#i wanted to post it for last day of pride month but here is already july so happy first of july i guess???

[c-hrona]

The Lovers. Edit: now is a gif too!!

#trigun #trigun maximum #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #chronart #mods are asleep post super self indulgent fluff #i wanted to post it for last day of pride month but here is already july so happy first of july i guess???

[williamsracinggf]

✧.* just like dad / ls2 *.✧

little luna sargeant's got her mind set on one thing: she wants to be just like dad when she grows up.

notes: HURRRR THEY WONT TAKE ME OFF SHADOWBAN SO I'M POSTING HERE UNTIL THEY TAKE ME OFF and yes i'm still tagging it under dpm LMFAOOO

“i’m nervous.” logan glances at the sleeping 5-year-old sprawled across the backseat with her koala stuffie covering her face. he sits back again and glances at you, eyes stuck on the road ahead.

you hum and glance over at him, shaking his leg as he twists his body and takes another look at your daughter. “it’s not even your race, babe.”

you hear logan sigh exasperatedly, staring longingly at the snoring kid. “i know it’s her race. but you know,” he trails off, tilting his head slightly.

he doesn’t get nervous about his races anymore. so when the then 4-year-old daughter came up to him after his race in miami talking about how she wanted to register for a karting race this year, he was more than flabbergasted. he remembers looking over at you in shock while you just shrugged and told him, “you heard the lady.”

while you’re not entirely pleased by your daughter’s decision to start karting, you wouldn’t ever dare to be the parent who told her what she can and cannot do. it’s a value that you and logan had discussed earlier in your relationship and something you’ve tried to stick to heavily.

if you have the means to ensure that your daughter can do what her heart desires, then why would you ever deny her?

logan would have preferred for his carbon copy to not subject herself to the brutality of the sport he’s gotten himself into, but he also cannot help the feeling of pride growing in his chest at the thought of his daughter taking after him. there is something so endearing about the way she wants to be just like him — in her words, not his.

“you can always tell her not to race,” you shrug. “no harm in saying no.”

he throws his head back as he gets comfortable in his seat again. “i can’t do that,” he shakes his head, “you saw how excited she was when we signed her up for her classes.”

you laugh. “besides, you’ve got the perfect gift for luna.” you reach over for his leg in the passenger seat, squeezing him as you smile at him. “she’ll love it.”

that’s another thing: the custom helmet that logan had gotten made for luna’s first race ever. your daughter initially only insisted on her own race suit, which you went and got customised together without logan on a weekend he was away for a race.

it wasn’t until little luna had seen one of logan’s helmets on one of your bedroom shelves that she decided she wanted one for herself. but by that point, it never would have made it in time for her first race.

though, logan being the proud dad that he is (and luna being daddy’s little girl), he already had a custom helmet in the works with a much cuter motif. it’s pink and grey with koalas plastered all over it, thanks to oscar’s influence on the little girl during their trip to australia early last year.

“that design was sent in months ago. what if she doesn’t even like pink anymore?”

logan’s concern is valid. the little girl had taken after your indecisiveness, often changing her claims for things that are her favourite every other day. one time she had sobbed for a solid half hour after logan came home with blue raspberry flavoured candy, suddenly claiming that strawberries are actually her favourite flavour of candy.

logan looked at you hopelessly for help, but neither of you had gotten the memo that her blue raspberry obsession was short-lived. he wound up walking out the front door and coming back with a bag full of strawberry-flavoured candies, feeling like the worst dad that he had somehow let it slip his mind what her favourite candy was.

both of you struggled to finish the blue raspberry candy for weeks, having to start giving it away in the paddocks during his next race.

“i’m sure she still likes pink as much as she did yesterday,” you explain, glancing at your daughter through your rearview mirror. “look at her — it looks like the pink panther threw up all over her.”

he looks back at her, almost bursting out in laughter at how right you are. she’s taken the liberty to dress herself in a pink tutu with a random grey shirt, topped off with a bow that held her hair in a ponytail. “are you sure? what if she wakes up and changes her mind?”

your car comes to a slow stop, surrounded by several other cars in the parking lot of the karting track. you turn to logan and sigh as you shake your head. “you’re overthinking this, babe. she’ll love it,” you reach over for his hand, “because it’s from you.”

he raises an eyebrow, staring at you with clear scepticism. being away for weeks at a time didn’t make him feel like a great dad, despite the young girl always clinging to him whenever he was back in town for breaks, always rambling on about how much she missed her dad while he was gone and that she watched his race.

it’s managed to make him feel so disconnected in her life, sometimes even jealous of how much time you’ve gotten to spend with luna as she grew up. he just doesn’t feel like he knows a lot about her, despite him passing the random quizzes from his giggly daughter right before bed.

“are we here?”

logan flinches at the tiny face that’s slotted herself between their seats, clutching his chest while the 2 girls burst into laughter. “you’re sneaky! i didn’t even notice you were awake!”

“the car stopped moving!” luna shrieks, climbing between the two seats to throw herself onto logan. “and i’m excited!”

“of course, you are!” you cheer, reaching over to pat her head. “it’s your first race, isn’t it?”

she turns her head to look at you with a wide smile, her familiar green eyes shining in the sun that hits your car. your genetics hadn’t had a chance against logan’s — the small girl sported identical green eyes and dirty blonde hair, with dimples to complete the mission of being his clone.

“uncle ozzy will be here too, right? with aunty lily?” she scrambles to press her face against the window, hands cupped over her eyes as she scopes out for her parents’ best friends in the crowd outside the car. “what about uncle alex?”

“they promised to be here to watch your race, lu,” logan laughs, peeling her away from the window. he sits his daughter on his lap, leaning back as he enjoys their time in the cold of the car. “i actually got you a present for the race today.”

“a present! where?”

“it’s in the back, but-”

“then let’s go!” luna squirms in her father’s grip, reaching forward to unlock his door. she almost falls out when she opens it, giggling when logan’s grip on her arm refrains her from hitting the ground face first.

she wiggles out of his grasp, logan tiredly looking over his shoulder at you, still sitting peacefully in the driver’s seat. you shrug as you pull down the visor and grab your makeup bag. “you told her about your present. you know how she feels about presents.”

he opens his mouth to shoot back an explanation, but is cut short by his daughter screeching and running back up to his side of the car. “daddy, my present!”

she reaches up for logan’s hand, forcefully pulling him out of the car. he nods, stumbling over himself as he hurriedly reaches back to release his seatbelt and lets her drag him to the trunk of your family car.

“what is it? is it a toy?” she beams, hopping next to logan as he scavages the several bags in the back for the black dustbag that contains her new helmet. “did you get it while you were away?”

“it’s no longer a surprise if i tell you,” logan laughs.

“is it a toy?”

logan shrugs, reappearing with a bag in his hand. luna’s eyes widened at the far larger gift than she had expected. she reaches up for the bag, whining when logan doesn’t immediately give it to her.

“do you want to guess what it is?” he teases, lifting it further out of her grasp.

“no!” she shrieks, now wrapping her arms and legs around her father’s body at an attempt to climb him to get to her promised present. “please, daddy! my present! i wanna see it!”

“how can daddy give you the present when you’re climbing him like a little monkey, my love?” you laugh, coming around the corner to tear her off logan’s body. “are you our little monkey baby?”

you burst into laughter watching the tiny girl screech in response, shaking her head aggressively as she tries to rebuke your accusations.

alas, logan finally gets on his knees to match her height. he holds out the bag to her, grinning when her green eyes stare into his, her body shaking in excitement. “present time?”

she nods, biting down on her lip. “present time.”

she drops to the ground when logan hands it over. she immediately grabs at the bag, tugging it off the helmet and grunts when there’s another layer of paper packaging that shies it away from her prying hands and curious eyes.

when she does get around to it, though, it’s like time stops when she lays eyes on the large drawing of the koala on the top of the helmet. just 3 weeks ago, she had finally come to terms that she wouldn’t have her own custom helmet for her first ever race ( against her best wishes). now here’s a helmet with her name in black at the corner.

she breaks into a mind-curling scream as she jumps to her feet excitedly. she certainly doesn’t notice the eyes heavily staring at your family, but you do, simply shrugging before returning your attention to luna.

“daddy!” she screams, throwing her arms around logan’s neck, knocking him back into the ground. she doesn’t even notice the soft thud when the back of his head hits the car. “it’s pink and there’s a koala! oh, my days!”

you snort at her vocabulary, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t taken george up on the free babysitting in the paddocks whenever you’re there. her vocabulary never fails to shock you, seemingly being the perfect mix of a kid growing up in the uk with a dash of american from her dad’s side of the family.

she pulls away from him, picking the helmet up from the ground and hops on over to you. “look at it, mummy! it’s got a koala on it!”

you feign excitement and shock. logan had consulted you with the design about a month or two ago, asking you for opinions and any additional designs to satisfy his little girl. you’d even seen the helmet just this morning before getting out of bed to make breakfast for the family.

she turns back to logan, who simply grins. “you like it?”

“i love it!” she screeches. she places the helmet over the dustbag on the ground, whirling around to throw her arms over logan again. “it’s the best present ever! i really really love it!” she throws her head back. “you’re the best dad in the world! i love you!”

she grabs logan’s face, mushing his cheeks as she presses a sloppy kiss on his cheeks. “thank you, thank you!”

“little luna!” oscar’s voice makes the young girl perk up, turning around at the call of her favourite uncle.

she picks up the helmet and sprints over to the couple not too far away, stopping in their tracks when she practically throws herself into oscar’s arms with the helmet in her hands. “look what daddy got me!”

oscar and lily immediately gawk at the girl’s amazement of her dad’s present, showing them all of the things she’s noticed since she laid eyes on it about 5 minutes ago.

logan finally turns to you, sighing in relief. he rests his head on your shoulder and you chuckle as you wrap your arms around him and pat his back. “you’re too hard on yourself, love,” you hum, swaying slightly as you take a quick glance at luna, now surrounded by alex and george who are also congratulating her on her first helmet. “she sees you, you know.”

he pulls away and leans into your touch when you cup his cheek. perhaps he’s too hard on himself. but when you’re away from your daughter most of the year, you’re bound to start thinking that you’re no better than an absent parent.

“i just always feel so disconnected from you guys.” he clenches his jaw, throwing himself over your smaller frame again to hide his face in your hair. “i wish i was around more. it feels like i’m losing her with each day i’m not around.”

“she talks about you all the time and how cool you are.” you pull away and grin slightly, caressing his cheek with your thumbs. “look at her — entering her first karting race. she goes on and on about being just like daddy. you’re her hero.”

logan raises his eyebrow and clenches his jaw. “again — i wouldn’t say i should be her role model when it comes to racing.”

“you can’t change her mind,” you shrug, forcefully turning logan around to look at luna, now in fits of giggles as oscar helps her to try on the helmet. “you’re always with her even when you’re not.” you rest your cheek on his arm, wrapping an arm around his and intertwining your fingers together.

“i just miss you guys so much all the time.” he throws his head back with a groan, turning back to you. “i miss you all the fucking time.”

“don’t be like that.” you tiptoe and pucker your lips, giggling sheepishly when he bends down to press his lips on yours. “luna loves watching the races and she looks forward to you coming home with trinkets and candy. she never forgets you.”

before he can answer, a hand is hitting his thigh, forcing him to pull away to look down at what’s cut your intimate time short.

the girl looks up with her helmet on, her small hands struggling to pull up the visor. “daddy, mummy, look.”

“oh, luna, you look so cool!” logan gushes, helping the girl lift the visor.

her cheeks are mushed in the helmet, green eyes shining through as she throws her head back with a loud giggle. “as cool as you, daddy?”

“even cooler!” logan bends down, taking the young girl into his arms. he hoists her into the air, and then sits her on his hip before reaching for your hand. “come on, let’s get ready for your first race, lulu.”

@cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #ls2 #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke mab

[peachsayshi]

heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬･ wc: 6,740

↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.

He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.

When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.

The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.

That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.

All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.

“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”

Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.

Months have passed since that night.

Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.

You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.

This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.

Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.

“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.

Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”

“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”

Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.

Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.

The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.

Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.

Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.

You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.

Did he misread the signs?

He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.

The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.

His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…

He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.

If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.

Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.

Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.

“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”

Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.

“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.

The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.

“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.

“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”

That nearly split the sorcerer in half.

You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.

“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”

Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.

Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…

So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.

“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”

“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.

“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”

“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.

“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.

“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”

He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.

He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.

You’ve always been such a terrible later.

“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”

He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.

“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”

He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.

When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.

He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.

“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”

The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.

He can’t help but grimace.

Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”

Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.

Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.

For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.

“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”

“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”

His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”

The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”

“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.

“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”

The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.

Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.

Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.

“Nothing’s wrong”

He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.

He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”

His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.

But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.

"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"

As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.

He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.

He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.

He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.

He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.

Things have to be different with them.

He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.

Nanami freezes.

You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.

You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.

“Wha-”

Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.

“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.

Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.

He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.

“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.

“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.

“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.

You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.

Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.

He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.

“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”

“But…”

“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”

He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.

“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”

His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.

You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.

“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”

Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.

“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”

“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”

His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.

Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”

Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami was the one who always cooked.

In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.

Tonight, you decided to take on that role.

Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.

The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.

Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.

“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.

“He’s covered in frosting,”

Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.

Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.

You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.

His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.

“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.

“We should probably get him cleaned up…”

He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.

“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.

“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.

You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.

“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”

He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.

He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.

You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.

“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.

You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”

You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.

“Ready to give your daddy his present?”

Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.

“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”

You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”

He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.

“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”

The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”

“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.

The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.

“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”

His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.

“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”

Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”

Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.

Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.

“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”

“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”

Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”

“This is very sweet of you…”

Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”

When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.

He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.

“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”

“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”

“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”

His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”

You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”

Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.

"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."

Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.

He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.

He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"

He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.

His eyes darken and your body shivers.

"Is this supposed to be test?"

"Test?"

"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"

"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.

"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."

"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"

He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."

"As do I-"

"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."

"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.

The act renders him silent.

"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."

"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.

You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."

Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.

"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."

You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.

"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."

A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.

"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."

You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."

He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."

His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.

When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.

"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"

You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.

"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.

"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."

Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.

He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-

So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.

Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.

"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.

He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.

"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.

Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"

"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.

"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.

The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.

The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.

"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."

Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.

"can keep talking."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

let know if you would liked to be tagged! x

@hisheadismountfuji @clara-geekhime @moonmalice @bibemiiu @nutheadgeenat @satoruhour @i-be-teff

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami angst #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction

[skygemspeaks]

okay let's do this again, for the last time this season, and what a way to end it!

i like that nami got to be included in the walk to arlong park, it was really nice!

the banter between zoro and sanji is already quite funny. i like that sanji is just earnestly trying to be part of the crew, but zoro's being a little bit bitchy because he feels like his place as the first mate is being threatened. later on in the episode when sanji starts calling out his move names, and zoro makes fun of him for it...how much do you wanna bet that the reason zoro starts calling out his attack names because his thought process is like "oh no, the shitty cook is also calling out his attack names what if luffy starts liking him better than me because i don't do it?"

as someone with dental trauma, seeing arlong's teeth fall out one by one was horrifying, thank you very much. it was well done

the fights in this arc were well choreographed, and i'm actually really happy that they all finished by around halfway through the episode because then we got a good amount of time to wrap everything up

it was really sweet when nami went running up to tackle usopp and zoro in a hug. i did feel a bit bad for sanji, but ehh it's understandable. she's been sailing with usopp and zoro for a while now! those are her boys!!!! and she didn't think she'd ever be able to sail with them again! she barely even knows sanji at this point

the scene after the tower comes crashing down and the straw hats are all waiting to see if luffy made it is great. nami looks like her whole world is ending again, because first she lost her mother, and now she might have lost her captain. and then everyone's relief when they see luffy come out is palpable! sanji doesn't even try to hide his relief! he's become so emotionally invested in this crew already and he's known them for just a few days

sanji's smugness when zoro comes back for seconds was cute, and i love their banter afterwards!

koby and helmeppo standing up to garp when they disagree with his orders was a good scene, and i liked their conversation about it afterwards at the end of the episode. each marine's personal code of justice is a big theme in the anime, and i like that they establish it here, and that it's what impresses garp enough to make him want to train them personally

we finally got the luffy vs garp confrontation! it was a good way to see just how small luffy is in the grand scheme of things, that he wasn't able to hurt garp at all. when luffy starts laughing and garp drops him and starts laughing as well, it was a good tension break. i really really wish that we got at least one grandpa hug before garp left...i know it never happened in the manga, but i crave that grandfatherly affection for luffy. but i know neither of these two idiots are like that. ace better fucking hug luffy at least once next season i s2g.

when nami is talking to bellemere's grave, and nojiko shows up wearing bellemere's shirt.....🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

the final conversation with luffy and koby was adorable! i loved the hug! also, i really like that koby was the first one to show luffy his bounty. a great way of coming full circle to the beginning of the season when he's standing next to luffy, looking at the notice board in shells town and luffy asks where his face is

the scenes where people see luffy's bounty!!!! makino grinning in pride!! kaya already looking healthier without kuro's poison! Zeff posting luffy's poster on the employee of the month board!!!!!!!! alvida and buggy meeting!!!! (if they make alvida lose weight or recast her next season i'm gonna kill someone)

helmeppo finally admitted that koby was his friend!!!! their little fistbump!! i've really come to like koby over the course of this season, and it's been great seeing his character arc

the mihawk and shanks conversation was great! shanks making jokes about his missing arm was hilarious, i love how irreverent he is

the redhair pirates are all SO proud when they see luffy's poster!!! and shanks' big, goofy, proud grin when as he stares at the poster just made my heart melt.

merry finally gets to fly the straw hat jolly roger again, i'm so happy for her!! luffy's absolute uncontainable joy at the sight of it, like he can't believe his eyes, was absolutely perfect!

the cast-off ceremony was fantastic! i really like the effect they did where their younger selves spoke in the voices of their older selves.

i could be wrong, but i think i heard we are in that last scene as they sailed off? which, amazing!

FUCK YEAH THAT LAST SHOT OF SMOKER!!! i can't wait to see more of him next season!!!

#opla liveblog #opla spoilers #one piece #opla #monkey d luffy #monkey d garp #koby op #helmeppo #nami #sanji #roronoa zoro #usopp #red leg zeff #makino op #kaya op #white chase smoker #red hair shanks #dracule mihawk #nojiko #bellemere op

[lumilovessmut]

BEYOND THE VEIL OF HUMANITY

PRINCE BAIZHU X PRINCESS READER

Trigger warnings: Monster-fucking, innocent shy reader, reader is kinda naïve and innocent, nicknames such as dear, sweetheart, love, breeding kink, slight yandere themes, olden Chinese time period, established relationship, dom-sub dynamics, penetration.

A/n: Hey loves!! It's Lumi here, as promised this week's post is here hope you all like it! I have exams but I still wanted to entertain you guys lmao :0

Sry guys I'm going on a hiatus till May

Credits: This painting belongs to a Vietnamese artist on Facebook named Kyomon.

https://www.facebook.com/kyomon54?mibextid=2JQ9oc

Word Count: 2.17K

Upload date: 4th, February, 2024

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

To get married was the duty of all nobles, especially all princes and princesses of Liyue. Prince Baizhu was no exception in this matter, his good looks, his intellectuality, his manners and etiquettes and his looks were always envied by the young men of the nobles and was the pride of the Emperor of Liyue. Born to His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress, the Crown Prince of Liyue was to be wedded with the Princess of the neighbouring kingdom. Though Prince Baizhu had no interest in this marriage whatsoever, however due to his duty and responsibility he had reluctantly agreed to meet with you. This however was both his worst yet best decision. A young lady in her early twenties, whose hanfu was a pretty pale pink colour with embroidered cherry blossom, oh how did you know that it was his favourite flower, of course it became his favourite flower after he saw you, your cheeks dusted pink, your hair done in a cute bun with braids and a hairpin with the same cherry blossom pattern. Your lips looked like fresh apple found in the cold mountains, oh how badly he wanted to kiss them, wanted to taste them, wanted them to utter only his name, only you can do so not even his father calls his first name.

"Greetings your Highness the Crown Prince, its a pleasure to meet you", you say in your voice and the way Baizhu wanted to hear that voice screaming and moaning in pleasure, the way you would sound so angelic under him in his chambers, making sure that no one dares to even see you in your eyes. "Ah yes, the pleasure is mine too, please do have a seat" he gestured you to sit down, you thanked him and sat down. "My, would I have known that my bride-to-be would such a beauty I would have already gotten married to you by now, but I guess this is also for the better, you need to have a grand marriage", he said while eying you like a predator would eye it's prey. "Please your Highness you must have seen more beauties than me, I am not beautiful to the extent you seem to praise me", oh, Baizhu was melting as you spoke, is that a blush he notices? My you truly were a innocent naïve princess, HIS princess. He so badly wanted to corrupt you, would you know how to pleasure him? How would you react when you see he has not one but two cocks that are as big as your face, oh how surprised would you be? Would you be scared or shocked? My this was his worst but best decision in his life.....

After months of engagement and procession and procedure for getting married, Baizhu couldn't wait to have you because today was the only night were he would sleep all alone, cause from tomorrow he would sleep with his one and only wife, he took an oath that he would never take in another concubine or mistress no matter the circumstances, that's why his mother carefully choose the bride for her beloved son, the one and only Crown Prince of Liyue. At last, it was the auspicious day, his wedding day, he couldn't get a minute of sleep because all he wanted to do was to see you in your bridal clothes in the bridal chamber patiently waiting for him. You have been getting ready since dawn, the courtesans giving you expensive facials and a luxurious bath, and they took more than 4 hours to do your make-up. Of course everything had to be perfect, after all you are becoming the one and only Crown Princess of Liyue. Finally they brought you out in the sedan chair and took you to the palace. The Empress personally visited you, giving you a hairpin, which was a the heirloom of her family, it symbolised fertility and good fortune. The moment had finally arrived, when he saw you in the red bridal wear, all he ever wanted to do was eat you right there. Oh, my he could see your cheeks were dusted pink, was it because of him? Was it because you are going to become his wife? Was it because you are going to carry his babies? Be a good girl to him? A good mother to his babies? Fuck just imagining you round with his babies? Begging him that it's too much? Or will you ask for more, once he has got you addicted to his taste, his scent, his voice, his cum? Oh, what would you do if you found out what he truly was??

The wedding and reception went without a hitch and the whole time he was starting at you, what would your face look like when finally he could remove the red veil covering your beautiful face. The whole country was celebrating for you both, but all his thoughts were about all about you. It was time for him to enter the bridal chamber, when we entered, he just froze in his place, the way you were shyly sitting on the seat, waiting for him, once you noticed his presence you hurried and stood up, bowing your head slightly. "Did I make you wait, my dear?" Baizhu asked in his calm and warm tone, "N-no your Hi-Highness the Crown Prince", "Hmm seems like I scare my wife tut-tut, now we can't have that darling", he slowly approached you and lifted your veil, and the way his breath hitched, the way he wanted to breed you, the way he wanted to reveal his true secrets to you, cause he knew that you are truly innocent. "My dear, we should drink the wine, for a happy married life", he pours two cups of wine, the both of you link your hand and drink the fruit wine.

"Blehh, I hate wine!!!", you tried to hide your disgust but you couldn't handle it. Baizhu laughed at you. "Looks like my dear wife cannot handle a little bit of liquor", you blushed at his words. "Now my wife, shall we get to the main part of the wedding, my favourite part of it", Baizhu slowed walked towards you and you by instinct walked back. He looked like a predator coveting it's prey, under the warm light cast by the lanterns and the candles added an extra layer of mysteriousness to him. He looked like a flower a beautiful one at that, but he seemed dangerous to approach, like you could get poisoned or worse get addicted to it, to HIM. Your mother, always knew someone of high status was going to marry you, but you hoped and prayed everyday for a husband who is handsome but more importantly willing to take only you in. "Y/n, eyes & thoughts on only me from now on", Baizhu whispered in your ears suddenly, you flinched and turned up to meet his eyes, which were sparkling like jewels and the slit in them reminded you of snakes. "Your Highn-", "Y/n can I kiss you? please I have been wanting to do so since I met you", you were shocked to hear that, you both will have to fulfil your duties as husband and wife so you slowly nodded yes. Within a second Baizhu was on your lips like a starved man, your lips were his oasis which cured this thirst he has been having ever since he saw you, his tongue slowly entered your mouth, but it felt weird, that's when your eyes shot up to stare at Baizhu, he was-wasn't a human but rather a, "I guess my dear dear wifey found out about me, hmm do you want to know what your dear husband his love?" You nodded scared to know the royal secrets, will you die after this? was this is the end of the life which had not even begun? "Y/n do not worry, you won't die after you know this, cause it's only you and I who will know it. I'm not human, I'm a half snake hybrid, scared of me love?" He knew actually you would be scared....

"Baizhu, will this hurt me? Will you being a snake hybrid pose a threat to my life?" you asked looking at him with curious cat like eyes. "Hahahaha, no my sweetheart, I just felt the need to let my wife know everything about me." It melted your heart that the strong and mighty Crown Prince cared so much about you. Suddenly he grabbed your hand and he placed it on his groin ,"Y/n touch me here, can you feel it? It's all for you, only you can turn me on in such ways" Your hand was on his hard cock but it felt weird like they were- Oh! shit did Baizhu perhaps have not 1 but, "How did you like my gift? Y/n I need you so badly right now please, allow me to touch you and make your body mine." "Baizhu...........", " My love please, I want to touch you, make you mine, I want to teach you how to pleasure me, I want to pleasure you." He kisses you hard and fast, he snatches the breath away from you, your tongues collide, and your teeth clashes against his, his scent is driving you crazy and you don't know where to place your hands, he slowly guides his hand to yours and moves them around his neck as if sensing your dilemma. He slowly pushes you on the lofty king sized bed with plush pillows, "My dinner is served", he removes you bridal robe slowly and groans as he sees your unclaimed skin, the innocence of it is making Baizhu crazy, he starts slowly kissing your stomach and brings it slowly to your breasts, he takes one in his mouth and sucks on it, silently imagining about how milk will flow out of it. Your moans are picking up in pitch, you have never anything like this, is overwhelming to say in the least, all you want is him, YOUR husband, you don't know why but you just want him to touch your core, the most intimate part of you, "Baizhu, touch me down there, it feels weird, I feel tingly all over." Baizhu simply laughs, "Love you are getting aroused, nothing to worry I am there to take care of you, just keep moaning like that yea?"

Baizhu slowly starts to finger you, making you widen your eyes, it hurts a bit at first but then you get used to, "Baizhu it hurts," "Don't worry, it will be okay now, just relax." He slowly adds one more finger, loosening you up, the way your cunt was gripping his fingers got him more excited just thinking about your cunt gripping this hard on his cocks makes him want to cum right then there. "Are you gonna cum for me my dear? i can feel, let it go for me, I promise to catch you" You have never felt anything like this, your orgasm was approaching at an alarming rate, "Gonna CUM! FUCK CUMMING! CUMMING!!!" Your orgasm watch soul shattering, you liquids flowing down your cunt and his fingers onto the bed..."My love I don't think I can wait anymore, please", he slowly removes his clothes and rubs his dick on your cunt, his precum is mixing with your arousal, he slowly slides one of his cock in you, moaning in pleasure he slowly kissed you, "Love are you read to have my kids? Since I am a snake hybrid my cum is like tiny eggs, we will have twins or even triplets are you ready for me?" With that he starts thrusting slowly, making sure both of you savour the moment. "Ahhhn!! Baizhu, slower plea-please, hu-hurts.." "Aw baby it's fine don't worry, everything will get okay with time ju-just enjoy it with me, sa-savour it!! Fuck!! you are ss-so ngh! ti-tight, shit!" "B-Ba-Baizhu, slower p-pl-please....." "FUCK so-sorry baby, can't do can't do, fucck gonna cum g-gonna cum" His thrusts turn sloppy and there is no rhythm in it, you are also reaching your peak. "Love, my sweetheart look at me", he cups your face thrusting hard and fast, "Look at me, when I say look at me, I'm gonna cum, cum with me, I said fucking cum-Oh!! it's cumming! Mhmmmmmmm" He paints your inside white, his cum is like jelly, with tiny clear balls, you also cum with him because of how hot his cum in your womb is, he still keeps thrusting. "You thought we were done? No, no you aren't leaving this bed until you are pregnant, Get pregnant, please please please. One more round just FUCK one more, yeah? you are ready?" "This time take both of my cocks? yeah?" He slowly inserts both his cocks, you could easily see the dick print in your tummy, it was bulging with cocks and cum, you were definitely going to get pregnant.

This was going to be a long night.

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Thank you guys for making it to the end of this long fanfic :)

I hope you all enjoyed it.

All likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

As always, until next time.

Luv ya guys <3

#breeding genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin #baizhu #female reader #genshin fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact smut #fluff

[lakesparkles]

I finished the first chapter of my Gideon and Ramona fanfiction :D

I'll post it somewhere else someday, but so far I can share it here.

(reminder that this is NOT a ship fic. I just want to explore their relationship and project on Ramona tbh)

Ramona and Gideon - I

.

.

.

She decides to leave one last time

Or

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

—

  She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away.

  In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years?

  Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain trying to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind.

  And part of her... thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him.

  Or worse.

  He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house.

  Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether.

  Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

☆

7 MONTHS BEFORE

  "Ramona Flowers," he repeated once again, with his head bowed. At that point, she figured he just wanted to test how the name sounded on his own vocal cords. "Ramona...Flowers."

  "Did you like it, huh?" Ramona took a sip of her own drink, even though she already considered herself drunk enough. Maybe he was too, now that she thought about it.

  "Sounds a little familiar."

  "Strange," she shrugged, not caring. "And you are?"

  Now he raised his head once more, looking her in the eyes. Ramona found it strange the way he raised one of his eyebrows, as if he had just heard a terrible insult.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Alcohol always made her put all her thoughts out, without thinking much. She slowly realized that it hadn't been a good idea to start talking to that guy in a situation like that.

  He laughed, however:

  "You are intriguing, Ramona. And my name is Gideon Graves, to answer your question!"

  He - Gideon? Weird name - had said such a thing with so much pride that she began to suspect there was something she wasn't understanding. She became even more certain of that once she noticed his gaze still fixed on her face, waiting for a response - perhaps an acknowledgment. Strange, huh.

  To escape her own discomfort, she looked ahead, watching as everyone calmly walked around the party room. It was an average place, so there were too many people everywhere: one of the reasons she felt so uncomfortable. Parties stopped interesting her when she left college. Now she had no idea what to do there other than walk around with her glass of wine. And walk more. And pretend to be interested in the topic that another weird guy in a suit, who held her arm, was talking about. And walk.

  "What brought a girl like you here?" Gideon cut the awkward silence, catching Ramona's attention again.

  What was he implying with that? That she looked poor? Messed up? Or was it her hair?

  "I was challenged for 20 dollars that I wouldn't be able to crash this party."

  "Seriously," he laughed lightly, now being his turn to sip his glass. "What was the reason?"

  "It's a looooong story."

  "Don't tell me!"

  "You wouldn't have that much time to listen to me."

  "It seems that you don't know me very well" he implied, good-naturedly.

  Ramona turned her head to the side until realize Gideon kept his eyes fixated on her face. He always had a blank expression, difficult to read. She took the opportunity to analyze him more closely, trying to decide if he was ugly or not. His dark hair was longer on one side, in a kind of fringe that must've been popular about 10 years ago. What caught the most attention, clearly, were his thick glasses that he occasionally used his index finger to place back on the bridge of his nose. However, she also couldn't help but notice his white coat, much more informal than she expected for an occasion like that.

  Normally, Ramona was good - great even! - knowing a lot about someone just by her first impression and how the other person acted. But that guy? He was different, he just seemed like a weirdo who apparently was interested in her.

  She had watched him for a few minutes before he approached. Gideon was talking calmly to a large group of people, making no effort to become the center of attention. He had something in him, that was for sure. A kind of confidence mixed with how unusual the way he gestured with his hands was.

  She was so caught up in her own mental notes that she didn't even notice Gideon's next move until it had already happened. Still with a smile stuck on his face, he held her arm tightly, pulling her away from the wall and making her follow him.

  "What the hell, dude!?" Ramona practically screamed, looking around in confusion.

  "Let's get out of this stupid party, I can't take it anymore!"

  Indifferently, Ramona let herself be guided wherever the other wanted. She didn't care anymore. About that party and about everything else. Not when everything had already gone catastrophically wrong. She was too drunk to think about that anyway.

  The two of them sneaked among all those people, occasionally apologizing for stepping on someone's foot. When they paused for Gideon to exchange their glasses for two full ones, Ramona realized that she was having more fun in that moment than in any other second since she entered that tight space.

  This time, she didn't even need Gideon's grip to willingly follow in his footsteps, laughing along with him every time they had to take a giant turn just because there were so many people.

  "I know a place~" Gideon hummed when they arrived in one of the corners of the room. Without making much effort, he lightly opened one of the large doors, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them"

  They came face to face with a long circular staircase - not the most pleasant sight at the moment. She felt sick just looking up:

  "Can we be here?"

  "Yeah, Jonah doesn't care! Do you know Jonah? The owner of this buiding."

  "Obviously not, man!"

  "He's a friend of mine... For a long time. Anyway, keep following me!"

  And so Ramona did, having the next minutes extremely complicated. She almost tripped on some steps, needing to lean on the handrail as if her life depended on it. Gideon himself didn't seem so good either, his feet unsteady even as he continued to take large gulps of wine. Anyone who looked at them at that moment would think they were idiots, and that thought amused Ramona.

  Fortunately, the stairs ended after some time - how much had they gone up? Four floors? - Gideon opened another door, smiling at her as he waited for a reaction.

  "Wow," she murmured, somewhat ironically, looking up. Until that moment, she hadn't even realized that they'd gone to the roof of that building. The sky above them was almost completely dark, the stars being overshadowed by all the other lights coming from the buildings.

  "Much better than down there, don't you think?" Gideon boasted of himself, taking slow steps to the edge of the slab, leaning there to better observe the entire view.

  "Funny. For the way you got along with everyone, I thought you were enjoying it."

  "Not even close to that. The good thing about Jonah's parties is that you soon know everyone there, at least by sight. The bad part is that it gets repetitive after the third party."

  "I'm already thinking it the first time. Who is Jonah?"

  "Huh, he's..." Then he interrupted himself. "You're really not from here."

  "What do you think?" Ramona went to his side, resting her glass on the slab and exhaling through her mouth in a kind of 'pfff'. "Do I happen to look like the type of person who comes to New York with a completely fanciful idea coming from $1,99 novels, only to find out that it's not all that and that she's not even good enough to be a pizza delivery girl?

  "From the way you're saying it, I believe so."

  "That is not what happened!!" She got angry, being grumpy again.

  "Alright."

  With a sigh, she leaned her body weight - up to her chin - on the wall:

  "I'm not here to stay" finally something sincere came out of her mouth. "I just need some money to get to Vermont."

   "It's far away, y'know?" Gideon spoke very quietly, his gaze fixed on the sky. She could've sworn he looked a little disappointed, which interested her. "Is there anything you need to do there?"

  'No, I just want to know how it is. Just like here."

  "And what are your thoughts about New York so far?"

   "Overestimated."

  "I knew you'd say that!" He shook his head, pretending to be irritated. "And something also told me that you were exactly the type of person who liked to hang around."

  "The thing you said about my eyes, right?"

  "They're beautiful."

  "Did you know that your flirting gets worse every time you drink more?"

  Gideon let out a sudden laugh. If he was offended, he didn't show it. At most, he finished all the remaining liquid in the glass in one gulp, teasing her.

  "And why are you right here, in the party?" He continued.

  "Is this an interrogation?"

  "I'm just curious about someone as fascinating as you!"

  "Silly," she rolled her eyes, not falling for that. "It was because of a friend. No, not a friend. A guy I met."

  "A boyfriend?"

  "What? No! It's the guy from the coffee shop across the street, I think he knows Jonah or something. His name is Jay, we talk when I go there. Do you know? That coffee shop over there, look!" She pointed with her index finger to the dark spot on the street below.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Anyways! Jay ended up becoming my roommate. It's in a tiny studio apartment, but he can pay for it with his cafeteria salary and I can with the money I saved from Pennsylvania."

  "Mhmm!"

  "Shitty, I know! But I'm getting out of here. Soon."

  "Are you sure you don't have any plans?"

  This time, Ramona was silent, watching the cars pass by below. That part not even alcohol would let go so soon.

  "And you, Gideon? Are you from here?"

  "Me? I'm not. I came from North Bay.'

  "Serious? You don't look Canadian."

  "What does looking Canadian mean to you?"

  "Someone who isn't you."

  "Did you know that you make less and less sense the more you drink?" He countered, raising both eyebrows.

  She ignored him, then he spoke again a few seconds later:

  "Do you see that building over there? The one near the red sign."

  Ramona followed with her gaze where he was pointing:

  "Man Media?" She read with her eyes almost closed, barely seeing.

  "G-Man Media! G! The triangle is a G!"

  "Ah, now I see it."

  "So, I live there!"

  "Live?"

  "It's my company building, actually. But I arranged one of the floors to be my apartment."

  "Company?"

  She was still looking closely there, almost getting scared when she felt Gideon's hand on her shoulder.

  "Ramona, are you okay? Of course you're not!"

  She responded with a nod, cursing herself for making it so apparent that she had drunk more than she was used to. What a great first impression. She tried to stand and turn to him, to prove a point, but she remembered little after that.

  It was as if her mind had stopped working from one moment to the next. I mean, she was conscious as best she could. Wasn’t she?

  The problem was remembering that the next day.

  She lifted her head for the expected pain, her mouth dry as a desert upon waking up. Even though she couldn't see very well, she realized she was in a bed. How? She barely had time to despair before she looked everywhere, analyzing the light coming through the window and realizing she was alone in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't her apartment with Jay, that was for sure. That room alone should've been bigger than the entire place.

  The last thing she remembered from the last night was being in a car. Gideon spoke to her, a little impatiently. He asked where she lived, she thinks.

  Well, there was no sign of Gideon at that moment, which made her feel a little calmer. She also seemed fine, if she ignored her hangover.

  It'd just been... Weird.

  It took her about half an hour, rooting and snooping in every corner of the room, until she noticed the most obvious thing of all: the sheet of paper and the envelope on top of the cabinet.

  She sat at the foot of the bed, reading what was written there:

  "Dear Ramona Flowers,

  The room´s already been paid for overnight, don't need to worry! If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. If not, I wish you the best of luck in Vermont!

                                                                                     -GGG"                         

  Half curious, half laughing at the stupid name, she opened the envelope to find enough money for five trips.

☆

  She didn't know why her brain reminded her of that specific moment. Ramona raised the corner of her mouth, coming back to reality and running her fingers along the walls of the hallway towards her room.

  Now the fantasy was completely over. Instead, she imagined a fictional life in Vermont, accompanied by someone poorer and less complicated. It looked good, if she ignored the lack of detail because she had obviously never set foot there.

  God, what an idiot she was!

  Even without having a specific direction, she continued walking there. It’s what she does when she is so bored in such a big building. It was even funny. She'd lived there for months, but she was pretty sure she'd never explored all the rooms and floors.

  She was near her room when someone suddenly came out of one of the open doors, colliding painfully into her.

  "Ow. Sorry" she automatically apologized, expecting to be one of the tower's employees.

  "Ramona," the other person's voice said. In that typical and curious way.

  "Gideon," she said back, her head down. "I thought you were working all day today?"

  "Nope, only in the morning" he finished straightening his suit that had crumpled during the impact. "I was looking for you, actually."

  Ramona raised her head, certainly not anticipating this turn of the conversation. So much so that she was speechless for a second, giving Gideon the chance to continue:

  "Do you want to go out for lunch? You can choose the place this time."

  His tone... It seemed normal. Different from usual, which made her suspicious:

  "I prefer to stay at home today, my head hurts. I was going to my room," and then she started to feel guilty. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

  "Only if it's Sherlock Holmes!"

  "Nothing like that! You said I choose and it will be The Butterfly Effect!"

  Gideon smiled as he nodded, putting his arm around her neck - that had to be uncomfortable, considering how many inches taller she was than him -, and walking beside her to her room.

  Then they spent the next few minutes together, without anything too special. Besides, of course, being in each other's presence in general. It seemed like the longer their relationship lasted, the less they saw each other. And that only made her feel strange about the current situation. It seemed so normal that something had to be out of place.

  The film played in front of the two, who lay on her big bed. Gideon had a straight body, with his legs crossed and his arms the same way. Ramona kind of touched him and kind of didn't. Gideon seemed interested in the film, laughing and making occasional comments. Ramona pretended to pay attention when answering him.

  What was so wrong? There had to be something wrong.

  Then Gideon stretched a little, changing position to turn around and wrap his arms around her body. His familiar shape made her dizzy for a moment. This hadn't happened for a long time. Without thinking too much to avoid regret, she snuggled into his hold, feeling warm and... Fine. Almost.

  The memory was almost automatic. Her brain refocused on that same day, months ago:

  What she hadn't told Gideon when they met was how incredibly lost she was feeling because of her own stupidity. After graduating, she decided to leave everything behind, as she realized that she didn't belong there. She might not have any idea where that place would be, but she could certainly look! She took whatever temporary job she could get; she boarded planes and even trusted strangers for rides; she spent months, weeks and days in completely different cities. Searching.

  New York before Gideon had been more of the same. Her days were made up of looking at those giant buildings while wondering which point in that immense city was the right one.

  Apparently, it was exactly in that room, feeling Gideon's comforting warmth. He looked so relaxed that she couldn't help but laugh at the funny face he made as he tried not to fall asleep. The energy bar above his head said otherwise, being practically zero. Ramona... She was almost fine too. Her eyes took longer to blink each time.

  So why did she still feel exactly the same as the time she spent wandering around New York? She was beginning to think that she was incapable of settling down and being content.

  An instant before she fell completely asleep, something clicked in her mind. Her eyes suddenly widened.

  She finally realized what was so wrong there.

  It was about the day she met Gideon. She was absolutely sure that, until now, she remembered perfectly how everything happened when they got down from that slab. Before now, she remembered taking a taxi with him and all the conversations they had inside. And how he took her to a random hotel for the night, saying goodbye briefly by leaving her in the room and writing something while she went, in her drunken state, to bed.

   But now... It was as if her mind had gone blank.

#my writing #ramona flowers #gideon graves #scott pilgrim #ramona and gideon au #if you read it i would love to know what you think :D

[ladymunson]

The Boardroom 18+

Fic Summary: After your encounter with Bucky in his house you’re surprised to find out he’s your new boss. His assistant Mary is about to retire and he’s looking for a someone new to take the position. Another co-worker has her sights on the job but Bucky only has eyes for you, much to her chagrin.

A/N: Thank you for the support for part one and sorry it’s taken so long to post part two. I really wanted to get this right.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex, sex in the workplace, unequal power dynamic, drama.

Word count: 2803

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics

“Y/N wait!” Bucky calls out as you leave the meeting room. You stop and turn around as everyone else files out. Angela gives you the evil eye as she walks past.

“Yes sir?” You say, not making eye contact.

“Please don’t do that. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you worked here.” He says.

“What happened between us will not happen again.” You say in a hushed voice. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m getting special treatment. I’m also going to invest in some blinds, it’s not appropriate for that to continue.”

Six weeks later

“Hey there y/n” your college Mary, Bucky’s personal assistant says as you’re pouring your morning coffee. “Do you have a minute to talk in my office?”

“Of course!” You say as you follow her. Her office is decorated in florals and pastels, very feminine but homely.

“Please shut the door hon.” Mary says, your stomach drops. Are you in trouble? You shut the door and proceed to her desk. “Take a seat.” You oblige and sit down, your heart pumping wildly and your palms beginning to sweat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Everything is wonderful actually, no one knows this yet but I’m retiring at the end of the month.” Mary says with a smile.

“What?!” You say open mouthed. “Why? And why are you telling me before anyone else?”

“Well… someone needs to replace me as Mr Barnes assistant and I wanted to offer the position to you before I announce.”

“Me?!” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve seen how much of a hard worker you are, even though you’ve not been here long. I see you take great care and pride in everything you do and that’s exactly what this job needs.”

“Doesn’t this need to go through HR first?”

Mary sighs. “I’d rather not, I already know that everyone who applies will get turned down.” You raise your eyebrow in question. “Angela set her sights on James the moment she found out he was taking over from his father. She would instantly put herself in the position, and attempt to put herself in his bed. He’s like my nephew and I just couldn’t let that harpy get to him.”

“If he wanted to bed her, then that‘s his decision.” You reply.

“He doesn’t want to y/n but she won’t take no for an answer, she’s tried to get her claws into him for the past three years when he’s attended company functions with his father. I really want you to take this job, not just because you’re a great worker but you’re also professional.”

“Can I think about it?”

Five days later

“Why did you pick her for the job? What has she got that I don’t?!” Angela pouts as she confronts Mary in her office after the announcement of her retirement.

“I would say it’s nothing personal Angela but that would be a lie. I made my decision, you need to respect it.” Mary replies as she folds her arms across her chest.

Angela scoffs, “We’ll see how long she lasts, Bucky can be SO demanding.” She smirks before exiting Mary’s office.

Mary let’s out a sigh before picking up the phone and dialling Bucky’s number.

“Barnes.” He answers.

“James we have a problem.”

“Let me guess, Angela?” He responds.

“She’s gonna make y/n’s life miserable…”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

The next morning

“What’s this?” You ask as Bucky hands you a brand new smartphone.

“I’ll need to be able to get ahold of you at all times and all instructions and duties will come from this new number. If anyone tells you I’ve asked you to do something, you can ask me on this number. And don’t tell anyone about it, except Mary.”

“Why would…? Ah. Angela?” You ask. Bucky nods and leaves your office.

One week later

Bucky- I’m gonna need you to stay late tonight, we have a meeting.

You- How late?

Bucky- Meeting is at 8pm.

You’re thirty minutes early for the meeting, training as Bucky’s assistant has been gruelling but tonight, you have to set up the conference room. Having this meeting at 8pm means you skipped dinner to be here, it’s that important. If you can land this contract it will be a huge thing for the company, there may even be a pay rise in it for some of us.

You place your bag on a chair and get to work. You use the key to open the supply cupboard and take out a brand new pack of note pads and a new box of pens. You open the note pads and place one on the table in front of every chair and a pen on top of each pad. Next are the water glasses which you place around the table, the refrigerator in the corner of the room is stocked with bottles of water which will be distributed when the meeting begins.

You hear Bucky come into the office, so you quickly grab your bag and run into the ladies room. In the bathroom you change from flats into heels and check your hair. The elegant chignon from this morning has lost its setting so you decide to remove the clips, letting it loose and cascading around your shoulders. You grab my brush out of your bag and run it through your hair, the chignon has left your hair with a bouncy curl which looks really cute. You check your dress, making sure there are no stains on the white of the fabric. Once satisfied you grab a lipstick out of your bag and apply the dusky rose colour to your lips. You usually wear nude lipstick to the office but changed your bag this morning, leaving this colour as your only choice. The colour isn’t very bold which is great so it will do.

You exit the bathroom and head back to the conference room, passing by his office quickly. “Y/N?” You hear him call.

“Yes Mr Barnes” you reply from the conference room doorway.

“Can you please make sure there are note pads and pens around the table? And make sure you set out a place for yourself, I need you to stay and take notes for me.” He calls from his office.

“Pads and pens already set out sir and I’ll add a place for me.”

“Thank you!”

You head to your office and grab your iPad, taking notes on that will be much easier. Then you head back to the conference room and place it at the end of the table, opposite his place. You also get yourself a glass.

He walks into the room, looking at his phone “Y/N they’re arriving now, is everything...?” He trails off as he looks up at you, his mouth slightly gaped. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down at the office... pretty” That last word sounded like it should’ve been a personal thought but you don’t draw attention to it.

“Thank you sir. Is there anything else you need before the elevator arrives?” You ask. He shakes his head as you hear the ding and the doors open.

“James...” the first man exiting the elevator says, extending his hand to him.

He shakes his hand. “How are you Bob?” Several other people get out of the elevator behind Mr Kellerman, he always travels with an entourage.

“Can’t complain. Let’s get this show on the road shall we?” Mr Kellerman walks into the conference room and takes a seat in the middle of the table with his back to the window. His assistant Ms Deacon sits to his right and the other members of the party take seats around the table. You get up from your place at the table and get the bottles of water out of the refrigerator, handing them out.

You can feel someone looking at you, like their eyes are boring through you. You ignore it before taking a seat and opening the notes app on your iPad.

The meeting gets underway, you follow everything that’s being said, writing in code so you can interpret them later.

As you listen to Bucky speak, you realise how incredibly sexy his voice is, shifting slightly in your seat and noticing the dampness in your panties. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you try to erase the thoughts of him slamming you up against the wall and taking you hard and fast out of your mind. You open your eyes and look up straight into his baby blues, you feel the dampness grow as your eyes lock, the small moan he lets out causing you to soak your panties.

You stand, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, may I be excused?” You ask.

He licks his lips and nods his head. You head to the bathroom, stepping into the stall and locking the door behind you. You lean against it, “fuck!” You whisper as you shimmy out of your underwear. You have no spares in your bag so you’re gonna have to go without underwear.

You throw the panties on the floor behind the toilet to collect later and flush, stepping out of the cubicle and washing your hands.

When you get back in the conference room, they all have beaming smiles. “What did I miss?”

He smiles at you. “We reached an agreement to combine our companies!” You smile and clap.

“That’s fantastic! I’m looking forward to working with you Mr Kellerman.” You respond as you shake his hand.

“I might have to steal your new assistant away from you James, she’s marvellous. And may I say very easy on the eye!”

“Y/N will be staying here Bob” he chuckles and waves goodbye, his fans following suit. The elevator doors close and Bucky lets out a huge sigh.

You’re already clearing up the table when he comes back in. Gasping at the sight of you bending over it. You hear footsteps behind you but you don’t turn, thinking he is going to help clean up.

He stands behind you, eyeing up your ass bent over the table. You move slightly on your feet and he moans. Thoughts race through your mind, should I? You take a deep breath and move back ever so slightly until your ass grazes him, you feel his erection straining through his pants. He groans and reaches out, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him. You gasp.

“Mr Barnes!” He thrusts his hips forward, jerking you upright. He spins you around and grabs the back of your head, possessing your mouth with his.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth. You return his kiss as he grabs your ass, lifting you onto the table, opening your legs and moving between them. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and continues the kiss, loosening his tie before removing it. Your fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, undoing them quickly, eager to get him shirtless. You pull his shirt off of his shoulders and throw it across the room. Then unbutton his pants, pushing them down, freeing his raging hard on. He steps out of them and moves them out of the way.

Bucky’s hand slips up your dress, he moans as he finds you bare pussy, wet and ready. He pulls you to your feet and reaches around to the back of your dress to undo the zipper, slipping it down your arms and watching it fall to the floor below you. He lifts you back onto the table and kicks the dress away, his hands caressing your breasts as he kisses you again.

He pushes you onto your back and kneels, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. He blows gently, making you sigh in pleasure, then kisses your inner thighs. Before placing his entire mouth over your mound, sucking hard. You moan and groan, your head rolling side to side as you play with your breasts.

Bucky releases your pussy from his mouth and licks his lips. He opens you up with his fingers and flicks his tongue over your hard bud. “Ohhhhh... fuck!” You moan out, as his tongue continues it’s relentless flicking over your clit. You can feel an orgasm building deep inside you, your pussy creaming at the thought of an orgasm. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks, gently flicking his tongue over your bean. Your hand reaches down and grabs the back of Bucky’s head, grinding your pussy on his face, chasing your orgasm. It hits hard, making your hips jerk involuntarily and your toes curl. You ride the waves of pleasure, body convulsing in climax, his tongue still licking as the spasms subside.

Bucky stands, evidence of your orgasm running down his chin. You sit up and pull him to you, kissing him passionately, tasting yourself on his kiss.

You jump down off the table, your juices running down your legs as you kneel in front of him. Licking the precum off of his cock, then lifting his cock up to lick from his balls up the underside of his cock to the tip and back down again. You repeat that three times before taking his cock in your mouth, taking it to the back of your throat. His hand grips the back of your head and holds you in place as he shoves his cock in and out of your mouth. He groans as you suck his cock, he grabs ahold of your hair and pulls you to your feet.

Bucky spins you around, bending you over the table and wets the tip of his cock with your slick before sliding inside you. He grabs your hips and begins moving in and out. Your breasts are pressed against the table, hands splayed out in front of you as his hips thrust hard, he grunts as you use your inner muscles to squeeze around his cock.

That releases Bucky’s inner beast and he reaches out with his left hand to grab your hair, pulling you back into him hard. His right hand spanking your ass, leaving red hand prints as his relentless fucking almost splits you in two. You moan again and again as he pounds you, he reaches around to grab you throat making you cum hard around his cock. He chokes you as his fucking becomes primal, you can tell he’s seconds away from coming.

“Fuck me Sir!” You shout, he growls as his orgasm hits and he shoots his load into you, before it drips out and onto the conference room floor.

He turns your head to kiss you, breathing hard. “Well... that was unexpected”

You giggle. “Yes it was Sir” He spins you around and pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your back. Compared to how he just fucked you, this was intimate, sweet.

“I’d like to do that again if you’re interested.” He says as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Now?” You ask.

“No not right now, but again. And again.” He says as he bends to pick up his pants and your dress. He throws your dress onto the table next to you.

“We really shouldn’t!” You reply, “Even if I really want to.” He smiles and get begins to get dressed. You sit on the table and watch him before starting to get dressed yourself.

“I’ve changed my mind...” Bucky says. You sigh, disappointed. “Yes now” You look confused. “I’m going to fuck you again, right now!” He grabs the dress out of your hands and throws it to the end of the table and steps between your legs. He grabs your head and kisses you deeply as he spears your still dripping pussy with his cock.

You let out a moan, he grabs your arms and wraps them around his neck, then your legs around his waist.

“Hold on tight!” He says as he begins thrusting his hips hard, making you bounce off the table. He kisses you passionately as he pounds into you, chasing his orgasm...

TO BE CONTINUED

Tags: @jobean12-blog @eddiesprincess86 @bettyfrommars @pattiemac1 @jadeylovesmarvelxo @existenciosa

#bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky smut #ladymunson #the assistant part two #the boardroom

[otomes-world]

Longing

Hello everyone! I had a strange urge to write something, so yes.. AU belongs to @shiny-jr I'm just interpreting. This is also my parody to the five stages of grief. Another sentient twst works are here. Enjoy 0/

Upd: I've finally got permission to post this thing! But.. I forgot about it.. and I'm no longer like it.. and it's so small.. but, yeah, let it exists.

Disbelief.

It was the first emotion that began to creep into consciousness with a light touch from just hearing about the “shutdown.” The player just took a break, was busy, preparing for exams, tests, work, whatever. Causing panic out of nowhere was stupid. This had already happened more than once, but..

The hours merged into days. Days became weeks. Only the most stubborn began to count beyond the month. The mistrust and fear began to be felt stronger than before. More and more often insidious “what ifs” were spinning in head.

You were only gone for a short moment. Maybe a little longer this time, but you would come back. You would, except… Yuu turned into the doll they always were. A puppet whose only value was in you, who controlled it. When there was no point in denying, a storm broke out.

Indignation.

Anticipation caused hearts to experience previously ignored emotions and heads to question. What could be the reason? Could something happen in that inaccessible world? Do you feel the same confusion, unable to connect?

Could you become bored with their existence?

Did you choose them, him, over someone else? What exactly made you hesitate? A beautiful singing voice? Looks that could challenge the Evil Queen? Fame? Wealth? What?

Was the effort really not enough to captivate you, to make you pay attention? Place in your heart the desire to stay. Is it really his fault or is it yours?

Grief.

Bitterness replaced frustration. The one that was ripping chest, made him want to cut his own throat open if it would give any peace of mind. If it would strengthen confidence of your return.

When it seem that the empty vessel was about to break, hope still glimmers at the bottom. When the ear listened to every rumor, rustle, speculation, even if it was false. When the one he least want to see looked at him from the mirror.

When he didn’t want to, and most importantly, couldn’t stop. Gave up. Let every attempt, broken hope plunge him into the abyss of despair much deeper than the last time. Getting back on feet became more and more difficult. Sometimes the thought of acceptance flashed but gaving up the most desired thing was hardly possible. Even if the chances that no one would understand and that everything would burn out were higher every moment.

Longing.

Yearning invariably replaces suffocating pain. Very reluctant, denied by all means.

When there was nothing left in tired beating heart - not a single drop - only memories of the time spent with you through Yuu. Then he still did not understand other people's adoration. He thought that this would bypass him. However, like everyone else, he couldn’t resist the eyes, your eyes and no one else’s, looking at him in a special way. As if in the world of colored pixels he was worth something.

A smile involuntarily plays on his face, although he barely had enough strength to maintain an imitation of life. In moments of overwhelming loss, pride insisted: you were not worth it. You were not worth all the torment, all the tears he shed. You were not worth.. but this was a blatant lie.

When everything around him would merge into one colorless heap, when he himself would cease to exist. The only thought at the last moment would be dedicated to you. Therefore, as soon as the news of the appearance of an impostor who dared to pretend to be you reached the exhausted mind, remained only... rage.

#tenshi talk #twisted wonderland #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #sentient au twst #sentient twst au #twst impostor au #i didn't ask to isekaied #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst oneshot #twst fanfic

[scarlettsandmaroons]

she doesn't think of me | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter two | chapter three: midnights like this

chapter summary: your professor is targeting you and neither you or your bestfriend are having it. she however, doesn't seem to care about you at all.

warnings: natasha is mean.

a/n: this was rushed, i'm sorry! should've posted this last night, but i was so busy i just decided to squeeze writing this chapter into my schedule. it's really short too, rest assured, the next one will be better!

you were on natasha romanoff's radar. and you want so badly to get out of it.

"oh i'm sure she'll soften up! mrs. romanoff is nice!" billy insisted, but you carried on basically dragging yourself into yet another dreadful hour with mrs. romanoff.

"it's been three months, billy! i don't know what to do," you threw your arms up and then caressed your face with your hands, wanting so deeply to cry into it.

the two months being mrs. romanoff's favorite student hasn't exactly been the easiest. after handing off a couple of late assignments, which you had stacks and stacks of from her, you were surprised she hadn't pulled some strings to suspend you.

she would very often tear your paper in front of you. she would call you into her office just so you can watch her tear the last 15 hours you spent in pieces before throwing it away. she never lets you off of class without calling you at least 3 times. never leaving out some commentary after you answer that would make you embarrassed to the core. she pointed out your shortcomings in class. she made sure to always always let everyone know what and when you're doing wrong. and after all that humiliation, what aggravates you is how she doesn't, at all, acknowledges your existence outside of class. you would pass her by the halls, you would see her near the gate, never once would she make eye contact, or even look in your direction. she wouldn't even do so much as breath in your direction!

to her, it's nothing.

"do you want me to talk to her?" billy asked. she's been the subject of almost all your conversations with billy. and he has so patiently listen to your every rant about her.

"how would you even," you were hopeless. you would leave, but you're already too far into it. she had humiliated you way too much to back out now. you didn't go through months of torture just to leave. to her, you're not even relevant. you're just another student who couldn't withstand her. leaving would hurt your pride more.

so you straightened your back, and marched like someone truly eager to learn. "i'm sick of her nonsense. i'll show her what i'm made of."

you certainly didn't show her what you were made of when as soon as your name rolled off her tongue with strength and almost anger, you folded. you curved. you balled. whatever one might call it. you caved. you gave in. all sense of even an ounce of bravery was washed away by trembling fear. intimidation. you'd come to learn of that feeling the very first time you met her, it still surprises you how you've yet to get accustomed to it.

you stood up, slowly. here it comes. you know it’s coming. you have a visual bulleted list of everything you could’ve possibly done, everything you have done that she has yet to shame you for. just yesterday, you bumped into her in the hall. literally, bump into her. the moment you felt the impact of her shoulder against yours, you made sure to avoid her eyes at all cost. you walked away like your life depended on it. you weren’t going to be subjected under one of her condescending gazes again which sheer sharpness of will have you begging for her forgiveness in seconds. you didn’t acknowledge her, or that it happened, not out of pride, but out of fear. she was already scary enough, and until yesterday, you hadn’t really done much to piss her off.

before that however... you've done a few. for example, in class a few days ago. you know she saw you. you hadn’t slept in so long that day, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. billy was there to offer you his car to sleep on the moment you got off mrs. romanoff’s class. he fixed the back seat; set up his air bed and everything. that was the best sleep you had in days. the only sleep you had in days. you were surprised mrs. romanoff had yet to give you shit for that though. especially, when you’ve made eye contact with her the moment you woke up.

somewhere last week, you also handed a late assignment. the very first one she hadn’t called you to watch her tear off and throw away. you also have an overdue paper you hadn’t even got the privilege of a free time to start doing. and you’re sure she hated the heels you wore two days ago from the judgmental look she shot your way after getting a glimpse of the maroon stilettos.

mrs. romanoff is like a ticking timebomb. one that could go off over something so obvious yet unforeseen you’d hate yourself for not thinking of. that’s what created your visual bulleted list of everything you had done for her to humiliate you, everything that she might embarrass you for, everything that you can choose from as to why she must hate you that very moment. it helps to have a list. to be able to predict what’s making her mad again. what about you today infuriates her? it’s like a game.

today, you’re guessing one of those three. of course you had done more. some you know, some you hadn’t realized she hates you for doing, some you don’t even realize you did.

she stood up and crossed her arms. you were so far from her; so many people in between. yet the way she stared at you made you feel like it was just the two of you. not in a good way. in fact, in the worst way. it’s like being left alone with a beast.

“you’re failing my class.”

you weren’t in high school anymore. that much was clear when she announced it to the whole class where a high school teacher would never go so far as too doing. but the line between high school and college became a blur when what were a few snickers became a full blown laughter of which mrs. romanoff only basked in. you wouldn’t be surprised be there was some kind of pride in her as the class erupted in laughter over her embarrassing you.

that was very on-brand of her. but it hurt you nonetheless. your heart dropped continuously until you can feel a dragging weight on your chest. to even make it out of the classroom was such a challenge as you could barely carry the weight that pulled at your heart. you held in your tears as you walked down the hall. you needed billy. it was an hour before lunch, billy’s in mr. barton’s class but you texted him nonetheless.

‘sos’, you sent him.

it was barely ten minutes later. by then, you were already sitting on a bench just outside of your campus building when he came running to see you forcing everything in until he was able to sit beside you and pull you to him. “i got you, y/n.” he says as he held your head against the crook of his neck where you just exploded in tears. you cried heavily against his shoulder; the three month worth of pent up frustration over your studies finally breaking free from your system. “let it all out.” he whispers while a hand rubs over your back and the other plays with your hair.

muffled words escape from your lips; complete incoherent. billy pulls you off of him, holding your shoulders and taking a good look at your face; red nose, eyes, and lips, all puffy and plump from crying, snot on your nose, tear stained cheeks, and wet eyes. he hadn’t seen you cry like this since you failed math in junior high.

“okay, now tell me. what’s wrong?”

you sniffled hard before running the back of your hand against your nose. you were looking past his shoulder as tears continue to pour from your eyes. “i failed english…” you cried.

“what?! but you’re an english lit girlie!” he says. “remember? and i’m a math wizard. how can you possibly fail english?!”

that made you cry much harder, pushing through the arms that held your shoulders so you can return to your place with your head against the crook of his neck. crying all the much more. “mrs. romanoff failed me…” you cried, lifting your head slightly so your words doesn’t come muffled. “but she tore off my homework! she refused to accept anything i submit her—"

“okay, that’s it.” billy stood up rather abruptly, holding you by the hand and marching off back to the campus.

you sniffled, trying to clear your sinuses. “what are you doing…?” you ask. he was holding so tightly on your hand, you could barely feel it as he drags you through the hallways and straight into mrs. romanoff’s office.

you weren’t able to stop him—you didn’t even know what he was going to do! and by the time everything was finished processing in your mind, billy had already started yelling at your professor who only watches intently from behind her desk. “how could you fail my friend!” he yells at her.

you were taken aback. you didn’t know what to do. you’re already in here, he already yelled at her, knowing mrs. romanoff, you both would suffer the same consequences as if you would have stopped him.

“goodmorning to you too, mr. maximoff.”

her chin was resting on the back of her hand. she was looking at him so intently, as if she was interested in everything he has to say—as if she’ll hear him out. you were getting the strongest sense of déjà vu. you’ve been here before. you knew how this was going to end. you knew how much this would amuse her. you knew because this happened to you.

“y/n doesn’t deserve that.”

you can hear it in billy’s voice. he was infuriated. he hated her perhaps maybe more than you did. it’s always been this way—the two of you. he’s always been the man who protected you; who shielded you; who fought for you. and you were always there holding his hand as he does so, ready to back him up.

“how come?”

but with mrs. romanoff, against mrs. romanoff, it was different. her eyes were trained on him and him only. she did nothing to acknowledge your presence—you wouldn’t even be too surprised if she hadn’t realized you were here. but from the slightest chance that she might be watching you, from the slightest chance that your hand holding billy’s were caught from her peripheral, you slowly withdrew your hand, and took just the smallest step away from him so your skin doesn’t touch.

you know billy noticed this but he seemed to not have given it much thought. he was in here fighting for you knowing full-well he’s risking his future, and yours, in this university. you holding each other’s hand and being mistaken as a couple is not going to help your case. you deserve to be here. and you don’t deserve what you were given. and billy knows that. the last thing you want is for mrs. romanoff to further disregard your efforts, or any of the very little chance you have of winning this because she thought billy’s only doing this because you’re “his girlfriend”.

“she was the best in our grade!”

“i think you mistake this university for a small-town public school in west view,” she fixed her posture, straightening up when she pushes her chair further into the table and her hands rest on her desk.

“she doesn’t deserve this, and you know that! she worked day and night for your subject,” billy insists.

“i fear for her future if that’s the best her entire day’s work is worth for.”

you shrunk. you slowly hid behind billy though you were aware they both noticed. you wanted to cry. to scream into a pillow. she belittled you. and she did so without even acknowledging you at all, your presence to her was nothing. if you couldn’t see the way you hand was trembling, you would think you were invisible. from the way they were talking about you, to the way they were exchanging arguments as if you weren’t there. the very sole reason they’re even arguing, they almost pretend to not be here at all.

“that’s unfair. maybe you’d see how it’s worth if you’d even take the time to look at what she gives you before throwing it off.”

“why would i even give time for an output worth nothing more than what i throw in my trash can?”

“you are unfair! you give her all these work—,” billy’s voice raised to an extent you’ve never heard of, and even you were almost scared, but of course, mrs. romanoff wasn’t even fazed, if anything, she seemed to be getting bored of this whole thing.

her hooded eyelids dropped halfway, and her eyebrows tightened by the smallest bit. her patience was growing thin. and from the way her jaw clenched, you knew she was over it.

“and you are being disrespectful, mr. maximoff.” she said sternly.

“you’re biased. you humiliate her in class, you embarrass her, you pick on her. i don’t see you doing that to others. at least not to the same extent you do her. you’re wearing her off!”

by then you knew this shouldn’t go any further. he was blatantly disrespecting a professor, who as much as you hate, shouldn’t be disrespected by a student. at least, not to the extent billy was going for.

“and you, come in here accusing me; questioning me, a professor, with absolutely no regard for the inconsistencies and rather meritless of your argument.”

“i demand to see your grading sheet, because i assure you, you are making a mistake.”

mrs. romanoff abruptly stood up, placing both hands on the surface of her desk as she leaned towards it with anger painted across her features. “and i demand!... mr. maximoff,” her voice raised, and something about it, the coldness, the sharpness, the loudness, the entirety of it, almost made you cry. you were scared, your rapid heartbeat was evidence of that. “…that you leave. you have exhausted my patience. and i assure you, you will have no office of mine to barge into, or a university to attend if you further push your luck which i guarantee you is not more than what you’d have when you’re standing on very thin ice.”

“you wouldn’t…”

you put a hand on his shoulder. he was really pushing it. and mrs. romanoff wasn’t someone who you should be pushing it with. mrs. romanoff follows through. that much is evident as she consistently tore off your paper, without fail, every time you submit it.

“oh i’m sure you wouldn’t love to see me try.”

billy gave into her warning, but more so into you. you tolerated him—this, to a certain extent, especially since he was only fighting for you. but there’s a line, and with mrs. romanoff, it’s not something you should ever dare cross. billy listened to your implied warning too. he always listened to you. so with a scoff, he took your hand and prepared to leave, but as he was approaching the door, you pulled your hand from him to look at mrs. romanoff who, for the first time since you came in, finally was looking at you.

“are you going to continue being like this?” you asked. you weren’t as mean as billy was. you weren’t demanding. you were just sad. hopeless, almost.

“being what, miss y/n?”

“unreasonable.” you whispered but you know she heard you.

“if you see a reason for me not to be, then i wouldn’t.”

“don’t you think about how that might affect my future?” your voice was soft, kind.

“oh, i don’t think about you at all.”

her voice wasn’t. she was cold, almost proud; condescending.

a feeling inside you brewed. something about her eyes. how delicate they are. how enchanting. it couldn’t possibly belong to what a wretched-hearted woman she seems to be. she’s inviting, enticing. something about her pulls you in. intrigues you. now more than ever. now since ever.

you want to break mrs. romanoff. you want to see who she really is. not for revenge, not to hold it against her. simply because you’re curious. you’re aching to see mrs. romanoff—natasha. she couldn’t possibly just be that. mean.

she is not just that.

#ath: natasha romanoff #ath: natasha romanoff series (wasn't midnight rain) #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff series #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu smut #mcu imagine #billy maximoff #billy maximoff fanfic

[torhues]

iwaizumi hajime.

iwaizumi made it clear when you broke up with him— that you wouldn't get together— as if it wasn't an unspoken rule already. you weren't so sure of his words but, pride had your conscience in its hands and you agreed, saying you wouldn't even think about doing that.

now you're sitting in a fancy cake shop in Florence, with iwaizumi in front of you. the last time you saw him was in highschool, when you broke up with him on the way to airport, when he said the two of you would be just fine even in a long distance relationship, when you said it was hard for you, when he asked whether you trust him, and when you said you do but it had started to shake.

the last time you saw him was around five years ago, see you don't even remember the timeline. you've been keeping a blurry image of him walking away as a souvenir for your eyes failed to give you a clearer look back then.

the orders are sitting on the table but you don't care enough to tend to them. on other days, you would take a picture— multiple pictures— send it to your friends, post it on your social media account if you feel like it, make it another insignificant moment of your life saved in the gallery. on other days, you would enjoy the dessert but today, the pear sauce on vanilla bread seems to reduce your appetite.

"i can't believe we're meeting all the way here, in Italy," albeit, he seems to enjoy his cake.

you imagined meeting him in California or Japan, or somewhere in Canada, at most, since he always wanted to visit the country, especially during fall, and coincidently, you've enrolled in the fall course for post-graduate studies, at some university. not Italy, not in the middle of your vacation that was supposed to be some sort of self-sobriety programme.

you nod. "me neither,"

and then he starts talking about college, what he has been up to recently, directing the same questions to you while you do your best to give a brief response. it isn't the timing that is making you feel out of place but instead, it's how normal iwaizumi is. you don't expect an argument, not an iwaizumi who can never forget you for your impromptu breakup and, neither the one who would ask you to get back together because living without you feels like hell,

like diving deep into the ocean without oxygen.

you don't want to have a melodramatic conversation but, you don't want him to act like you didn't leave him with loose ends, as if you didn't hurt him when all he ever did was make you happy. you want him to hate you, to utter all the words along the lines of love and loathe, to tell you that he loved you and still did, that it was so hard to move on and every breath pierced like glass shards in the heart, that he spent nights crying while reading your texts knowing you'd never come back and when he has been doing better finally, you appear in his life like nothing ever happened, and drag him back to step one. you want him to tell you things that resonate with the yearning you have for him in his heart, desperately beautiful yet painful, so that you don't have to ask yourself over and over again, am i the only one who still feels this way?

"how's life?" you ask this once, instead of letting him ask all the questions that you don't have a definite answer to.

iwaizumi pauses, he takes a breath, a look out of the glass windows, your eyes follow his gaze, there's a soft smile on his face.

iwaizumi lifts up his fingers. "i'm engaged," he's engaged. "and it'd be appreciated if you could make it to the wedding next month," and he's inviting you to his wedding next month.

he continues about how suddenly things happened and how sorry he is for not being able to invite you to the engagement; you don't mind any of it, quite frankly. you didn't even expect him to do that after changing your number. that's not what you're worried about, that is not even the worst part.

iwaizumi is engaged.

the sixteen year old boy who told you that he'd marry you the moment you both turn eighteen, the eighteen year old guy who promised to stay by your side— one who shared his firsts with you and swore to make you his last— is engaged. your heart is racing at a thousand miles per second, and for all the wrong reasons.

now that you notice, his smile has gotten wider, and he's talking about the girl he met in college and how she makes him feel like the happiest person ever. you notice the way he still fiddles with his fingers while talking about someone or something that he adores, the way he says those words with eyes that seem like they would never run out of love to give. the sunset shines upon him, he looks exactly the way he did on your first date.

do you smile the same way at her?

you know, you're in no place to complain, for you were the one to leave him when he begged you to say. it's not that you don't want him to move on in life, you said he deserved someone better the day you broke up, it still rings in your head as a reminder of your biggest mistake. you want to happy for him but, something about him moving on and you being stuck in the same place leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

"yn," he calls your name, you respond by shifting your eyes in his direction. "are you listening?" you are, albeit, you don't know how much you're processing.

you're picturing them together, doing everything you did with him; holding hands, going on dates, kissing, hugging, sleeping next to each other, movie nights that felt ever so intimate— you imagine her sharing every little memory but one that's a better version. you feel as if yo—

"if i ask you to get back with me, would you?" you ask, letting the words you've been suppressing for so long flow like water in a stream, one that could potentially flood everything around.

"yn, i'm engaged—"

"i mean, had you not been engaged and had i asked you to get back together," you clarify, "would you have agreed?"

there's a pause, a series of silence, strings of regret, traces of shared memories from the past that fill the little gaps in the air like blood in sinusoids. you remember your first fight with iwaizumi, and you want to know what he's thinking. it's not like you can tell, you forgot how to do that long ago. iwaizumi rarely ever looks disappointed or upset enough to give you a silent treatment. for a second, you think it's that, but it turns out you're wrong.

he doesn't look sad or angry, not disappointed at your question considering he's about to get married. instead, iwaizumi looks like he's hurting. as if he has waited for long, hoping to catch a glance of you somewhere even if it's in middle of a crowd because it's fine, that works. he can always reach you out amidst a crowd. iwaizumi looks like he doesn't have a definite answer to your question, but he is telling you that it's your fault.

a second passes and his phone rings. your eyes fall upon the caller ID, it's a name with a heart, you think it's her. it has to be, because iwaizumi, without sparing you a second glance, stands up, and puts on his coat, ready to leave. the little hope of getting an answer to that question goes off the moment he picks up his phone, or maybe even before that, because it doesn't look like iwaizumi has an answer to that.

but he stops. "no," he says.

and you realise, to him, you're the memory he buried deep in his mind while to you, iwaizumi is the air you struggle to breathe.

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu angst #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu drabbles #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #haikyuu iwaizumi #my god what is this . #i swear this sounded better in my head #like rlly

[animationmovieshipps]

From Rags to Riches: Chapter 1

Synopsis: You are a young imp, who leaves Lust Ring to follow your dream of being a model and giving a better life to your younger siblings, that you have cared for since your parents died.

Being considered very beautiful, this dream is soon realized, but your life turns upside down when the ruler of all Hell is enchanted by you and wants to take you as a lover.

Warnings: Gun violence

A/N: Well, here's the first chapter, settle in, it's going to be a long road, I've already written 27 chapters and I'm working on the 28th. I wanted to give special thanks to my pookie @heart-of-the-morningstar for encouraging me to post this story here, love ya 😘 hope you guys like it ❤️

You would never forget the day you received the news that your parents died in an accident two years ago.

You were just a girl, you were only seventeen when everything happened and despite how much your soul was torn apart by the loss of your parents, you had to be strong and move on, to take care of your four youngest siblings.

Laila was the youngest of them, she was just a few months old when the accident happened and she had almost no memory of her parents, you had to prepare to explain everything to her when she was old enough to understand what happened.

Cameron was the second youngest, at five years old. Despite having experienced such a great loss at such a young age, she was a sweet and caring girl who always saw the good side of things, it didn't even seem like she had been born in Hell.

Luke was born 5 years before Cam. Of all your siblings, he was the one who suffered the most with the death of your parents, as he was the most attached to them.

Daniel was born 2 years after you, of the four of them, you were closest to him because you two were in the same age group. He carried the guilt that the last thing he did with your parents before they died was fight with them. He loved your parents, but he lived in conflict with them after he started to discover himself.

He was the one who encouraged you to quit your job as a clerk at a restaurant on the street where the five of you lived and move with everyone to the Pride Ring, so you could follow your dream of being a model.

Although it wasn't the safest Ring in Hell, there were more job opportunities there.

Luke wasn't too happy about moving away and leaving his entire life in the Ring of Lust behind, but he reluctantly agreed, seeing as you had sacrificed the best years of your life so you could take care of them, it would be very selfish if he didn't sacrifice himself for you back.

As soon as you arrived, you saw that an agency called 'Temptation Models' was going to make a selection to choose new models.

You beautified yourself like never before in your life, wanting to look as beautiful as possible so that you would be selected.

"How I am?" You asked them. Anyone could see how nervous and anxious you were about that selection, you barely managed to sleep the night before.

"Anxious." Daniel laughed.

He wanted so much to be able to accompany you to the agency selection, but unfortunately there was no one trustworthy in that place to babysit his three youngest siblings, so he had to stay.

"Funny." There was sarcasm in your voice, but you couldn't help but smile. "I'm talking about my appearance."

Cameron got up fromt the couch and ran to you, wrapping you in a hug.

"You don't look beautiful, you look stunning." She said, looking up to look at you.

You smiled and took her in your arms, hugging her before kissing her on the cheek.

"Thanks, cutie."

"It's not like you get ugly at some point either." Luke said, not looking away from the book he was reading.

You gave a smile and placed Cam back down before walking over to him. The smile on his lips slowly faded as he realized your intentions.

"Oh no, don't even think about it!" He said, getting up from the couch to escape you.

"You know you can't escape me." You laughed, as you ran after him.

He managed to escape for a while, until you eventually caught up to him, holding him in your arms and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Ew." He grumbled as he wiped your black lipstick mark off his cheek.

"I love you too." You laughed, taking your lipstick out of your bag to touch it up.

Finally, you hugged and kissed Daniel on the forehead. You couldn't say goodbye to Laila, because it was her nap time and when she was woken up in the middle of her nap, she would be grumpy for a long time.

"Take care of them, okay? If someone breaks into the house, the gun is under the couch. Oh, and give Laila a bath when she wakes up, there are snacks in the fridge if you guys get hungry." You warned him.

"Yes, ma'am!" He said, feigning salute as if he were in an army.

"Well, here I go." You said between nervous laughs. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, you have everything." Cameron said, winking at you.

You smiled and looked lovingly at them one last time.

"I love you guys."

"We love you too." Daniel said, kissing his hand and blowing you a kiss.

You left the house and locked the door from the outside.

As soon as you started walking down the street, you noticed the eyes of some of your neighbors on you. Last night, when you arrived at your new house with your siblings, you noticed that they did the same thing, but they didn't approach you like they were doing at that moment.

Maybe because you weren't alone.

"Look what we have here." One of them, who looked like a fly, said with a suggestive tone of voice. "Fresh meat."

You tried to ignore him and quicken your pace, but the other, who looked like a blue demon with horns, ran and got in front of you.

"Woah, where are you going in such a hurry, baby girl?" He asked.

"None of your business." You said, not wanting to be friendly with any of them. "Now let me through, please..."

"A-a-ahhh, not so fast." He insisted, holding you by the chin, but you turned your face so he wouldn't touch you. "We don't see an Imp as hot as you around these parts of the city."

You soon realized what they wanted to do and your heart raced in your chest, but you remained calm, without making a fuss.

Waiting until they were distracted, in one quick movement you grabbed the gun that was also in your bag and pointed it at the two.

"Stay away from me. You two better leave me alone, or I'll shoot!" You warned, but they didn't seem scared at all by your threat.

"Woah, you better put that gun down, cutie, or you're going to get hurt." One of them said and they both started laughing.

Without thinking twice, you pulled the trigger and shot six times, five times at one of them and the sixth in the back of the head of the other, who tried to escape.

"Sinners." You grumbled, putting the gun back in your bag and taking out a small mirror, straightening your hair again before continuing on your way to the mall.

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer

[fantasy-mixtapes]

Fig Faeth Junior Year Playlist: Side A

It's no surprise that Fig Faeth's playlist is the one that I actually listen to the most. It's just a very good vibe and I love her. Took extra time to Song descriptions and thoughts down below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10.

Genres included: Pop-punk, Punk, Alternative

1. hair out, Stand Atlantic

Am I fuckin' up my life? I'm just tryna make improvements Slowly givin' up the fight But I gotta cover up the bruise That I get from all the Expectations give me vertigo Wasting away to the pressure The pressure, The pressure, oh

This song is such an earworm, scratching a specific itch in my brain. Love the fact that both Kristen and Fig (the failing girlies) start with a Stand Atlantic song, and it works with the way that Fig is coming at this season. From the jump, she is one of the most visibly and audibly burnt out, specifically from the pressure of the "sophomore album" that was supposed to come out months ago. This song is definitely about the pressures of a songwriter as well as the pressures of life in general so it fits sooooo perfectly. Especially with the "I can already here people hating the song" outro *chefs kiss*

2. Who The Hell Am I?, NOBRO

God, I'm tired of being like this I can change, but in a minute Always looking for the back door, on the run Always at the party, never quite having fun Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned I'm on fire, and you know it hurts I was always on the outside looking in Maybe it's me 'cause I never wanna fit in

Fig's class struggles, her conversation with Mazey, I can't take it. I feel like we've all been there. I really love how the narrative with her has progressed, like last season was deconstructing her need to mold herself into other people (or into an idealized version of herself) now she's trying to figure out who she is at her core without all the disguises.

3. 7 Years Bad Luck, Glasseater

Something strange seems to be plaguing me Everything I touch falls apart I've lost it all, losing all my luck Suffering 7 years bad luck

I don't particularly love this song, a little too unintentionally underproduced, but it deserves a spot on this playlist. I feel like I would be Fig in the curse situation. It took me a literal year to deal with debilitating stomach problems, and I, too, waited until my friends noticed to actually do something about it. Either way, can't wait to learn more about the weird Galier Pride curse, love the representation for my stomach problem girlies

4. Where the Heart Is, Sweet Pill

Get this My mind's been in a million places but my body hasn't moved an inch And I feel like I'm missing out again Ignoring my plans Wondering how they went Feeling bad about it If I could just take a chance I wouldn't feel so bad To see past myself I wouldn't feel so bad

This is Fig's final decision to try Paladin after doing so well with Warlock. She knows the priorities in her gut don't match with what anyone else says, but she's discovering her loyalty. She's figuring out her actual drive... following her heart <3

5. Impostor Syndrome, Sidney Gish

Unfortunately, I am My own dog, my own fur companion My own old lady on a forum Who types in glittery decorum Unfortunately, I take Myself out walking every day and I had my legs to the feet and I give my head to the leash

Making Fantasy High playlists is like making a ven diagram of which dog-themed songs are Tracker-coded and which are Fig-coded. This one, to me at least, is Fig-coded. (yes, I do have a tracker playlist, and yes, every song in it is dog/wolf specific, BUT THEY'RE GOOD OK). We love our Oath/Pact of the German Shepard.

6. You Owe Me Nothing In Return, Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright Acceptance if you want it I will give you encouragement to chose The path you want if you need it You can speak of anger and doubts Your fears and freak outs And I'll hold it

So I know that we're gearing up for Fig's Warlock/Paladin agreement post "mooner yulenear," but this is my interpretation of what it's going to look like. She cares about her friends, and she would do anything for them! And though I know this song came out in 2002, Alanis Morissette is a 90's icon and perfect for the grungy riot grrrl vibe I see for her

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 #d20 fhsy #spotify #fantasy mixtapes #fig faeth #d20 fig #fhjy spoilers #d20 spoilers #emily axford #Spotify

[crappymixtape]

you're never far behind • part one

when your dad calls and needs your help at home in hawkins you can't say no, but when you arrive back in town you uncover a friendship you thought you'd lost a long time ago | ( 6.2k, angst, tiny fluffies, best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, steve x reader, steve x you )

Y O U ‘ R E N E V E R F A R B E H I N D 🎶 long time, wild rivers

“Was so good of you to come, hon. It’s a lot for your dad to do on his own, especially on delivery days. Can’t lie, sure is nice to see your face around again too! Need a warm up?”

“Please? Thanks, Georgie.”

“Sure thing, sweets.”

Steam lifted from the mug on the counter in front of you as Georgie filled it with more hot coffee. The diner still looked the same as it had when you’d left four years ago. Black and white checkered tiles, worn red plastic seat tops sparkling dully in the florescent lighting from above, the smell of french fries and Georgie’s perfume mingling in the air.

You’d arrived home, home in Hawkins, the night before and had only been to the diner and the post office, but people were already talking about it. Word got around fast. Your dad had been stubborn about it at first, but after he knocked over a couple of shelves in the shop he knew he was in over his head.

He owned the only bookstore in town, Turn A Page, for the last twenty years and took pride in the fact that he didn’t need any help doing it. But then he broke his leg falling off a ladder in the front yard trying to clean out the gutters and it took him a full week to call you.

“Hello?”

“Hey, scout. It’s me, doin’ okay?”

“Dad, yeah I’m good. Just finishing up a few things for a deadline. Everything okay down there?”

Silence.

Your dad was never quiet, so you knew it wasn’t good.

“Dad,” your tone was flat, firm, uninterested in bullshit and he hummed for a second longer, buying himself a bit more time, but gave in when he heard you suck in an anticipatory breath.

“It’s fine! It was just a little tumble. Cleaning out the damn gutters is a mess, but the x-rays came back showing a clean break, which is great news by the way! And I’ll only need crutches for a couple of months–”

“A clean break? X-Rays? Dad! C’mon, what the hell?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, I’m really fine down here. It’s just that, you know crutches, they’re kind of clumsy and hard to get the hang of and–and I bumped into one of the shelves at the shop and well…”

“And well?” you pushed, heart dropping from your throat after realizing it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought.

“Well, I hate to ask you. To be a burden, your old dad…”

“Dad,” you softened a bit, holding the receiver to your ear as you twisted the cord around your finger, waiting for him to just spit it out.

“Think you could come down for a month? Just to help me around the shop, get things set up for my stupid crutches? Maybe help me interview someone to putter around and do the stuff I can’t do just yet?”

“Yes. Of course I can. Dad, I really wish you’d ask someone else to come do the gutters. It’s not like you’re gonna all of a sudden need hearing aids or a walker just because you’re asking for some help.”

“Hey now, I manage just fine on my own. I raised you by myself, gutters ought to be a damn cake walk.”

You huffed a small laugh and shook your head, leaning against the wall in your kitchen, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re lucky I never take vacations.”

“And what a trip, huh? Come stay down here in Hawkins for a month and maybe you’ll wanna stay this time,” you could hear his smile on the other end as you let out a small groan.

“I doubt it, but I’ll hear your pitch when I get down there.”

“Perfect. It’ll be good enough you won’t even have any questions at the end.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence again, but this time it was warm. Like you were sitting next to your dad on the old brown couch in the living room back home watching Family Ties and eating microwave whatevers while you laughed so hard you cried. Maybe you did miss it a little.

“Okay, dad. I gotta go, I’ll catch the bus down after I let work know.”

“Thanks, bub. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s okay, I want to.”

“Alright. You know I love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“You headed over to the shop? Can I send you with a coffee and cinnamon roll for the boss?” Georgie asked with a sweet smile, her long earrings dangling just below her jawline as she turned toward the pastry case.

“He doesn’t need anymore sugar, Georgie,” you chided, but your tone didn’t hold any heat as the older woman turned back around, cinnamon roll boxed up tidy in one hand and a to-go cup of black coffee in the other.

You leveled her with a look, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gave you away. “Fine. But maybe make some croissants or something with less–” you waved your hand toward the sticky-sweet-frosting-coated rolls in the case, “–well, just less.” Both of you started laughing and Georgie gave you a wink.

“Okay, sure. I’ll see what I can whip up.”

“His heart thanks you,” you sighed, shaking your head and getting up from the counter. “I’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure,” leaving some cash on the counter you shouldered open the door, bell jingling brightly above you, and stepped out onto main street.

The sun was out, warming everything in the bright early morning light. You could already feel how it wanted to heat up, wanted to make your skin feel too hot and bright. Pink and red like ripe strawberries, wanted to kiss it and dot new freckles along your nose and cheeks. The ones you’d hated when you were younger, but liked now for whatever reason and even though it was September, summer was clinging on a bit longer refusing to let go, and down town was buzzing with activity. People were bustling around getting ready for the day, shops opening and setting out their signs on the sidewalk, pulling people in to browse and seek refuge in the late afternoon heat.

After the old antiques place closed up next to Family Video your dad was quick to jump on it and lease the space, seeing the potential it had and wanting to put action to his passion for books.

He and your mom divorced when you were young, too young to understand or ask questions or get lost in the whys and the only memory you had of her was a glowing, glittering thing. Dark, tight curls and lavender, eyes warm like burnt caramel, hugs pulled close and while you don’t remember you were at least thankful that it was a happy one.

Growing up you swore that love was real, swore you’d find someone to sweep you off your feet like they did in all those Disney movies, but as time spun on you realized that maybe love was a story people told themselves as a distraction. Like looking through magazines full of pictures of places far, far away and telling yourself someday you’d visit when you knew you really wouldn’t. Your dad, despite his own history, felt differently.

He thought love was a wonderful, all-consuming thing that wrapped itself around you like hot cocoa after being out in the snow. A beautiful give and take. Terrifying honesty and openness that would set you free once you surrendered and even though he had remained single after your mom he still believed it.

“Morning, bub! Oh coffee, thank god. And a cinnamon roll? Remind me to stop by the diner on the way home, Georgie’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah well, I told her you don’t need anymore of this,” you said, shoving the box at him from across the front counter, “Or broken bones won’t be your only worry.”

“Hey, now. Let me have this,” he grumbled back, taking a drink of his coffee, but then his expression softened as realization came over him. “Ah, I forgot to tell you. It’s game night, so we’ll close up shop and just head over to the high school after,” he said casually, opening up the register.

“Game night?” you started, worried there was some weekly canasta game he’d failed to tell you about, but he laughed and waved you off.

“Game night. Basketball. You know, round orange ball? Throw it into a hoop?”

You firmed your lips into a line and rolled your eyes. “Yes. Okay. I get it. Are we cheering on anyone specific?” you asked expectantly, tossing your bag behind the counter, taking your name tag from the drawer and pinning it on your shirt.

“No, but if we didn’t go we’d be a disgrace to the whole community,” he stated very matter-of-factly and you shook your head.

“Okay, okay. Game night. Great, can’t wait.”

“Listen, I’ll buy us popcorn and soda and do the whole thing. Just like you’re back in high school,” he bribed and you looked at him skeptically over your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be back in high school.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad was it? Besides, we’ll see a couple of your old friends I’m sure.”

“Friends?” you felt your stomach flip over at the sudden rush of memories that flooded your mind right there on the spot.

Red licorice, filling the van with hazy smoke, juice too sweet and mixed with bad vodka, late nights floating weightless in pools while the moon hung overhead.

“Yeah,” your dad’s face scrunched up in thought, digging for names, and when it finally hit him he jabbed a finger at you. “Eddie Munson for one! He’s around here. And that Buckley girl, she manages Family Video now and…” his eyes lifted to the ceiling, thinking, and then, “Oh! God, I need more coffee. Steve, Steve Harrington. He took the coaching job last year. Best one we’ve had in a long time.”

Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Your brain felt like it had disconnected from reality. Like it was scrambling to try and figure out what exactly your dad had just told you and the look on your face was apparently making that all too obvious.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like to–”

“No! No that’s great,” you cut him off, trying to give him a big smile and thankfully he took it as you turned around to face the bookshelf again, “Can’t wait to catch up.”

Everything was a mixture of cheers and boos and the clock buzzing and the slap of the ball on the court and you tried to ground yourself in it all, but it felt like you were drowning. It was so familiar, but so foreign and as you watched the kids on the other side of the court you tried to remember what it was like. Laughing with each other or sneaking booze into paper soda cups or not caring at all being attached at the face in the stands.

You might have been able to get a grip on shit, might have waded through the night just fine, but there was something else that held you tight like a vice.

Messy brown hair, moles and freckles like tiny constellations scattered across his skin, the same old dirty pair of Blazers on his feet, the curve of his mouth, the way he propped his hand on his hip.

Steve.

Your best friend.

Was your best friend.

You knew you should’ve been watching the game, should’ve been paying attention so that you could hold at least a semi-decent conversation the next morning in the shop, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away.

Coach Harrington.

Was he the same as he’d been before you’d left? Smug and cocky, but all warm and soft underneath. Shotgunning a beer one minute and holding your hand tight and close in his the next. Singing loud enough in the car his voice cracked and broke until he fell apart into laughter and looked over at you with those eyes. Burnt caramel, warm honey, flecks of gold and green and deep and–

“Hell of a game! My god, paper’ll have a heck of an article tomorrow,” your dad’s voice shook you back to reality and when you looked back up at the scoreboard the time read 00:00.

“Yeah, yeah damn. Great game,” you laughed weakly and tried to smile at your dad, eyes flicking back over to the sidelines to see Steve and the rest of the team were gone. Because of course they were. The game was over.

“Well. Don’t feel like you gotta come straight home,” your dad said, giving your arm a squeeze, “I know you probably wanna catch up with your friends.”

“Dad–” you started, brows furrowing together as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “I really don’t feel like we’re friends, it’s been years since–”

“Oh don’t be silly, time doesn’t matter,” he waved a hand dismissively at you and stood from the bench, a crutch under each arm, “Just go say hi already. Scaredy cat.”

“Excuse me–” you protested, offense all over your face as you got ready to dig into him, but it stalled on your lips as you heard the metal slam of a door across the gym. It was a knee jerk reaction to look up and as you did you wished you hadn’t.

Your eyes met Steve’s, his faded navy baseball hat working overtime to contain all that hair, and while it was only for a split second it felt like a lifetime. You’d been thinking all night about what you were going to do, what you’d say, and maybe you secretly hoped he’d give you a smile but you were met with something worse.

Indifference.

Not so much as a smile or a nod or half-hearted wave, his lips in a firm line, or was it a grimace? It couldn’t be, but then he was looking away and shoving open the gym door into the parking lot.

“Excuse you–” your dad retorted, but when you didn’t sass him back he waved a hand across your eye line. “Hey, you in there?”

“What?” fell out lamely and your head whipped back around.

“You were about to take me to school on something, but…” he drifted off, eyes flicking up to the door Steve had just left through.

“Oh, I just mean–it’s just–it’s been so long. You know? They’re probably busy and–”

“Bub, you don’t know until you try. You’re gonna want someone your own age to talk to while you’re in town. Look, I’m already driving you nuts,” he laughed and reached over to give your shoulder a little poke.

Rolling your eyes you jammed your hands into your pockets and jerked your head toward the door, “C’mon old man. You can drive me nuts at home.”

“Alright,” he chuckled and clumsily followed after, still getting the hang of his crutches. “But promise me you’ll get out every now and again while you’re here? Please?”

Looking down at the old gym floor covered in scuffs and dents and dings you sighed. Was this the wrong decision? Should you have stayed home? Just sent someone else to help out? “Okay. Sure. I promise,” you murmured opening the door for your dad and walking out into the night.

The next morning you were up again early, throwing on a pair of jeans and a band tee, Chucks beat up and snug on your feet. The exact opposite of what you were supposed to wear to work back in the city, but it was a surprisingly welcome change. No presentations to creative leadership, no manuscripts to screen, no deadlines and no phone on your desk ringing off the hook. Just the smell of books, the lilt of the bell on the door and too much time to think.

Think about last night. About how you still had nearly a month left in Hawkins. Had no idea how you were going to spend it and no idea why god’s name you were still thinking about him.

About Steve.

About the look, or non-look, he’d given you.

And while you couldn’t blame him, it didn’t make it sting any less.

Hand on your closet door you moved to shut it, but your eyes caught a flash of red. A box on the top shelf. You’d taken most everything with you when you moved to Indianapolis for college, but had apparently missed that.

Pulling it down you blew the dust off the top of it and lifted the lid slowly to find a pile of forgotten memories looking up at you. Throat tightening, a flood of unexpected emotions poured over you, wrapping themselves snug and warm around your heart.

Polaroids of a younger version of yourself grinning up through the frame, joint dangling from your lips, a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose. One of Steve and Eddie mid-jump into the quarry on the hottest day in July. Robin laughing, cheeks stuffed too-full with grapes on a dare to see how many she could fit in her mouth. Nancy’s tiny frame enveloped by Jonathan’s big arms, his hand outstretched to block the lens, both of them grinning like mad.

You felt a small laugh fall from your lips as you gently set the box on your bed, gathering the polaroids up and setting them aside to find more things at the bottom. An old half-smoked joint stub, a lighter, a button with “Nancy for President!” on it, movie tickets and a couple pieces of popcorn, an old Family Video name tag, and something bright hiding under a pair of 3D glasses. Reaching in, your fingers softly lifted it from the box.

Tiny little strings of thread twisted together in a messy braid. Your three favorite colors, purple, green and pink tangled together in a promise you’d made Steve all those summers ago and you felt your chest squeeze. Guilt. Regret.

“God, I’m terrible at this, it looks like shit,” Steve grumbled, tongue poking out between his lips in concentration as he tried to braid his strings together.

Both of you were sat on the floor of your room, knee to knee with your back against your bed, radio playing Pet Shop Boys in the background. The last rays of sunlight fell through your window and danced across the bare skin of your legs, fan on the ceiling pushing too-warm air around the room.

“It doesn’t look like shit, it’s fine–” you tried for reassurance, but the small smile playing on your lips gave you away.

“Fine. That’s not ‘good’ or ‘great’. It makes it sound like–” Steve started to protest, but then he glanced over to see your fingers deftly twisting together his favorite colors – yellow, blue and orange. “Christ, yes it does look like shit! Look at yours, are you kidding me?” he flung a hand out for emphasis and you let out a laugh.

“Shut up! I’ve been doing this since second grade or something stupid, cut yourself a break,” you reached across your lap to shove him, expression softening as he shook his head.

“No, no way. You can’t wear this. People will ask what idiot tried to make you a dumb friendship bracelet in the dark with two left hands,” and he started to ball it up, but your hands covered his, head dipping down to look at him properly.

“Steve, it’s not about what it looks like,” you chided gently and he huffed a sigh, but you gave him a little smile, “Best friends forever, right?”

“Best friends forever,” he mumbled back, your little motto, but when he looked up at you his frown softened.

Silence lingered then for a moment between the two of you, his eyes still looking into yours as you floated in the soft light that filled your room, your hands pressing into each other. The last bits of sun and summer holding you tight in its warmth.

Steve’s lips parted as he stared at you, the look in his eyes making you feel like all the air had been pulled from your lungs, like your room had fallen away and all that existed in that moment was you and Steve.

“D’you have to go?” he murmured.

“I–” you stuttered, suddenly unsure of your answer, waffling on what had been such a sure decision just a few of months ago. To get out of Hawkins. To find something new. Something away from Steve and leave all of this behind.

“Just stay.”

“Steve…” your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes looking and searching his as he untangled a hand from yours and settled it gently on your cheek.

“Stay,” he whispered and as he leaned in slow and steady you swore time stood still, his lips pressing into yours, warm and soft like they held summer and promises of forever.

“Didja fall in up there? Cos if you did, I can’t climb the stairs to help you, bub,” you sucked in a gasp, your dad’s voice pulling you out of the spiral you’d fallen into, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Hastily wiping your arms across your face you tossed the bracelet back into the box and shut the lid, shoving it back up on the shelf you’d found it on.

“Yeah! Sorry, just trying to find my other shoe,” you lied, voice wobbling a little as you hurried over to your dresser mirror to make sure you didn’t look like you’d been crying.

“Alright, meet you at the car!” he called up the stairs and you took in a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” you whispered to your reflection.

And somehow you’d managed to gather yourself together before hopping into your rental car, driving you and your dad down the road to the diner for coffee before work. The sun was out again, but it didn’t hold as much heat as it had the day before and you opted to open the windows instead of cranking the AC.

“You sure you want it hot?” you asked your dad, shifting into park at the curb.

“Yes, I’m sure. Coffee is brewed hot, why would you cool it down?” he shot back indignantly and you huffed a laugh.

“Alright, no one’s judging, I just–” shutting your door you poked your head in through the window, “–it’s gonna be warm again today. Cold is nice sometimes!”

“Hot, please!” your dad yelled after you as you pulled the diner door open, waving him off with a dismissive hand.

“Mornin’, hon! The usual?” Georgie greeted you warmly, earrings dangling past her jawline and bright in the light from the windows.

“Yes, please, but make mine cold if you can?”

Saddling up at the counter, your fingers idly flipped the plastic pages of one of the menus while you waited, the sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen. It was odd, the comfort this place offered you, but it was needed this morning and you settled into it easily like a warm hug. Like seeing an old friend and you were so content you didn’t hear the bell on the door ring behind you, but the voice that followed was louder than your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Gigi! Need a coffee and bacon, egg on toast to-go this morning.”

You nearly fell off your stool to hide under the bar, but opted instead to be an adult and hide your face behind your arm, propping an elbow on the counter and tossing your gaze off in the opposite direction.

“Stevie! Lord have mercy, that game gave me a couple of new gray hairs,” the older woman teased playfully and the laugh he gave back made your stomach flip over.

“Sorry, we’ll do better next time, promise.”

“Good, you better. S’on me this morning.”

“G, you don’t have to do that–”

“Yes, I do! Don’t you fight me on that, I’ve got a mean south paw.”

Steve laughed again and you wanted to die as he sat on the stool one over from you, drumming his fingers on the counter and shaking his head, “Okay, okay. You win.”

“That’s right. I do,” and Georgie busied herself with getting his coffee, barking back his order to the cooks just as yours came through the bus window.

Shit. No way to leave undetected now.

“Alright, sweets. Here’s your dad’s coffee and I had Hal whip up a little whole wheat toast with scrambled eggs. Better than a cinnamon roll?” Georgie gave you a very pleased look and you felt like you were going to collapse in on yourself as you moved your hand away from your face to take the two coffees and box of food.

“Thanks, Georgie,” you mumbled sheepishly, keeping your eyes straight ahead, but you could feel him looking at you.

Clearing your throat you left a wad of cash on the counter before turning to leave, looking everywhere except that damn stool. You made it halfway to the door before his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Thought that was you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you wished running out of the diner had been an acceptable response to both the panic rising in your chest and Steve’s clipped tone, but you didn’t and instead turned around to finally face him.

“In the flesh,” you joked lamely and immediately wanted to kick yourself.

He was studying you as though he were looking for something. Eyes still warm like honey, mouth firmed in the same line they’d been pursed into the night before, brows unamused and pulled in at the middle. He didn’t laugh.

“Had enough of the ‘big city’?” he mocked, tongue jamming into his cheek as he watched you uncomfortably shift your feet on the checkered tile floor.

“Yeah, smells worse than cow shit if you can believe it,” you were shocked at how quickly you were thinking on your feet and almost grinned at him, but his reply knocked you down a peg or two.

“I could’ve told you that,” he grumbled, turning in his stool to look back at Georgie, the older woman flicking her eyes back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. In fact most everyone else in the diner was watching now and you felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Well, I’ll be here all month, so knock yourself out,” and before he could throw anything back at you, you hurried out the door to the car and didn’t look back.

The conversation with Steve, if you could even call it that, was all you could think about for the rest of the day and your dad knew something was up, but he didn’t push you on it. You had to go back and fix the books you’d put in the wrong place in your mess of distraction after lunch and when you finally came around the back of the counter to get a drink of what was mostly melted ice now than iced coffee, your dad gently prodded.

“Georgie say anything this morning?”

“Yeah. Said she’s only feeding you whole wheat toast from now on, so get used to it,” you grumbled and he smiled, gently grabbing your hand before you could stalk away to hide in the rows of books.

“Did anything else come up?” he fixed you with an expectant look and you frowned.

“No.”

“No?”

Closing your eyes you loosed a sigh and put your face in your hands. “Everyone here hates me,” came out muffled through your fingers and your dad let out a belly laugh.

“Hates you? Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“Bub, no one hates you,” he reached over to yank your hands away from your face and gave you one of his I’m dad, listen to me looks.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one running away from shit,” you argued back, folding your arms tight across your chest and his expression softened.

“Least you came back? I’d say that takes some courage,” he countered, lifting his brows for emphasis and poking you gently with the end of one of his crutches.

You frowned and he laughed again, reaching over to pull you into hug. “Listen. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Most of the time these things are cleared up with a simple conversation,” he said, holding you out at arm’s length.

“Simple conversation? Yeah I don’t think so–”

“You haven’t even tried,” he cut you off and gave you a stern look, “Y’know, I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“I didn’t say that–”

“Promise me you’ll talk to him. Even if it sucks at first, just try it.”

You sharply exhaled a short puff of air through your nose, looking down at the floor not wanting to give in, but you could feel your dad staring holes into you.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll try,” you conceded, kicking a toe into the base of the counter and your dad shoved your shoulder playfully.

“That’s the ticket, and you know I’m always here for advice,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

“No offense, but no thanks,” you teased, walking back to keep stocking the shelves and he called after you.

“I’m like, twenty-two years older than you are! I know a lot!”

“Sure you do, dad! I’m sure you do.”

Cleared up with a simple conversation.

Sure. Right. Of course. But where were you supposed to even have said conversation? How were you supposed to ask Steve if he wanted to talk? Just waltz up to him on the street and casually see if he wanted to have a sit down with you? There was no way you were going to be able to muster up the courage to approach him at the diner and after that fated morning you made sure to arrive before or after he grabbed his usual 7:30am pick-up.

It wasn’t until you were closing up shop again on Friday that your dad reminded you of the plans you’d made. Well, that Hawkins had made for you.

“Better giddy up, gonna miss tip off,” your dad was digging around in the counter drawer for the keys as you finished sweeping the entryway.

“Tip off?”

“Yeah,” he stopped his search long enough to give you a look and then went back to digging, “Game night.”

Oh, fuck. Right. Game night. Because all of Hawkins shut down at five on Fridays for basketball and god forbid you miss it.

“Think I’ll stay home,” you mumbled, eyes on the floor, but you could feel the judgement your dad was throwing across the shop at you.

“And miss out on quality time with your old man? Before I’m all wrinkly and need an actual wheel chair?”

“That’s not fair,” you flicked your eyes up to frown at him, pointing a finger for emphasis and he grinned.

“You drive, I’m a little–” he shook a crutch at you and it was like you could physically feel yourself giving in.

“As soon as you get rid of those? I’m gone,” you grumbled and he laughed, an Aha! coming from behind the counter as he finally yanked the keys from the drawer.

“Lock up, I’ll start hobbling,” tossing the keys at you, you barely caught them and as soon as his back was turned you stuck out your tongue. What? Maturity is overrated.

The gym was packed. Your dad had failed to mention Hawkins was playing their rival team from the next town over and you tried to get a grip on shit. It took everything in you to not look at Steve as the starting line up was introduced, and you managed somehow, but once the game started you couldn’t help yourself.

Stealing a glance, you felt your pulse flutter against your neck. God he looked good. Same faded navy baseball cap snug over his mess of brown hair, hand propped on his hip as he yelled plays from the sidelines, jaw clenched on the wad of gum in his mouth and you grumbled under your breath, but your heart told a different story as it hammered against your ribs.

You sat with your arms folded across your chest, determined to be unhappy and miserable for the entirety of the game, but somehow every time Hawkins made a three-pointer or nailed all of their free throws after a foul you felt yourself softening until there were only two minutes left. The game was all tied up and you were a screaming mess.

“C’mon!” you yelled, hands cupped around your mouth as you stood up with the rest of the fans, “I can play better than these guys!”

Your dad had to bite back a laugh as he did his best to ignore you, trying not to bring attention to how invested you’d become. The rival team hit another bucket from the three-point line and you groaned along with everyone else, Hawkins down by two with 0:30 on the clock.

The point guard on the other team called a timeout and usually everyone would sit down, but the entire gym was still on their feet, anxious and watching as time ran out quickly.

Steve huddled his team up, gathering them around his clipboard and you craned your neck to try and see what was jotted down, but it was covered up by all the heads in the way. Watching as he talked to the boys you noticed how he was firm, but still soft. Decided, but encouraging, and when the buzzer went off you could just make out what he yelled at the team.

“Remember, it’s not about what it looks like! Long as you’re trying!”

Your breath caught in your throat.

It’s not about what it looks like.

Your words.

And you were so caught up in it all you didn’t hear the crowd when Hawkins hit the last three-pointer to end the game with a win. Didn’t hear your dad cheering next to you so loudly his voice cracked. Didn’t feel the bleachers shaking with all the jumping and bustling about. All you could see was Steve and as the team rushed him after the win he looked up and met your gaze, a flicker of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“A photo finish, scout!” your dad grabbed your shoulder, other hand throwing a fist into the air, “Good game, boys!”

“Oh,” fell out, the sound of everything rushing back in against your eardrums, and you quickly put your fingers to your mouth to whistle, “Good game, Tigers!”

“Still don’t have to come home right away,” your dad was looking back over at you with a knowing smile on his face, “Georgie’ll give me a ride.”

You bit in your bottom lip, wishing you were unsure of what you wanted, but your eyes looked over at Steve and you knew what your answer was going to be.

Simple conversation.

“Yeah. Alright. I’ll stay, but don’t get too excited,” you grumbled, cramming your hands into the pockets of your jeans as the gym started to clear out.

“Great! I mean–cool,” your dad tried to recover, tried to not sound too excited, but his outburst gave him away. The next look you fixed him with was enough of a cue and he hobbled away after Georgie, making his way out with the rest of the crowd and leaving you there awkwardly in the stands.

Your eyes scanned the gym and couldn’t find Steve, but it was the same as it’d happened last time. He was gone soon as the game finished and then reappeared after a little while. Probably giving the boys a post-game run down or something, so you tried to make yourself look busy.

Reading the plaques on the walls, looking at the Hawkins hall-of-fame jerseys hung up in the rafters, the signed championship balls in cases along the walls, including the one signed by Lucas Sinclair.

A smile pulled at your lips and you put a hand on the glass, reading all the names one at at time, pausing just a little longer at Lucas’ signature. He was always so sweet.

“Taking a stroll down memory lane?” someone spoke up behind you, startling you a bit as you sucked in a gasp, and when you turned around to see who it was you wished you hadn’t.

Steve’s voice was a little less harsh than it’d been earlier in the week, but he still wasn’t smiling as he stood there in the empty gym looking at you like he was trying to dissect things and you felt your chest squeeze.

“High school, the best days of your life,” you mock swooned and he cracked just a tiny bit, the smallest little smirk, and you held onto it. Tucked it into your back pocket and saved it for later.

“Yeah. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” he retorted, feeding off your sarcasm and then turned abruptly and walked out the side door.

You stood there for a minute, confused. Didn’t he just agree with you? But then he was poking his head back in through the doorway, looking expectantly at you with those warm, brown eyes.

“Are you coming or…?”

Shit, you muttered and half-jogged to catch up as he disappeared out of view of the door frame.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #steve harrington request #request #ask

[mageofseven]

Hi! I was wondering if you were ever going to do the brothers reactions to Amelie? I can’t wait to see their reactions to their surprise baby having a surprise baby and the possible conversation Satan and Lucifer would end up having about it.

"Their surprise baby having a surprise baby". That is too dang cute~ thank you for that phrase, Nonnie 🥰

Just as a reminder to others, this post takes place after the Surprise Birth of Satan's daughter, found here.

Lucifer|Mammon|Levi|Asmo|Beel|Belphie

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Satan laid with his girlfriend and child for a few minutes, holding them close and comforting MC the best he could. The woman was still upset with herself, upset that she didn't listen to her boyfriend all of those months ago when he first suggested that she could be pregnant.

This pregnancy that she just finished was...unusual, to say the least, and neither of them knew for sure what was even happening to her. His Kitten shouldn't be so hard on herself and he told her that.

Once his girlfriend started feeding their daughter, the demon excused himself from the room. Now that he and MC are...parents, the blonde has some work to do. He had so many things he had to order online, but had just as many things that the child needs now.

Clothes, blankets, a crib. All items the man knew were already in this house...somewhere. Honestly, Satan wasn't exactly sure where, but he knew they were somewhere. That pride demon might not always seem like, but he was definitely the sentimental sort. Satan was almost positive his...father, brother, creator, whatever the man labels himself as, wouldn't have thrown such things away.

The wrath demon was annoyed just thinking about the older man. With all that just occurred, Lucifer was the last person he wanted to think about. Unfortunately, this situation was exactly why he needed him.

Satan paused outside the older demon's study, taking a deep breath. The thought of asking the man for any degree of help felt like poison on his tongue, but his Kitten needed him and he promised her that'd take care of her and their child.

The fourth brother knocked on the door before hearing a great big sigh. It was a little past 10pm (22:00) so the older demon probably thought he was done dealing with his brothers for the day.

"Come in."

The blonde opened the door and stepped into the study. The dark haired man raised an eyebrow; Satan was usually only in his study when the older man brings him in for a lecture. Never has the younger man willing joined him in this room.

This was a red flag to the pride demon, who set down his pen and stood up.

"Did something happen? It's unlike you to join me in here willingly."

Satan pursed his lips.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "I need my old baby things. The crib, the clothes, all of it."

The older man's eyes widened. He quickly stepped around his desk and strode to the smaller man, putting his hands on Satan's shoulders.

"Hey--"

"Are you hurt?" Lucifer asked, anxiously eyeing the blonde up and down. "Where's the child? Are you alright."

The man was hovering over the other demon like a mom who discovered her son got into a fight at school.

Satan was...uncomfortable with the other man's concern. Even after all these years, he still struggled to identify the emotions within him, but he could at least tell that his current one wasn't wholly bad.

"No, I...look, I didn't birth the child; MC did."

"Since when has MC--"

He cut Lucifer off.

"Look, we didn't know."

"How did you not know? How did MC not realize--"

"I'm not here to get a lecture from a hypocrite; I'm here for my stuff--"

"My situation was different and you know it."

"You know what? You're absolutely right because my daughter will never have to feel guilty for existing."

The blonde's eyes were glowing green, a sign of being close to transforming; that's how sore of a spot Lucifer had just pressed.

Meanwhile, all of the older demon's annoyance melted from his face and was replaced with surprise.

"I never meant for you to feel that way..."

Satan scoffed.

"I don't believe that for a second. My younger years were filled with you and my 'brothers' always treating me like a burden you never wanted."

"Satan, I gave birth to you after we lost our sister--"

"And you hung it over my head for years!"

"You were never the problem!"

Silence filled the room. After a minute, Lucifer sighed before sitting on the couch next to him.

"You were never the problem..." He said again, calmer than before. "We were always the problem. It took so long for us truly to adjust to our new home, our new life. We were all stuck in the past, wanting what we had before so desperately. Instead, I gave birth to you; my brothers and I saw it as a reminder that we can't go back to how things were, that life was moving on and changing regardless of whether we gave consent for such. And we were angels once...and angels don't do well with change."

Satan's eyes stopped their glow. He stared, surprised that the other man was being so candid. To say it was unusual would be an understatement. This was probably the first time the two have even discussed the past like this...

"I still didn't deserve it."

"No, you didn't." Lucifer agreed. "I wanted to give you a good life, but was ill prepared for such a responsibility and put too much pressure on my brothers to help. Whatever they made you feel was also my fault, not theirs. You were my responsibility after all."

Honestly, those were dark days for Lucifer. He lost his sister and was trying to carve out a home in literal hell for his brothers. He was just starting his job under Diavolo and he was trying to protect his brothers from the demons outside their walls. The denizens of the Devildom weren't exactly thrilled to have a group of ex-angels in their realm after all.

When Lucifer was at his most busy, his most stressed, his most scared...his most angry...that was when Satan was born. After the most agonizing physical pain of his life, he stared down at this small, helpless baby that had just forced himself from his body and thought to himself...how am I suppose to take care him too?

Satan's birth has always been a sensitive issue for the pride demon because from the very moment he held him and stared down into those tearful green eyes, Lucifer felt like a failure, like it was predestine for him to fail his son. When you are already at the brink of breaking down and then life hands you a child, you tend not to feel as sure of yourself as you might have otherwise.

"...Look, I'm not here for a pity party." Satan changed subjects. "I just need my old stuff."

Lucifer lifted his head.

"They are upstairs in the attic where they've always been."

Where in the attic? There are so many boxes up there that the blonde was surprised the older man was able to squeeze in that bed for Belphie up.

Noticing the younger man's confusion, the pride demon huffed.

"Come along, I'll show you."

The two men headed up to the attic. The blonde watched the other demon move various boxes around till he found one with a green crib folded up and leaning against it. Lucifer had Satan carry the box while Lucifer took the crib. The two headed back downstairs to Satan's room, when MC and their daughter Amelie were sleeping soundly.

MC had apparently fallen asleep while feeding their daughter. After what she had gone through though, who can blame her?

Lucifer searched for a spot to set the crib.

"You see this is why I am always reminding you to clean your room."

"And I keep telling you it is clean." The blonde retorted. "My books aren't junk; they are exactly where they should be."

"And if your daughter starts getting into them? Or devil forbid, the cursed ones? What will you do then?"

Satan pursed his lips. Lucifer...has a point and he doesn't admit that lightly. He has to find away to make his room baby-proof. He hated the idea of this. Much like Leviathan, his room is his safe place and he doesn't want it changed or messed with.

But...he's a father now whether he likes it or not. Changes to his space and his life are unavoidable now.

"...I'll find a safe spot for the cursed ones."

Lucifer nodded as he finally found a spot for the crib. Satan set the box down and started to search through it when the baby started crying.

Not wanting his daughter to wake up MC, Satan approached the bed and carefully lifted her. Amelie stop crying the instant they were in their daddy's arms. The baby stared up at him with MC's eyes and cooed at him.

For a split second, he forgot to breathe. Staring down at his daughter, Satan felt...something, and by the devil, he wished he knew what. How do you explain the feeling of wanting to smile, but also wanting to cry? Of wanting to run away, but hold on to her tight? This feeling was too complicated for the wrath demon.

"You're overwhelmed."

Satan lifted his gaze from his daughter to his...father.

"That's normal. Most new fathers are." Lucifer explained.

The blonde shook his head.

"She and MC need me to be anything but."

"They just need you to do your best."

"And if my best isn't good enough? Yours wasn't."

"You are not me, Satan. I know you can do better."

Satan lowered his head. This was all too much for him, but he had no choice but to move forward.

Suddenly, the man's face was being patted by a tiny hand. Amelie giggled and did it again.

A small smile broke out on the wrath demon's face. It took him a minute to remember than Lucifer was watching and then the smile quickly fell. He turned to the other demon.

"Can you pull one of the onesies out? I think she's getting cold."

With a small smile, the Avatar of Pride nodded and started looking through the box.

Everything is changing. Satan was determined to make it all into a good change though. Unlike Lucifer and his brothers, this man wasn't going to fight the change; he was going to give Amelie everything he can.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me lucifer

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Long Day, Late Night (m)

Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday. 

This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE

cw: male, cold, coughing

Long Day, Late Night

The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.

In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.

Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.

“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.

“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.

“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.

“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.

“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”

Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”

“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”

Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”

Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”

“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”

“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”

Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.

“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.

“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”

“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”

***

It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.

Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.

“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.

“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”

Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”

“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”

“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”

“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.

Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.

“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.

“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”

“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.

“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.

“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”

“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.  

Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”

***

Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.

“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”

The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”

Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.

“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.

Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…

“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”

Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.

He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.

Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.

“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”

Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.

“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”

Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.

The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.

“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.

“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”

Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.

“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”

***

Service was, to put it lightly, hell.

The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.

The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”

Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.

In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.

“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”

Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.

“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”

The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.

“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”

Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”

“Okay,” Greyson said again.

After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”

Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”

“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”

Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”

Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”

Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

#snz #snzkink #snz kink #snzfic #snz fic #sickfic #coldfic #male cold #original charater #snez #snzblr #snz blog #whiskeyswriting #damn this got sappy as hell #and long lmao #idk the way ive been going i guess ill see you guys with another fic in two days lolllll

[fandoms-in-law]

Ted Wheeler Knows Parenting

Summary: When Ted and Holly run into Steve and his father in Melvalds Ted has a few things to say about the other's parenting style. It ends up with Steve becoming a Wheeler and a lot of changes in that household.

Authors Notes: I've been working on this for a while, but between my days of recovery fic last month and some bad news I got this morning, I just want to post it, leave it where it is and focus on other stories that interest me. I'm going to make it a small series as while most of what I've written is post season 2 there's some bits for season 3 and 4 written too which I'm adding as oneshots.

I'm only posting this first bit here. If you want to read the rest of the series it'll be on AO3 here

/\/\

According to Nancy, nobody's dad's asked as much as he did about school, so Ted accepted that she wanted him to stop.

Mike asserted it was weird that his dad spoke about his hobbies with so much pride so he reduced that amount within his kids hearing.

Then there was Holly just wanting someone to play dolls with and thrilled he'd keep playing when her friends were around because she said he kept the games fun.

He wasn't and wouldn't claim to be the perfect father but hearing Mike's friends claim he was absent in all but body was hurtful. This was how his eldest and middle child asked him to be, and he would be there for his kids friends too, as much as they let him or realised given their own father situations.

Then there was Steve Harrington. Ted didn't know how to react so acted how Karen's dad had, tried to look after Nancy. Even he was able to see Steve would be lost when he was faced with Karen mothering him, as if it was a foreign concept to him.

That reaction made a lot more sense considering the scene Ted and Holly were witnessing now, just outside the supermarket.

"Think about the mud you're putting our name through, Steven. Your mother has been asked multiple times if she should be looking after you at home and can't argue her cases without allusions being made. I thought you knew better than to cause this trouble." Richard was lecturing, gesturing over Steve's body as if to highlight flaws he wasn't stating.

Whatever Mr Harrington was continuing to say Ted ignored, leaning down to Holly who had also noticed Steve and was already looking for permission to go and say hi. For a while she never thought about it but after a few outings with Karen when others weren't so happy to be interrupted he'd made sure to explain to her to check with them if her friends looked busy. Steve however looked like Holly would be a welcome escape from his father so Ted gestured over, encouraging.

"Steve!" She called, excited and hurrying over.

Ted watched as his face lit up and his focus was set on Holly now, as well as the anger that darkened his father's face.

"Holly Jolly, Mr Wheeler, How are you? You been having an adventure?" Steve asked, focusing on the kid as Ted had known he would. Every time he was around it was the easiest way to get him away from Nancy for a bit to suggest Holly asks to play. That'd been how he'd given the 'don't hurt my daughter' talk months back.

"Dad's getting me sweets but sssshhhhh, Mum said I can't have them so we have to hide them when we're home." Holly explained, ignoring Richard clearing his throat since he was a stranger. "Are you getting sweets too?"

"My father says I can't. You're so lucky with yours, Holly Jolly. I've got to get bread and cheese and that's all I'm allowed." Steve's words were joking for Holly but there was something genuine under them that had Ted wondering just what restrictions the boy was facing aside from being criticised and yelled at in public.

He stepped forward, also ignoring Richard for the moment. "I'm sure we can share ours. It's been a while since you came over and I'm sure Karen would love to have you for dinner."

"That'd be-"

"Unacceptable." Richard Harrington interrupts. "Who are you to undermine my sons life?"

Ted looked at the man in judgement. He'd lived in Hawkins for all his life and everyone knew the Harrington's by name and school memories. This was one of the first times he'd encountered the man since school however and what he saw was lacking, both in appearance and impression from Steve's reactions. "Theodore Wheeler. Unlike you I actually know that inviting someone to dinner doesn't undermine them at all. You standing criticising him in front of Melvalds does however, undermines whatever good reputation the Harrington's have thanks entirely to Steve. I see he raised himself rather than you doing any actual work parenting."

Richard scoffed at that, "Good reputation? You call getting into fights good for our name?"

"My son was one of the kids he was protecting as you would know if you were ever home or paid any attention to the newspapers of Hawkins." Ted countered immediately. "Something I can see you'd never do. How about we go and greet Mrs Byers, ask if there are any remaining papers that include that report as well as the invitations for the esteemed Harrington's to make a comment. I doubt the reporters meant yelling in front of a supermarket about their son failing to what? Avoid getting bruises?"

"You have no right to judge me when you're leaving your child in irresponsible hands." Richard snarled, never noticing Steve's step away and attempting to distract Holly.

"Looks pretty responsible to me even if Steve hasn't more than proven himself to me and multiple families including the Chief of Police if I'm not mistaken." Ted replied coolly, turning to lead the way into the store, subtly gesturing for Steve to head down the candy aisle. This wasn't the argument for kids to have or listen to no matter how grown Steve acted.

Almost twenty minutes later, and after the discovery Joyce Byers wasn't working that shift, Ted went to find his kids, ears ringing with some of the words Richard used about his son and reeling with the knowledge that legally or not, for the moment, he had 4 kids.

Steve was watching the end of the aisle with anxious eyes, but had Holly happily holding a couple of toys and talking about a game she was playing. "Sorry for whatever my father said, Mr Wheeler. I hope he's not hurt you." he immediately began, giving the impression that if he wasn't still looking after Holly he'd have already been hurrying off.

"Don't apologise and since you're living with us now you can just call me Ted." He waved the apologies off, bending to his daughter. "Would you like that, Hols? Like Steve to be your big brother as well as Mike?"

"Living with-" Steve cut himself off from asking with a shake of his head. "Can you explain that to me more later?"

Ted nodded, "On the way home I will. Let's get the rest of this list and head off."

#stranger things #steve harrington #Ted Wheeler #steve harrington's parents #Steve harrington has bad parents #Steve gets adopted by the Wheelers