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barefoot-joker · 2 months

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Snake in the Garden Pt 3~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello guys, and welcome to the third installment of Snake in the Garden! This chapter is a bit longer than the first two, so I hope you enjoy the extra words. I'm excited to bring in the next chapter for you all and I bet Lucifer will be happy to see you too! The taglist is still open, so if you're interested in joining comment down below! As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 3048

Warnings: Non-Con Kissing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Marriage, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

I shook as I locked the bathroom door behind me. I had left Lucifer in his workshop while I claimed I needed to do my business. Even with him so far away I was still so nervous. After I made sure nobody was around, I started emptying the pockets of my pants. I was keeping different colored pieces of fabric on my person and taking them out felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Setting them on the counter, I went into the cabinet below the sink and pulled out my secret. In the privacy of the bathroom I was building a rope. Over the past few weeks I had been collecting different fabric from all around the palace. Napkins, towels, shirts, nothing was free from my building process. Sitting on the toilet, I grabbed my newly acquired material and tied it to the end of the rope. The rope itself was quite long and only a few more pieces would need to be added in order for it to reach the full height out of the window. Satisfied with my work, I put it back in the cabinet and went on my way back to the workshop.

My days passed by slowly and I was counting down to when I could finally escape. Lucifer was getting touchy feely more than ever. It was so bad I couldn’t go a minute without his hands on me. I tried to tell him to stop but that just made his body get closer to mine and his grip to get a bit tighter. I absolutely hated it. His courting was getting worse too. Every day I’d wake up to a new rubber duck or bouquet of flowers being thrusted at my face, a wide smile on his face and a blush spreading from cheek to cheek. The only time I could find for myself was using the bathroom either for bathing purposes or other forms of business.

One day I found myself in the dining room eating breakfast. Lucifer sat across from me reading his newspaper. However he seemed very fidgety as his leg kept bouncing underneath the table and his claws were tapping the paper in his hands. I was a bit nervous as I had never seen him act like this before and I wasn’t sure what was to come from it. After our plates were cleared, Lucifer came to my side and took me by the hand. He gave it a quick kiss before leading me through the glass doors to outside. We walked to a spot on the property I haven’t been to yet. We stopped by a small gazebo and inky black arms wrapped around my waist. “Ta da!”

One of his arms gestured to the dead grass in front of us. I was confused until I saw it change to a healthy green color. Amazed, I watched as bushes of flowers popped up from the ground and a tree with some apples grew before my very eyes. Rows upon rows of vegetables magically appeared as well. I gasped at how beautiful the scenery was before me. “I’d like to present to you your very own garden. I’ve been thinking of gifting this to you for a while but I couldn’t find the right moment. What do you think?”

I was speechless. All of this was for me? I understood this was part of his courting but the gesture was super nice.

“It’s…it’s beautiful, Lucifer. Thank you.”

He gasped and turned to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile went from one red cheek to the other. “Was that a thank you I heard? Please hold the applause! Can we hear that one more time?”

I giggled. “Thank you.”

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome, darling. How about you take a look around while I grab some paperwork.”

He kissed my forehead and then poofed away in a cloud of red smoke. I coughed a bit as the smoke cleared and waved my hand to try and move it away faster. From where I stood, I could see the hole in the fence and as much as it called to me, I stayed put. I just needed some more time and then I’d be free. While Lucifer was away I walked around my newly acquired garden and smiled. It was actually quite the spectacle, but who could expect less from the Sin of Pride?

Suddenly in a flash, Lucifer returned with a butt load of papers in his hand. “Did you have a chance to look around, my dear?”

“I did.”

“Is it to your liking? I can always add in more shrubbery or substitute the flowers for something else.”

“No, it’s quite lovely. Thank you.”

He puffed out his chest and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that. Now before I begin my boring paperwork, is there anything I can get you?”

“Perhaps a trowel and a bucket?”

“Of course.”

He snapped his fingers and next to me on the grass appeared those two items. “I’ll just be over at this table so if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask, sweetie.”

“Will do.”

“Good girl. Have fun!”

True to his word, Lucifer sat at a small, white, metal table and began working on his stack of paperwork. I was curious to know what kind of contracts and other tasks the King of Hell had to accomplish, but I just ignored that wish. Turning to the apple tree I noticed some weeds, so I headed over. Kneeling down, I took the trowel and began to dig out the vermin and put them in the bucket. Everytime I dug out a weed it seemed like another one appeared. I growled and kept going, but the process was soon becoming tedious. Just as I was about to give up, I heard chuckling coming from the table. I looked over to see Lucifer hiding his laughter behind one of his papers. “So you’re the reason I can’t get through this task. Get back to work, mister!”

I playfully shook my trowel at him and he gave a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed and went back to shoveling. Without Lucifer’s magic making more appear, weeding the apple tree went fairly quickly. After that was done, I moved onto the other bushes and rows of vegetables. It took me several hours but I was finally done weeding. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and let out a breath. It had been a while since I was able to do something I enjoyed in this hellhole. Walking over to the table, I sat down across from His Majesty. I set the bucket with the trowel and weeds inside on the grass. “Whatcha reading?”

“Monthly business reports from the different Sins. I doubt you’d find it entertaining. I certainly don’t.”

I had to chuckle. It was kind of funny to see this side of him. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?! Are you stupid?! He kidnapped you and is trying to court you! Get a grip, woman!

I shook my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Say, how about I take you out for dinner tonight. You’ve been so lovely here at home and I think we both deserve a treat.”

Oh you have no idea how wrong you are.

“Sounds nice. Anything you want me to wear?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he ran his claws up and down my arm. Goosebumps appeared on my skin and I had to suppress a shudder. “That red dress we got you would be a nice statement piece. Really sell the whole ‘you’re mine’ ideology.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Yeah right.

I pulled my arm away so he’d stop touching it. “I was maybe going to go read in the library if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m almost done here so I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

I nodded and began to walk away. I heard him hum so I turned to look at him. He seemed so happy as he signed something. I almost felt bad for leaving him shortly but then I reminded myself of all the things he had done to me. Keep your focus, Y/n. Don’t lose sight.

I grunted and made my way inside to the library on the second floor. When I got there I walked over to one of the various bookcases. There were ten in total and each one reached the high vaulted ceiling. I scanned the titles of some of the books and landed on a fantasy novel, The Last Human. Quite the odd book to have.

I peeled it from its brothers and sat down in one of the plush leather, burgundy armchairs. I opened it and began to read. A few hours passed as I read, Lucifer coming in to join me at some point. He chose the chair next to mine and I felt his fingers playing with my thigh. I tried to not pay much attention to it and concentrate on my book. The novel itself was quite interesting, a spin on The Last Unicorn if you will.

When night had fallen, the two of us changed. I donned the red, floor length garment that he wanted me to wear while Lucifer put on a black tuxedo. A servant drove us to the inner sanctum of the city and when we stopped His Majesty helped me out of the car. I thanked him and took the arm he held out. We walked into the posh looking restaurant and the cat hostess seemed surprised to see us. “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Hello. I placed a reservation for two earlier today.”

“Let me check the list.”

Her finger scanned down a piece of paper and then tapped a specific spot. “Here we are. Follow me please.”

She led us past several tables before we reached a table in the middle of the room. The table had a white tablecloth and vase with a rose in it. A candle in a glass bubble sat next to the vase in the center. Lucifer acted like a gentleman and pulled my chair out for me. He scooted it close before taking his seat. “Somebody will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us and not even a minute later an imp waitress appeared. “Hello, my name is Jenny and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”

“A bottle of your finest champagne, please.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

She bowed and ran off. “Champagne? What’s the special occasion?” “What? A man can’t enjoy some fancy liquor with the woman he loves?”

He reached across the table and squoze my hand. I felt some heat rise to my cheeks and I looked away. The restaurant was quite packed. All the tables had some form of couple sitting at it. Our waitress returned with two tall glasses and a green bottle that read Beelzebub’s Special Brew. She popped the cork and poured some champagne into each of our glasses. “Now could I get you two something to eat?”

“Yes, just some pasta for both of us.”

“Of course, Sire. I’ll be out with that shortly.”

I watched as she ran off again. “I hope that was okay. I know you tend to favor pasta when Belfazaar serves it at home.”

“It’s fine.”

I grabbed my glass and took a sip. It was quite good, a bit on the sweeter side. “How is it?”

“Good. I’ll admit I haven’t had champagne since the last wedding I attended.”

At the mention of Earth, I could feel my aura dampen. While my “lover” tried to make my stay as homey as possible, I still longed for the green and blue planet. Lucifer must have noticed the mood change because the hand on top of mine caressed it lightly. “Still missing Earth, huh?”

I nodded. He sighed. “I thought I was making your stay in Hell quite cozy.”

“You have made it as comfortable as you can, Lucifer. Truly. I just miss my home is all.”

“Then perhaps I need to step up.”

Suddenly he stood and pulled out a black box. “Lucifer, what are you-”

I stopped when I saw him kneel. My eyes widened and my breath hitched. No, he couldn’t possibly be…

He opened the box and amongst the plush red velvet lay a golden ring made to look like a snake. Everyone in the restaurant started to gasp and I could see demons pull out their phones to record what was happening. “Please, don’t do this.”

The attention just made Lucifer more happy. “Y/n, I know you’ve been struggling with Hell lately. Trust me, I was there too once. However, I want to be by your side and make you comfortable, happy. More than anything I want to shelter and adore you. I think it’s time we made this official. Will you, Y/n L/n, marry me?”

My body stilled and my mind went blank. Everyone’s attention was on the two of us and the stares made my body flare up. I gulped. What should I do? What should I do?! WHAT SHOULD I DO?! If I accept, will I ever be able to go home? If I don’t, what will he do? He’s capable of so many things, what will he choose to do to me?

I could feel my breath getting stuck in my chest and my eyes started to water. Was it always this hot in here?

“I, I, I-”

“Please, Y/n. Make me the happiest man in all of Hell.”

He lifted the box a bit higher and the ring seemed to sparkle in the light. I looked into his eyes and could only find adoration there, them sparkling just like the ring. Everyone’s staring, just say something. JUST SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!

“Y-YES!”

I slapped my hands over my mouth quickly but it was too late. Lucifer plucked the piece of jewelry out of the box and put it on my ring finger. He stood up and for the first time kissed my lips. My eyes widened and I went to push him away, but he grabbed my hands in a tight hold. Everyone around us was applauding and cheering us on and I just wanted to die inside. He pulled away and caressed my cheek lightly. “I love you, my dear.”

He sat himself back in his chair and smiled at me from across the table. I held my hand and looked at the piece of jewelry now adorning it. It was quite intricate for an engagement ring. Each one of the snake’s scales was engraved into the gold and a little diamond made up the eye. “Quite lovely, isn’t it? I’ve had that made since we first met. It feels nice to finally gift it to you.”

I was sick of looking at it, so I slid my hand under the tablecloth. So that’s why the courting had been ramped up recently. Because he was going to ask me to marry him.

“I thought it would be special to make it in the form we met in. That way it would be more meaningful to our relationship. I hope you like it, darling.”

I just nodded. I couldn’t force myself to say anything in case I said something rash and ruined my plan. Jenny came back to our table with two bowls and set them down. “Here we are. And congratulations on the engagement! I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

“Looks delicious, thanks!”

The two of us picked up our forks and began to eat. I slowly picked at mine and ate little bites while Lucifer talked. “So when do you want to have the wedding, darling? I was thinking a couple months from now when the Pentagram moon will be out. It’ll make the day even more special! Oh, we’ll have to get planning right away! I have so many ideas in mind, how about you?”

“I guess.”

“Are you alright, my little apple?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick actually. Could we maybe go home?”

“Of course, my dear. Let me just pay the check.”

Lucifer flagged down our waitress, paid the bill and then led me out to the car. Customers kept shouting at us congratulations as we left and I remained silent the whole ride home. When we arrived inside, I immediately headed for the bedroom. If I was going to escape, it better be tonight. “I think I’ll take a bath and then head to bed, Lucifer.”

“Alright. I’ll be in my office for a bit. I hope you feel better soon, dear.”

He gave me a light peck on the forehead and then left. Now to put my plan into action.

I headed to the wardrobe and pulled out a light blue nightgown. I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. Locking the door, I pulled off the red dress and put on the nightgown. Opening the cabinet, I pulled out my rope. Grabbing the red dress, I attached it to the end and tied the rope to the foot of the bathtub. Tugging on it to make sure it was secure, I unlatched the window and threw it out. I looked back at the door to make sure nobody was there and then began climbing down. My stomach twisted as I was quite high up and my foot had slipped a couple of times, but I finally made it to the ground. Peering around the corner of the palace, I saw David and Goliath sleeping in the front yard. Good to go.

I bolted as fast as I could to the hole in the fence. I moved aside the bushes and quickly squoze through. I hissed as the fence had caused a couple of gashes on my arm and tore a bit of my nightgown from the sharp edges. Looking around for some kind of direction, I saw in the distance the sparkling marquee that read Hazbin Hotel. I grinned and ran like my life depended on it.

~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog

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miracleonice87 · 8 months

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behind the scenes at 30 rock

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: the newest installment is here! takes place during Travis's SNL appearance. includes guest appearances from jason, mama and papa kelce, and kelsea ballerini. enjoy!

warnings: mention of pregnancy / related sickness / babies, alcohol, swearing, i think that's it

word count: ~4,000

___

March 5, 2023

Travis was mere hours from hosting Saturday Night Live, the biggest honor of his entire life and career outside of football.

And you? You were sitting alone in his green room – an appropriate name, considering how you were constantly green in the gills these days – being sick in a trash can.

Travis was rehearsing on stage, along with Jason and the cast, while Donna, Ed, and Trav’s management team were being toured around the studio. You had hung back after muttering a lame excuse about needing to call home and walk your parents through how to record the show tonight. Donna had eyed you suspiciously but let it go… and the group left you alone just in time for you to cough up your guts moments after the door closed.

The wave of sickness lasted for a good three or four minutes, and as you sat up weakly, pressing the inside of your wrist to your sweaty forehead before reaching into your purse for your breath spray, you wondered how the fuck you were going to clean this up without anyone noticing. With a groan, you reached for some paper towels, crumpling them up and shoving them into the bag of the offending trash can, then tied the cheap plastic bag tightly closed and put it in another empty trash bag which, thankfully, you found inside the can. Somehow, you kept the gagging to a minimum as you picked up the bundle of bags and walked toward the door, taking a deep breath in when you reached it.

This is so fucking embarrassing.

You cracked the door open just far enough to call out to a young PA walking down the hallway. As he drew closer, you called sheepishly, “Excuse me?”

He whipped his head up and stood straight, not having noticed the partially open door until you spoke.

“Oh, Mrs. Kelce!” he said with a polite smile. “Yes, can I help you?”

You winced visibly. “Actually, yes,” you admitted softly. “Please know that I absolutely hate to do this, but… I was just, uh, sick, in here and… I was wondering if it was possible to get rid of this for me?” You held the bag up a few inches and smiled at him apologetically. “I swear I’m not drunk, I’m just, uh… I’m not feeling well.”

He nodded and gave you an understanding smile.

“Not a problem, Mrs. Kelce,” he said, carefully reaching for the bag. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse than this,” he said playfully, and you were grateful for his assistance and his attempt to make you feel better. “You let us know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Thank you so much,” you said quietly. You read his nametag before continuing. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy. And, um, one more thing…”

He nodded again. “Anything.”

“Keep this between us?” you said softly, lifting an index finger to your lips.

Slowly, a knowing smirk stretched across his lips. “Of course,” he assured. “My lips are sealed.”

You nodded, mouthing a final “thank you.” You closed the door and rested your head against the cool frame, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly, relieved that that hadn’t been as painful as you’d feared, and making a mental note to send Jeremy some piece of memorabilia signed by Travis as a token of your gratitude.

You jumped when, just a few moments later, a soft knock came on the other side of the door.

“One second!” you called, ducking into the view of the lighted mirror to check your appearance, reaching for a tissue to wipe at the corners of your mouth.

“Hey, it’s Kelsea,” a voice said quietly. “Can I come in?”

You smiled. Not only was it Travis’s first time on SNL, but it was also the first appearance for the musical guest, Kelsea Ballerini, who just so happened to be one of your favorite artists and one of the most-played on your Spotify account. You had briefly met her earlier and were able to tell her what a big fan of hers you were, and you were thrilled that she was back again, presumably to chat or maybe to take a quick photo before the show.

“Yes, come in!” you called cheerfully as you cleared your throat and tossed the tissue into the trash from three-point range, plastering a mega-watt smile on your features as if nothing at all had happened in the last ten minutes.

She opened the door wearing a sweats set and carrying one of the SNL bags given to each special guest, and you noticed her freshly finished hair and makeup – the final step before the show would be to change into her outfit, which was sure to be stunning.

As you were about to open your mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked already, she shut the door and said abruptly, “Are you okay?”

Your stomach fluttered, this time due to nerves and not the baby in your belly.

How did she know?

You swallowed hard and tried your best to play it off.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you lied through your teeth with a wave of your hand. “Why do you ask?”

She smiled and shyly ducked her head before meeting your eyes again.

“Well, my boyfriend Chase was just walking past and overheard you talking to the PA about being sick…” You pursed your lips, trying as hard as you could to keep a grin from your face. Kelsea forged ahead. “Now, listen, you do not have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course, but… I doubt you’d be here at all if you had the stomach flu, and you don’t seem like you’ve had too much to drink, so…”

You chuckled quietly, then nodded. After a long pause, you copped.

“We literally just found out a week ago…”

Kelsea covered her mouth as she screamed silently and began hopping from one foot to the other.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god! Congratulations!” she whisper-yelled as she wrapped you in a warm hug. In your wildest dreams, you could have never guessed that Kelsea Ballerini would be the second person – well, technically the third, if Jeremy had in fact caught your drift – in the world whom you told that you were expecting. Kelsea pulled away and held you at arm’s length. “Okay, well, I’m glad I asked – I had a feeling so I brought ginger ale and Jolly Ranchers. That’s what helped one of my girlfriends through her whole first trimester.”

She reached into the bag hanging from her forearm and produced said items, and you pressed a hand to your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“Sorry, ignore me!” you exclaimed, laughing as you accepted the items. “It’s the freaking hormones. But that is so sweet of you. Thank you. You did not have to do that – you have a show to prepare for!”

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “I know, I know, but this is just girl code,” she said decidedly. “I’ll run back out there in a sec but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Here, sit, sit,” she insisted as she motioned toward the velvet couch.

You did as you were instructed and happily screwed the cap off of the soda, taking a few small sips. The coolness and carbonation of the drink were a welcome sensation on your tongue.

“So nobody else knows?” Kelsea whispered excitedly, scrunching her nose with glee.

As you swallowed, you smiled. “No,” you whispered back, and Kelsea squealed. “I’m only six weeks. We’re gonna tell my brother- and sister-in-law and his parents tomorrow when we go to Philly to meet the new baby, but right now it’s just us who know. And you!”

She clapped her fingertips together enthusiastically. “This is the coolest thing ever!” she exclaimed, tipping her head back.

“Don’t tell Trav that you know!” you warned as you unrolled a watermelon Jolly Rancher and popped it into your mouth. “He won’t be upset, but then he’ll wonder how you found out, and he’s been so worried about how sick I’ve been. I mean, he tried to cancel this,” you explained, motioning generally around the room.

Kelsea held up a hand. “I swear on my life – again, girl code,” she promised. “But what I am gonna do? Is tell my boyfriend to keep an eye on you during the show and get you an out if needed. I don’t need to tell him why – he’ll listen.”

You reached to rest your hand on her knee, squeezing it affectionately. “Thank you, Kelsea,” you said sincerely. “I really appreciate it. I’d say we’d name our baby after you, but that might be a little weird.”

Kelsea burst into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, Kelsea Kelce might be a bit much,” she admitted. “We can workshop it though.”

You giggled, then took another sip of ginger ale.

“Think you’ll be okay to sit through this whole thing?” she asked as you reached for the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’d stashed in Travis’s bag as you were leaving the hotel earlier.

You nodded. “Usually I’m okay for a few hours once I’ve eaten something. Today’s just been so crazy that I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t eaten enough. I can tell you that won’t happen again,” you told her as you popped a chip into your mouth.

Kelsea tutted. “Girl, I get it. I get hangry so easily, and I’m not even pregnant,” she confessed as you beamed. “Well, I’m gonna get out there, but I’m glad you’re hanging in there. And I’m so happy for you and Travis, truly – I know we just met but it’s not hard to see how much y’all love each other and love your family, and you’re gonna be amazing parents.”

Tears welled in your eyes once more as you wrapped your free arm around Kelsea’s neck, and she hugged your waist.

“Thank you,” you managed, voice watery. You sat back and cleared your throat. “Now, break a leg! No pressure, but you’re technically baby’s first concert.”

Kelsea gaped. “I didn’t even think of that!” she said giddily. “Oh, my god, I’m gonna turn it all the way on then.”

___

Backstage, a few hours later, Kelsea and Travis locked eyes in the moments immediately following the end of the live taping and the chaos that ensued. Over her head, she pointed both index fingers at him, doing her best to make a beeline to him through the sea of cast, crew, family, and friends. Travis danced toward her as though he had just caught a touchdown in the corner of the end zone at Arrowhead.

“You did it!” he exclaimed, booming voice echoing throughout the short distance between them.

As she finally reached him, she extended both hands to high-five him, then the two embraced giddily.

“We did it!” she shouted back, clapping him on the back. “You absolutely killed it out there!”

Travis pulled back to point at Kelsea. “You were amazing,” he praised. “You sounded incredible!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she said, bowing playfully. “God, what a night!”

Travis rubbed his palms together. “What a fucking night indeed,” he concurred. “Now it’s time to celebrate – I’m gonna go find my family and get this freakin’ makeup off,” he laughed, then looked at her pointedly. “See you and Chase at the afterparty?”

Kelsea looked at him as though he were crazy. “Are you kidding? We’ll be there with bells on. I’ll meet you for shots in twenty,” she assured, then her expression grew more serious, and she leaned up to speak into Travis’s ear quietly enough so that no one could hear. “Just make sure you check on wifey first – and make sure she eats something before we go out.”

As Kelsea took a step back, Travis eyed her in disbelief.

“Wait, how did you-”

Kelsea pressed an index finger to her lips.

“I’m sworn to secrecy – girl code,” she whispered. Then, as she backed away, she mouthed, “congratulations.”

He shook his head, a bashful smile on his face, and mouthed back, “thank you.”

___

Another hour into the night, after Travis had made sure you had your fill of the Chinese takeout he’d made certain to have a PA deliver to you right after the show, you were watching him hold court in the middle of Mermaid Oyster Bar in Times Square, simultaneously amused by and in awe of the way he was being doted upon as king of the city, even if just for the night. The poignance and ferocity of your first hug upon finding him after the show rivaled the embraces shared between the two of you after both Super Bowl victories, after your wedding vows, and, most recently, upon finding out you were expecting.

But never in any of those sacred moments had you been so fucking tired as you were right now. Fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to overpower you at any moment as you watched Travis in a daze, you hid a yawn behind your palm and blinked furiously. In the corner of your private booth reserved for family, Donna sat sipping her cocktail, eyes never leaving you. When Ed got up from the table to meet someone at Jason’s behest, Donna scooted closer to you, leaning in so that she could be heard above the thumping music.

“We should do a tequila shot together – I know it’s your favorite, and it’s a special occasion!” she suggested, nudging your shoulder with hers.

You threw her a smile which you hoped wasn’t riddled with the anxiety you felt at the proposition.

“You’re crazy!” you accused in jest. “It’s been such a long day, I’ll fall asleep if I take a shot.”

Donna nodded decisively, took a generous sip of her drink, and placed her hand atop yours on the table, studying you.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Mom!” you suddenly heard from behind you, the single syllable tinged with a familiar northeast Ohio accent, and you and Donna both turned your heads to find her youngest son gaping at you, blue eyes wide with bewilderment and lips parted. “What the fuck?!” he spat as he hurried around to the front of the booth.

Donna guffawed. “Well, now I definitely have my answer!” she said, smacking the table gleefully before throwing her arms around you. “Congratulations, honey!” she exclaimed, kissing your cheek. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She reached for Travis’s hand as he tucked into the seat next to you, and you leaned against the table to allow mother and son as much space as possible to embrace behind you in the cramped booth.

“What’s happening?” Jason questioned as he approached alongside Ed, his signature brows furrowed as he looked at you accusingly. Travis and Donna parted and turned their attention to the other two Kelces. You pursed your lips before bursting into nervous laughter.

“Well… our mother just accused this one of being pregnant,” Travis announced, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders as you offered a playful wave, watching Jason’s eyebrows shoot straight up, his color draining from his face at the perceived uncomfortable moment. “And as only Mom could be, she was 100% correct in that assumption.”

“Ayyyy-yyy-yyy!” Jason erupted, throwing his arms into the air before slinging them around both you and Travis at the same time, as Ed clapped in the background. “That’s fucking amazing! Oh my god!”

As Jason made space for Ed to congratulate the two of you, Donna put a finger in the air.

“I want to make it clear that I did not ask based on her weight or appearance or anything of the sort,” she insisted, one hand flush to her chest as if reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. “I only asked because she turned down a tequila shot for the first time in the many years that I have known her.”

Jason and Ed cackled, and Travis drew you even closer into his side.

“Alright nah! That’s my girl,” he joked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Only eight more months until your next one, sweetness.”

“That is very unlike her, I’ll give you that,” Ed concurred. “So, when are you due, sweetheart?”

You looked up at Travis and shared an elated grin. “Uh, November 6!” you announced. “It’s early – we only just found out last week.”

As Donna clapped furiously and Ed nodded, beaming, Jason held up both hands.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on… isn’t that the first day of Travis’s bye?” he asked incredulously.

You nodded happily as Travis bobbled his head from side to side, pride and euphoria radiating from him, especially in his alcohol-flooded state. Jason stood still as a statue, gaping. “This is insane! You’re probably gonna get to be with her and the baby for, like, multiple days and not have to work or go anywhere,” he pointed out.

Travis nodded knowingly. “You’re goddang right, brotha – everything’s coming up Kelce! Ha haaa!”

Jason chuckled. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “But shit, am I happy for you guys! Oh, my god, Ky’s gonna flip!”

Travis squeezed your bicep and implored, “Jason, please do not go back to your hotel and drunkenly call her, okay? We’ve been planning to wait and tell her in person tomorrow when we get to your house to meet Benny, which is when we were gonna tell all of you, but apparently Mom had other plans!”

Jason crossed his heart. “Um, you might have to take my phone away from me to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I promise I won’t do it on purpose.”

___

You somehow managed to stay awake until four in the morning, largely thanks to the advice Jason had received from Rich Eisen to sleep in for as long as possible that morning in order to prep for the wild night after the show, but you realized you had finally hit your wall when the crew was ready to head to another location and you were not. Travis pulled you into his chest while the group discussed the route to the next party, his big hands resting on your lower back to keep you close. He ducked his head to speak into your ear, as private a conversation as could be managed in the midst of a gaggle of people.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go,” he said simply.

You shot him a “yeah fucking right” look and immediately shook your head. “No, baby, you’re going – that’s not even a question,” you argued, smoothing a hand across his broad chest. “I’m gonna head back and get some sleep, you’re gonna stay out as late as you can keep your eyes open, and that’s final,” you said, poking him in the sternum.

His fingers ghosted up and down your spine as you spoke, and he smirked in amusement, knowing better than to continue to fight you on this.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked. “Because you just say the word and I swear to god, we turn around and walk out that door and go back together right now.”

You shook your head again, toying with his silver chain. “Absolutely not, Trav,” you reiterated. “I’m certain. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and you’re gonna enjoy every second of it. And to be frank, I’m gonna pass out the moment my head hits the pillow, so it’s not gonna make a difference to me whether you’re there or not. Until morning, and you can go back to holding my hair back for me.”

Travis giggled, and his long arms wrapped you in an all-consuming hug as he buried a kiss in your hair. “Gladly,” he stated, and you knew he meant it. He dropped another kiss to your forehead and added, “I love you so bad.”

You hummed appreciatively and tipped your head up to peck his lips. “I love you so bad,” you echoed. “This has been incredible, watching you shine. You were amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

The humility and delight in his eyes was overwhelming, and he cradled the back of your head to thank you with a passionate kiss, the kind usually reserved for private spaces. But this was a special occasion, not to mention how much alcohol your husband had consumed by this point, so you simply smiled against his lips until he pulled away for air.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my girl,” he said warmly. “Be safe. Text me when you’re in. I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded, squeezing his waist.

“I will,” you promised. “Have a ball, 87.”

_____

But truth be told, Travis did not have a ball once you had left him. Admittedly, he had watched your location on his phone incessantly while you traveled the short distance from the Mermaid back to your hotel, grateful that his mom had accompanied you, having had enough of the party for the night herself. Once he had watched the blue dot representing you reach the front of the hotel, then become stagnant once you had apparently reached your room and minutes later texted him “made it back, getting ready for bed - love you ❤️”, he tried his damnedest to focus on being present and enjoying himself, reminding him that this night was special, just as you’d said.

But with every drink that was poured down his throat, with every celebrity he tried his best to entertain, with every introduction by somebody he was supposed to recognize to somebody else he was supposed to recognize, his thoughts were always, only, with you – whether you were asleep yet, how you were sleeping if so, if you had had enough to eat, how you were feeling. He’d spent so much time away from you this week because of the rigorous schedule of meetings and rehearsals that he just missed you with every fiber of his being – he swore it had to be biological, because anyone who knew Travis Kelce knew that he loved a party, especially one celebrating him. Though he’d never quite felt this way before, his heart simply wasn’t in it.

Around 5 in the morning, he locked eyes with Jason and gave him the high sign, hand gesturing at his neck to indicate that he’d had his fill of the SNL pandemonium. Jason gave a knowing smile and nod, well aware of what was coming next – an Irish exit by his younger brother. Travis knew he would be there for another hour if he attempted to say goodbye to each and every person at the party, even just the ones he knew personally, and with his one-track mind focused solely on his exhausted pregnant wife back in his suite, he made the executive decision to dip out through a side door near the bathrooms. He quickly made his way to the car waiting for him, shared a nod with the driver, and climbed into the backseat.

“How you doin’, man? Back to the hotel, please,” he requested.

“Of course, Mr. Kelce,” the driver replied. “Do you need to make any stops first?”

Travis smiled softly and shook his head. “Not a one – thank you.”

Finally, after what had to be the longest day of his life, he snuck back into the hotel unnoticed thanks to the accommodating staff, slipped in the door to the penthouse suite, quickly shed his outfit leaving on only his boxers, and snuggled into bed behind you, pressing his chest against your back. At his familiar touch and scent, you inhaled deeply and moaned softly, glancing over your shoulder and throwing him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, superstar, you made it back,” you greeted him, voice raspy and thick with sleep as your head dropped back to the pillow.

“Mmhmm, and I have been dreaming of this all day long,” he whispered, kissing a line from your shoulderblade, up your neck, along your jaw and ending at your temple. “Go back to sleep, sweet thing. I gotchu.”

“Mmm, ‘kay. Love you, Trav,” you all but slurred, instantly slipping back into your slumber.

He smiled so big it hurt his face, completely, wholly, overwhelmingly, blissfully content as his hand settled on your lower stomach where a baby bump was still weeks from appearing, your warm fingers lazily covering his.

“I love you, mama.”

#kissing kelce #travis kelce #my writing #travis kelce fic #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce x reader

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alexlwrites · 23 days

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𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7xReader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, College AU, angst if you squint.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

°•. ✿ .•°

Part 12 - What?

(<<< part 11)

Jin is sick.

Full on sick, bed-ridden, will-written (he left everything to his family dog, hoping to install chaos even in his after life), shivering in his near death state.

To sum up his pitiful state, Jin had the flu.

As the eldest, he was always thrown into the role of caregiver and he truly didn’t mind. Jin thrived knowing that his friends were well-fed and taken care of and the apartament wasn’t a pit of despair, dirty laundry, testosterone and food poisoning. Taking care of others filled him with prime and a beaming sense of purpose. He liked his loved ones happy and, furthermore, he liked being the one to provide said happiness, whether for his amazing cooking abilities or gentle, refined comedy.

But now, nearing the end of his life by the hands of a sneeze that just wouldn’t snooze, he regretted spoiling his dongsaengs rotten, because none of them had a single clue on how to help him or, at the very least, not worsen his state.

Namjoon’s voice echoed from the kitchen, a place he had been previously banned from, but brought back to in those desperate times “How much sugar do I put in this?”.

Nevermind. Jin wasn’t that desperate.

“None!” he coughed , feeling his soul leaving through his mouth as he hacked his lungs out “It’s a soup, you tall noodly buffoon.”

“What’s going on?”

Jin turned his red, teary, tortured eyes towards the door, where you stood with your backpack, taking off your shoes.

Namjoon scurried from the kitchen, seemingly untormented by the cloud of smoke left behind him and the alarming wheezing sound that foreshadowed nothing good.

“Y/N!” he called sweetly and leaned in to kiss your cheek, a brazilian habit he picked up from you, but funnily enough only seemed to use with you “Jin is being mean to me!”

Ugh. As if Seokjin wasn’t sick enough, he was then forced to watch his back-stabbing, sugar and baking powder wielding, Big Bird of a friend drape himself over your much smaller and much less Sesame Street looking body.

Jin wasn’t in his clearest state of mind, so he didn’t stop to ponder on the implications of the ache in his chest and the twisting sensation in his stomach at the sight, chalking it off as one of the symptoms of his imminent doom and not at all a sign for something much bigger and catastrophic.

“Why are you being mean, Jinnie?” you asked as you removed the koala-like grip Namjoon had on you and put away your stuff.

“He’s trying to poison me” he croaked from his pitiful burrow in the L shaped couch “Putting sugar in the soup.”

“Joonie, please we have talked about this. More than once.” Jin couldn’t help but purr with satisfaction as you chastised his lanky friend. Finally, he thought, sweet vindication “Don’t worry, Jin, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Those last few words sounded as if they were whispered from a thousand miles away, barely background noise as Seokjin once more slipped in and out of consciousness.

When he woke up again, there was a cold towel against his forehead and a pleasant smell filled his senses. You stood by his side, holding a bowl of something that smelled absolutely divine and Jin had a short, intrusive thought that this is what heaven looked like.

“Good to see you awake.” you said as his eyes blinked open “Sit up, I made you soup. Sugarless. You should get something to eat.”

Jin stretched his tired body, feeling the dull ache in his muscles complain about the movement. HIs fever seemed to have gotten better, but there was still some uncomfortableness left by his sweaty, snotty state.

Even so, he betted he still looked great. Sexy even, in a plague-esque, victorian child sort of way, like Timothee Chalamet. Hotter, both in looks and temperature, than most men in his life.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked, noticing the empty and unusually silent and peaceful apartament.

“They left a while ago. Joonie had classes.”

“Ungrateful bastards” he mumbled “I could’ve died since then!”

“From the flue?”

“From resentment!”

You laughed, placing the porcelain bowl carefully in his hands “Trust me, you don’t want any of them taking care of you.”

“Maybe Yoongi.”

“Yeah” you agreed “Maybe Yoongi.”

He ate in silence for a while, watching you make yourself busy around the room, unpacking your school bag and fixing yourself something to eat. “How are you feeling now?” you asked after sometime in quietude.

He coughed, folding over himself as his whole chest heaved in a violent fit. “Better”

Your arched a doubtful brow “You sure?”

Jin raised two thumbs, smile looking like a grimace.

“Yeah, very convincing except for the snot and smoker’s cough you have” you said, pushing him to lie back on the couch, hands on his burning chest “Stay down, soldier, I’ll take care of you.”

Those words sparked something in Jin’s chest, a sudden rush of fondness and affection that heated his cheeks even more. He had proudly and happily taken the role of caretaker in their friend group and never resented, but there was no denying the warmth that sentence brought him.

Your relationship with him had always been casual, at best, just exchanging crossed jokes and puns that made no one else laugh but the two of you. And although he liked to joke about your position as his future wife, there hadn’t been many attempts from either parties to deepen your friendship. You were just… Comfortable, Jin guessed. There was no strain to keep a conversation going, no awkward stepping around each other like there usually was in the beginning stages of getting to know someone.

Maybe it was your similarities that made you so at ease around each other, Jin pondered, weirdly contemplative in his pile of sickness by the couch. You were both the funniest people alive, great cooks, caring and exceedingly beautiful indivi-

Woah, he paused. When did he start thinking you were beautiful - exceedingly so? You were cute, sure, but beautiful? His eyes followed you across the room as you cleaned up the slight mess scattered around the space, accessing your features: lit up eyes, easy smile, soft looking hair and skin that begged for him to reach out and touch…

Jin halted his dangerous line of thinking. Was this a side effect of the flu or an epiphany? Was the pounding of his heart just a sign of the decomposing of his body or just the feeling of unbound gratefulness at being taken care of? Or was it just…

You.

***

You.

Jungkook thought about your existence within his life half wistfully and half infuriated. You were simultaneously the reason why he had a hard time leaving his room after waking up and paradoxically the current only reason he did. There was nothing new about early mornings with his hyungs hogging the coffee and sleeping on top of the dinner table, but seeing you by the kitchen sink or holding stupid Yoongi’s stupid hands always kickstarted his heart, even if painfully so. He had been living with you for quite a few weeks now and his body and soul had yet to get accustomed to your presence in his routine - still, you were everywhere, from your perfume invading his senses to his Marvels movies he could never watch the same way now that he knew how it felt to see them with your arms around him.

Jungkook had to act. Not only because he couldn’t hold his feelings inside his surprisingly muscular chest, but also due to the movement he could see happening around the house hold. From Namjoon clinging onto you like a disease, to Hoseok’s threats and Yoongi’s silent plottings, Jungkook knew if he didn’t do something, someone else would.

And he was nothing if not a sore fucking loser.

So Jungkook got to planning, cataloging everything he knew about you and your routine to come up with the perfect moment to ask you out. He had not gotten as far as considering what he would do if you said yes (start dancing? Yell? Fireworks? Punch Namjoon in celebration? Who fucking knew) but in order to not panic he had to take everything one step at a time and hope for the best, even if his previous relationship histories pointed in a different direction.

On the day he chose as The Perfect Day™, no one was supposed to be home, out having classes, at work or spreading havoc somewhere around campus ( mainly Taehyung and Jimin). No one, except you, enjoying one of your rare days off.

He had armed himself with an arsenal of your favorite things, from pastries to flowers, one more tube of lipgloss to add to your insurmountable collection and crocheted trinkets he tried to make himself but turned out looking like unidentifiable blobs (he hoped he could charm you with his attempt, at least). He practiced his speech until the words left his mouth automatically, leaving no room for mistakes or blabbing.

And he hoped, God did he hope, that you would give him the time of your day and spare him of the misery of having you so close and not being able to touch.

But things started going south as soon as he reached the first step of the stairs up to their apartament and ran face first into Hoseok, carrying a bouquet of roses and a bag from the same bakery Jungkook had just visited.

They stared at each other in dumbfounded silence for a few seconds, seeing but not processing each other’s presence and what it meant until Hoseok said “What are you doing?”.

Jungkook spluttered indignantly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I said I was going to do!”

“So am I!”

A second passed and no one moved. One second later, Jungkook bolted up the stairs, followed by his cursing hyung as he hoped that his toned thighs would give him an advantage in the race for your heart.

“I should be the one to ask her out!” Hoseok yelled from five steps behind “I’ve known her the longest!”

“And did nothing!” the maknae replied, starting to break a sweat “It’s my turn! You lost, old man!”

“Old man? I’m only a couple years older than you! I’m Y/N’s age! Are you calling her old?”

That made Jungkook trip up a step, slowing down his ascent “No! At least I can call her noona! What can you call her, huh?”

“I don’t know what I’m calling her, but I know what I’m calling you when I’m throwing you down the stairs: an ambulance!”

“Better make sure they know how to fix your broken heart when she says yes to me!”

“And if she says no?”

***

And if she says no?

Rejection was never something Jin gave much thought about and he wasn’t about to start now.

It was less about the belief that no one could reject him (although the concept did seem foreign to most) and more about rejecting the idea of missing opportunities due to fear of rejection. He could move on from being denied something, but never from regretting not taking chances.

And maybe this was a chance worth taking. Maybe, he thought while still observing you from his death bed (the couch), he could allow a joke to grow into something bigger and get to know you a little better. You didn’t have to start dating and then get married right away, but he saw potential in your congruent personalities.

And what more could he ask from a woman besides a sense of humor and the ability to feed him without poisoning him? The universe had already handed you to him in a platter.

“Y/N” he called softly.

You raised your head from across the room and smiled softly, further finalizing his decision with the way your eyes lit up “Yes?”

“Go out with me.”

Your eyes widened in shock “What?”

“What?”

They turned their heads to the door, where Jungkook was pressed against it with eyes as big as saucers, holding it close with his weight before it burst open to a panting Hoseok and, in the back, an appalled Yoongi stepping out from the elevator.

“WHAT?”

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

Back Home Taglist: @luvtaeha ; @powiepow ; @sercyan ; @marvelovernfan ; @emberfulclass ; @sanjiroo ; @tinyoonsblog ; @mayla548 ;@dreamamubarakk ; @i-like-puppy-mg ; @akshstudios ; @familiarlikemymirror3 ; @onlythebest-106 ; @shyloh-the-cornsnake ; @billy-jeans23 ; @hwanggumchi ; @bangfantanfic ; @akshstudios ; @lovelycammy ; @cestlabellemort ; @lachimolala22019 ; @wtvbabes ; @taekritimin123 ; @kiki-zb ; @comingupwithacoolnameishard ; @sir-knight-slytherdor ; @toomuchtellyneck .

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jimin x reader

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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their ordinary life. 🏠

i am referencing this post which was allegedly shared in 2021. i like how it’s written and the cpn clues inserted, then making a whole story out of it. a reason why most of us love lrg and other rumor anecdotes is because it’s simple and shows what their day to day life is like. tho they are celebrities with extraordinarily busy lives, the thought of them just being zz and bobo is comforting and sweet. it may be confusing cause there are parts where they are both referenced as they. and then it will switch to “i” as if in the person’s first person pov.

all of this is fake & fanfiction…

they should have a cat and a dog. everyone knows the cat's name is Tao, the dog’s name also matches the cat very well, it’s called Lizi. it’s a puppy ZZ bought it on impulse, but in the end I had to give it to my mother in Chongqing to deal with the aftermath. they have a home in Beijing, with a room full of helmets and musical instruments. there is also a room equipped with a projector, with warm and artistic decoration. when the two people are tired, they can lie here and watch movies together. there is also a big LCD TV, two people playing games to decide the outcome and doing housework.

the kitchen should be well-equipped, but the storage of materials is not alot, both of them are busy and have little time to cook, but there should be someone that makes trouble while the other person is cooking, and the other person will teach. when that person was making hand cakes, he had a headache several times and wanted to curse.

the room they sleep in, well, the bedding must be of high quality, it must be very comfortable and considerate for two people who both have the habit of sleeping naked. someone should install a night light in the toilet so that people who are afraid of the dark can get up in the middle of the night. there will be lights as soon as the toilet is near. there should be a lot of things on the bedside, eye drops, stomach-protecting tablets, Ryukakusan, cough cough... In short, both of them takes good care of your body! there will be a light fragrance in the room. they are all people who love cleanliness, maybe it’s also due to the scented candles.

there is a huge closet, which could have been used as a styling area in the beginning. one will often buy several pieces at a time and wrap them up. the other will also complain that one person loves shopping so much that he is not frugal and knows how to organize his clothes regularly. it was painful to pick out an old model to wear, and taught another person: "See, this is okay. As for clothes, save money and don’t buy so much. You still have a mortgage. ” another smiled and didn’t say anything. clothes that smell like them over time are familiar and reassuring, as if they are by each other’s side. In this way, they give each other company. Sometimes the trip is too urgent and I don’t pay much attention. both people will pack the wrong clothes into their suitcases. there should also be a small gym, where two actors and teachers can work hard. One person is envious of another's eight-pack abs, and the other possesses someone's waist (don't ask me why I know it's possible because I am a barbell. )

both of them have been doing more and more endorsements, and they have a lot of products at home. when the two brothers are in a good mood, they take one out and play with it, jokingly calling it "opening a blind box." most of the time, they kept sending them to my family, and the family group was noisy.

the two of them still can't stay at home most of the time and are always on the road. yes, headphones are a common item. why? because they are used for making phone calls and watching videos and to chat online. I took out my mobile phone to complain after getting off work. i quickly called to tell him that I miss you. people’s true emotions finally have a safe and secure place. how good is this, just wanting someone who can always listen to me in my life. you act coquettishly. you can complain and cry.

i also surfed the Internet, but I just browsed casually, after all, it was all the same rainbow fart, I want to take some time to listen to that person blowing it to me. sometimes it’s annoying to see fans quarreling. i used my account number to tell them to stop arguing, but it didn’t work. just switch to my other account and fight bravely with heizi ( antis ) and lose. until the account was suspended and blocked, then I took screenshots and felt aggrieved. he said, "Baby, look at me, I've lost another number by helping you.". The other person was amused, and he was no longer troubled by the remarks.

the other side is also keen on surfing and secretly saves a lot of emoticons, all of which are like pigs. regarding this, after I sent it, I laughed so hard that I hit the table and couldn’t stop having fun. hey, of course you can hear the voice of someone screaming on the phone: "Why does it have to be a pig?" "I'm a leopard! Not a pig! You What a stinky rabbit!”

they will take care of eating, taking medicine, drinking water, and taking care of each other when they are sick. they will take good care of each other and care for each other. if you are disobedient, it will be known immediately, and you will be punished, and then you will obey because I want to live a long with the other person. if possible, I hope it will be the same in my next life.

he will also get jealous, lose his temper and act awkward. Alas, as an actor, he is still in the entertainment industry. what can I do? Buy gifts, buy food, make phone calls. if you want to talk, send WeChat, and send some updates and stuck points that fans can’t understand.

In the end, I still couldn't coax him, so I could only study how to fight authentically and run to see the other party. the time is very short, and you may only be able to stay in the car, room, or corner. i left after an hour or two, my temper was gone, and I kept looking at the other person. laugh, give a hug, hold hands for a walk, kiss, and talk for a long time. if it's been a long time, your eyes will inevitably turn red when you separate.

“Every time it’s so short, it’s hard to be separated, and I won’t be able to come next time.

“But I miss you.

"...I know, I'll come see you next time."

knowing that there will be an event for two people on the same stage will make them excited for a long time, and they will fall in love at public expense. love, doesn’t it feel good?

no matter what, they won’t understand the meaning of it anyway. meet backstage, eat a meal together, take ugly photos of each other while doing makeup, and fight. let’s sit together and look at our phones and chat about the current situation. the two people at the back looked right at each other when Fang doesn't speak, the staff will consciously go out and leave them alone.

think hard. I miss you even when I walk. I miss you when I sit. kiss the necklace that you bought for me, look at the blue sky and white clouds, draw a picture, then take the archeology test, and look at the other party’s dark history, snap screenshots and make emoticons and throw them over. it’s the happiness that only artists can have when they fall in love, don’t you understand~

regarding the public, the feeling of being watched by millions of people cheering and blessing that summer it’s really good. surrounded by love from all over the world, you will feel that there is nothing better than our happy couple. maybe, one day, wait for the rainbow to come. On that day, I am Lao Wang and he was Lao Xiao. We walked in front of everyone. before, he drew a story about us, told by me since I was 21 years old.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i feel so somft

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anilovie · 4 months

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Summary: you have a cold and Anakin lets you watch him tinker.

CW: fluff

WC: ~700 ?

A.N: this is completely self indulgent, nobody wanted this except for me. thank you to the engineer boy who snapchatted me step by step instructions on how to do this while he was at work so I didn’t haven’t to google it. a real one 🫶🏻.

Anakin Skywalker, who knows you don’t wanna stay in bed when you’re sick, so he suggests, “Wanna come help me work on some ships?”

It deludes you into thinking you’re actually doing something, when really you’re just sitting on a crate next to him while he’s on his back under the belly of each ship, reaching a hand out and requesting, “wrench, please?” every so often. he tries not to wince every time you cough wetly or sniffle or sneeze. he really wishes you would have just stayed in bed and rested, but you’re as stubborn as him, and this is the only way he could keep you out of work and keep a watchful eye on you.

“what’s that?” you ask, voice all congested and nasally. he thinks it’s oddly endearing.

“This,” he slides out from beneath the ship, holding the part he’d just disconnected from the bottom. “Is the engine block.” He stands to his feet, dragging his work table over so he can sit on the crate next to you. He explains each part as he disassembles it with quick, expert fingers. “The crankshaft comes out from the engine block— it’s what determines how much power the engine has. And then once that’s out, all these rods and pistons can come next…”

You have no idea what he’s saying, but you’re entranced by his endless knowledge.

“These rings come out of the pistons, and you can put them in the block to see how much oil the engine burns, and how much power it’ll make— and these are piston oilers, they cool the pistons and rods while the engine is running—“ and on, and on, and on. And on.

He gets lost in his own little world for a while. The both of you sit side by side silently, shoulders and thighs touching as he pulls apart little tiny metal pieces, telling you to “keep an eye” on some so you feel included, the only other sound being your occasional sniffles and coughs.

“What’re you doing now?” you rub a sleepy eye, curious as he begins to oil some parts and put them back together.

“mm, sorry, just lubing the bearings— I‘ve already put those in. They sit between the crank shaft and engine to keep it cool, they shouldn’t sit metal to metal. And now I’m just reinstalling the crank shaft— could you hand me those studs?” he rambles distractedly, narrating each step— caps installed into bearings, bearings installed into the crankshaft, crankshaft torqued tight into the engine block, rings placed on the pistons… it’s so complex, and you keep sneaking peeks at Anakin out of the corner of your eye as he explains, marveling at his intelligence.

“Now the top ring is most important— it holds compression and ultimately makes the power. You use a ring compressor to install it into the block, and then once it’s all put together, all you have to do is torque it up to spec.”

He lost you a long time ago, and he knows that. But he knows you like it when he tries to teach you these things, so he keeps going until he feels a soft weight settle on his shoulder. He peeks down to see your head lolled against his neck, your chest moving up and down slowly, arms hugged around yourself, finally fast asleep after fighting it for so long. his heart melts.

Not wanting to disturb you, he simply reaches for the robe he’d discarded on a table behind you and pulls it over your shoulders carefully, keeping you warm as he finishes up. he gentles his motions so he doesn’t jostle you, and makes sure the parts he’s working with don’t clang or click too loud.

Once he finishes, he douses his hands in cleaning agent— on the opposite side of his body so you’re not splashed— and dries them off with a towel. He slowly, gently slides his hands around you, shifting you so that your head is on his chest, cradling you in his arms so he can carry you back to your room. His robe is so big on you it almost swallows you whole, nearly dragging against the ground as he makes his way through the temple.

He settles you into bed, taking your shoes off and pulling the blankets up to your chin, tucking them in around you and standing back to just look at you for a moment. You’re so adorable, and he loves you so much, he just has to plant a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves you to rest.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin #anakin x reader fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x reader fic #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fic #fluffy anakin

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no-saints-around-here · 2 months

Note

I read Quiet Afternoon and I got to thinking, it says “tip his hand and break the sole unspoken rule he had held himself to for all these years to punish you.” Does this mean this is the first time Rindo has slept with bestie? If not, what was the first time/incident that caused Rindo to sleep with airhead best friend?

Masterlist | Quiet Afternoon

ahhh this became a lot longer then I anticipated - wrote a short fic at the bottom cause I thought it would explain what happened much better than just word vomit!

‎‎

To answer the question first: no. Its not Rindo's first time, not by a long shot.

That line is more so that Rindo is a delusional and unreliable narrator when it comes to his bestie: that is delusional and unreliable on a good day, and straight up in denial on having even held hands with you, let alone touched you, on a bad one. And this is also when this boy is at his most dangerous, willing to do anything to anyone, Ran included, to prove to himself that he was your best friend and nothing more, that you were still his sweet, naive, innocent airhead who he found especially annoying.

If you squint really hard at the implications of Rindo installing a soundproof door on his first day of moving into Bonten HQ, together with how well this boy already knows your body and your patterns by the time of the events of Quiet Afternoon, you may be able to infer that its definitely not your first tango, even if Rindo insists it is (no sweat if you didn't though, it was really very, very subtle on purpose).

And no one knows this fact better than Ran, given the older Haitani was the precise reason your purple-haired Bonten friend first broke rank against his better sense.

Rindo’s breaking point came sometime during your stardom period. All started going downhill when he reluctantly allowed you to continue to perform as an idol against his judgement on the basis of just how happy it made you - it had always been hard for this baby boy to deny you anything you wanted, and fresh out of another stint in jail, the delinquent-turn-yakuza was eager to make up for his time away from you. And this was on top of the weak spot he always had for your pouting, so no surprise that he caves as soon as you started to look the slightest bit down about having to leave your little gig so quickly after starting.

One of the caveats he does put in place in exchange for indulging you is that he is now personally in charge of your security, and that the rest of your bodyguards were from Bonten. No exceptions. Absolutely does not trust your ‘agency’ or whatever other maggots that you choose to surround yourself with, and so will take it upon himself to accompany you everywhere, to stand guard outside your changing room when he absolutely couldn’t be inside with you, fly with you everywhere you go. But of course this also means that he has to take time off work to do so, and that meant convincing Mikey to let him do so. Ran finds it amusing to what length his younger brother will go to keep you by his side (cough begging and grovelling in front of Mikey), promising that you could help to launder their money and what not. Mikey honestly couldn’t care even a lick, as long as Rindo takes the work in whatever country he ends up in.

Yet for all that he has done for you, the honeymoon period lasts only a good 6 months before everything fell apart. Rindo thought he had a good handle on things, but never has he been so under-prepared when it finally strikes your best friend just how massively popular you had become in such a short period. Everywhere you went, no matter where you toured, your concerts were all full, stuffed to the brim with fans. And oh how he detested that word.

Fans. Rabid, like mad dogs. Decked out in merchandise bearing your face and name, screaming at the stage hoping for even a smudge of your attention. even coming to the concert venue early hoping to get a glimpse of you.

Scum of the earth, how dare they ask for more than getting to breathe the same air as you?

How dare they demand more?!

The resentment of your adoring masses only built up more and more in Rindo, having to watch from the sidelines as you enthusiastically shook hands and thanked your fans for your support, dancing for them and winking at them. Like you were some sort of whore putting yourself on show for the world. Rindo would never stand for this, not for his best friend, yet he still gritted his teeth; for reasons beyond him, you were enjoying this, enjoying shaking your ass and chest at the unwashed insects.

And then all hell finally broke loose upon one of your returns to Japan after another of your tours.

‎‎

All Downhill from Here

"Let. Me. Go," Rindo hissed as he was manhandled away from the still buzzing arrival hall by a rather amused Ran, his twisting and struggling to break free from the other’s grasp to no avail. "I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him, and then I'll kill you."

The older Haitani sighed as he continued to force his younger brother along the otherwise empty corridor. "And that is precisely why we are in this situation."

And as usual, to none of their surprise, you were at the center of it all, though your airheaded presence that Rindo’s world revolved around was nowhere in sight, having already been sent ahead to the meeting point without your best friend’s knowledge. The hallway echoed with the clicks of their shoes, joined occasionally by the buzz of machinery as they passed and the hum of air-conditioning overhead. If he had known what the day was going to bring, Ran mused, he would have proposed doing this from the start; after all, airport staff were easier to disperse and keep away compared to the hordes of fans that you attract everywhere you go, and these staff corridors were rather convenient, snaking throughout the airport and away from the public eye.

Rindo’s cursing and swearing went in one ear and out the other as Ran continued to daydream, though the man couldn’t quite blame his unusually hot-tempered younger brother either. After all, it had been the continuous build up of months of stress, having to deal with you and your little idol gig that you insisted you wanted to keep, and this latest incident was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A huff as Rindo finally gave up on his failed escape, his shoulders relaxing in the armlock he had been held in for the past fifteen minutes.

Ran raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

”Yeah. Let me go.”

“You sure?”

”Fuck you, I’ll get that shitstain later.”

Which was exactly what the older of the brothers wanted to hear, Ran nodding as he released Rindo without another word. Shitstain was putting it lightly in his opinion, considering how much trouble he had caused in the span of a single minute - but it wasn’t his problem to solve. As long as Rindo wasn’t attempting to pull a gun in front of the police and the public to settle his little lover’s quarrel, Ran couldn’t quite care what happened to another nobody.

Ran jerked his chin down the corridor. “She’s two doors down to the right. Security escorted her there earlier.” The room was already demarcated as yours, what with two Bonten grunts flanking each side, but he thought it would be better to make it clear, given Rindo’s state of mind.

His younger brother was already gone before he could finish his sentence, and all Ran received as a thank you for his hard work was the slam of the door.

Ah, siblings.

‎‎

Rindo didn’t quite see it as lightly as Ran did.

This past day had already been particularly hellish for him by any standard measurement. It all started with the last concert of your first tour two nights ago - he had been watching from backstage, as he always did, when your skirt had ripped during your second song. The sound of cloth tearing reached his ears even over the sound of the throbbing music. He had confirmed as much when you finally returned to him waiting for you in the dressing room during the intermission, which only sealed the suspicions that churned in his sinking gut: at just the right angle, you would have flashed the fans in the first few rows, his wretched older brother seated in the VIP box included. Even if he had made you put on a new, longer skirt, it was already too late.

And then when he had tried to drill into you about the importance of keeping your distance from those lowlives least you catch something nasty, you hadn’t taken his concerns quite as seriously as he had hoped, laughing and beaming back at him, patting his hand reassuringly and trying to convince him that they were harmless. Strike 1.

He didn’t know what he expected, Rindo had to admit to himself; you had always been such an airhead, even since childhood when he first met you. You probably wouldn’t even have survived for so long if the younger Haitani hadn’t take you under his wing as his best friend, and the least you could do to pay him back was to listen to him. All he asked was for you to stay close to him and far away from everyone else, especially Ran.

Sure, there were times like this where Rindo would be forced to allow Ran to inhabit the same space as you - seeing as his older brother had attended your concert and similarly happened to be heading back to Bonten HQ, the three of you had to share the jet - but of all the people to turn up cheekly waving merchandise with your face and name plastered all over? Well, he did say that you were one of the best he’s seen in a while, but still. The man with the short purple hair did it on purpose, Rindo was certain, and definitely to trigger an outburst from him; if you hadn’t been present, he would have strangled Ran himself for bringing up how good you looked on stage (now he was certain Ran saw your panty flashing). Strike 2.

‎

It was without a doubt that your best friend was already rather on edge as the jet finally landed back in Tokyo. It was supposed to be a secret when you would arrive, which meant that there were fans behind barricades eagerly awaiting your appearance outside the airport. Sure, fine. You were famous, whatever, Rindo could hardly bother. But what broke his dam was a single unruly fan. One man, decked out from head to toe in merchandise spouting your name and face, who had decided for very clear, unacceptable reasons to jump the fence in an attempt to ambush you. And the vein that had been throbbing on Rindo’s forehead all day finally burst. Strike 3.

If Ran hadn’t been a second faster to grip and restrain his hand, Rindo would have shot him dead before security could grab the assailant.

And the missed opportunity continued to haunt him despite thirty minutes having already passed and nothing having happened to you, the sheer anger he had felt in that moment surging through his veins once more as Rindo stalked down the corridor, leaving Ran to talk at his back. Sure, he was going to arrange to have that scum erased, yet the upcoming torture wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. Because how dare he? How dare that unworthy insect you called a fan even think of laying a finger on you?

And then the heartstopping fear that chilled him to his bones that followed - what about you?

Throwing open the door and seeing your back turned to him only reinforced his sudden onset of fear, the closing of the door behind him reverberating in his ears. You were too naive, too stupid to think beyond your next meal, but what if there was someone else in the picture? Could it be that you had laughed away his concerns earlier because someone else told you so? Could it be that you continued to indulge others because you were being influenced? Could it be?

It had to be, Rindo gulped, as you finally acknowledged him, standing from your small seat and waving eagerly. Someone must have gotten to you while he was locked away in prison, brainwashing you into abandoning him and running off with them. Or worse, with Ran.

He couldn’t hear any of the words you were speaking at him, trapped in the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, his body numb as you tugged him over to the small comfy corner that the airport staff had set up for you.

Nothing went in, Rindo staring blankly at you, though you seemed to have failed to notice your friend’s inaction until you tried to get his attention.

”-n! Rin-rin!! Hello?”

The Bonten executive blinked, awakening to your curious face taking up his entire view.

“Rin-rinnnnn.”

Rindo simply stood suddenly, forcing you to back away, though a beam quickly replaced your surprised expression. A quick glance around the room told him that it was empty of cameras, and he was certain enough that the grunts outside had ensured as much - they were, after all, the ones who would pay with their lives should the police ever become involved. “Bend over the table and pull down your skirt,” he ordered, though he didn’t wait for you to register his instruction, instead already moving to gently guide you.

He had to make sure that you knew who you belonged to, and no matter how much your best friend dreaded what he was going to do to you next, it was necessary. You couldn’t be trusted to know up from down, let alone keep yourself safe and away from those who wanted to do your harm. From those who wanted to see you separated from him.

“Okay!” You cheerfully agreed. “What are we doing?”

Needless to say, this fateful day was the start of the end of your career as an idol. You had a good run while it lasted.

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suddencolds · 3 months

Text

The Worst Timing | [4/?]

happy friday, everyone! here is part 4 (5.3k words) as a little pre-valentines-day installment :) [part 1] is here! this chapter was a pain to edit; i think i deleted + rewrote about a fifth of it in the revision process

anyways, i promised this chapter would be the wedding, so... please enjoy the wedding

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

It’s a hectic morning.

Yves wakes up with the sinking realization that the medicine he took yesterday has worn off entirely. That is to say, he wakes up with the kind of unshakeable exhaustion he only feels when he’s coming down with something bad. His head is throbbing—sharp, cutting pain lances through his skull as soon as he finds it in himself to get out of bed.

All of that is inconsequential. He takes two pills from the cold/flu medicine blister pack with a generous few sips of water, brushes his teeth, washes his face in the sink with water cold enough to jolt him awake, and heads out.

He finds Aimee early, to ask her if she needs any help with anything. Then he makes himself available to the relatives that need him. There’s a last minute printing issue with the seating cards, so he goes through all of them again, finds the ones that are misprinted, talks extensively with the hotel’s front desk to explain what selection he needs to get reprinted and why, gets redirected towards the hotel’s business center, and finally gets them reprinted properly in one of the storerooms in the back. He lines the cards up and cuts them manually with a paper cutter he finds in one of the conference rooms on the first floor.

Then he takes a shuttle to the wedding venue to help set out all the seating cards according to a seating plan Genevieve texts him, but it’s windy enough outside that he has to find a way to weigh them all down. The venue has card holder stands, thankfully, but he doesn’t figure that out until he spends a good fifteen minutes asking around for them.

Then he waits twenty minutes in the cold for the shuttle back—the shuttles are thankfully in operation, but they’re running infrequently enough at this hour to be a slight inconvenience. By the time he gets on the shuttle, he’s shivering hard, even in his jacket, and his hands are almost numb from the cold.

The temperature certainly doesn’t help with the pressure in his sinuses, or with the sore throat that he’s had for a few days now. Perhaps it’s a blessing that the shuttle is near-empty save for him, because no one is there to question it when he ducks into his elbow with every loud, wrenching sneeze, or the coughing fit that almost inevitably follows.

When he gets back, he finds a sewing kit for Roy’s sister, Solaine—they don’t sell them at the convenience store downstairs, but he finds some in one of the tourist shops on the opposite end of the first floor of the hotel—for some last minute fixes to the way it’s hemmed. He delivers some safety pins from Victoire to one of his aunts, picks up breakfast pastries from the café across the street for his parents.

He takes a quick, hot shower, hot enough that the entire bathroom steams up because of it, and hopes that no one can hear the way every sneeze sounds so terribly, unnecessarily loud, even in the presence of his rapidly depleting voice. He rehearses his speech from memory and then rehearses it again, thinking through his notes on the pauses and the reflections. He irons his suit out, for good measure.

If he stops and lingers too long, it becomes quickly evident just how exhausted he is, just how unwell he feels when there’s nothing strictly keeping him on his feet. So instead, he makes himself useful where he can, busies himself with whatever he finds, if only because it’s the best distraction he can think of—if only because it’s the one distraction he has the luxury to take.

—

Lunch is a quick affair—he’s not especially hungry, and there will be more than enough food at the reception, so he grabs two pastries from downstairs, a coffee with two shots of espresso, and heads back up. Sitting down and eating them in the hotel room is somehow worse than running errands—like this, he can’t chalk his exhaustion up to his hectic morning, can’t attribute the heavy, shivery feeling that’s been following him all day the cold weather outside.

Three more hours until the wedding. Anticipation always feels the worst, like this, when it’s nearly inseparable from worry—just a tangle of emotions in his chest.

He exhales.

Vincent is off—somewhere. Getting lunch, maybe, or getting ready for the wedding somewhere else. Yves has exchanged maybe all of twenty words with him this morning—do you know if our room has a sewing kit? Or, I’m going to stop by the café downstairs. Do you want me to get you anything?

Truthfully, Yves isn’t feeling much better today. His nose is running a little less now, thanks to the cold medicine, but the headache that he’s had all morning hasn’t gotten any less persistent. Even with his suit jacket on, he still can’t quite manage to get warm. He’s sneezing a little less, but each sneeze catches him off guard, harsh and sudden and embarrassingly loud.

But Vincent—who is, on average, unusually perceptive—hasn’t said anything about any of it. Yves tries not to think too hard about it. The less Vincent is worried about him, the better. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with other things.

He finishes his pastries at the small coffee table in the living room, downs half of his coffee, and then leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes.

His head hurts. He feels dizzy, even though he’s sitting perfectly still—as if the ground beneath him isn’t quite as steady as it should be—a strange feeling of vertigo. Surely if he sits here for just awhile longer, that feeling will go away.

He doesn’t fall asleep, exactly, but it’s a close thing. The discomfort doesn’t let up, either—no amount of massaging his temples seems to make the headache any better, and no amount of shuteye seems to do anything to lessen the exhaustion he feels. Maybe if he takes a nap he’ll wake up feeling passably fine. But he thinks it’s just as likely that he’ll get woken up early—by a phone call, or a text, or a knock on the door—to be told that he’s needed somewhere, and that alone is enough of a deterrent to keep him from properly falling asleep.

From somewhere at the edge of consciousness, he hears footsteps out in the hallway.

Someone’s here, then. He should let them in. But before he can bring himself to stand up and head over to the door, he hears the sound of the room card being inserted into its slot, hears the click of the door as it unlocks.

Someone—Vincent—shuts the door quietly behind him. When he spots Yves, he looks a little surprised.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says.

Yves blinks. His face feels unusually hot. “I got lunch,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, I fidished it, but if I’d known you’d be getting back, I would’ve gotten somethidg for you.”

“I’m surprised you made it back,” Vincent says, leaving his shoes in a neat line at the door. “Are you done putting out all the fires now?” Yves laughs, though it turns into a cough. “For the foreseeable future, yes. Sorry i— hhH!” He twists over his shoulder, away from Vincent, to cover the sneeze in a manner that does not come at the expense of his suit jacket. “hHh-! iiDDzschh-IEW! snf-! Sorry I’ve barely been around this mornidg.”

Vincent is his own person—Yves has no doubt that he’s entirely self-sufficient when it comes to travel—but still, Yves is the only person Vincent really knows here. He’s not sure he can claim he’d be good company in his current state, but he feels like maybe he ought to be around more often—to translate, or to serve as the conversational buffer, or something else.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says, frowning. “You were busy.”

“Still. If we were actually datidg, I think this would make me a slightly terrible boyfriend.”

“If we were actually dating, I would understand that you have important things in your life to attend to,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “Like cutting sixty sheets of paper into even rectangles?”

“Is that what you were out doing all morning?”

“Among other things.”

“Then yes,” Vincent says. He stops just short of the coffee table where Yves is sitting. “Are you finally off of paper-cutting duty?”

“God, I hope so. Weddings are always so hectic, even if you’re only peripherally idvolved. It’s like everyone’s worried about things going wrong beforehand, but then when you finally get to them, they always go fine.”

“Have you been to a lot of weddings in your life?”

Yves considers this. “Cobpared to the average person? Probably.”

“Then you should listen to your own advice,” Vincent tells him.

“What?”

“It’s going to be fine.”

Yves blinks. If Vincent can tell that he is nervous after a three minute conversation with him, then Yves must really not be doing a good job at hiding it.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he says. He really is tired. Maybe another cup of coffee, or two, will help—he can hardly think of anything more mortifying than nodding off halfway through the vows. “I don’t think I’ll forgive mbyself if it doesn’t.”

—

It’s a near-perfect wedding.

The weather is as temperate as it gets at this time of year. It’s sunny out, and brisk enough that no one feels stuffy in their suit jackets and their summer dresses.

The wedding venue is like something out of a storybook—the white stone paths, arcing around a circular fountain, the water a clear, searing blue; the rows and rows of flowers that crowd around it. Flowers—roses, peonies, tulips, gardenias—line the walkways, strung up over arches in crisscrossing rows of sprawling green leaves.

When Aimee and Genevieve walk down the aisle, Leon grins; Victoire turns away to wipe at her eyes. When they say their vows, Yves feels a tightness in his chest, a fierce sort of pride. He knew, of course, that this moment would make him emotional.

But nothing compares to seeing them here, right here, smiling. Aimee’s hair is half up, half down, held in place with a half moon clip that winks white under the sunshine. Genevieve is wearing a long white dress—her hair is braided into a crown, threaded with flowers, a translucent lace veil settling over her shoulders. The afternoon sunlight trickles over them, gleaming. And Yves—

Yves has always believed in love.

Perhaps it’s overly idealistic—he’s certainly been told as much before—but he believes in it still. He believed in it even before he started dating Erika, and he believed in it after they broke up, too. It’s not so much the idea that people can be soulmates, more the idea that people can spend thirty or fifty or seventy years together and not tire of each other, the idea that the little mundanities of life might be made special in the presence of someone whose existence sublimates them endlessly into interest. The idea that two people who may not ever fully understand each other might try, ceaselessly, to get close.

He remembers: hearing about Genevieve, over text and over call; at first peripherally, but then frequently. He regrets, sometimes, that he wasn’t there more for the both of them, that he could only help from an ocean away with celebrations and holidays and special events, that he still doesn’t know Genevieve as well as he’d like to.

But a part of him thinks, now, that maybe it was a privilege, too, watching from afar. Hearing about the dates secondhand, from Aimee, all of it filtered through her own excitement—hearing Aimee talk about everything that left an impression on her. It would have been different, of course, if he had really been there. But in a way, it is a little fitting that his first impression of Genevieve—his first mental portrait of her—was by someone who was already already half in love with her.

And he remembers: Aimee, unusually quiet one night over Facetime, sitting cross legged in the living room of their new apartment. The world, dark outside through the living room windows, even though for him it was only mid afternoon. The way she’d smiled, wistful, staring off into the distance at some point he couldn’t see. I think I might marry her, she had said.

She had said it like she was certain. He finds himself going back to that moment, to her certainty. He’s always wondered—how had she known? How had she been so sure of it, even then?

But the way Genevieve takes Aimee’s hands, during the vow—the way her hands tremble slightly with it, the particular carefulness with which she handles the ring—all of it makes him think that he’s been right to believe in this, in them, in love. After all, what more convincing proof is there than this?

—

All in all, it is nearly perfect.

Nearly, save for how unwell he feels, how self conscious he is about not making it expressly known. Yves shivers through the entire ceremony, occasionally lifting the collar of his suit jacket to muffle a harsh, wrenching sneeze into the fabric. He’ll get it dry cleaned later. Beside him, Vincent looks to him, his head tilted in question—and, after Yves smiles apologetically at him—says nothing.

He makes it through, as a combination of everything—the adrenaline, the cold medicine, the four espressos he’d had this morning and the energy drink he’d downed right before the ceremony to keep himself awake.

He doesn’t have a thermometer, doesn’t know what kind of temperature he’s running, but he has a hunch that it’s higher than it should be. It’s freezing outside—cold enough that he can’t keep himself from shivering, even when he tries—but no one else seems to be as cold as he is. He can only hope, now, that no one else notices him ducking into his jacket, periodically, to catch another sneeze, or wiping his nose on the back of his hand to keep it from openly running.

The world looks fever-bright, fuzzy around some edges but unusually sharp around others. He’s awake, but in the sort of uncomfortable, all-consuming way where it feels like he’s too nervous to get any sleep at all.

He feels only half-present during the cocktail hour, while Aimee and Genevieve take their pictures. He thinks he should make himself useful somehow—help with positioning props for photos or with setting up the proper lighting or whatever else—or, at the very least, converse with the relatives that he hasn’t had much of a chance to catch up with yet.

Instead, he sits, half hunched over at one of the side tables, and tries not to shiver too visibly. His head hurts with the sort of sharp, incessant pain that makes it near-impossible to focus on anything else.

“Are you okay?” Vincent asks him.

Yves looks over to him. Vincent looks concerned—his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth set into a frown—and Yves—

Yves considers it, for a moment: telling Vincent the truth. That it’s taking everything in him to appear even remotely presentable. That a part of him is nervous that he’ll crash before he gives his speech. That he might have overestimated his own ability to get through four more hours of this, outside in the cold.

“Of course,” he says instead, with the best smile he can muster, because what else is there to say?

He doesn’t end up having any drinks, even though he’s usually a fan of cocktails. Leon offers him one, and when Yves shakes his head, shrugs and heads off to find someone else, which Yves thinks is probably the best. He’s a little too out of it to keep tabs on where all the others are—there are enough people that it’d be hard to spot everyone in the first place, but like this, it feels impossible.

And Vincent is… surprisingly, absent, for much of it. Yves considers texting him a couple times, just to see where he might be, but then decides against it. If Vincent has found something fun to do, then Yves definitely isn’t going to keep him from doing it.

Except, a small part of him says, he’d explicitly told Vincent not to worry about him. It doesn’t have to be your problem, he’d said, and Vincent had stared back at him, blankly, except was his expression really blank, then? Hadn’t he seemed a little hurt? After all of this is over, Yves really ought to apologize to him for all of the trouble—for making this whole wedding a lot more stressful than it should’ve been.

Vincent had known, after all, that he was nervous just this morning, even though Yves hadn’t wanted for it to show. And perhaps Vincent has always been perceptive, but Yves likes to think he isn’t always so obvious. Vincent is here to enjoy his vacation in France, first and foremost. Yves doesn’t want anything—not the fever he feels brewing, not the nervousness he feels regarding the wedding—to get in the way of that.

But right now, Vincent is nowhere to be found, so he tables the apology for later. For now, he just has to get through the entirety of the wedding. He spends a good part of the hour in the same seat, blowing his nose into cocktail napkins, wishing he had packed something warmer that would fit the dress code.

He makes polite conversation with whoever stops by, and tries—and fails—to ignore the fact that it feels like his head is going to split. Maybe he should’ve picked up some aspirin at the convenience store, too, though it’s not like he has the time to go back and get it now. And, anyways, as painful as it is, it’s really just a headache. How bad could it be?

—

At six, he finds his seat for dinner. A couple minutes later, Vincent takes a seat next to him. Yves turns to speak to him, only, he has to turn away to muffle a throat-scraping fit of coughs into his elbow.

The coughing fit lasts longer than he anticipates. When he looks up at last, Vincent is already in conversation with the person next to him, who Yves recognizes to be one of Genevieve’s friends—perhaps one of the ones he ate dinner with the night before, though Yves can’t be sure. Yves hunts down another cocktail napkin to blow his nose into—it’s starting to run worse now that the sun is starting to set.

When it comes time to give his toast, he’s afraid, for a moment, that he might forget what to say. That he might trip up mid-speech, despite all of the practice. That his current affliction might make itself clearly, embarrassingly apparent right when everyone’s attention is focused on him.

But the speech goes well. He gives his speech in French. His voice is noticeably off, but he hasn’t lost it entirely, and if he has to resort to clearing his throat as quietly as he can in between sentences, it’s a small sacrifice. Aimee giggles at the anecdote he tells about her in grad school, texting him about meeting Genevieve for the first time at a networking event. He throws in a couple inside jokes—references to things he’s heard his extended family laugh about during their yearly summer reunions, things that he can tie back into the wedding that he hopes might land well with this audience—and then he tells everyone about a surprise party he worked with Genevieve to plan, last summer, for Aimee’s birthday: how she’d stayed up late to make sure everything was carefully accounted for. How he’d known, then, from how seriously she was taking it, by how well she seemed to know Aimee already, that she would be the one.

The jokes seem to land, for the way everyone—buoyed from the adrenaline of the wedding and in part thanks to the cocktails, he’s sure—laughs, and by the end, Genevieve is beaming, and Aimee breaks tradition to run up to him and give him a tight hug. After that, he asks everyone to raise their glasses in a toast—“To Aimee and Genevieve,” he says, “what a joy it is to see the team you’ve been rooting for win,” and the room erupts into clamor—into applause and cheer and the resounding clinking of glasses.

Then someone he recognizes as one of Genevieve’s closest friends stands to give her toast, and for the first time today, Yves lets himself relax in his seat. Only, it isn’t really relaxing—after all of the caffeine, he feels simultaneously exhausted and strangely, artificially alert, in a way that feels a little wrong.

The rest of the wedding should be smooth sailing, he thinks. The ceremony is over. His speech was fine. He just needs to stay through dinner and the cake cutting, and then he can ride the shuttle back with everyone else, and then—

—And then he’ll be back at his hotel room, where he can apologize to Vincent for perhaps being the very reason why this vacation hasn’t been as stress-free as it should’ve been, considering that it’s likely one of the few reprieves he and Vincent are supposed to get until busy season winds down.

He blinks, rubs a hand over his face, sniffling. He really does feel dizzy.

It’s usually like this. Yves thinks he should probably be wiser by now. If there’s anything he’s learned from past experiences—attending that end-of-semester crew meeting with the flu, or getting through the second half of finals week his senior year of university with a high fever—it’s that half a week of ignoring all of his symptoms is going to catch up to him eventually.

Usually he’s better at defining what constitutes eventually.

He feels a familiar prickle in his nose—the kind that he knows once he gives in to will plague him for the rest of the hour. The cold medicine must be wearing off. Better to do this elsewhere—anywhere instead of here, on the courtyard, where everyone is eating dinner.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Vincent. Then, without waiting for a response, he rises from his seat and heads off in the direction of the nearest restroom. There’s one in the main building, past the catering stations, the ballroom, the indoor bar.

“Hey, Yves,” someone—his sister—says, when he’s halfway to the building.

He stops walking. “What’s up?”

“You nailed that speech,” she says.

“In no small part thadks to you,” Yves says, forcing himself to turn and face her with a smile. “I’m glad we cut it down. And by we I mean, mostly you.”

“You were a hit,” Victoire says. “And it was funny. I liked the anecdotes you picked. I don’t think people would’ve minded if it were longer.”

“Three mbidutes was the perfect length. Ady longer and people would’ve started losidg idterest— hHh-!” Yves thinks, a little frustratedly, that he always has the most inconvenient timing. “Excuse mbe, I— HHehh!” He lifts his arm to his face, twisting away. “hHhEH’iiDZSSchh’iiEW!”

When he turns back around to face her, Victoire is staring at him with the sort of calculating look that Yves is sure is not a good thing.

“You’re still sick?” she asks.

He blinks at her. “A little,” he says. “I’ll get some sleep todight.”

She nods. “Does Vincent know?”

The question startles him into laughing, which he immediately regrets, for the way it makes him cough. “That I’mb sick?” he asks. “Yeah, I’d assume so. We share a room.”

“Assume? So you haven’t talked to him about it?”

“Whether or ndot I have a cold is not the mbost enthralling conversation topic,” Yves says.

“But you’re dating,” she says, as if that explains everything.

It explains nothing. “Yes, glad you ndoticed.”

“I just mean that — I mean, he got breakfast with us the other day, which you weren’t there for, and then we had the rehearsal dinner, which he wasn’t invited to. And during the cocktail hour, you were sitting alone.”

“I’mb not sure where you’re goidg with this,” Yves says, if only because he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now. “But if you’re wondering whether—” He veers away again, pressing his arm to his face. “hh… Hehh-! hhHH’GKTT-SHHiiew!Ugh, sorry… Hh… HEHh’IIDZZSCHh-yyEEew! snf-! If you’re wondering whether we got into a fight, or sobething, then the answer is no.”

“It’s not that.” Victoire hesitates, for a moment, as if she’s still thinking about what to say. She probably is. She’s always been deliberate with her words. “It kind of seems like—well, like you’re doing that thing you always do.”

“What thidg I always do?”

“You know.” She looks at him, her expression carefully, deceptively neutral. “Avoiding the people who care about you when something’s wrong.”

“I have ndo idea what you’re talking about.” Yves glances wistfully over to the bathroom. “I do really ndeed to pee, you know.”

He half expects her to press, but she just sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Don’t let me keep you.”

It’s a convenient out, and he takes it. The walk over is thankfully not too long—the bathroom turns out to be located just a couple hallways down from the entrance, but it’s hidden enough that it’s a little hard to find. For now, that’s a good thing.

He imagines the wedding party might move inside shortly after dinner, but as it stands, the building is mercifully empty. The restroom on the first floor is nicer than expected—warm lighting, floor to ceiling mirrors, polished white sinks on a black granite countertop. He braces himself against the countertop, suppressing another shiver.

His nose is running slightly. He reaches over and grabs a couple paper towels from the dispenser, just to be safe.

It’s not a moment too early. It’s only moments after that he’s pitching forwards into the paper towels with a harsh—

“HhH’iiDZSSCHh-IIEW!”

The sound echoes off the tiled walls. Yves finds himself coughing, afterwards. The medicine must really be wearing off, then, for the way his nose is starting to run incessantly—for the way the discomfort prickles at his skin, suggesting a fever. It’s a good thing there’s no one here to see him like this.

“hHEHh’iIZssCHH-iiEW! snf-! hHEh… HDDt’TSSCHH-iEEW!” The sneezes are harsher than usual, too, and forceful enough to snap him forward at the waist. He stays hunched over for a moment, steadying himself with the side of the countertop, and tries, somewhat unsuccessfully, to catch his breath.

The bathroom feels frigidly cold. He shivers, reaches up with trembling hands to try to button up his suit. His nose is starting to tickle again. It feels like he might be here forever, like one wrong breath might be enough to—

“hhH…. hHEH…. hhHEH’DJJJSHH’iiEEW!” The paper towels in his hand must be drenched now, but before he can get a chance to replace them, his breath catches again. “hhEH’GKTT-SHhhEw!” It’s immediately clear, from the subsequent twinge in his nose, that he’s not done. For a moment, he wonders if the sneezes will ever let up—if he’ll be stuck in the bathroom all evening, trying to keep his illness under wraps.

Before he can entertain the thought properly, he finds himself jerking forward again, his eyes snapping shut—

“Hehh… hEHh’IIZSCHH-YYEEW! hHihhH’-iiTsSHHH-YYEW!”

He blows his nose, as gently as he can, but the paper towel is rougher against his skin. When he looks up afterwards, blinking tears out of his vision, his nose looks noticeably red.

It takes all the resolve in him to not just slump against the wall.

His next breath comes in wrong, and he finds himself coughing—harsh, grating coughs which seem to go on and on, leaving him feeling distinctly lightheaded.

He can’t stay here. He needs to make it back to dinner, where the others are waiting for him. He has to get back before Vincent starts wondering where he’s gone.

Yves squeezes his eyes shut. If he’s being honest with himself, he feels awful. Nothing he does seems to do anything to assuage the chill that’s settled persistently over him, the uncomfortable, shivery feeling that makes him want to curl up somewhere warm, sleep the next day and a half away.

Would it be so bad for him to stay here for just a little longer? To send a text to Vincent to let him know he’ll be back in twenty? It’s not the most comfortable of places, but it would be the easiest to explain if someone ends up finding him here. Anywhere else might suggest that he has a big enough problem to deliberately hide away instead of properly enjoying the festivities, like he should be doing, which is not the impression he wants to give off at all.

He tries to think of a convincing enough excuse, but nothing he can think of takes precedence over a wedding dinner, of all things. It should be fine if he goes back now, but any longer might be pushing things.

And, anyways, he feels guilty for even considering it. The others are waiting for him. He has to show up, and at the very least, be courteous where he has to, make pleasant conversation when he can. He has to make sure Aimee and Genevieve are having fun, and that Leon and Victoire are doing fine, and that nothing needs to get done logistically, and that Vincent is not there alone, surrounded by strangers speaking a language he’s just started to learn.

His head is pounding. He tosses the paper towels into the bin, leans his weight against the countertop, squeezes his eyes shut. The exhaustion from the past few days of on-and-off sleep must be catching up with him. His head is pounding.

He can do this. More aptly put, it’s not a question of whether he can. He has to do this.

He splashes his face with cold water, washes his hands in the sink, dries his face with another generous handful of paper towels, and heads towards the door. He feels almost too tired to stand, but that’s only a temporary concern. It won’t be a problem once he gets back to his seat.

Everyone is waiting for him, he tells himself. Soon, they might be asking where he’s gone. He needs to show them that he’s there—present and attentive and engaged, just like he promised everyone he’d be. No one expects any less of him, after all.

It’s with that in mind that he presses forward. He makes it down a couple hallways before he finds himself having to lean against the wall to catch his balance, shutting his eyes against the sudden wave of disorientation. He inhales, slowly. Exhales.

Fuck. Perhaps he’s dizzier than he’d expected.

“Yves?” He freezes. Vincent is not supposed to be here. Vincent can’t see him right now, not in this state. He forces himself to smile. “What’s up?”

“You disappeared,” Vincent says. “I wanted to make sure…”

His voice shutters, sounding distant and close by all at once. “...that everything was okay.”

“It is,” Yves says. “I was just about to head back.” “We can head back together,” Vincent says. It’s not that long of a walk—just a couple minutes, at most, to the exit Vincent presumably came in from, and then back down the stone path that leads to the courtyard.

“You didn’t have to come find me. I’m really fine.” Yves shifts his weight off from the wall. Takes a couple steps halting towards the exit, which is a mistake.

It all registers simultaneously: the darkness encroaching upon the edges of his vision, the surge of panic in his chest. The world, suddenly angled wrongly, tilts towards him. He thinks he is definitely going to owe Vincent an apology.

[ Part 5 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #spoilers for this chapter ahead:#(do not read these tags if you have not read the chapter yet)#(one more line so that this doesn't show up unless you click read more)#i... am sorry. i know the ending to this chapter is probably going to be controversial (glances at the poll i made awhile back)#but i really wanted to write it 😭#(you are free to yell at me for this decision)#i almost lost my nerve and let this sit in my drafts forever because the wedding was incredibly difficult to write but #i finished editing it today after drinking something very caffeinated #yvverse #my fic

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justatasteofyourpoison · 1 month

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Revelations at Club Consent…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem reader fanfiction)

Part 4

I had so much fun writing this! Hoping I’ve done the characters justice. No Alastor or smut this time, but he’ll be back in a few instalments. ;)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Plot: You, Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb and Sir Pentious are out on the town. A little heart to heart with Angel Dust leaves you with questions…

Warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, suggestions of abuse, fluff.

Word count: 1k ish

It was Thursday night and the atmosphere in Consent was electric. The bass was pumping and the place was filled with couples (and throuples and…) leading each other off into the various rooms for some consensual fun. You, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb had decided that a night on the town was long overdue and Consent was usually your final pit stop. Alastor was doing one of his “late night broadcasts”, the first one in a long time. This only meant one thing; there would be some “new voices” on his show tonight…

“I can’t believe you aren’t fucking wasted yet Sir Pentious!” Cherri Bomb exclaimed loudly, leaning against the bar casually. “What can I say.” Sir Pentious hissed “I’m full of Sssirrr-Prises!” He exclaimed, laughing a little too hard at his own joke. “Right this calls for more shots and the only one that’ll fuck you guys up is the one named after yours truely! Hey bar keep!” Cherri said beckoning the heavily tattooed bar tender over, “eight Cherri Bombs please fella!”

“Coming right up Miss B!” the bartender shouted starting to gather up various dangerous looking liquors. “Wow a lot of people know Cherri Bomb” you thought to yourself. But she was one of the most exuberant heavy hitters in hell, so of course she would have a shot named after her.

Within minutes eight red flaming shots were lined up in front of you all. “Right bitches, you blow the flame out and then down in one! Try not to let it hit your tongue!” Cherri Bomb laughed downing the two shots with incredible speed. Sir Pentious was clearly out to impress so followed suit, a pained look crossed his face when he had finished the two rather large shots. You and Angel Dust took your time, the shot tasted like burning cough sweets. Not your cup of tea, but who’s saying no to a free drink? “Fuck I need to dance!” Exclaimed Cherri “whos comin?”

“Not tonight sweet cheeks, I’m gonna sit here looking cute and see if any of the boys over there will buy me a drink” Angel said gesturing towards a group of pretty guys in the corner. “Yeah not feeling it” you said cooly “I’ll keep Angel company. And out of trouble” you said elbowing him lightly in the side. “Looks like it’s just me and you, you snakey fuck!” Cherri shouted putting an arm round Sir Pentious “you comin?”

“Yes!” Sir Pentious exclaimed, far too excitedly. “I mean… Sounds fun” he said trying to tone it down. With that, the two bounded off to find a spot on the dance floor leaving you and Angel Dust together. “Hey hunny!” Angel Dust said waving his hand at the bartender “Can we have two Screaming Orgasms please sugar cakes?”. The bartender gave a cheeky grin, almost as if him and Angel had history… “So…” Angel began turning back to face you “How are things going with you and Tall, Dark and Creepy?” he said grinning cheekily with his head cocked to one side.

You tried to hide how taken aback you were from what Angel had just said. Had he noticed you and Alastor sneaking around? “What do you mean Angel?” You asked stuttering slightly.

“Oh c’mon toots, it’s hard not to notice. You and Alastor have been absent while the rest of the team has been altogether more times than I can count!” He said honestly. “And…” he reached out and brushed your hair away from your neck revealing bite marks and bruises. “There is no hiding them! But I do have some cream that can help with that, I used to use it all the time after a rough night with Valentino…” He said, his gaze suddenly seeming far away.

“Alastor…” You began, trying to get the words out of your suddenly seemingly drunken brain (dammit Cherri Bomb!) “He’s going through a rut… And for some reason he’s picked me to help relieve him…”

“Kinky!” Angel said wickedly, his eyes alight. The bartender placed two creamy cocktails in front of you “on the house” the bartender said winking at Alastor. “Thanks sweetheart” Angel purred before turning back and placing his hands on yours.

“But in all seriousness I only ask because I care about you, and we all know about the Radio Demon….” he said scowling. “Is he good to you? He isn’t hurting you is he?” His scowl turned to a look of concern. “Only if I want him to! Ha!” You exclaimed clinking your drink against his before taking a sip. “Oh God I’m pretty drunk” you thought. You tried to compose yourself, you didn’t want your friend to worry about you. “He’s very good to me Angel, yeah sure he’s been rough. But I like it… I don’t know what the future holds but he really is damn good to me” you said squeezing his hands between yours before letting out a hiccup. “Haha good, good…” Angel said nervously pushing your hands back down into your lap. “C’mon enough talk, let’s go dance!” Angel said downing his drink and pulling you towards the dance floor.

The dance floor was spinning and you boogied and pulled shapes like there was no tomorrow (hey it was hell, there might not be!) Angel was by your side the whole night, despite several beings trying to lure him away. He was such a good friend. “Y’know what Y/N?” he said trying to shout over the loud music. “What?!” You shouted drunkenly leaning into him. He put his arms around you and spoke into your ear “I’ve never heard of Alastor being in a rut, or ever seen him off with any girls or guys for that matter. Can’t say I’ve ever heard rumours of him on the dating scene either. Maybe you’re something special toots”.

Your drunken mind took a moment to comprehend Angel’s words before it suddenly had to take action “I need to go and ask him! I need innnnformation!” you said sloppily pulling away from Angel. You stumbled but luckily he caught you in his soft spidery arms. “Let’s get you home hun. You can talk to the scary red bitch tomorrow” he cooed leading you to the exit.

All instalments:

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel writing #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #alastor x female reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor #Angel dust #Cherri bomb #sir pentious #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fan fic writing #fan fiction

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six-eyed-samurai · 1 month

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YANDERE I MIGHT BE, BUT YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!

1. They stare at you a lot, be it in a parking lot, mall, through a car…even when you sleep, although nobody knows about the camera installed in the plushy that someone had "mysteriously" gifted them to you on your birthday - cough, cough, what do you mean it's them? Never mind, with the way you're giggling so unsuspectingly…maybe, probably, yeah.

2. They pester all your friends and family about what makes you laugh, just so they can try to be your type of humour to make you laugh, but his questions are…oddly specific and gory - “what if I gave her the heart of her enemies? Would she laugh?” Okay, morbid person with a peculiar idea of comedy…not to be rude, but perhaps you should get better friends, eh?

3. They know exactly where you're going all the time, whether it be a work meeting, home, restaurant, bathroom, you name it! Totally not because of the tracker in the shoe they once helped you tie the shoelaces of, nuh uh, whatever were you talking about? Don't get new shoes, no, no, these suit you fine!

4. They stalked out your social media account not only to block and hack and find the IP addresses of whoever tries to scam or send you inappropriate content or phish you but to also check out your playlists and forced himself to learn how to play them on an instrument you liked (there's musical geniuses…and there's them)

5. Who finally kidnaps you but you don't realize, because what a funny idea, why would his house look like yours! I mean, a little strange that you couldn't find any family…and they were the only one there….and what on earth was the thing they kept pouring into your drink that they claimed was meds…Lauda…something…ugh, were you sleepy all the time, but hey, they're there to tuck you into bed, no worries!

That's right ... don't worry your pretty little head, dove... you're their pet now, they'll take care of you...just don't try and fly away...it would be a shame to clip your wings...

***

Any character - sorry, love - of yours, be they male or female!

#yandere x reader #april fool's special #yandere x you #female yandere #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere fics #yandere x y/n #yandere jjk #yandere bsd #yandere kny #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere mha #yandere haikyuu #yandere anime

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kwanisms · 1 year

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Kinkuary 16 Chan — face fucking // deepthroating

➥ dom!Chan × service sub!Reader

summary: Chan can't believe his ears when his girlfriend comes to him, asking him to live out not only one but two of his fantasies. Of course he's gonna jump at the chance.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): dom!Chan, sub!Reader (she just wants to do a good job), oral (m receiving, f receiving), throat training, face fucking, deepthroating, cum swallowing, fingering, edging, use of pet names (a mix of baby, honey, angel, and slut lol), slight sir kink if you squint, Chan is a little hard but he takes care of the reader afterwards.

a/n: apologies for this being so late. I have no excuse except I'm exhausted and wanna die lol anyway hi, I'm back on my dom Lee Chan agenda. He is a dom and you will not change my mind lol this is a hill i will die on. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy this installment of Kinkuary and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon

Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan

Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @hoeforcheol

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

Join the taglist!

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"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

You glanced up at Chan sitting before you, his hand moving to take your chin gently. "If you're nervous or scared," he added. "We don't have to do this." His genuine smile just made you more determined.

When you had approached him earlier with your demand, Chan nearly choked on his drink. He'd been standing in the kitchen of your apartment, drinking some water after a long workout with Soonyoung and Jihoon.

He'd just taken a shower and wanted to find something to eat when you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist while he looked through your fridge. "We could always order out," he murmured, eyes scanning the interior of your refrigerator but finding nothing caught his eye. You'd watched as he pulled from your grasp and pulled out his phone to scroll through nearby takeout places.

You'd gotten a serious look on your face before calling his name. He turned to give you his attention. "What's up?" he asked, lifting the bottle of water as you spoke.

"I want you to fuck my face."

He'd let out a choked sound, coughing as he set the bottle of water on the counter. You waited for his shock to subside. "You what?" he gasped. You blinked slowly before taking a deep breath.

"I want you to fuck my face," you repeated calmly.

Chan walked over to you, pressing a hand to your forehead and checking for a temperature. You assured him you were fine. "Where is this coming from?" he asked, taking your hands in his.

"You always talk about it when I go down on you and I finally put some thought into it and I want to try," you explained. Chan took your face in his hands, eyes looking into yours.

"You know you don't have to do this to please me," he murmured. "Sure, I've thought about doing it several times, but… I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. "If I hurt you, I'd never forgive myself," he added.

You pulled his hands from your cheeks and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Please, Channie?" you said sweetly. The sweet tone in your voice paired with the innocent look in your eyes did things to him. The fire that had started in the pit of his stomach the moment you first spoke was fanned by the way you called him Channie.

He let his actions speak for him, hand cradling the back of your neck as he took your lips in a heated kiss, tongue slipping past your parted lips and groaning as your hands found purchase on his waist, pulling him closer, pressing your body on his.

The kiss progressed, hands moving quickly as you tugged at each other's clothes, stumbling through your apartment to the bedroom where you finally took a little control from your boyfriend and pushed him down onto the bed before kneeling in front of him.

Chan removed your top, revealing you weren't wearing shorts under the oversized tee-shirt and that you had donned a black set of lace underwear with straps. "You were prepared, weren't you?" he asked, fingers slipping under the strap of your bra and snapping the band against your skin. You nodded slowly.

"Yes, sir."

"No," you said back in the moment with your boyfriend. You met his gaze once more, shaking your head as much as you could in his grip. "I want to do this. It's not just for you. It's for me, too."

Chan's thumb brushed over your lips, smearing your lip gloss slightly. "If you insist," he said with a slight smirk. "If you wanna tap out for any reason," he continued. "Just tap my thigh three times. Since you won't be able to speak. Two taps for yellow, three for red."

"What about green?" you asked, looking up at him again, leaning into his touch as his hand moved to stroke your hair. "One tap for green then?" he asked with a shrug. You nodded. "That sounds good," you replied as his hand continued to smooth over your hair.

"I guess, get to it," he said sitting back, resting his hands on the mattress to hold his weight, nodding down to his prominent erection in his sweats.

You'd never been one to beat around the bush, you were always direct in pleasuring him but you wanted to take it slow. Even if you weren't inexperienced in giving head, letting him use your mouth as his own personal fleshlight was different.

He'd never been overly forceful, prioritizing your comfort over his orgasm. He always made sure you were okay and that he hadn't hurt you. Your safety and comfort meant everything to him.

As your fingers fumbled with the ties of his pants, an idea formed in his mind. He was getting the chance to live out one of his fantasies, what was one more?

Chan grabbed your wrist as your fingers slipped under his waistband, halting your movements. You looked up at him with wide eyes. "One more thing," he said, locking eyes with you, waiting for you to respond which you did with a nod.

"Can I request that you let me use that pretty throat of yours, too?" he asked, his hand moving to caress your neck. Your eyes widened. "You want to fuck my throat, too?" you asked softly. He nodded.

"I promise I'll be gentle," he said, his fingers sweeping over your pulse point. "It's something else I've thought about. My cock down your throat as I cum. You can say no, angel," he added, noticing how quiet you'd become. You looked back up at him and nodded.

"Okay."

Before he could respond, you tugged his pants and underwear down, forcing him to lift his hips so you could drag his clothes down his thighs. Sitting up higher, you took his now free length in your hand, dropping some of your spit on the tip and starting to stroke him slowly.

He let out an exhale as his head fell back. “Don’t hold back your moans,” you said softly as you leaned forward. “I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

Chan let out a low moan as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. You’d given him oral plenty of times to know exactly what he liked and what he didn’t like. Luckily for you, as long as you used your mouth, Chan liked whatever you did to him.

“A little more, honey,” he urged, moving one of his hands to the back of your head and pushing down slightly.

You took more of him in your mouth, moving your hand to rest on his thigh as he continued to guide your head, bobbing up and down, pushing just a bit further each time and forcing more of his cock in your mouth.

You felt the tip hit the back of your throat and gagged instinctively. Chan allowed you to pull back, asking if you were okay before guiding your head again when you answered in the affirmative.

Each time his cock hit the back of your throat, he’d hold your head in place a little longer. “Sorry,” you gasped, wiping saliva and precum off your chin. You’d gone as long as you could but had to tap out for a moment to breathe.

Chan smiled, brushing your hair back. “Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “You’re doing amazing.”

His praise filled your chest and you were ready to go again.

“There you go,” he groaned as your head sank down, taking his cock back into your mouth. He continued to offer praise as your head bobbed, taking more and more of him into your mouth, enjoying the gentle groans and moans as you used what you knew he liked against him.

You felt his fingers tighten in your hair and he experimentally thrusted into your mouth, causing you to gag. Chan quickly pulled you off him, offering an apology but you shook your head. “Keep going,” you said, your voice slightly hoarse.

You guided the head of his cock past your lips once more and gave him control.

Chan hesitantly took hold of your hair and gave another thrust that this time you thankfully didn’t gag on. He gave another, setting a slow pace as he tried to gauge how much you could take.

When you didn’t motion for him to stop, he kept going, this time, using his hands to move your head. You relaxed your jaw and closed your eyes, trying not to pay attention to the arousal that pooled in your panties as your boyfriend forced more of his cock into your mouth and partially into your throat.

“Shit,” he hissed, holding your head in place, cock lodged in your throat where you could feel it twitch slightly. “Hold it for a second longer,” he groaned as your throat constricted around him before finally pulling you back to take a breath.

The room filled with the sound of the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he used your mouth to pleasure himself. You could feel your panties starting to stick to your skin and wouldn’t be surprised if your arousal started to spill onto the floor.

Chan let out a groan, his thighs under your hands tensing as his orgasm approached. “Oh shit. I’m gonna—,” he gasped, pushing your head down as he came, his release spilling down your throat.

Once he finished, he pulled you off him, murmuring apologies and praise as he pulled you up onto his lap. “You did so fucking well,” he mumbled, peppering kisses all over your face. “Here,” he added, pulling his shirt up to wipe your chin.

His hand cupped your cheek as he examined your face. “Lemme see,” he said, urging you to open your mouth. You obliged him and he groaned. “You swallowed all of it?” He asked, sounding surprised.

You nodded meekly, squeaking when he easily tossed you off his lap and onto the bed, stuffing himself back into his pants before settling between your thighs.

“What are you-?” You asked as he took hold of your shorts and panties, pulling them down quickly and tossing them aside. “I’m returning the favor,” he said as he drew level with your soaked center.

“And by the looks of it, you need some release.”

You opened your mouth to protest but only let out a moan as he slipped two fingers into your warm walls, guiding them slowly as he watched your expression morph from shock to pleasure.

“Shhh, honey,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

You whined as he started a steady pace, his fingers moving in and out of you. Your thighs threatened to close on him the second you felt his tongue on your clit. But he managed to keep them apart by pushing one thigh up, giving him more access.

“C-chan!” You whimpered as his tongue flicked against your clit, propelling you closer to the edge. He pulled back, continuing the torturously slow pace with his fingers inside you and a devilish grin on his face.

“I never said I wasn’t going to tease you first.”

You body shook, beyond frustrated at the lack of orgasm as Chan kept building you up only to stop and let your climax slip away.

“Please let me cum, Chan!” You cried out when he stopped all movement for what felt like the sixth or seventh time. He chuckled softly, curling his fingers inside you slowly, prompting your orgasm to slowly build up again.

“Such a good little slut, using her manners,” he cooed, his fingers suddenly pistoning in and out of your cunt quickly. The sudden increase caused you to cry out, grabbing his wrist with one hand.

“What’s wrong, baby? I thought you wanted to cum,” he said in a mockingly sweet tone, his hand stopping. “Too much,” you whine. “Too fast.” You heard him click his tongue.

“You begged me to let you cum but now it’s too much? What do you want, angel?”

“I-” you swallowed thickly. “I wanna cum, Chan, please.”

“But you don’t want me to be too harsh?” He asked, slowly starting back up. You nodded as his fingers curled again, making your back arch off the mattress. “Well, you were so good for me earlier,” he said softly, keeping his eyes on your face.

“I guess I can be good for you, too.”

#svthub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #lee chan scenarios #lee chan imagines #lee chan smut #lee chan x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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callsign-dexter · 3 months

Text

Flirting with Risk 18+

Request: Okay, I might have the idea of another sequel of Gossip and Glances where Antonio sometimes gets really touchy at work and always tries to be close to you.. but you also fear that you get in trouble with Voight but he surprises you by saying he already knows about you and that it's fine as he knows you do a good job. So Antonio continues with his behavior and at home he can finally spoil you in all the right ways ? 🥵🔥

Pairings: Antonio Dawson x Intelligence!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

Masterlist

First Installment: From Colleagues to Lovers

Second Installment: Gossip and Glances

Third Installment: Flirting with Risk

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent this in! @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms here is another smutty one for you!

You and Antonio have been dating for 3 months now but to you it felt even longer. Everybody at work knew that you two were together because of him wincing when he leaned up against the back of his chair and hissed. The men pried it out of Antonio and the girls pried it out of you when they dragged you to the locker room. The only person that didn't know, or at least you thought didn't know, was your boss Hank Voight. When nobody was around or it was just your coworkers you two were pretty handsy but the minute you heard Hank you both straightened and acted like nothing happened, although when you looked over to Antonio, he just smirked at his computer screen and you rolled your eyes but smirked as well.

Recently though he has been flirting with risk and to be honest so have you but he was the worst. It was one time during a briefing that he was the worst. He stood extra close to you and his hand would occasionally pump yours and you did it right back. Antonio slowly moved his hand across the desk and onto your back at first that didn’t bother you but when he got down to your ass and he lightly slapped it which made you jump a little and squeal not expecting it, you covered it with a cough “Are you alright Y/N?” Hank asked you and you nodded.

“Sorry it was just a little tickle. Please continue.” You said and he nodded and turned towards the board and you briefly turned your head and glared at your boyfriend who was just smirking and eating up the attention. You turned back to the briefing but caught the eye of the girls who were smirking and you rolled your eyes but continued to listen.

“Antonio and Y/N I want you to go and check out the coffee shop owner.” Hank said and you both nodded and then he gave everyone else their assignments. Antonio and you went to your desk and grabbed your things and he opened the gate and held out a hand signaling you to go first which made you smile and as you were walking by, he patted your ass and you turned and looked at him with a glare. You quickly hurried down the stairs with him behind you. When you both got in the car you smacked him on the arm and he jerked back.

“Aww what was that for?” He asked and you looked at him in disbelief as he rubbed his arm.

“That was for almost getting us caught!” You shouted at him and he smirked.

“You liked it though.” He said with a smirk and started the engine.

“Yes, I did but we have to be more careful. We don’t want Hank to know.” You said and he smirked.

“How can I resist when you look so damn irresistible?” He asked as he stopped at a stoplight and leaned over and kissed your neck but gently nibbled on it and it made you moan. You just happened to look up and the light was green.

“Tonio light green.” You moaned out and he turned away from you, you whimpered when he pulled away but he needed to focus on the road. His hand came over the console to hold yours and you gladly accepted it. Meeting with the coffee shop owner was quick and easy and surprisingly you got a lot of information and then you were headed back to the district. Nobody was there having still been out and you made sure Hank wasn’t there and when you confirmed that he wasn’t you grabbed Antonio’s belt loops and pulled him over to you as you leaned on the desk. Your lips met in a feverish kiss and then your tongues were battling for dominance and teeth were clashing against teeth, his hands went to your face and into your hair. It would’ve gone on until he ended up taking you right then and there but a throat clearing made you stop and turn to the top of the stairs. Kevin, Adam, Kim, Jay, and Erin were standing there smirking.

“Oh, don’t stop on our account.” Kevin said and got a hit to the chest but Kim. You were blushing like mad that you got caught but Antonio was smirking like he was proud that you two had gotten caught.

“Get a room.” Adam said

“Don’t tempt us.” You said finally finding your voice and everyone laughed as everyone scattered to their desks, you went to your desk and began working and Antonio came up behind you and watched you work since. He was super close, close enough you could smell his cologne the both of you talked about the case and getting input from your team members when you voiced your findings. It wasn’t very long until Hank was coming up and you were pushing your boyfriend away but he stayed close. You always feared that Hank would find out and then there would be consequences. Hank walked into the bullpen and you pushed Antonio away secretly. He walked back to his desk and began working.

It had been a few hours and you wanted, no need, something to eat and drink so you went to the break room. You were bent over looking through the fridge when you felt someone behind you and then hands on your waist, you knew who it was. Lips quickly found yours as you grabbed some food that was in the fridge and walked over to the counter, you moved your neck to the side “What are you doing, sexy?” He asked in your ear and you turned your head and gave him a kiss.

“Getting something to eat, handsome.” You said when you pulled away. “We could get caught.” You said as he kissed you again.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He said but then there was a knock on the door and you once again knocked him away and turned towards your food while Antonio turned to the person leaning on the counter.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t Hank.” Jay said as he walked into the break room. “You two are flirting with risk.” He said and then you turned towards him, taking a bite of your food.

“I keep telling him that but he won’t listen.” You said and elbowed Antonio in the stomach and he let an ‘oof’ Jay just smirked.

“Just be careful you two.” He said and you nodded and then you were walking back out to the bullpen while Antonio stayed to talk to Jay, he watched you walk away with a smirk on his face.

It was in the middle when Hank appeared. “I wanna talk to you two.” He said then turned to walk into his office and you looked at Antonio with a scared look on your face and he shook his head and walked over to you.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m right here with you.” He whispered and you nodded. You both walked into Hank’s office as the others watched with smiles. Hank was leaning on his desk, arms crossed as you both walked in and stood in front of him like kids who got caught stealing something, your head was down and hands interlocked with each other and Antonio was standing close to you.

“I know you two are together.” Hank said and your head shot up.

“You do?” You asked and looked at Antonio with a shocked look on your face and he did to then you looked back and Hank and he nodded.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He said

“How?” You asked, still trying to process everything.

“It was easy. You both are coming at the same time if not a second to a minute after each other, when it used to be 1 hour after each other. You both defend each other. You both protect each other and yes, I know your partners but this goes past just being partners. You both stand closer to each other during briefings. Also, you both disappear pretty much at the same time.” Hank said and smirked when your mouth fell open and Antonio had an unreadable expression on his face.

“How long have you known?” Antonio asked

“Since the day you both showed up at the same time and Y/N was wearing your hoodie.” Hank said “Just as long as you both keep it professional you can stay together but once your love life starts interfering with your work then we'll be having a totally different conversation.” He added, " Understood?” He asked you and Antonio, both of you nodded.

“Understood.” You both said at the same time and Hank nodded. You both walked back out and Kevin was the first one to speak up.

“So…. what happened?” He asked

“He knows.” Antonio said “But that just means that I can be loving to my girl now here.” He said and hugged you from behind and gently squeezed you. You shook your head and then you both got to work although he kept his antics up and now that Hank knew you started to get handsy yourself and Antonio ate it up.

When you were done for the day, you were ready to go home and finish what you both started. “You guys coming to Molly's?” Erin asked.

“No, we're going to stay in.” You said and she smirked.

“Don't have too much fun.” Kim said and you threw a paper ball at her and she ducked while she laughed. You grabbed your stuff and then joined Antonio at the top of the stairs and began to descend down them.

“Have a good night you two.” She said with a smirk and you flipped her off. You both walked to Antonio's car silently and got in.

“Now he knows and we can do anything we want.” He said gripping your chin lightly and kissing you.

“We have to keep it professional, Tonio.” You said when you broke away from the kiss.

“We will, when others are around but when they're not then you're all mine.” He said and you smiled and nodded he had released your chin.

“You're all mine too.” You said and kissed him “Now let's get home and maybe we can continue this.” You said with a smirk and a wink. He pulled a face and groaned then before you knew it you, he was speeding out of the parking lot and towards his apartment.

When you arrived at the apartment, he was quick to park and you both hurriedly walked in and got on the elevator. You pressed the all too familiar number and once you were sure the doors were closed you were quick to kiss him. It took him by surprise but he quickly followed the kiss. He was quick to turn you around so that your back was on the elevator wall. “Jump.” He said in a husky voice and you quickly did as you were told. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “You're so beautiful.” He said when he pulled away and looked you in the eye. Then you brought his lips to yours as the elevator dinged. The kiss broke and you looked over to see you were on your floor. He didn't put you down, he instead walked with you clinging to him and went back to kissing you, you could feel how hard he was through his jeans and you had no doubt that you were soaking wet.

“I need you, Tonio. Need you so bad.” You said as he stopped at his door and dug out his key and he broke the kiss to be able to see what he was doing.

“Soon, Baby. Soon.” He said and unlocked the door and pushed it open then he shut it with his foot and locked it blindly. “Can't wait to get you out of these clothes and see all of your sexy body.” He said against your neck and you clenched around nothing and you moaned. He walked to his bedroom with you wrapped around his body and still having a heavy make out session. Antonio gently put you on the bed and then crawled up your body after having removed his shirt and pants leaving him in his underwear that was tented with his erection and you could feel your mouth water. You would love to get your mouth around him but he had other plans as he started to undress you. When he was done you were completely naked and exposed to him and he sat back on his knees and just stared at you.

“Like what you see?” You asked and that damn smirk popped up on his face.

“Absolutely.” He responded and he was quick to shed his underwear and have them join the pile on the ground. He didn’t waste any time by giving himself one pump and then he was hovering over your body. You could feel him at your entrance. “Remember to tell me to stop if something isn’t right.” He said and you nodded and then he was slowly pushing into you, both moaning at the same time.

“Fuck. Feels so good.” You moaned out as he halted and letting you adjust. After a minute you looked at him and nodded “Move.” You said and he obeyed. He set a slowly steady pace filling you just right and hitting you in the right places and the all-familiar stretch was perfect.

“Fuck, always so tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna marry you one day and pump a kid into you, our perfect little family.” He said not knowing what effect it had on you. All you did was moan as you started to close.

“Faster, baby. Faster.” You said and he picked up his pace. “Feels so good!” You screamed out not caring who heard “Wanna have your kids and be your wife.” You moaned out, head thrown back and fingers digging into his shoulder blades and slowly making their way down his back. Antonio hissed from the pain but didn’t stop.

“I’m close, baby.” He moaned out and as his thrusts started to get sloppy.

“I’m close too.” You said he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and you could feel his hot breath on your neck. His grunting and moaning were bringing you to the edge. “Cum with me.” He said as one of his hands came down to your clit as the other stayed by your head. He started to rub your sensitive clit and you felt his thrusts become even more sloppier. His head went down to your breasts and started to give them attention equally.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned out a warning and that just seemed to make him pick up speed. That rubber band in your stomach snapped and you were cumming hard. You heard him moan out and stilled and you both came together. As you both came down from your highs he slowly pulled out and watched his cum leak out of you and smiled and then fell on the other side of you. You both just laid there. “You really mean it?” You asked him, looking at him.

“Hmmm?” He asked

“About marrying me and making me a mom and you a dad.” You said reminding him. He turned to you and propped up on his elbow.

“One of these days.” He said and you smiled.

“I would love that, you know.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you.” He said and kissed you.

“I love you too.” You said and then you both got under the covers and fell asleep cuddled together thinking about what the future has to hold. You couldn’t wait to marry him and be the mother to his kid.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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bunnydolllies016 · 3 months

Text

Lab of the Damned

Chapter 1: Welcome Mc, to A.M.L!

(This is the first chapter of the main story of the Obey Me! Dark lab au! Be warned that future installments will include more gore and violence. The mc/reader is GN, so it'll be Obey me x Gn! reader. TW: Blood, dark themes mentioned, describes some violence.) Chp. 1 (you are here), Chp. 2(Coming soon)

"Greetings Mc!

We are sending you this letter regarding your application to work at Angel's Medicine Laboratory. We are so happy to welcome you to the A.M.L family! Please come into our main building as soon as possible through the hours of 8 A.M to 10 P.M for a tour and to sign your work contract. We'll provide you with your own living space as well so please bring your dear belongings.

We here at A.M.L. can't wait to meet you in person! We hope you'll love becoming part of our family.

Hope to see you soon,

Simeon Angel."

You couldn't believe it, even as you continued to hold the letter in your hands you couldn't believe it was real. You squealed happily and hugged the letter close to your chest, you can finally help make the world a better place! All the struggle throughout high school and a four-year college would finally be worth it. Also, you won't have to live with your parents anymore! You waste no time texting your parents the news, receiving congrats and support in a matter of minutes as you begin to pack up your more important items. Different outfits, some family photos, and anything else you held dear and wanted to keep with you. In the end, you had a backpack and gym bag full of stuff as you began to head out. By now your parents had rushed home to see you off and say their goodbyes. You got in your car and were off, it took you thirty minutes to finally reach the main building and it was around 1 P.M now. You sped-walked into the main building with your bags in hand, stopping to face the lady at the reception desk who seemed to be drawing something out, looked like some elaborate trap. You coughed to get their attention. The woman faced you, their pink rooted hair bounced a bit, and the blue in it looked like a good contrast to the pink. Their green eyes stared at you as they began to speak.

"Good Evening, Welcome to A.M.L., who are you and what do you need?" Their tone sounded slightly annoyed. 'Rude much?' you had thought to yourself.

"Hello, My name is Mc. I'm here for my tour and to sign my contract. Do I sign it here or?...." You say as you wait for their response. Instead, their neon green eyes look you up and down before they pick up their phone and dial a number. You hear them mumble your name over it before the person on the other line hangs up first.

"He'll be down here to get you and greet you shortly, please stay still and wait." They say before going back to drawing whatever they had been before you interrupted them. You decide to look at their name tag, 'Thirteen', what a weird name. Before you know it you see him, your eyes lighting up with recognition. Simeon Angel himself has come to greet you!

"Ah! You must be Mc!" He had begun to speak before a small bark sounded from his bag. You looked down at it just to be greeted by a light blonde chihuahua in a white hat. 'cute..' you thought to yourself. Simeon coughed before he chuckled. "Don't mind Luke, let's go to my office so we can get your papers signed," he says before motioning you to follow him into a nearby elevator. "Just leave your bags here, they'll be taken to your new living quarters by some fellow employees," Simeon states as he steps into the open elevator.

"Of course sir!" You say and do as told, dropping your bags in a nearby chair, and watching as they're taken by two mysterious people before you follow the slim male into the elevator. Eventually, you find yourself sitting at a desk, Simeon Angel behind the desk and in front of you.

"Well Mc, I'm happy to congratulate you in person! I have your contract right here, please do sign it." The man says with a smile as he hands you a clipboard, your contract on it. You briefly read it, not really paying attention to the details, he definitely wouldn't be hiding anything dark in this contract, right? You sign the contract and hand it back to Simeon, who smiles at you and stamps it, confirming you signed it. Simeon speaks up as he takes Luke out of his bag to roam his office, "Thank you! You're the most perfect person for this role! Here take this." The male before you hands you a watch, it looks... weird, you put it on anyway, and once on your wrist, it locked around it. "Don't worry about that! It's just waterproof." Simeon says, his smile still kind and bright as he stands up and motions you to follow. He leads you out of his office, leaving Luke in it as he takes you to go get your uniform and badge. You take the bag containing your clothes and ID, smiling at Simeon before you speak up,

"Thank you, sir!" You begin with a soft smile, "Which part of the lab will I be working?" You miss it but a dark look crosses Simeon's face as he softly smirks.

"I'll take you down there now!" Simeon responds as he motions you to follow again. As you walk with him, you notice he's taking you to a darker part of the building, it somewhat looks hardly used. He stops you at an elevator and digs out a badge, using it to call the elevator. "Your department is top secret, as stated in your contract you can not talk about this work with anyone at all, we'll know if you do." He says, his voice having a somewhat dark undertone despite the soft smile on his face. "Now come along, the tour begins now!" Simeon states as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, you waste no time in following him.

You feel nervous the lower the elevator goes and decide to speak up, "So, why is the department I'm in on such a low floor?" You ask nervously with a small smile, trying to think of what kind of work you could be doing down here. You jump as the elevator stops with a thunk, not expecting the elevator to sound like, especially when the rest of the building is so modern and well-built.

"Well Mc, you will be a caretaker of sorts for our... subjects... I know it won't be too much for you to handle! They're sure to love you..." Simeon says as the dark look on his face is still present, but he still is smiling. You raise a brow, didn't A.M.L claim to not use animals as product and medicine testers? "This is the entrance hall, where you'll use your watch against that machine to clock in." He speaks softly as he points to a machine in front of the both of you. He walks forward and expects you to follow of course. Your eyes widened as you entered the next area; It was a long hallway of some sort, different testing chambers on either side. As you walk beside Simeon you aren't listening as he speaks about each room. Your heart is full of fear and dread as you see what, no, who they are testing on. In the testing room, before you stands a man with white hair in a lab coat, a sinister and sadistic look on his face as he uses a cattle prod to poke and taze a much taller man with black hair, his red eyes showing displeasure and disgust for the man prodding at him, he doesn't even flinch as he is tazed, no spasming or reaction at all came from him, his clothes were disheveled from the prodding though. That wasn't the weirdest part of the man, no it was the very pointy ears, the black horns coming from his head and the four wings coming from his back, all pitch black and some feathers clearly missing, whether it be from this kind of abuse or stress you can't tell.

"W-what the fuck?" You stuttered out as you stepped away from the glass on the testing chamber, not seeing the amused expression Simeon flashed your way.

"That is one of the nine subjects you will be looking after! His name is Lucifer, he is one of the best "demons" we have!" Simeon states as if he is just talking about the weather and not a fully grown man he's having his employees test on.

You stare at the dark-skinned male before you, a look of shock and fear across your face as you speak up in a confused but fearful voice, "Nine? Demons? Huh?" Just as you were about to continue before loud crashing, low growls, and yelling interrupted you; they came from down the hallway. Looking over revealed more "demons", specifically two certain ones fighting. One was a dark-tanned male, with slightly pointed ears, a full head of white hair, and blue eyes that had a golden-yellow gradient. He has horns that look somewhat like spirals atop his head, large bat-like wings come from his back and they flap violently. He's on top of the other male, throwing punches as different scientists try to pry him off the man below him. The male below him has pale skin, and what seems to be scales on it in certain places, he, like the two before him, has pointed ears, but his seemed to have two different pointed ends, somewhat like fish fins. His hair is a blueish-purple color and his eyes are a glowing orange with a purple gradient, the whites of his eyes seem to be a slight grey color. His horns look like coral and are a black color but have a hint of blue to them, he also seems to have a long lizard-like tail.

"Ah, Mammon and Leviathan are at it again. We'll have to punish them...again..." Simeon says, his tone showing distaste but amusement at the chaos around him as he ignores your comment. A door behind you opens and you turn to check it out, you are horrified at the man who stood behind you. He had to be about 7'5 in height alone, he was so muscular and well-built, with a muzzle around his mouth and his hands cuffed in front of him as he looked down at you with interest; he was sniffing you through the muzzle. His hair is a bright orange, his ears pointed but droopy, and he has purple eyes that seem to fade into magenta and then red, one of the whites of his eyes isn't white, but rather an inky black color. Scars litter across his body, along with weird black markings, he has black horns that curve and almost crown his head, fly-like wings coming from his back buzz softly as he continues to stare down at you. "Beelzebub! Now, Now, stop drooling into your muzzle at your new caretaker's scent! Mc this is Beelzebub, Beelzebub this is Mc, your new caretaker!" Simeon says to the towering male standing before them, who looks at Simeon with a somewhat blank expression, you can see some fear and pain in his purple eyes as he stares at Simeon.

"Wait a damn minute please!" You cry out to Simeon, finally catching his attention, and now Beelzebub, who watches you closely but with clear hesitance. "I can't possibly work here after seeing all of this! This is s-so.. so.. fucked up!" You said as you took several steps away from Simeon.

Simeon stopped smiling, his expression dark and serious as he spoke, "You don't have a choice, you signed a two-year contract with us. You're stuck here...unless you'd rather face certain consequences for trying to go against your contract." As he spoke the watch around your wrist tightened and its screen flashed red. By the look on Simeon's face, you knew the consequence of going against him would either be death or the same fate as the subjects you'll be in charge of.

"B-but- I-" You tried to protest but Simeon put a finger to your lips to hush you, a sinister smile on his own lips.

"Shhh, Mc. You already signed away your life to me." Simeon began to speak softly, but his eyes showed sadistic amusement at your internal conflict about all of this. "If this really had bothered you..." Simeon begins again, Beelzebub looks at you sadly and with pity as a guard begins to walk him back to his containment chamber, he can tell you're a good person who just got caught up in a bad situation, he can only hope you stay a good person in here. "Then you should have read the fine print." Simeon finished speaking with a cold smile as he looked down at you. Dread filled you completely, these two years weren't going to end well.

"Welcome to A.M.L, Mc. I can't wait to see all the good work you'll do."

(Well I'm not sure when I'll be able to work on chapter 2, I just started my psychology class, so I'll try my best to work on it when I can. Hope you enjoyed it! This is also posted on my AO3 account and shouldn't be anywhere else but here and there.)

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exitrowiron · 6 months

Text

The Death of My Mother

After a years-long courageous battle with breast cancer, my mother died on October 11, 2023 with my sister Lori and I holding her hands and my wife Beth by her side. She was 83 years old.

Over 20 years ago a cancerous lump was discovered and removed, followed by radiation. All seemed well for over a decade as she and my dad enjoyed a very active retirement. A few years ago, the cancer was detected again and the mastectomy came too late to contain it.

She endured years of chemotherapy, proceeding to a new drug therapy as soon as old one ended. Despite the unexpected death of my father nearly two years ago, she doggedly continued her treatment. Because she’d been athletic all her life, she tolerated more chemotherapy than her oncologist could remember giving anyone else. It wasn’t enough.

She was determined not to let her life be dominated by her cancer; she continued to travel, paint, sew and entertain friends. She was assisted by my sister and uncle, both of whom lived in the same town as her; making sure she was safe and accompanying her to doctor visits, chemo treatments, etc.

Despite the rigors of chemotherapy, you’d not have suspected her condition if you saw her in the grocery store. She lost weight, but with her wig and bubbly personality, she looked well, better in fact than most of her peers. She often went to the gym immediately after receiving an infusion, knowing she’d be too weak to do so in a day or two. Ultimately the breast cancer continued to spread, causing fluid to gather around a lung and ultimately metastasizing into a painful, inflamed cancer on her skin.

In August she was struggling with the latest chemotherapy, having to suspend/postpone rounds until her anemia and overall strength could improve. The regimen was simply too taxing, and she was considering stopping treatment, despite the consequences of this decision. Then she had her first fall. In the middle of the night on the way back to her bed from the bathroom, she lost her balance and fell, cutting a large gash in her nose on the way to floor. She made it back to her bed and waited a few hours before finally calling my sister for assistance. She wasn’t wearing the Apple Watch we’d purchased for her explicitly for this purpose after my father’s death.

The fall was unnerving for her (and all of us), but my sister installed motion-detector night lights and we reminded her to wear her Apple Watch. Despite the fall, she did well living independently, continuing to drive, etc. I offered to visit and spend a few nights with her, but my son’s wedding was approaching and she declined my offer. She did, however, remind me of her wish to never go to a nursing home; she had sufficient savings to afford in-home care when the time came.

Although she didn’t resume treatment after the fall, her condition stabilized and she seemed to be gathering strength. Even the fluid around her lung, which had caused a troublesome cough and required drainage every so often was improving. Reluctant to make any concessions to her illness, she was forced to cancel the cruise she’d planned to take with Beth, me and a friend after Brady’s wedding.

When our son Brady contracted Covid a week before his wedding, she wisely decided not to attend the wedding as well. The trip from Indiana to Maine would have been too difficult even with my sister’s help, and the risk of Covid gave her an acceptable excuse to cancel.

In the early morning hours of September 13, however, Mom felt very dizzy and generally unwell so she reached out to neighbors for help (Lori was out of town). An ambulance was called and she was taken to the hospital where she was diagnosed with A-Fib and extreme covid. (A-Fib is one of the symptoms of the new Covid variant). Again, she wasn’t wearing her Apple Watch. We were sad that Mom had been infected with Covid, but relieved that she’d not gotten it from attending Brady’s wedding. (Actually, no one got sick from Brady’s wedding.)

Her blood work in the hospital was terrible, but again she rallied (with the help of Prednisone) and she was much improved by the time I took her home on Sunday, just 5 days after she was admitted. I stayed at the house and helped her for two weeks. During this time, she was weak but still able to care for herself with some assistance from me (preparing meals, cleaning the house, laundry, driving, etc.). She was well enough to resume her lifelong habit of creating a daily to-do list each morning on a yellow legal pad. Visits to her doctor (including a CT scan with contrast) gave her hope. She was diagnosed with pericarditis (fluid around the heart) as a result of Covid, but cancer activity was nominal. The cancer was still present but it wasn’t aggressively spreading. She was given hopeful instructions to concentrate on recovering from Covid.

Her list of medications continued to grow in number and dosing complexity. I made a spreadsheet to keep it straight. Xanax was added to the mix to help ease her growing anxiety. In the middle of the night, she would wake in fear that she was having trouble breathing (but her blood O2 was still good). All this was manageable, but she wasn’t eating so she continued to lose weight and when the prednisone course ended, she began to get weaker.

I can’t cook but I did my best to prepare or purchase simple comfort food. No matter how absent her appetite she could always to be tempted into eating a Wendy’s frosty or DQ milkshake. She spent more and more time each day sleeping, in between bouts of fretting over how much she was sleeping. Ever the athlete, she insisted on walking laps inside the house and down the street in an effort to exercise herself to good health. She simply refused to accept this decline as inevitable and irreversible. Finally, one of her trusted doctors had to advise her to concentrate on rest and postpone the training sessions for a few weeks.

Just a few weeks earlier, Holley, her beloved sister-in-law had a large tumor removed from her colon and was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. Holley’s condition had worsened quickly and as a result Mom's brother, a retired orthopedic surgeon, was understandably preoccupied with his wife’s condition. Holley was admitted to a hospital and rallied briefly before going to hospice. Holley passed away after just a few days in hospice but with my help Mom was able to visit her three times.

I’d been in Evansville for two weeks when Holley died; this was a week longer than I’d expected and I’d run out of contacts lenses and didn’t have appropriate clothing for my aunt’s funeral. Meanwhile, Mom continued to weaken, sleeping more and eating still less. She needed a caregiver in the house 24x7 so my sister and I began contacting agencies and secured caregivers before my departure.

I was at our home in Washington for just 2 days before returning with Beth and clothes for Holley’s funeral and the expectation that we would be back home in a week. We flew into St. Louis and rented a car to drive to Evansville, planning to attend the funeral and then return to St. Louis to spend time with her parents for a few days before departing. With the in-home caregiver situation largely resolved for Mom, I assumed her condition would stabilize for a while.

Beth and I had a hotel, but all that week I was at the house with Mom during the day before leaving when the nighttime caregiver arrived. Holley’s funeral was on Tuesday but Mom was too weak to attend. That same day she requested a walker. There was no doubt she needed one, but her requesting it was a psychological concession on her part. We secured the walker that day and that night she insisted that I help her walk three laps inside the house, “to help her get better”.

On Wednesday, a home oxygen concentrator was delivered. The oxygen machine was mostly for psychological support – knowing it was there if she needed it (and she rarely needed it). By this time it was obvious that Mom’s condition wasn’t going to plateau and that despite her preference, she needed care in a professional healthcare setting. I’d broached this subject with Mom earlier in the week and she’d resisted. Through tears she said, “Going to someplace like that is a slippery slope and I don’t want to get on the slippery slope.” She still refused to acknowledge the inevitability of her situation. I gently responded, “Mom, you’re on the slippery slope. I’m concerned that if you stay in the house, something might happen, you could fall for instance, and we wouldn’t be able to get you up and you won’t be able to recover.”

Evansville is a relatively small city and staffing 24X7 caregivers couldn’t be done with a single agency. My sister cobbled together a network of caregivers that friends in similar situations had used but Mom’s needs were increasing beyond even this network. I reminded Mom that we’d spend any amount of money to keep her in her house, but we were running into limitations we couldn’t overcome.

Her brother set aside his grief over the death of this own wife and visited Mom on Wednesday. At our request he encouraged her to go to Primrose. Primrose is an assisted living facility which their friends had used and it had a good reputation. Mom reluctantly agreed to go. Lori and I had toured Primrose that day and provided a deposit in the hope we could secure a room immediately, pending their evaluation of Mom’s needs. Even if accepted at Primrose, however, we would still need to provide 24x7 caregivers to be in Mom’s room at all times. In deference to Mom however, we pursued this option rather than a skilled nursing facility.

By Thursday we’d secured a wheelchair as she could no longer use the walker safely. She was sleeping practically all day, eating almost nothing, and required assistance to stand.

By Friday she couldn’t get out of chair or stand on her own. I had to do most of the work with a lifting strap. Unfortunately, the Primrose evaluation was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Beth and I were supposed to drive to St. Louis to return the rental car before flying home on Saturday, but it was obvious I couldn’t leave. I borrowed a car from my sister, followed Beth to St. Louis to return the rental car before driving back to Evansville on Saturday.

When we returned on Saturday Mom had declined still further, awake but too weak to talk or open her eyes or eat or toilet. It was clear that Mom needed to go to hospice, the same hospice used by her sister-in-law just a week earlier. We let her sleep that afternoon and when the ambulance arrived around 5, I had to wake her and tell her that we were taking her to Deaconess. This was intentionally misleading but accurate. Deaconess is the health system that runs the hospital she’d used as well as the hospice. I said we need to go to Deaconess because she needed more care than we could provide in order for her to get better. She resisted by saying, “But why, I’m just sleeping?” This was a difficult conversation, but I was insistent and patient and eventually she allowed me to lift her out of her chair, help her onto the gurney and ride with her in the ambulance to the hospice center.

Fortunately, Mom was too weak to open her eyes so she didn’t realize she was being wheeled into the hospice center, into a room identical to Holley’s (the suite next door actually). It was clear that we couldn’t have waited any longer to move Mom to hospice. She immediately required a catheter and her bladder had obviously been full and uncomfortable.

The Linda White hospice center is a beautiful new facility attached to a Deaconess hospital. Each suite has a large sitting area for family/guests and an attached bedroom with two twin beds. The hospice administers medication, moves and toilets the patient but other than that they only come when alerted with a call button. Mom was frequently conscious but rarely opened her eyes and couldn’t use the call button. Lori, Beth or I were with Mom from 8 am to 11 pm each day and then one of our outside caregivers stayed with Mom overnight.

The first evening was difficult. Weeks of opioid painkillers left her painfully constipated. She refused to use a bedpan so I lifted her onto a bedside chair/toilet. This was unsuccessful so we returned her to bed, the nurse administered a suppository and an hour later we repeated the process, this time with some success. I’ve never provided such hands-on care to an adult. It was humbling for everyone. My mom was such a proud woman, always careful in her appearance and to see her stripped of all of this, practically naked and utterly helpless as I lifted her off the bed was sobering. I only cared for my mother for a few days/weeks and always had lots of paid assistance as well as the help of my sister – I can’t begin to imagine the strength and patience of those who care for their parents full time for an extended period.

On Sunday, the swelling of my Mom’s feet which had begun a few days earlier grew much worse. The nurse informed us that this was significant a development and indicated that Mom was experiencing congestive heart failure. Mom remained marginally responsive though with her eyes closed and she was able to minimally engage with the friends who came to visit her.

Mom continued to generally deny the reality of her situation and in order to avoid upsetting her, we placed this message on the door to her suite:

Mom did make one concession to her condition, however, she asked to be visited by her parish priest. We left the room when he visited to pray, hear her confession, and deliver the last rites.

By Monday morning Mom was barely able to swallow her oral medications and we accepted the nurse’s recommendation to begin administering comfort medication (morphine, etc.) intravenously using the port which had been previously used for chemotherapy.

Mom’s condition continued to deteriorate; she stopped eating completely and drank very little. Answers to yes or no questions were difficult. Monday and Tuesday were spent in quiet vigil, interrupted only by the occasional visitor. Mom couldn’t respond but was likely conscious at least occasionally. In what I believed was a moment of lucidity, I told her I loved her and that she’d been a great mom and done well with her life. This would have a been a good conversation to have a few weeks ago or even a few days ago, but she was never willing to accept her impending death. I took occasional breaks to get a meal or workout, confident that my sister would alert me of any changes. As Mom continued to sleep, I started and completed her obituary as well as the slide show to be shown during the visitation at the funeral home.

Lori and I chose to spend the night with her Tuesday night, sleeping in shifts. I was surprised she was still with us on Wednesday morning when Beth arrived and thought (feared) she might linger in this condition for a few days. Beth and I had just left her room on our way to the hotel to shower and change clothes when we heard the tech nurse call urgently. We quickly returned to Mom’s room and the charge nurse informed us, “It is happening now.” Lori had also stepped out of the room briefly and Beth went to retrieve her. It was obvious that Mom was dying at that moment and that she somehow timed it for the only moment in the past 48 hours in which both Lori and I had been out of the room. Lori and I each held one of Mom’s hands. We could see that she’d stopped breathing, but I could still feel Mom’s pulse in her hand. Lori and I spoke to Mom, telling her we loved her, reassuring her that her family was fine and congratulating her on a life well lived. Her pulse continued for 30 seconds until it weakened and stopped. The color had drained from her face and she was gone.

After a few more minutes of farewells and hugs amongst ourselves, we tidied the room and left with the pictures, flowers, and mementos we’d brought in an effort to make her comfortable. We headed to my sister’s home where I poured myself a large whiskey and offered the first of many toasts I will make to the memory of my wonderful mother.

I left home as a freshman in college and except for the summer break before my sophomore year, never again lived at home (or in the same city as my parents) for more than a few days. Married at 23, Beth and I lived in St. Louis, Dallas, Minneapolis, Bellevue and now a small town in the Cascades in Washington state. My mom always hoped we’d move to Evansville and occasionally I felt guilty for not spending more time with my parents, but it was best for me personally and professionally as well as my marriage that we never lived closer than a few hours away and usually much further than that.

Despite this long physical absence (or perhaps because of it), we were always on good terms and avoided much of the drama that can ensnare parent/adult child relationships. I’m at peace knowing that when my mom needed support and a caregiver, I stepped up and fulfilled my obligation. I did the right thing and have no regrets.

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buckyshairstylist · 7 months

Note

Aww, your tony is so precious, can you write a very happy dad tony spoiling his pregnant wife?

Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tony is truly the best husband Y/N could ask for.

CW: pregnancy, mentions of food, fluff. Not edited.

WC: 1,348

AN: Sorry it’s taken so long to get this done! College classes and work has taken up all of my time and I finally found a free moment to finish this. I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry for the wait, anon!

To say that Tony was surprised to find you sobbing in the middle of your bed was an understatement. He’d left you alone for fifteen minutes — long enough to shower to wash off all the dirt and grime that came with his occupation — and now you were on your bed, sobbing.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

You sniveled miserably, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “I just love you s’ much, Tony.”

Tony ducked his head to hide the small laugh, masking it with a cough. He made his way to the bed, climbing onto it and gently pulling you against him.

“I love you too, dear.”

One hand rubbed up and down your arm, the other resting on your swollen belly. You sobbed into his shirt, clinging to him.

“Don’t leave.”

“I would never leave you, honey,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“…Tony?”

Tony hummed in acknowledgement.

“Will you rub my back, please?” you requested, wiping at your eyes. “God, I’m such a mess.”

“It’s normal. Just… lie down for me.”

You huffed but did as you were told, awkwardly maneuvering to where you could lie down. Tony helped as much as he could, one hand pressing against the small of your back. Tony laid directly behind you, his hands instantly moving to your shoulders.

“You’re the best, y’know that, Tony?”

Tony smiled at you. “Of course I am, baby. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Rhodey says you’re Tony Stank.”

“He is never gonna let that die,” he huffed, working at the tight muscles in your back. “God, honey.”

“What?” You turned your head slightly so you could hear him better.

“Your muscles. They’re so tight. Stress isn’t good for you, you know.”

“I know, baby, but stress is normal for me,” you reminded him.

“Honey, stress isn’t good for you or the baby. Heck, it’s not good for you even if you’re not pregnant! Don’t make me install a protocol where Friday has to snitch—“

“Don’t you dare, Anthony Stark.”

Tony giggled. You huffed, gently (or rather, lazily) swatting at him.

“I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”

“Alright, since the protocol is a no, how about I find someone to keep you company?”

“Tony, I swear—“

“Just someone to keep you company when I’m gone.”

You hesitated, thinking about the potential victim of that scheme. Realizing who Tony would volunteer for the position (and who would happily take it if asked), you sighed.

“Tony, do not bring Peter into this.”

“I never said Peter. You did. And it’s a brilliant idea.”

“No.”

————————————————————————

“Hi, Mrs. Stark!” Peter chirped as he entered the penthouse, waving.

“Hey, Peter,” you smiled kindly at him. You took in his appearance and quirked a brow. “Lab day?”

“Yeah. Mr. Stark wasn’t in the lab, though, so I came up here.”

You hummed, grabbing a second mug out of the cabinet.

“You want some hot cocoa?”

“If it’s no trouble, Mrs. Stark.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Peter. And you don’t have to call me Mrs. Stark. Y/N is fine,” you reminded him, though you’ve nearly given up on him ever using your name.

Peter smiled cheekily. “Okay, Mrs. Stark.”

You groaned playfully, earning a laugh from the boy that had stolen both yours and Tony’s hearts. Peter had one of the strongest support systems in the world — you just weren’t sure he was aware of that.

“How have you been?”

You placed a mug in front of him as you huffed. “I’ve been okay. Emotional, but only Tony gets to deal with it.”

Peter snickered.

“How about you?”

“I’ve been great, Mrs. Stark! Aunt May—“ Peter launched into a rant, rambling about everything that had happened since the last time you saw him. You listened attentively, interjecting where appropriate and responding to the conversation.

Tony stepped out of the elevator around the time he started to tell you about the new Lego set he’d been working on with Ned.

“Underoos, kid, I’ve been texting you for the last twenty minutes.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’ve been talking to Mrs. Stark.”

“I can see that,” Tony smirked. “Change of plans, kid. It’s now movie night.”

“Oh, okay! I, uhm, are you sure, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked uncertainly.

“Positive, Pete. What are we thinking for dinner? Pizza?”

“Yes!”

“That’s fine, Tony,” you smiled at him. Tony smiled softly, giving Friday the order to order the pizzas from your favorite pizzeria.

“Hey, Pete, why don’t you go grab some blankets?”

Peter nodded and took off down the hallway.

Tony moved to where he stood beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, Mrs. Stark. I think some cuddles are in order, don’t you?”

You ducked your head as you felt your face heat up, a smile flitting across your lips.

“I think so, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, I went out today. It was supposed to be just to get a part for the car I’m working on, but I ended up seeing some things that I thought you would like and some things for the baby.”

“Tony—“

“Let me finish. They’re already in our room, they’ve been put where they won’t bother you. You can look at them whenever you want, you don’t have to do it today. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Tony, I’m happy with you just being here. You don’t have to buy me things to make me happy—“

“I know that,” he sighed. “I like to buy you things. You’re important to me. You should have everything that you desire, even if it’s something as ludicrous as the moon.”

“—and you know we have more than enough baby stuff, Tones.”

“This—you are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, honey. And our baby? That’s the best gift. I’m so grateful for you and for our baby, I’ve just—I’ve got to spoil both of you. So let me spoil you, and let me spoil our baby. It’s not gonna break me.”

After a few seconds of silence, the two of you merely watching each other as the silence dragged on a few seconds too long, you smiled at him.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to you spoiling me a little bit. But don’t spoil the baby too much, Tony.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he denied instantly. You scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Not really, no.”

Tony snorted. “Fair. C’mon, I wanna show you this really quick. It’ll take Pete at least another five minutes to find the best blankets.”

You giggled, knowing that Peter would probably find every blanket he could before deciding which ones were appropriate for movie night.

“You know… I know that you purposely sent Peter up here.”

“I did not.”

“You did, Tony. You’re testing the theory you mentioned last night. Don’t bring Peter into this.”

“Peter’s already involved, Y/N,” Tony reminded you dryly. “He’s our unofficially adopted son, remember? Therefore, he’s our child’s unofficial older brother.”

You hummed as you followed Tony down the hallway, fingers entwined. Tony gently tugged you into the bedroom, where you noticed several bags dropped in one corner.

“Don’t worry about those. Some of it is genuinely for the lab.”

“It better be, Tony, or I swear—“

“It is, I promise. Now would you come over here? I want to see how these pajamas look on you.”

“Pajamas?” You raised a brow. “Like really soft pajamas?”

“The softest for my beautiful wife,” Tony beamed at you. “I saw them and I thought you would like them. I’ll show you the crib I bought later.”

“Tony, I thought we promised to do that together.”

“Baby, trust me, you’ll love it.”

He handed you the pajama set he’d mentioned, desperately hoping to take your mind off of the crib. You ran your hands over the material — soft, fluffy, and warm. You wasted no time in changing, much to your husband’s amusement.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips. “C’mon. I’ll rub your back while we watch the movie with Peter. I’ll show you the rest later.”

“Tony—“

#tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark blurb #tony stark x you #tony stark fluff #tony stark x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #iron man #tony stark #tony stark fic #mcu fic

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