a while before an actual smile graced his features he said, “Maybe I did, sweetheart.” He squeezed your arm before stepping around you and grabbing his keys. You watched him through the screen door as he walked down the drive and started up his truck. Pulling out onto the road he stuck his arm out and waved before he disappeared around the corner ready to start another day in town. 

As you watched him go you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, proud that you had gotten him to open himself up just a little bit, and hoping that he would allow you to do that more often.

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 3/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The first evening at Gold's goes unexpectedly for Belle.

Notes: And here we go... ;) This got very long which I guess is what I get for trying to cram too much in. Chapter 4 is in progress. This is what Belle wears. And yes I have images for everything.

[AO3]

Belle spent the next week trying not to think about her deal with Gold.

Every time she looked out the library window at the pawn shop, or saw him walking down the street, she could feel her ears burning and a flush creep up her neck. Monday, she picked up the money for the ring, such as it was, and nothing had been said on the matter, except to agree on seven o’clock as the time she should arrive at his house. It was said almost as an afterthought, after the sales receipt had been written out and the cash was in her hand. She was so focused on the existence of their agreement at all, that she hadn’t given any thought to the fact that she didn’t know when she was supposed to show up.

Wednesday morning they were both in Granny’s diner at the same time getting coffee. He said good morning to her as he went to leave, very nonchalantly, very I am not paying you to model your lingerie for me, and she completely mishandled the change Ruby was giving her, spilling half of it into her purse and the other half on the floor. Of course he was out the door by the time the last quarter fell.

But now the day was here, and she couldn’t ignore the inevitable anymore.

She closed the library at five, and went up to her apartment to shower. The new shelving had arrived for the children’s section resulting in her spending much of the day crouching down on the dusty floor reorganizing everything. It was tiring work, but satisfying, and she couldn’t wait to unveil all the updates that had been done since the section was closed a couple of months ago. Her excitement for that was , unfortunately, tempered by what was about to occur as soon as she realized what time it was.

Belle didn’t know how one should dress for such a thing. Since she hoped the whole event would be just a quick in and out, she opted for a comfortable navy sweater dress and a pair of leggings, which she thought would be fairly easy and quick to take off and put back on. As soon as the idea of taking off her clothes hit her, her stomach dropped to the bottom of her black ankle boots.

Fuck.

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, in and out. The sick feeling faded, but she started to wonder if she should even go through with it. Gold was paying a substantial amount of money, and on paper it seemed simple: show up, put on some fancy underwear, get paid, and go home. Except every single part of that sounded like exactly what a prostitute did. While she was fully supportive of sex work from a feminist perspective, it was absolutely not something she wanted to do herself.

Yet she felt like she was about to, in a way, and it made her wonder what was in it for Gold. She didn’t really know that much about it, apart from the fact that he was rich and everyone thought he was a jerk to varying degrees. Her limited interactions with him had always been very cordial, and while he seemed a bit eccentric and reserved, he was also intelligent and sharply funny. The first time she’d met him, right before she’d interviewed for the position at the library, he’d made her laugh. Five minutes later, when she found out he was part of the town council’s hiring committee, she’d been terrified that she was already out of the running. He didn’t ask her a single question, yet at the end everyone had looked at him as if he alone held the deciding vote.

Congratulations, Miss French.

That was all he’d said, and it was done; she was hired. The whole thing had been surreal, and now somehow her current situation made it even more so. Had he set his sights on her back then? Had he been waiting the past four years for a moment when she would need something from him to do - what? None of it made any sense.

Sighing, Belle checked herself one last time in the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, and then picked up her purse. It was time to do the brave thing.

Gold’s house was on a dead end lane not far from the library.

Everyone knew which one was his, the pink Victorian with the wide front porch that sat between two stately trees on a small bump of a hill. It seemed set apart from all the other houses, both because of the wide, deep lot in which it was built, and because of the almost ominous way it loomed over the other homes. It seemed to project its owner’s presence, and Belle shivered.

She carefully picked her way up the front sidewalk, her hands clenched into fists inside her coat pockets as she wondered what piece he had picked for her to wear. There were a couple of items she’d special ordered that were more on the risque side of the spectrum, things that were more personal to her, things that she liked for herself, not just to wear for someone else. Faced with the prospect of wearing them for Gold, she felt strange, as if a part of her might be exposed in a way that had nothing to do with how much of her bare skin was showing.

She paused at the door, repeating her mantra to do the brave thing, before she raised her hand and knocked. Her arrival was earlier than they’d discussed, only a few minutes after six, but she couldn’t sit in her apartment another second. Hopefully Gold wouldn't mind her desire to get things over with as quick as possible.

The delay before Gold opened the door felt interminable, but then a warm glow was spilling onto the porch, and she caught a whiff of something that made her inhale sharply. The scent was rich and familiar. It made her mouth water, and it took her a moment to realize it was the smell of food cooking.

“Miss French,” Gold said, breathlessly. He looked down at her and frowned. “You’re early.”

Belle forced a smile and shrugged. “Sorry, I was just sitting around at home and thought...why not just get it over with?”

His expression changed in a way she couldn’t read, but then he stepped back and held open the door. “Please, come in.”

The foyer was high and surprisingly bright, with a large, wrought iron chandelier that looked like something that belonged in the Middle Ages. In front of her was a short hallway that appeared to lead to the kitchen from which the aforementioned delicious smell was emanating. To the left was a sitting room, and to the right was the staircase, and while he was busy shutting the door behind her, she was busy...staring.

“May I take your coat?” Gold’s voice startled her, and she spun around to find him looking at her curiously.

She swallowed and nodded, and then handed it over, watching as he hung it on a set of hooks inside the door. Then he turned to her with a faint smile and his hands folded over the handle of his cane. Abruptly, she noticed that he was without his usual suit jacket, and instead was in just a checked dress shirt with a solid color tie. It was disarmingly casual.

“I was just making some dinner,” he said. “Since you’re early, I suppose you can join me, if you like.”

Belle blinked. Dinner. Dinner was so...normal. Dinner was a thing she did on dates before she let someone see her in her underwear, which was not what this was. But at the very mention of food, the scent wafted in from the kitchen once more, and she realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch, which she barely picked at anyway as her nerves about tonight grew and grew.

“Uh, yeah, o-okay,” she managed.

At that, Gold’s lips curved a bit more, and he motioned with a hand in the direction of the kitchen. She turned and walked ahead of him, her hand tight on her purse strap, as if she expected him to attack her or hit her over the head with something at a moment’s notice. It was ridiculous, she knew that, but the situation was ridiculous, and clearly her nerves were still getting the better of her.

The kitchen was quite well appointed and large, with a wide gas stove top set in an island with three bar stools at one end. Delicate pendants hung over the span of dark granite, an old fashioned style with those bare filament bulbs and a dark metal finish around the top. Her eyes darted around the space as Gold went to work at the stove. There was a pot of something bubbling away, and when he removed the lid, the room flooded with the scent. She let out a sound that was half contented hum, half moan at the enticing aroma, as she leaned forward over the edge of the counter.

He gave the contents of the pot a stir, and then retrieved two plates from a cabinet along with silverware from a nearby drawer. In a matter of a minute or two, he had dished up two servings of some sort of stew over a pile of fluffy mashed potatoes. She could see bits of beef, carrot, and pearl onions in a fragrant gravy, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold glanced at her, eyebrows lifted. “The dining room is through there, if you’d like to have a seat,” he said, with a nod towards a room off the kitchen. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Without a word, she picked up her plate and utensils, and made her way through into the dining room. It was a long, narrow space that connected back around to the sitting room at the front of the house. There was a sizable table in the center with a total of six chairs, and an old fireplace on the outside wall that had been retrofitted with a gas insert. It was giving off a soothing heat, and she sighed as she came around the table. She set her plate down and leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head on her folded hands, breathing slow and deep as the fire warmed her back.

“Alright?”

Belle looked up and then straightened, nodding as Gold came into the room, his plate in his free hand, and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. “Yeah,” she said. “Fine.”

He returned to the kitchen to fetch two glasses, and came back a moment later to take the seat directly across from her. “Drink?”

She nodded dazedly, though whether that was because of lack of food, or because it was entirely too surreal that she was having dinner with Mr. Gold, in his house, which he himself had cooked, she couldn’t say.

“Beef burgundy,” he said as he popped the cork from the bottle and poured some wine into each glass. “Seemed like the thing for a cold winter night.”

“So you’re Julia Child?” She said it without thinking, and for a second she was worried he wouldn’t find it funny, but then he grinned crookedly.

“Hardly. But I think I do well enough.”

A half hour or so later, Belle would have to say that Gold did more than well enough. The best meal she’d had in ages, it was altogether warm and earthy, with beef so tender that it fell apart under the weight of her fork. The potatoes were the perfect thing to hold all the delicious bits of vegetables together, and scoop up the gravy which was made rich with red wine and bits of bacon. She set her fork down with a light clatter against the plate, and tossed back the last swallow of wine in her glass, which she was quite certain was a brand and vintage that cost at least half a day’s pay.

The thing that surprised her the most, aside from the delightful explosion of garlic with every bite of mushroom, was that they’d managed to fill the silence with something resembling actual conversation. It was mostly about food and cooking, something about which Gold seemed quite passionate and opinionated, but it flowed well, and for a time she forgot that this wasn’t a dinner between acquaintances. It was a business transaction, and too soon the food and wine were gone, and she started anticipating having to keep up her end of things.

She helped Gold clear the table, but he shooed her from the kitchen before long, sending her to the study. The room had double french doors at the entrance, a high ceiling, and a stone fireplace that would have matched well with the chandelier in the foyer in a fourteenth century castle. A rush of warmth washed over her as she opened the doors, and she smiled as she looked around. Flanking either side of the fireplace were floor to ceiling bookshelves, that contained all manner of books and collections, as well a small, but well stocked, wet bar. There was a large mahogany desk at one end of the room where a bank of windows looked out onto the backyard, and at the other was a wide china cabinet with even more little treasures.

Two high back upholstered chairs sat to either side of the fireplace, with a large rectangular ottoman in tufted leather that seemed to take the place of a standard coffee table. There was a sofa as well, facing the hearth, that matched the ottoman. The walls were wallpapered, but framed art of all kinds, hung on every one of them, and above the fireplace mantle was an appropriately sized television. A professional designer would probably find it an eclectic mess, but Belle thought it was cozy and charming, exactly the sort of room that one wanted to relax in while the wind howled and the snow fell.

She was just about to peruse Gold’s collection of books when he appeared in the doorway. “It’s after seven.”

His expression was more subdued than when they were eating, and she swallowed hard, feeling the abrupt shift in the tone of the evening.

“Right,” she said, willing her stomach not to give up the food she’d just consumed. “Where should I -?”

“There’s a powder room through there, just before you get to the kitchen,” he replied. “You’ll find what you need in there.”

And there it was.

The facade that had been in place during their meal had lifted, and Gold was back to being Gold. Standing with his hands folded on his cane and with his suit jacket in place, he was, as always, impeccable and imperceptible. She couldn’t pretend this was anything else but what it was, and the uncomfortable knot in her throat returned as she passed by him.

The half bath was located under the stairs, and though a wall somewhere had been adjusted to accommodate it, the slant of the ceiling made it feel smaller than it was. The odd shadows cast by the sconces over the sink, and the way the toilet was tucked into an angled niche, made it feel like a cell in a dungeon.

Belle stepped inside, closed the door, and froze. Hanging on a brass hook on the back of the door was the black chemise she’d brandished in his shop. It was fairly tame as such things went, being plain black silk with lace trim adorning the edge of the bust and hem. The most tantalizing thing about it was the spaghetti straps, and some of her anxiety was alleviated by the fact that he had chosen the least revealing thing in the collection. Of course that meant there were plenty of scandalous items left to embarrass her.

There was a set of metal shelves to the left of the pedestal sink, containing a basket of extra toilet paper, and a bottle of hand soap. She set her purse down on one of the free shelves at the bottom, and then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet to take her boots off. Midway through unzipping the first one, it dawned on her that she didn’t have anything to wear on her feet. Of course on her honeymoon that wasn’t such a big deal, though a few items she’d planned to pair with some sexy heels. She sat for a long moment contemplating what to do, and finally shook her head. Bare feet would have to do, and if Gold didn’t like it, well that was his problem. He was getting what he paid for and no more.

As Belle pulled her sweater dress up over her head, she wondered if she should have asked him for a contract. But that would have meant a paper trail that said she was selling her lingerie clad body to Gold. Proof was the last thing she needed, though she supposed he could be planning to take pictures of her or something equally damning. There were rumors that he’d blackmailed the former mayor, but it was so many years ago now that no one really knew for sure.

She stripped off the rest of her clothes and hastily folded them before setting them on the shelf next to her purse. Then she removed the chemise from the hanger and slipped it over her head, the cool silk skimming down her bare body and making her shiver. After a moment’s hesitation, she firmly decided she was keeping her panties on for this one. They weren’t visible through the material of the chemise, and were a similar black with lace trim style.

Turning to the door, she caught her reflection in the brass framed mirror above the sink, and paused. The chemise wasn’t form fitting or clingy, but like most things made of silk and lace it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. Still, it wasn’t that much more revealing than her favorite blue sundress as far as cut and material went.

And yet it was.

It was an undergarment she had purchased for the sole purpose of wearing it as a preamble to sex. It was a statement, an invitation.

Belle forced her eyes away from the mirror and took a breath as she opened the powder room door. The hallway was chilly, and she shivered again as her bare feet made contact with the cold wood floor. She was grateful that the study was so warm, and wondering if he’d planned it so, starting a fire and closing the doors to keep the heat in. It was strangely thoughtful, which was as incongruous with what she knew about Mr. Gold as much as the fact that he’d served her dinner.

Shaking her head, she made herself step forward and then around the corner, heading back down the short hallway. The faint draft from the front door brushed across her, raising goosebumps on her arms, legs, and - elsewhere. She stopped just before the threshold of the study and looked down to see the front of the chemise doing nothing to hide her pebbled nipples. With a roll of her eyes, she pushed open one of the french doors, and stepped into the room.

Gold was seated in one of the chairs, facing the door, and Belle could feel his eyes on her as soon as she came into view. She tried not to look at him as she made her way around the end of the sofa, but when she reached the ottoman, it became almost impossible. Her eyes lifted and met his, and for a long moment she felt frozen in place.

The side of her that was near to the fire was quite warm, but the other side was still chilled from the hallway. She felt another tingle of goosebumps across her skin, and clenched her jaw to keep from looking down at herself lest she draw his attention to the obvious.

Gold’s eyes were dark, his features shadowed by the glow of the fireplace, but she knew instinctively that his gaze was traveling up and down her body, taking in every inch of her. He was reclined casually, right leg crossed over the left, and his elbows on the arms of the chair as she stood just a few feet in front of him. The handle of his cane glinted in the low light, and she had the absurd impression that this might be what meeting the Devil was like.

“Mr. Gold?” she said quietly.

He shifted in his seat and let his eyes bore straight into hers for a long moment before he raised a hand and made a circular motion with one long finger. “Turn around.”

She suppressed a shiver at the low, soft tone of his voice, and the way it made his accent heavier. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, shifting her feet until she had turned in a complete circle. When she faced him again, his expression had changed slightly, his lips parted as he breathed out a whispered lovely. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear it, so she said nothing.

Then he licked at his bottom lip and then gave her a small smile. “Would you pour me a drink?”

Belle blinked, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Scotch,” he added, indicating the area to the right of the fireplace that she’d noticed earlier. “Neat.”

“Yeah,” she finally managed, “sure.”

She turned and moved to the bar, where she found a short, cut crystal glass and a tall bottle with a name she recognized. It was probably from one of the locked boxes wine and liquor stores usually kept the expensive brands in, the brands where if you had to ask how much the bottle cost you probably couldn’t afford it. Of course Gold was a scotch man. Neat suit, neat scotch, and her lips twitched in odd amusement as she poured the drink.

A heady, earthy scent wafted up from the glass as she picked it up and carried over to where Gold was sitting. She walked by the ottoman and came to stand at the arm of the chair where there was a small side table. He lifted his hand, and she placed the glass in it, but as he lowered it back to the arm of the chair, his knuckles just barely brushed the black silk covering her thigh.

She stepped back quickly, her breath catching and her eyes going wide, but his face betrayed nothing. It was as if he hadn’t noticed, much less done it intentionally, and she exhaled in relief.

“Thank you, Miss French.” He took a small sip of the scotch, his gaze fixed on her over the rim of the glass, and then set the drink down. “Would you like one?”

Belle shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Very well then.”

His words felt final, and when he looked away from her, she knew her task was done. There was something strange about it, dismissive, and it left her unsettled. She hurried back to the powder room, and changed back into her sweater dress and leggings. She was overly warm by the time she was done, and blew a breath upwards at her forehead, ruffling her hair. Unsure of what to do with the chemise, she put it back on the hanger and left it on the back of the door. They hadn’t discussed whether she should take the lingerie back or not. If she kept it, she planned to throw it all in the dumpster with the rest of the remnants of her relationship with Garrett, but what use would it be to Gold?

That was a line of thinking she didn’t want to pursue.

When she came out of the bathroom, Gold was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear music coming from the direction of the study. She went to retrieve her coat, and when she turned around to put it on, there he was, with a yellow mailing envelope in his free hand. He waited while she put her coat and gloves on, and then handed her the envelope. It was a noticeable thickness to the contents, and her heart rate increased as she felt the rectangular shape of what was inside. He’d paid her in cash, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever held that much money at one time.

“I thought it was best not to have a paper trail” he said, once again folding his hands over his cane. “I assure you it’s all there.”

She gave him a brief nod before she tucked it in her purse. “I believe you.”

One of his eyebrows lifted at that, but he otherwise remained passive as he pulled open the front door. “Good night, Miss French.”

“Good night, Mr. Gold.”

She stepped out onto the porch, the chilly air a welcome relief on her face, but then he leaned out to add, “Do be on time next week.”

She nodded again, and then turned away, hurrying down the steps before he had closed the door. Nothing he’d done was impolite or disrespectful, and indeed she had to admit that the majority of the evening was actually quite pleasant, if also a touch awkward. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on her. There was a crawling sensation on her skin that made her itch, and all she wanted was to get home and take another shower.

Gold sighed and walked back into the study, leaning heavily on his cane.

He had immediately shed his suit jacket and tie after closing the front door, leaving them draped over the end of the banister to be taken upstairs when he went to bed. Reaching up, he popped the top two buttons on his dress shirt, but he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. The scotch wasn’t helping as it usually did, but he picked up the glass and took a large swallow before dropping down into the chair.

His eyes closed as he leaned back, conjuring the image of Belle French standing in his room in a silky black slip. The length had been demure, the lace no more than a pretty adornment, but it still affected him more than he anticipated. She was as lovely as he knew she would be, and clearly nervous.

Opening his eyes, he sighed again and stared into the fire.

Of course she was anxious about the situation, he was taking advantage of her, having her parade around wearing next to nothing while he watched like a lecherous bastard. It was perhaps the most selfish and base thing he’d ever done, but the moment when she’d looked at him, covered in soft silk and lace, half curious and half afraid, he’d felt a rush of excitement unlike anything he’d felt in years. It was delight and desire and depravity all in one. He shifted in his seat as the sensation washed over him again. When it was over, it would be final. He knew she would likely never speak to him again, but for this short time, one night a week, for as long as her collection of unmentionables lasted, she was his.

The fire snapped loudly, shaking him from his fantasy. He took up his cane and stood abruptly, deciding to forgo a second drink in favor of a cold shower and an early bedtime.

[itsadamcole]

last christmas

fem!reader x finn balor

reader and Finn have been broken up for almost a year. they haven't seen or spoken to each other since Finn ended the relationship. it's now Christmastime, and they come face-to-face at the NXT Christmas party for the first time since the breakup ... "i loved you. i loved you so much that it hurt me"

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: angsty, mentions & actions involving cheating, drinking, implied sex, kinda nsfw

— day 7 out of 25. let’s gooo —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 2

~ some 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You stand outside of BelaRosa Banquet Hall and stare up at the building. You know what's waiting for you inside.

While you've managed to avoid him at Full Sail, it won't be as easy to avoid him here. At least at Full Sail, you can hide in your dressing room. At BelaRosa Banquet Hall, there's nowhere to hide. Except maybe the bathroom. He's too much of a gentleman to walk into a women's restroom.

"Hey, girlie," you hear Candice LeRae say behind you. You glance back to see her walking up to the door with Johnny Gargano by her side. "Why are you still out here? You should be inside."

You say, "I'm trying to talk myself into going in. It's taking me longer than I thought."

Candice hooks her arm with yours and she says, "You know he doesn't like coming to these events. He probably won't even be here."

Anxiety hits you like a train as you say, "He's NXT Champion, Candice. There's no way that he's not here."

"That's a good point," she says. "I used to wrestle men so I won't be afraid to hit him or hurricanrana him so please come inside and sit with me and Johnny."

That gets a light laugh out of you. You give in and say, "Fine. You better hold your promise to hurrincanrana him if he comes near me."

Candice laughs and the three of you walk inside. "I promise," she says.

The banquet hall is huge and already full of NXT wrestlers and staff members. William Regal is even here. So is Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Shawn Michaels. If they're here then he definitely is.

You join Candice at a table with Tegan Nox, Dakota Kai, Raquel Gonzalez, Tommaso Ciampa, Tyler Breeze, and Fandango.

"Hey, Y/N!" Tegan says, patting the seat beside her. "Sit here. I didn't think we'd be seeing you."

Laughing, you say, "I decided to show up and not let a breakup dictate my life anymore."

Candice says, "She was standing outside the building for who knows how long when I showed up. Who knows if she would have walked in if it wasn't for me."

Everyone at the table kind of laughs.

The banquet hall is full of Christmas and holiday themed decorations. Garland hands all over the place with a large Christmas tree in one of the corners of the room. Wreaths are scattered throughout the room. The tables all have little Santa or snowman figurines as decoration.

"I love that dress, Y/N," Dakota compliments. "Very pretty."

The decision to come to this party was so last minute that you had to grab a dress from your closet instead of buying something new like most people did. The dress you're wearing is a short satin silver dress with spaghetti straps that crisscross each other on your back. The neck dips a little low, revealing a small amount of cleavage. You wear matching silver heels. Your Y/H/C colored hair is up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"Thank you, Kota," you say, smiling kindly at her.

The party goes well until dinner is served in buffet form. You're making your way down the line when someone says, "It's nice to see ya, Y/N. It's been a while."

You'd know that accent anywhere. That Irish accent that made you weak in the knees every time you heard it. Your suspicions are confirmed when you look to your left to see Finn Balor grabbing some mashed potatoes.

"Wish I could say the same," is all you say before grabbing a roll and some butter before walking off.

You sigh as you sit down, angry and frustrated that he even had the nerve to come up to you and say that it's nice to see you. You eat angrily.

Candice notices you and asks, "What's going on? You seem angry."

"I'm not," you snap. "Angry. I'm not angry."

Johnny chimes in and says, "Your vegetables say differently. Did he say something to you? I saw him standing next to you."

You look up at Johnny and say, "He said it was nice to see me, as if he didn't cheat on me several times then play victim every time I would find out."

Candice looks at you, upset that he even talked to you.

Tegan gives you a hug and says, "We won't let him talk to you again, Y/N. That was the first and last time he will talk to you tonight."

Dinner and dessert go by pretty much quickly and easily. Finn doesn't approach you while you eat.

After dinner and dessert, Candice and Johnny go off to dance. Raquel and Dakota go talk to Io Shirai and Rhea Ripley. Tyler and Dango go talk to Adam Cole and the Undisputed Era. Tommaso goes and mingles. That leaves you and Tegan at the table.

Tegan is in the middle of telling you a story about her dog as the two of you sip off your alcoholic drink when Finn approaches you again.

"I'd really like to talk with ya for a second, Y/N," he says. "Please."

You sigh and ask, "What part of 'I never want to talk to you again' didn't you understand?"

Tegan jumps in and says, "Take a hint, Finn. She doesn't want to talk."

Finn looks at you and says, "Just for a few minutes. Then ya can go back to hating my guts."

You turn and look up at Finn, meeting his eyes. "When I said to never talk to me again, I meant it, Finn," you say, growing more and more frustrated.

"It's just a two-minute long conversation, Y/N," he says. "Come on."

Tegan looks at you and you look at her. She says, "Get it out of the way that way you can enjoy the rest of your night."

Sighing, you look back up at Finn and say, "Fine. You have only two minutes."

He looks at Tegan before saying, "Alone. I want to talk to ya alone."

Rolling your eyes, you get out of your seat. Finn walks off to a more private and quieter part of the banquet hall.

"What do you want, Finn?" you ask. "Here to tell me how much you want me back and wish you never cheated?"

He says, "I'm getting married." You're surprised by these three words. "I wanted to make peace with the people I've hurt the most before I got married. Starting with ya."

You look up at Finn and say, "I'm not forgiving you any time soon, Finn. You hurt me so many times."

Finn says, "I don't expect ya to forgive me, Y/N. I'm just trying to make peace with ya so ya stop being smart when I talk to ya at work. I understand that I hurt ya and are mad at me-"

You cut him off and say, "You don't understand. If you understood then you wouldn't have cheated on me multiple times. I'm not just mad, I'm furious. I feel like the past six years were a waste of my time because of you. I loved you. I loved you so much that it hurt me. I took you back when you begged and pleaded because I believed you when you told me you wouldn't cheat again. I gave you chance after chance to make it up to me and just when you did, I'd find out that you cheated again. So no, you don't understand, Finn."

He hangs his head in shame as you speak. He knows that what he did was wrong. Now he's trying to right this wrong.

Finn waits until you're done talking before he says, "I understand what I did was wrong. I've grown and reflected in the past year, Y/N. I've met someone I'm happy with. I've met someone who's kind and beautiful and hasn't judged me because of my past. I've met someone who is nothing compared to ya. I know ya won't forgive me but I want ya back in my life because this whole ignoring me then being smart when we've talked sucks."

You squint your eyes at Finn and say, "Then maybe you shouldn't have cheated."

"I wish I didn't, Y/N!" Finn says, raising his voice. "Believe it or not but I did regret it every time. I hid it because I didn't want us to be in this exact situation."

You raise your voice and say, "Then maybe you should have just told me if you regretted it instead of hiding it! Hiding it did nothing but fuel my anger and hatred toward you. For the past year I have hated you, I have been angry at you, but most of all, I have loved you every second. It's frustrating, Finn! It's frustrating loving you when all you did was hurt me. Last Christmas, when you told me you cheated again, it broke my heart breaking up with you and honestly, I waited to see if you would come back but you never did. Instead you went out and got engaged, and it's not to me."

You've started crying by this point as you let out everything you've been feeling toward Finn for the past year. Everything comes spilling out as you talk.

Meanwhile, Finn's quiet. He's listening and taking it every single word you're saying. He wants to understand.

After sighing and wiping the tears away, you say, "All I wanted was for you to grown and think about your actions. That's all I wanted. Maybe I would have taken you back or tried again at a relationship with you if you came to me and talked to me instead of getting engaged. Now you're getting married and all I can think about is how proud I am of you and happy I am for you while being upset and angry with you."

A wave of sadness comes over Finn after you're done speaking. He finally realizes how much he's hurt you. He realizes his choices haven't been the best over the past few years.

Hesitantly, he reaches out and wipes away your mascara stained tears. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch and close your eyes.

Finn says softly, "I wanted to go back to ya, Y/N. I truly did, but I thought that I'd hurt ya too much and that ya wouldn't even listen to what I had to say. I've loved ya from afar this past year. There's always been a spot for ya in my heart, Y/N."

You look up at Finn, meeting his eyes. You cry, "If I had seen that you had grown and reflected and thought about everything then I would have listened. I'm listening now and I can see how much you've changed, Finn. I can see how genuine and sincere you are."

He looks down at you with a sad expression on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he says, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I truly am."

Eye contact remains as you say the words Finn's been wanting to hear for months. "I forgive you, Finn," is what you say.

He brings his forehead down to yours and he whispers, "I want one thing."

"What's that?" you ask, your voice quiet.

Finn says, "I want a last kiss. Just so we can both move on from this and grow as friends."

You stare up at Finn and say, "I can't do that. You have a fiancée, Finn. Don't do to her what you've done to me."

He nods and looks away, clearly upset.

You would do anything to kiss him again. His kisses always gave you butterflies, no matter where the kisses were on your body. His mustache would always tickle your lip when you kissed him.

You know what, you think to yourself. One last kiss won't be the end of the world.

"Finn," you say, getting his attention.

The Irishman looks at you. You wait a second before hesitantly kissing Finn softly. You squeeze your eyes so the last few years escape and roll down your cheeks as Finn kisses you back.

This is it. The official end of a six year relationship. You're both finally moving on. Finn's getting married and you finally have the closure you never thought you needed as your lips move more and more passionately against Finn's.

Both of you suddenly find yourselves not wanting to pull away from the kiss. Your hands slide up and rest on the back of Finn's neck as you continue kissing him. His hands rest on your waist.

Finn walks so he's pressing you against the wall in the hallway. His large frame pins you against the cream colored wall.

He leans down and picks you up by your thighs, pressing your back against the wall as you wrap your legs around his waist.

It's when his lips leave yours and attach to your neck that you say, "Finn. This isn't just a kiss anymore."

He looks at you and says, "I don't want it to be just a kiss."

"I don't want it either but it has to be," you say. "That's all it can be."

Finn kisses your lips again, this time more passionately and intensely than before. "Stay the night with me," he mumble against your lips. "Please."

In between kisses, you say, "You're getting married, Finn. I can't."

He says, "Ya can. Ya just don't want to."

You pull back and put your hands on Finn's face, holding him there. "Trust me, I want to," you say. "You have no idea how much I want to."

Finn pleads, "Then come home with me. I still live in that tiny apartment. My fiancée doesn't live with me. One last night together won't be the end of the world. If my fiancée finds out and leaves then we get what we both want in the end. Each other."

"That's a toxic way to think, Finn," you point out.

He says, "I know, but I love ya more than I'll ever love her. It's always been ya for me, Y/N."

Your mind begins to race. Do you go back to Finn's and get what you both want? Do you call it a night and maybe regret not going back to Finn's?

No matter what you choose, you'll probably regret in the future. Plus the hope of one day being with him again is the reason you say, "One last night. That's it. That's all you get from me."

Finn pecks your lips and smiles before putting you down and taking you back to his apartment.

As soon as you're back in his apartment, the clothes come off and they stay off until sunrise the next day. You spend all of Christmas Eve mending a broken relationship between you and Finn.

It's a terrible way to fix a broken relationship but you hope it works because you want Finn back in your life. No, you need Finn back in your life.

You just hope things don't get more complicated than they already are after the one last night with Finn.

[heart-eye-harrington]

i’m not sure if your still doing the promt list but if you are can you do 3 and 4 please ✨

this was so fun! thank you for the request! i hope you like it! <3

3.quietly picks out the things you don’t like to eat on your plate and transfer it to theirs without you needing to ask them to

4.quietly gives you the things you like to eat from their own plate

Large gatherings with strangers are never fun. Having the strangers be your boyfriend's snobby extended family whose eyes seem to fall out of their head from all the rolling is almost physically painful. In Steve’s defense, he did warn you. Being his plus one to his cousin’s wedding was going to be the first time his extended family would see you, so you may get a few glances and have to brave some small talk.

Your only compensation was seeing Steve dressed up in a suit, corsage and all,  and the wine you’d sneak when not under scrutinizing gazes.  

When dinner was served, a plate of salmon is placed in front of you. You stare for a second, not remembering ordering it on the invitation, before looking to Steve, who's unwrapping his napkin in preparation to devour the chicken dish before him. 

“um, Steve,” your voice is quiet, not wanting to gain any attention from the other guests. His eyes squint a bit as he curiously scans your face, but then they land on your plate. Realization raises his brows as he gives you a gentle nod. He grabs some of the unused salad plates and gets to work. 

He moves between the two of you like a card dealer, quick yet subtle movements swap and cut food. He takes your salmon and gives you his mashed potatoes. You take his dinner roll and he steals some of your green beans. It’s almost a dance, weaving around one another, trying not to knock food off the other’s fork. 

After countless meals together you know what you can take and what to leave, especially after Steve’s meltdown over you eating his last bite of cake once. 

The warm food spreads from your stomach to your chest, kept there by Steve’s jacket draped over your shoulders. The feeling finds a home in your cheeks as you wipe your face, Steve still blissfully picking crumbs from your plate. He keeps sneaking glances your way, a soft smile on his face, as if the realization hit him too. 

It was a small moment, one that you’d found yourself in before. Sharing meals were an almost everyday occurrence, and you’d learned from it.  It was a small way of showing you paid attention and cared. You cared enough to know Steve hated when his salads got soggy with dressing and would eat it instead. You didn’t need grand displays of love, just someone to share chocolate cake with. 

[waywardnerd67]

Angel Cakes

Title: Angel Cakes Summary: A new bakery opens in Lebanon and (Y/N) goes to check it out. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1385 Squared Filled: Baker!Cas Bingo Card: @spnaubingo​ A/N: None

Read Part One: Sweet Slice Check Out: SPN AU Bingo Masterlist

The sign had a cake with a halo above it that read Angel Cakes Bakery. A tall, dark hair man stood admiring the sign before glancing over to them. He gave a small wave walking back into the building while (Y/N) looked over to Dean.

His jaw set in a strong line before muttering, “Son of a bitch…”

“Dean…”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean turned on his heels storming into their store.

She sighed looking back at the bakery across the street before following him inside. He was pacing in front of their case muttering to himself. She reached out grabbing his arms grounding him for a moment.

“Dean, I’m sure we have nothing to worry about. Let’s get our day going and focus on our lunch rush.” She looked up into his shining olive eyes as he took a deep breath.

A small smirk spread across his lips, “You’re right.” He leaned down kissing her quickly before they walked back hand in hand to the kitchen.

The next few weeks they watched as the new bakery took shape. Angel Cakes grand opening was in a few days and everyone in town was buzzing about it. Their loyal regulars swore they would never set foot in it, but even they were starting to talk about some of the services being advertised. The owner, Cas Novak, had invited them to the soft opening. Deciding it would be best for Dean to stay behind, (Y/N) went as the representative of Sweet Slice.

Upon walking inside, she knew they were in trouble. He had a large dining area set up with mix matched tables, booths and outdoor patio. He offered lunch specials comparable to Sweet Slice and a dinner for two every Wednesday. He also offered delivery service for lunch and a catering menu.

“So, what do you think?” A deep, raspy voice came from behind her.

Looking up she saw Cas standing there with a smirk, “I think you’re ambitious for such a small town.”

He chuckled running his hand through his thick, dark chocolate hair, “You’re probably right, but the only way to build up a small town is by drawing more business to it.”

“True, but then you lose the small town charm.”

“Mr. Novak, the mayor would like a word with you.” A young woman came up to him pointing over to the group of councilmen surrounding the mayor of Lebanon.

He nodded before turning his attention back to her, “Excuse me for a moment.”

(Y/N) watched as he went over the group then looked back down at the menu in her hands. On the back, were a listing of twenty other bakeries throughout Kansas. It was a chain of bakeries throughout the midwest that was based out of Chicago. She could see why the mayor had wanted Angel Cakes within his city to draw in tourists from all over. Her heart sank slightly knowing that little mom and pop shops like Sweet Slice usually went out of business after chain stores invaded.

She grabbed her sample lunch, dinner and cake from the display table. Looking around, (Y/N) slipped out the side door and made her way across the street to Sweet Slice. Finding Dean in the kitchen on his laptop looking at Angel Cakes website with a frown on his face.

“Hey handsome.” She whispered as he looked up.

“How was it?” He closed his laptop forcing a small smile.

She held up her goodie bags, “Let’s see what the competition has and draw up a battle plan.”

His smile turned into a genuine one as she pulled out the food. The lunch contained half of a Poor Boy sandwich, a bag of chips and a can of soda. The sandwich was decent but nothing like the ones they made for their lunch hour. The small slice of cake was delicious and (Y/N) could see why they were so popular. The yellow cake was moist and the chocolate buttercream  frosting was rich but not overpowering.

“I don’t even like cake but this is damn good.” Dean mumbled showing the last bite into his mouth.

(Y/N) warmed up the dinner per the directions given in the bag. It was two servings of stew, with mashed potatoes and rolls. Overall, it was good if warmed up properly. However, she figured this option would go away quickly with most people not wanting to take the time to warm it up properly. The cake slices that were included were once again the most delicious part of the meal. A rich carrot cake and sinful red velvet both topped with cream cheese frosting had (Y/N) moaning in approval.

“I can’t even get you to make those noises…”

She chuckled at Dean’s pouty face, “Yes you do and you know it.”

He smiled proudly, “Damn right. Now, honest opinions.”

“Their food is okay, but definitely lacking. I don’t think we will have to worry about our lunch hour customers leaving. The cakes, however, are freaking amazing coupled with a delivery service…”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. There is no way we can compete with delivery service unless we raise the prices of everything.”

“Unless…” (Y/N) started writing out a plan for them to roll out within the next month.

Over the next six months, as Angel Cakes grew in popularity, Sweet Slice was winning over the locals with special deliveries to businesses once a month. They would cater lunch for a local business or the mayor’s office while keeping up with their normal busy lunch hour. Tourists from all over discovered Lebanon and the town began to flourish. As the town continued to blossom, the heat between Sweet Slice and Angel Cakes grew when Cas came over one evening after they had closed.

Dean was delivering a special pie to his brother and his wife while (Y/N) was closing up the store. The doorbell jingled as she looked up surprised to see Cas walking in.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“How can I help you, Mr. Novak?” She stood from the table she was at counting the day’s orders.

Cas looked around in silence for a moment, “Please, call me Cas. Is Dean around?”

“He’s gone to deliver some pies to the Lebanon High School Talent Show. I can have him stop by your shop when he comes back.”

Cas was looking at all the photos of customers on their wall as his eyes spotted the mural on the far wall, “Who did this?”

She smiled, “I did.” Suddenly she felt bashful as he smiled widely.

“It’s beautiful. Do you think that I could convince you to paint something like this on one of my walls?” His deep blue eyes turned locking with hers with a silent plea.

“I’ll think about it,” She crossed her arms over her chest, “Did you want Dean to come over?”

He shook his head, “No, that’s okay. I can catch up with him later. Seriously, I would love for you to come over to paint on my last blank wall in my dining area. I would pay you for your talents of course.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I’ll think about it and get back to you in a couple of days.”

With a short nod and a wave, Cas walked out the front door and across the street back to his bakery. She could use the extra cash, but knew Dean would never want the competition’s money. She decided to not say anything to him about Cas coming over and to extend an olive branch by painting the wall for free.

It took nearly a month of sneaking over to Angel Cakes whenever she could to finish the mural for Cas. In that time, she got to know him and realized he was not as bad as she had thought he would be. He genuinely cared about bringing people joy with his bakery. He had requested to leave his successful bakery in St. Louis to come to a small town.

As she stood admiring her work the door to the front of the bakery suddenly slammed open. There stood Dean, his dark olive eyes narrowed on Cas then slowly turned towards her.

“Going behind my back to work with the competition!”

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 103

This chapter was, honestly, a complete an total delight to write. I wanted to take an opportunity to work more with a character who has gotten very little ‘screen’ time: Sam.  He’s one of two characters on the autism spectrum (please correct me if that isn’t the right term?) who are based on actual people who I’ve been acquainted with.  I’ve admittedly shied away from writing much of Sam or Derek, largely because I have been scared into flop-sweats at the possibility that I will misrepresent autistic people. Even though I was acquainted with the real life versions of both Sam and Derek, that was nearly a decade ago and memory is fickle.

However. In an effort to do better all the way around with the characters I am writing, I found podcasts of people on the spectrum talking about what makes them unique, how they feel about being autistic, and what they consider good representation. And then I took a deep breath and wrote this chapter. It is the first, but I don’t want it to be the only. Turns out? Sam is a REALLY neat dude (I think)!

Finally, finally, I had a day off from work and crises. Tyche planned to spend the day baking, Antoine was booked solid with appointments after taking his ‘sabbatical’ to help Xiomara, and everyone else in my life was currently either teaching or attending Galactic Core classes this shift.  The single exception was Conor, who currently was serving his volunteer shift in the aeroponics lab. 

Because of this, I was currently making my way down there, steak and beer pie in hand, to surprise him with lunch. A happy humming trailed behind me, both from the newfound free time on my hands and the fact that Hujylsogox technology meant I wasn’t burning my hands while carrying the food for more than five seconds.  In fact, forty-five minutes later, the pastry was still hot, my hands were still cool, and I was paging for entry into the lab with a note that I was carrying food, just in case any poisonous plants were out.

It was one time I forgot, and fortunately it only upset Conor’s stomach and wasn’t fatal.

Shortly, the door slid open to reveal - Sam, not Conor. “Hey,” I grinned, recovering quickly. “I didn’t know you’d be down here right now, or I would have brought you lunch, too.” Trying to be less awkward, I gently rocked the pie in my hands. “I’m sure Conor doesn’t mind sharing though?”

Sam smiled in return and stepped back. “It smells like beer,” he replied. “But thank you.”

“The alcohol cooks out?” I tried, caught between being polite and being pushy.

To my somewhat relief, he shook his head. “Yeast,” he pointed out, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out slightly. “Not a fan.”

Couldn’t exactly blame him, since I didn’t drink beer for a similar reason. “Next time, I’ll check if you’re going to be here, and bring you lunch too.”

“Sophia,” he started to admonish, before affixing me with a wordless stare.

Ugh. Apparently, I wasn’t quite free of my own awkwardness. “I just feel like I should bring food for everyone I know and not just Conor,” I tried to explain. “Where I grew up, it’s rude to bring food for only one person.”

“I eat,” he replied, waving vaguely.  

It took a few moments to realize that I completely misunderstood the gesture.  He wasn’t waving without meaning at all.

“Are those tomatoes!?” I gasped. “And that’s baby butter lettuce… Cucumbers!? You have cucumbers!?”

“Baby ones,” Sam grinned proudly just as Conor came in.

“Thought I heard your voice,” he laughed before tipping my face up for a kiss. “Sam showing off his salad again?”

I forced a glare and gently poked my partner in the chest. “Tomatoes. Conor. You did not tell me there were fresh tomatoes.”

Conor laughed, but Sam was the one to reply. “They just turned ripe today. You can have them if you want?”

“Oh, gosh,” I gasped, no small amount of wistfulness in my words. “Sam, I was joking. Just teasing him, I promise. I wasn’t seriously mad, and please don’t give these to me because you thought I was upset. I’m not. It was a joke.” Trying to compose myself, I forced a hand through my hair. “Did you grow these?”

He nodded, excited. “In soil we think will be like the soil on Von. As a test, to see if they taste different.”

My head, neck, and eyebrows all shot up. “Are they safe to eat?”

“These are, yes. The earlier ones, we weren’t sure, so Conor couldn’t tell you about them.”

“Sam, seriously. These aren’t my tomatoes. They belong to everyone, so thank you for being careful and not letting anyone eat them until you were sure.”

“I know you want a tomato, Sophia.” Without hesitation, he reached out and plucked three from a nearby plant. “If all three of us eat one, to test the flavor, then they can’t be ‘your’ tomatoes, right?”

Conor shook me gently. “He has a point, love.  These are the first batch that ripened and tested safe for humans. Sam’s probably eaten his weight in them, but I don’t think any other people have tried them.”

Sam looked down, trying to hide his ear-splitting smile. “They taste really good.”

With a sigh of defeat, I looked at the dark red berry in my hand. My curiosity instantly took over. “These look like zebra tomatoes, kind of.”

Sam’s face lit up, while Conor was still studying the one he had. “They’re a cross! A black zebra tomato and a Cherokee chocolate tomato, modified to be grape sized!” He popped his into his mouth, crushing it happily. “Not very acidic, but the soil also gives them more of a mineral flavor.”

Fascinated, all hesitation left my body as I shoved the fruit into my mouth. The first bite was an explosion, part familiar acidic taste, part something that I could only describe as ‘red’, and something… almost stony. Not in texture, but in flavor.  It wasn’t something I had ever experienced with a tomato, but - 

“Wine,” I murmured. “It’s.. stony, like a wine. New Zealand white, actually, with the volcanic soil… That’s…”

“It’s clean,” Conor interjected. Chewing thoughtfully, he continued. “That mineral taste keeps it from lingering in your mouth. I bet I could eat one of these tomatoes and bite a piece of cake right after without the flavors crossing.”

Sam replied, but it was so quiet I couldn’t hear him. When I asked him to repeat himself, he turned his face toward me with his eyes closed, hands grasping nervously. “I like to dip them in Nutella,” he enunciated loudly.

OH.

The idea of ‘tomatoes and Nutella’ made me draw up short, but then I thought over what Sam had said. He didn’t say he liked tomatoes, in general, in hazelnut spread, he said he liked these tomatoes dipped in it. And Conor’s point about eating one and then a bite of cake echoed through my mind. Nodding firmly, I tried to telegraph my confidence in Sam as hard as I could, lifting my chin far enough to make my neck itch. “Well then. You know these tomatoes better than anyone, and have eaten more than anyone. I would like to try these in Nutella, if you have three more ripe ones?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open briefly before he snatched three of the fattest little tomatoes he could find.  Eagerly, he yanked open a random drawer and revealed a hidden container of the spread. “I’ll have to hide it again, Conor eats it on everything,” he confessed before swiping the tomatoes through like they were strawberries, leaving a neat little curl of chocolate and hazelnut on each one.

Taking the one offered to me gingerly, I had to admit I felt intrigued.  The deftness Sam used to dip them told me that this wasn’t only something he’d tried, it was how he enjoyed these the most. Before Conor could get over the concept of chocolate and hazelnut on a tomato, I popped my treat in my mouth to satisfy my curiosity.

Holy. Fiendish. Shit. I almost choked on the amount of saliva that filled my mouth. That was incredible, if I was being brutally honest.  I never would have tried it with a tomato grown in Terran soil, but… hell. This was a whole new thing. “Sam,” I choked out as I desperately tried to keep from shouting. “You’re….. That’s brilliant.” The flavor was like chocolate, hazelnuts, strawberry, and orange, washed down with a good wine. “I think you just converted me to Nutella.”

Conor gaped, which only made Sam laugh harder. “Sophia,” Conor sputtered. “Do you mean to tell me that you hate Nutella so much that experimental tomatoes are what convinced you? I feel like I don’t know you at all, suddenly.”

“Yeah, no,” I confirmed. “This is probably the first time I’ve liked it in my life.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We aren’t even married,” I pointed out, before realizing that Sam was getting incredibly upset. “Annnnnd we can’t make that joke, babe.” Making sure Conor saw me glancing at Sam, I clarified. “Sam, that’s just a joke. Conor wouldn’t break up with me over Nutella any more than Maverick broke up with me because I like spicy food. But we - “ I elbowed Conor just hard enough to get his attention without making him choke on his second tomato, “won’t joke like that again. I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly, Sam nodded before wrinkling his nose. “You do like really spicy food.”

“I do,” I confirmed. “And Maverick does not. So, I make him food that isn’t as spicy. And, just like that, I don’t eat Nutella, and Conor doesn’t make me.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sam turned to Conor. “Is that why you always steal mine?”

Conor nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, mate. I’m really bad about that, aren’t I?”

“It’s free, Conor,” Sam pointed emphatically to the wall. “From the console.”

“Does that mean you’re mad?”

“It means stop leaving empty containers in my drawer. If you eat the last of it, at least get me more. Geez!”

“So, you aren’t mad?”

“I’m mad about the empty containers,” Sam scowled. “There is nothing nice about coming to work with all this fruit” he gestured expansively “and having nothing to dip it in.”

Conor opened his mouth to reply, but closed it just as quickly.

“He’s got a point,” I added, knowing I was entirely unhelpful. “I mean, what if I made meatloaf and no mashed potatoes? Or gravy? No either?”

His head snapped toward me, his expression horrified. “Sophia, what in the…. You would never expect someone to -” Without prompting, he cut himself off. “Ah, shit. I’ve been an arse, haven’t I?”

“You have been a complete donkey,” Sam intoned seriously. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I think you owe me pickles.”

Conor groaned at that. Sam loved pickles, but only specific kinds. Predictably, my boyfriend’s face pivoted to leverage his most beseeching expression at me.

Unfazed, I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not the one who ate his snack topping. I’ll give you the recipe, and you can make the pickles.”

“Love…”

“Taking his Nutella and not replacing it is rude, and you know how I feel about rude people.” I examined my nails closely. “And you are perfectly capable of getting whole radishes and matchstick carrots from the console, but nice try.”

“Brussels sprouts, too, please,” Sam asked politely.

All I could do with such a request was nod firmly. “And the brussels sprouts.”

“I don’t even like - “

“They aren’t for you,” I pointed out. “Although, I’m sure Maverick will appreciate it if you make a double batch of the radishes.”

“And Derek likes the brussels sprouts,” Sam pointed out.

When Conor sank to the floor with a groan, neither of us could restrain our laughter.  Who knew that ill-gotten chocolate led to pickling your worst enemies?  Then again, I guess Conor was about to find that out the hard way.

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